"What do you mean, my friend?" was the judge's quiet reply. "What has the night done?"
"Played the devil! Don't you try to trifle with my sorrow. That son of yours has already wrought me injury enough. Don't you attempt to mock me. I warn you, Le Grande, I warn you!"
Astonished by these mysterious words of the Hebrew, Judge Le Grande gravely assured Mr. Mordecai that he knew nothing of the trouble that had befallen him, and repeatedly asked, "What has my son done?"
"Done? Alas! he has done that which would to God I could undo!" was the reply, uttered angrily and savagely. "But as I cannot undo it, I shall curse it-curse it from the depths of my soul! He has married my daughter? Stolen her-taken her away in secret from my house, and they have wisely fled from my presence!"
"Married your daughter!" ejaculated the judge, the truth faintly dawning on him. "Surely that's a mistake."
"Indeed it is a wild mistake; I would to God it were otherwise."
"By what authority do you make this assertion?" continued Judge Le
Grande, evidently aroused by the dawning truth.
"By the confession of my daughter, left in her room, and written a short time before her flight."
"Where is that confession? Let me see it."
"Here," replied the banker, drawing the crumpled missive from his pocket. "There, read the mischief for yourself."