“I do not understand.” Her father’s lips were dry, his voice husky.
“Ever since I have been able to judge,” explained the girl, quietly, “Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that ever lived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life.”
“Yes?” His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her to continue.
“And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great and good. Later, when I had read his ‘Sermon on the Mount,’ I grew to see that what he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; it made me no less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness. To me he became the embodiment of Love in the highest,—Love perfect, but warm and human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinity to augment its power over us. He was God’s attestation, God’s symbol of what Man might be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So I may call myself a christian, though I spell it with a small letter. It is right that such a man’s birthday should be remembered with love; it shows what a sweet power his name is, when, as that time approaches, everybody seems to love everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrong for me to participate in my husband’s actions on that day?”
She received no answer. She looked only at her father with loving earnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quite lost.
“Would this be wrong, Father?” she urged.
He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load. His dark, sallow face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.
“I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion,” he responded; “I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leap thus far. It were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No; you would be but giving your real feelings expression. But such an expression would grieve—Pardon; I am to consider your happiness.” He seemed to swallow something, and hastily continued: “While we are still on this subject, are you aware, my child, that you could not be married by a Jewish rabbi?”
She started perceptibly.
“I should love to be married by Doctor C——.” As she pronounced the grand old rabbi’s name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.