"But thou didst not?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I did not, I know not why," she said sullenly; "else thou wouldst never have seen me again. It may be I respected thy religion, although thou didst not dream what was in my mind. But thy religion shall not keep me from this journey."
The Reb had hidden his face in his hands. His lips were moving; was it in grateful prayer, in self-reproach, or merely in nervous trembling? Hannah never knew. Presently the Reb's arms dropped, great tears rolled down towards the white beard. When he spoke, his tones were hushed as with awe.
"This man—tell me, my daughter, thou lovest him still?"
She shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of reckless despair.
"What does it matter? My life is but a shadow."
The Reb took her to his breast, though she remained stony to his touch, and laid his wet face against her burning cheeks.
"My child, my poor Hannah; I thought God had sent thee peace ten years ago; that He had rewarded thee for thy obedience to His Law."
She drew her face away from his.
"It was not His Law; it was a miserable juggling with texts. Thou alone interpretedst God's law thus. No one knew of the matter."