'Thou wilt take this journey though I forbid thee?' he cried in acrid accents, still mingled with surprise.
'Yes; would I had taken the journey thou wouldst have forbidden ten years ago!'
'What journey? thou talkest madness.'
'I talk truth. Thou hast forgotten David Brandon; I have not. Ten years last Passover I arranged to fly with him, to marry him, in defiance of the Law and thee.'
A new pallor overspread the Reb's countenance, already ashen. He trembled and almost fell backwards.
'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.