"Now, see your sitting-room."
Nothing could be more cheerful or homelike than the appointments of this cosy apartment, lighted like the drawing-room by a tasteful chandelier.
"There," said Gtinther, pointing to a door, "is your dressing-room, and within, your chamber, my Rachel. For six months this dwelling has awaited its mistress, and that she might never enter it unawares, it has been nightly lighted for her coming. I was almost tempted to despair, beloved. You have saved me from a discouragement that was undermining my health. Now you are here, and all is well. When shall the priest bless our nuptials! This very night, shall he not, my bride?"
"He can never bless them," replied Rachel, solemnly.
Gunther turned pale.
"Never? You have not, then, come to be my wife?"
"I cannot be your wife according to human rites, Gunther, for well you know that I have sworn never to become a Christian. But I am yours for time and eternity, and knowing my own heart, I accept the world's scorn for your dear sake. Earth refuses to bless our nuptials, but God will hear our vows. Gunther, will you reject me because I am a Jewess?"
Gunther imprinted a kiss upon her forehead, and sank on his knees before her.
"Rachel," said he, raising his right hand to heaven, "I swear to love you for better or for worse, devoting my life to your happiness. On my knees I swear before God to honor you as my wife, and to be faithful and true to you until death does us part."
Rachel then knelt at his side, and, laying her hand in his repeated her vows. Then they kissed each other, and Gunther, taking her in his arms, pressed her to his throbbing heart.