“And it is settled, then,” said Reuben, “and you are to be mine with the consent of our families. And the next new moon shall see us one.”
“It shall be thus if your mother consents. I have none to consent or refuse, save my aunt. But let it not wound your feeling or excite suspicion in your mind, Reuben, that I ask you not to cherish feelings of unkindness against Salathiel. He is my kinsman and my early friend.”
“Has he not sought to supplant me in your possession?”
“Have you not supplanted him in my heart? Is it so much, my dear Reuben, for you to fear to lose me, and is it nothing for him to see me given to another?”
“He tried for your possessions, Miriam, for your wealth only.”
“Does not my wealth, little as it is, go with my hand—and why may not he have designs honorable as well as others?”
“Because he would not leave it to your decision, to the arbitration of your affections. He could not love you and be willing to do violence to your love.”
“May he not, dear Reuben, say the same of you?”
“Of me! Miriam, you plead the cause of Salathiel. You wish the alternative—you would be free.”
“Reuben, you may wound my pride by your injustice, but you cannot make me cease to love you. You may hereafter learn that woman may esteem a man for his virtues without loving him as a husband; and that for me to wish that you were less unkind to Salathiel, is no evidence that I love you less. I have heard within a few weeks such lessons of forgiveness, such preaching of high virtues—high, though always practical—that I desire to conform in some measure to them, and to have him whom I love and respect, augment my affection, not by any new love on his part, but by a new exhibition of greatness of mind. Reuben, though protracted maidenhood is a reproach in Israel, be assured that my love is stronger than death—as I feel that your jealousy is more cruel than the grave.”