L. E. L.
CHAPTER I.
“It is near sunrise, father,” said a gay young voice, and a fair hand tapped lightly on the door of the apartment where the old man slept.
Her call was answered in a moment by the venerable Jew, who came forth, prepared for the customary morning walk to the holy synagogue.
“Thou lookest not well, my father! thy face is pale. I fear these early walks are too much for thee.”
“Nay, child, our duty should never fatigue or weary us in its performance—it is time for us to depart when that happens. But, in truth, I had a heavy night, dreaming of thy dead mother. It was sad to waken and find, as, alas! so many other mornings I have, that she cannot return again.”
“We shall meet her hereafter,” said Myrrah, striving to speak cheerfully; “you should think of that this beautiful morning. The very air seems full of hope. Even I, who have proved such a dull companion these many days, feel as though there were new life in me to-day—as though some joyful thing were about to happen.”
“Were thy dreams of Othniel, then, my child?”
A deep blush was the only answer returned to the gently uttered question—for Myrrah turned all her attention just then to busily assisting the old man down the steep stairway, and the moment after they entered, arm in arm, the quiet street; then, as if fearing a recurrence to the subject of her dream and presentiment, the daughter hurriedly again expressed her fears lest the morning exercise should prove too much for his feeble health. But again the old man replied slowly and decisively,
“For many years I have stood, morning and evening, to worship in our synagogue, to ask the blessing of God, and to pray His coming; this day, and every day while life and strength are spared me, must I also go, Myrrah; perchance this very morning may at last be vouchsafed as a promise of His approach, for whose appearance we have waited so long.”