LEAH MORDECAI sat alone in the southern balcony of her father's
house one night in this same memorable August, the events of which
were so fully recorded in Emile's diary-sat alone enjoying the warm
silver moonlight that flooded all the world about her-sat alone,
thinking, dreaming, fearing, vaguely hoping. Suddenly the sound of
her mother's voice reached her from an adjoining room, and arrested
her attention. Involuntarily she listened. "Yes, dear husband, Leah
is anxious to go-unhappy even, at the fear of being denied."
"You surprise me, Rebecca," replied the fond husband and father; "I
never dreamed that Leah desired to visit Europe. She has never
mentioned it to me."
"No, nor will she ever. She fears your displeasure, shrinks from
betraying a desire to be separated from you, even for a short period
of time; but still she longs to go. Ever since Bertha Levy went to
Berlin, she has cherished a secret desire to go, too. You well know
that music is the passion of her soul, and Leah longs for culture
which she cannot obtain in this country."
"Dear child!" exclaimed the father, "she shall be gratified in her
desires, and study in the fatherland as long as she chooses. She has
always been a good, obedient, loving daughter, and deserves to be
rewarded." Then he added, after a moment's pause, and with
ill-concealed emotion, "Yes, my daughter is always obedient and
kind, yet a shade too sober for one so young; but her mother was
always thoughtful, dear woman, and I suppose it's the child's
inheritance." Mr. Mordecai sighed. And Rebecca, discerning the drift
of his thought, recurred quickly to the subject, saying:
"Well, my husband, what arrangement can you make for Leah's going?
Of course you cannot accompany her."
"That's easily done," he replied. "Every week there are persons
going direct to Europe from this very city; and, by the way, my
friend Solomon Stettheimer expects to go soon to Wirtemberg, to look
after an estate of a deceased relative, and I could safely intrust
Leah to his care. I shall write at once to my cousin, the baron, and
have her placed under his care."
"That's a wise plan, my husband, and will give Leah great joy. Make
it known to her as though it was only a pleasant surprise you were
offering her, not mentioning the fact that I acquainted you with her
wishes."
"So I will, kind little heart, good little woman that you are,"
replied Mr. Mordecai affectionately, as he stroked Rebecca on the
arm.
Leah heard no more. Shocked and terrified at this treacherous
plotting, she stole softly from the balcony, passed through the side
garden, entered the house by the rear door, and hastened away to her
own chamber up stairs.
"Merciful Heaven! what a lie, to deprive me of my father's love, and
send me from my home, among unknown friends, so far away! I cannot,
cannot go; I cannot leave my father, even though it kill me to
remain," gasped the young girl, in tears and bitterness of heart, as
she sank helpless and hopeless upon the snowy bed that stood, a
monster ghost, in the moonlit chamber. For hours she lay in silence
and in sorrow, and when sleep came at length, the spoken words of
her slumber but revealed the burden of her heavy heart in the
oft-repeated words, "I cannot, cannot, will not go."