She had not,
indeed, quarrelled with her lover, who had again caressed her as she
left him, and assured her of his absolute confidence, but she had
undertaken a task against which her very soul revolted. It gave her
no comfort to say to herself that she had undertaken to look for that
which she knew she would not find, and that therefore her search could
do no harm. She had, in truth, consented to become a spy upon her
father, and was so to do in furtherance of the views of one who
suspected her father of fraud, and who had not scrupled to tell her
that her father was dishonest. Now again she thought of St Nicholas, as
she heard the dull chime of the clock from the saint's tower, and found
herself forced to acknowledge that she was doing very wickedly in
loving a Jew. Of course troubles would come upon her. What else could
she expect? Had she not endeavoured to throw behind her and to trample
under foot all that she had learned from her infancy under the guidance
of St Nicholas? Of course the saint would desert her. The very sound
of the chime told her that he was angry with her.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211