"But he will know much more of his Bride than the majority of the Law's Bridegrooms." Hannah took advantage of her father's pleasure in the effect of his jokes to show him Pinchas's epistle, which he deciphered laboriously. It commenced: Hebrew Hebe All-fair Maid, Next to Heaven Nightly laid Ah, I love you Half afraid. The Pole, looking a different being from the wretch who had come empty, departed invoking Peace on the household; Simcha went into the kitchen to superintend the removal of the crockery thither; Levi slipped out to pay his respects to Esther Ansell, for the evening was yet young, and father and daughter were left alone. Reb Shemuel was already poring over a Pentateuch in his Friday night duty of reading the Portion twice in Hebrew and once in Chaldaic. Hannah sat opposite him, studying the kindly furrowed face, the massive head set on rounded shoulders, the shaggy eyebrows, the long whitening beard moving with the mumble of the pious lips, the brown peering eyes held close to the sacred tome, the high forehead crowned with the black skullcap. She felt a moisture gathering under her eyelids as she looked at him. "Father," she said at last, in a gentle voice. "Did you call me, Hannah?" he asked, looking up. "Yes, dear. About this man, Pinchas." "Yes, Hannah." "I am sorry I spoke harshly of him,'' "Ah, that is right, my daughter. If he is poor and ill-clad we must only honor him the more. Wisdom and learning must be respected if they appear in rags. Abraham entertained God's messengers though they came as weary travellers." "I know, father, it is not because of his appearance that I do not like him. If he is really a scholar and a poet, I will try to admire him as you do." "Now you speak like a true daughter of Israel." "But about my marrying him--you are not really in earnest?" "_He_ is." said Reb Shemuel, evasively. "Ah, I knew you were not," she said, catching the lurking twinkle in his eye. "You know I could never marry a man like that." "Your mother could," said the Reb. "Dear old goose," she said, leaning across to pull his beard. "You are not a bit like that--you know a thousand times more, you know you do." The old Rabbi held up his hands in comic deprecation. "Yes, you do," she persisted. "Only you let him talk so much; you let everybody talk and bamboozle you." Reb Shemuel drew the hand that fondled his beard in his own, feeling the fresh warm skin with a puzzled look. "The hands are the hands of Hannah," he said, "but the voice is the voice of Simcha." Hannah laughed merrily. "All right, dear, I won't scold you any more. I'm so glad it didn't really enter your great stupid, clever old head that I was likely to care for Pinchas." "My dear daughter, Pinchas wished to take you to wife, and I felt pleased. It is a union with a son of the Torah, who has also the pen of a ready writer. He asked me to tell you and I did."