A Jewess!--her religion--her principles--my principles!--And can a Jewess marry a Christian? And should a Christian marry a Jewess? The horrors of family quarrels, of religious dissensions and disputes between father and child, husband and wife--All these questions, and fears, and doubts, passed through my imagination backwards and forwards with inconceivable rapidity--struck me with all the amazement of novelty, though in fact they were not new to me. The first moment I saw her, I was told she was a Jewess; I was aware of the difficulties, and yet I had never fixed my view upon them: I had suffered myself to waive the consideration of them till this moment. In the hope, the joy, the heaven of the first feelings of the passion of love, I had lost sight of all difficulties, human or divine; and now I was called upon to decide in one hour upon questions involving the happiness of my whole life. To be called upon before it was necessary too--for I was not in love, not I--at least I had formed no idea of marrying, no resolution to propose. Then bitterly I execrated the reporters, and the gossipers, and the letter-writing misses, whose tattling, and meddling, and idleness, and exaggeration, and absolute falsehood, had precipitated me into this misery. The drunken brute, too, who had blundered out to my father that fatal toast, had his full share of my indignation; and my mother, with her _presentiments_--and Mowbray, with his inconceivable imprudence--and my father, with his prejudices, his violence, and his Jupiter Ammon--every body, and every thing I blamed, except myself. And when I had vented my rage, still the question recurred, what was to be done? how should I resolve? Morning was come, the grey light was peeping through the shutters: I opened the window to feel the fresh calm air. I heard the people beginning to stir in the house: my father and mother were to be called at half after six. Six struck; I must decide at least, whether I would go with them or not. No chance of my father sleeping it off! Obstinate beyond conception; and by Jupiter Ammon once sworn, never revoked. But after all, where was the great evil of being disinherited? The loss of my paternal estate, in this moment of enthusiasm, appeared a loss I could easily endure. Berenice was an heiress--a rich heiress, and I had a small estate of my own, left to me by my grandfather. I could live with Berenice upon any thing--upon nothing. Her wishes were moderate, I was sure--I should not, however, reduce her to poverty; no, her fortune would be sufficient for us both. It would be mortifying to my pride--it would be painful to receive instead of to give--I had resolved never to be under such an obligation to a wife; but with such a woman as Berenice!--I would submit--submit to accept her and her fortune. Then, as to her being a Jewess--who knows what changes love might produce? Voltaire and Mowbray say, “qu’une femme est toujours de la religion de son amant.”