Dusk had fallen, and candles were brought. She repeated the beautiful old prayer dutifully, that light and peace should dwell in the house, and that God's mercy should avert every sorrow, pain, and grief.... She knew the few words of the formula by heart, and yet this evening they fell slowly from her lips. She doubted that she was worthy to pray to God--she a Jewess, who had in her possession a letter from her Christian lover! Overcome with fatigue and anxiety, she sank upon a chair, and looked at the outside of the letter. It was sealed. It was a sin to break a seal upon the Sabbath. "It is not my greatest sin," she thought, as she tore open the letter. Herr von Negrusz wrote of his love for her, and that he must die or go mad without her. "Become a Christian, and be my wife. The sin against your husband will not be so great as the sin against our love, if you refuse. I know that you love me. Only tell me that you will come to me, and all else is my care." She crushed the letter in her hand, and threw it down. Then she picked it up, straightened it out, and reread it. Her hands fell from the table, and bending over them, her tears fell fast. She stammered convulsively: "O my God! help me, enlighten me. Let me not become like Esther Freudenthal, and end my days in shame and remorse. I have been a faithful wife.... I can not break my marriage vows ... but I love him, and feel that life is worthless away from him. He is a good man ... but were he as wicked as the hussar who ruined Esther.... O my God! desert me not...." Crying thus in the agony of her soul, she did not hear the door open, or a man's step behind her. A hand was laid upon her shoulder. She looked up, her husband stood before her. "Thank God!" he cried, joyfully, "I am home at last. The storm has made the roads...." He stopped and looked at her.... "Chane," he added, anxiously, "how ill you look! what is the matter?" She did not answer, and his glance fell on the letter. He reached toward it, and she did not try to stop him. He read the first line, and became as pale as death. "To you--writing to you thus!" He read a little further, and then looked at the signature. "From him! This is a blow I did not expect." He read on. His eyes seemed starting out of their sockets, his hand trembled, and his face showed how he suffered. "What?" he cried, when he had reached a certain point. "What? Is this true?" He ceased, and she slipped on to the floor and clasped his knees, while he finished reading the letter. He then threw it on the table, and bending over her, said sternly, "Rise and be seated." She obeyed. "I only wish to know one thing," he went on, standing in front of her--"the Christian writes that you love him.... Is it not a lie?... Chane, the Christian lies?..." Lower and lower she bent her head. "Kill me," she said, "for I deserve it. What he writes is true. I do love him."