Elias did not enjoy his journey home that night. His frame of mind was by no means such as, on general principles, one would expect of a man in his position--a man who had just said his last farewell to the lady whom he loved, and whom the morrow was to make his bride. His imagination running on ahead of his person, entered the rabbi's study, and rehearsed the scene that would there shortly have to be enacted in very truth. Elias was surprised at the excessive dread he felt. He strove to reason it away, repeating to himself, “He can do nothing, absolutely nothing. He can only talk; and talk doesn't hurt.” But all the same, when he arrived in front of his house, and realized that the long-deferred moment was actually at hand, his heart quaked within him, and a sudden perspiration broke out upon his forehead. However, there was no help for it. He had promised; and he was bound to keep his promise. So, drawing a deep breath, and swallowing his reluctance he opened the rabbi's study door. IX HE rabbi sat before his empty fire-place, with slippered feet upon the hearth, reading to himself, in a whisper, from the current number of _The Jewish Messenger_. He raised his eyes absent-mindedly upon Elias's face, where they rested for an instant, vacant of expression. Then, suddenly, they lighted up, but with a light which was manifestly that of alarm. Throwing aside his newspaper, and half rising from his chair, “What--what is the matter with you?” he cried. “What has happened?” “Happened? The matter with me?” stammered Elias, halting. “What do you mean?” “Why, boy, you're as pale as death. You look--you look as though you had seen a ghost.” Elias forced a laugh, a faint one. “Nonsense,” he said. “I'm all right. Perhaps it's the shade of your lamp. The light, coming through that green, is enough to make any one look.” He sat down opposite the rabbi, and struggled hard to appear nonchalant and at his ease, even going to the length of lighting a cigarette. He must have met with some success; for presently the rabbi, who had not ceased to regard him anxiously, observed with an air of relief, “Yes, I guess it _was_ the lamp-shade. Now that you're seated and out of the range of it, you look as usual. But when you first came in, I declare, you gave me quite a turn.” With which he picked up his newspaper, found his place, and resumed his whispered reading. Thus for a few minutes. Then, tossing his half-consumed cigarette into the grate, “I wanted to have a little talk with you to-night, Uncle Felix, if you don't mind,” Elias said. “Of course, I don't mind,” the rabbi returned kindly, lowering his paper. “What did you want to say?” “Something that will surprise you, I suppose. I wanted to tell you that I am thinking of--of getting married.” “Ah, indeed!” cried the rabbi, his face breaking into a smile. “Thinking of getting married! Well, I'm glad, right glad, to hear it. It's--you're twenty-seven, aren't you?--it's high time.”