“So it is,” Elias assented, conscious of a certain dismal humor in the situation. There befell a silence, during which the rabbi, still with a smile upon his lips, seemed to be revolving the intelligence in his mind. Pretty soon, “Yes, I admit, it does surprise me,” he continued, “for, to speak the truth, I had set you down for a pretty confirmed woman-hater. But, as I say, it's high time. Men wait too long nowadays about getting married. In half the weddings that I perform, the bridegrooms are fully thirty-five, and many of them are upwards of forty. Now, in my time, it was different. We used to recognize marriage as a religious obligation--which it is, in fact--and to look askance at a man who was still single at five-and-twenty. I myself was married at twenty-three.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Well, have you begun to look around?” “To look around?” queried Elias, puzzled. “Exactly--for a young lady,” explained the rabbi. “Oh! Why, no. I found her without looking around.” “Found her? You mean, then, that you have actually made a choice?” “Why, of course. What did you suppose?” “Oh, I thought may be you were merely considering the subject abstractly--on general principles--and had decided that the time had come. But you say that you have already chosen the lady. Well, I declare, how close-mouthed you have kept!--I suppose now,” he added, “you want me to open negotiations, eh?” “Negotiations? How do you mean?” “Why, with her parents, of course. Ask for her hand--declare your sentiments.” “Oh, no; that isn't necessary.” “No? How so?” “Why, I've done all that for myself. I have proposed, and--and been accepted.” “You have! You don't say so! Oh, you sly, secretive rascal! Well, I congratulate you. You ought to have stuck to the good, old-fashioned custom, and had me make the first advances; but I congratulate you, all the same. What's her name? Who is she? One of our congregation? Tell me all about her.” The rabbi sat forward in his chair, curiosity incarnate. His pale skin had become slightly flushed. His eyes, beaming over the gold bows of his spectacles, were fixed intently upon his nephew's face. Elias had not enjoyed this beating about the bush; but he had lacked both the courage and the tact to put an end to it. Now, however, when its end had arrived naturally, in the course of circumstances, he wished that it might have been indefinitely prolonged; so great, so unreasonable, was the dread he felt. “Her name,” he began--he looked hard at the floor; and his voice was a trifle unsteady--“she's a young American lady; and her name is Redwood--Miss Christine Redwood.”