The Yoke Of The Thorah

. He found them ready for him. Old Redwood sat behind him as he worked at the portrait, and conversation was general throughout. They asked him to stay to dinner, but he was afraid of abusin

xhibition to be given that evening. The ticket said, "Admit Mr. E. Bacharach and one." E

ifteenth Str

this evening? There will no doubt be quite an interesting lot of people there, not to mention the picture

s sin

Bacha

allied forth to the nearest messenger office, and had it

sumptuous and pushing. She would laugh at him to herself, and with her father, to whom most likely she would show what he had written. Perhaps she would imagine that he was in love with her-girls are notorious for imagining such ridiculous things upon such slight provocation. He, certainly, would never have the hardihood to look her straight in the face again. He walked up and down the floor. Why didn't the messenger bring her answer? Though he knew, or

interval of silence. Then he heard her shut it. Then, in a voice t

sir; a

pretty, girlish hand. The paper had a faint, sweet smell-something like jasmine, something like mignonnette. He carried it back to his studio, unopened. There, h

to a private view, but have never been. I hope there are some of your pictures to be seen; are there?

tine R

ate to the sweetness of the scent. By and by he put it back in its envelope, and deposited it in the drawer of his desk. But he did not leave it there long. In a little while he had it out, and was reading it again, and again inhaling its perfume-which, faint to begin with, had now almost quite evaporated. Still, enough of it remained to

uld not do to be beforehand. The ten eternal minutes that lay between him and the appointed time he would while away by walking around the block. He walked slowly, trying t

me of Rossetti, and absent-mindedly turned the pages.

lden hair, and her lily-white forehead, and her deep brown eyes, shone at their best. She carried her wrap over her arm-a fur-lined circular. In her left hand she held her gloves. Her right she gave to Elias. His heart fluttered to the verge of fainting as he touched it. How smal

ses," he said, handing h

he other in the lapel of his coat. She stood on tip-toe and pinned it there. The trimming of her bonnet

t you would go. I was afraid y

was kind of you to as

ves. He saw that she was having d

help you?

t rose from the flower at her breast. Then he wrapped her in her circular; and they

oftly, and immediately reg

ll more softly; and stra

mystic, tender light. Elias had to bite his tongue to

ebody would nod and say: "How d'ye do, Bacharach?" and cast an admiring glance at his companion, which stirred his pride. Once a gentleman stopped and spoke a few words to

represented as a woman of about fifty years of age, tall, stalwart, imperious-looking, with iron-gray hair, steel-blue eyes, and a head of stern and majestic beauty. Christine thought the coloring was superb, and, "Where did you ever find such a wonderful f

where one might rest one's self were all occupied; so presently Elias asked whether

till early, and I for o

less response. "But at home I shall be able

put you to that trouble.

her to De

ing a sweet-bread, and accordingly Beaune was brought, as Christine remarked curiously, "in a little basket." She applied herself to the edibles with undisguised relish; but all at once, pausing and looking reproachfully at Elias, she e

e said, and began

adison Square that they got through the window at which they were established-about a thousand trifles. Afterward Elias preserved but a very dim remembrance of the words that they had spoken. He preserved a very vivid one of Christine's appearance-of how her eyes had glowed beneath her red bonnet, of how t

ngers; and all the while Elias was conscious of the touch of her shoulder upon his arm. But, as he saw the end drawing near, and knew that the moment was not far off when he would have to leave her, his spirits began to sink. Why could not the distance be doubled,

mself answered

Mr. Bacharach, and ge

tine gave her father an account of the evening's doings. At last Elias screwed his courage up, and tore himself away. Christine went with

tent fact. He loved her. There could be no doubt about it. With a sensation of genuine surprise, the simple fellow acknowledged to himself that he loved her-with genuine surprise and consternation. Perhaps some t

ncle's study, at the end of the hall, he could see that a light was still burning

art," he thought, "if he sh