Yet somehow the girl's face has a
light of its own. She is turned fair towards the window, and is looking
out to sea. A mist is rising from the water, and the shore is growing
grey and heavy as the light in the west recedes and night creeps in from
the ocean. She watches the waves and the mist till all is mist without;
a scene which she had watched, how often she could not count. The night
closes in entirely upon her, but she does not move. At last the door of
the room opens and some one enters and closes it again. "My daughter!"
says an anxious voice. "Are you here, Jessica?"
"I am here, father," is the reply. "Shall we have lights?"
"As you will."
Even as they speak a servant enters, and lighted candles are put upon the
table. They are alone again. Both are pale. The girl stands very
still, and so quiet is her face, one could never guess that she is
passing, through the tragic moment of her life.
"What is your answer, Jessica?" he asks. "I will marry him when he
comes back."
"Thank God!" is the old man's acknowledgment. "You have saved our
fortunes."
The girl sighs, and then, with a little touch of that demure irony which
we had seen in her years before, says: "I trust we have not lost our
honour.
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