Part 52 (2/2)
”Oh, show it me! Don't talk so much,” she said, smiling.
”No,” he said, teasingly. ”No more accidents for me! I'll wait to make sure--till your father and mother have taken me to their arms.
Rabbinical law is so full of pitfalls--I might touch your finger this or that way, and then we should be married. And then, if your parents said 'no,' after all--”
”We should have to make the best of a bad job,” she finished up laughingly.
”All very well,” he went on in his fun, ”but it would be a pretty kettle of fish.”
”Heavens!” she cried, ”so it will be. They will be charred to ashes.”
And turning tail, she fled to the kitchen, pursued by her lover. There, dead to the surprise of the servant, David Brandon fed his eyes on the fair incarnation of Jewish domesticity, type of the vestal virgins of Israel, Ministresses at the hearth. It was a very homely kitchen; the dressers glistening with speckless utensils, and the deep red glow of the coal over which the pieces of fish sputtered and crackled in their bath of oil, filling the room with a sense of deep peace and cosy comfort. David's imagination transferred the kitchen to his future home, and he was almost dazzled by the thought of actually inhabiting such a fairyland alone with Hannah. He had knocked about a great deal, not always innocently, but deep down at his heart was the instinct of well-ordered life. His past seemed joyless folly and chill emptiness. He felt his eyes growing humid as he looked at the frank-souled girl who had given herself to him. He was not humble, but for a moment he found himself wondering how he deserved the trust, and there was reverence in the touch with which he caressed her hair. In another moment the frying was complete, and the contents of the pan neatly added to the dish. Then the voice of Reb Shemuel crying for Hannah came down the kitchen stairs, and the lovers returned to the upper world. The Reb had a tiny harvest of crumbs in a brown paper, and wanted Hannah to stow it away safely till the morning, when, to make a.s.surance doubly sure, a final expedition in search of leaven would be undertaken. Hannah received the packet and in return presented her betrothed.
Reb Shemuel had not of course expected him till the next morning, but he welcomed him as heartily as Hannah could desire.
”The Most High bless you!” he said in his charming foreign accents. ”May you make my Hannah as good a husband as she will make you a wife.”
”Trust me, Reb Shemuel,” said David, grasping his great hand warmly.
”Hannah says you're a sinner in Israel,” said the Reb, smiling playfully, though there was a touch of anxiety in the tones. ”But I suppose you will keep a _kosher_ house.”
”Make your mind easy, sir,” said David heartily. ”We must, if it's only to have the pleasure of your dining with us sometimes.”
The old man patted him gently on the shoulder.
”Ah, you will soon become a good Jew,” he said. ”My Hannah will teach you, G.o.d bless her.” Reb Shemuel's voice was a bit husky. He bent down and kissed Hannah's forehead. ”I was a bit _link_ myself before I married my Simcha” he added encouragingly.
”No, no, not you,” said David, smiling in response to the twinkle in the Reb's eye. ”I warrant _you_ never skipped a _Mitzvah_ even as a bachelor.”
”Oh yes, I did,” replied the Reb, letting the twinkle develop to a broad smile, ”for when I was a bachelor I hadn't fulfilled the precept to marry, don't you see?”
”Is marriage a _Mitzvah_, then?” inquired David, amused.
”Certainly. In our holy religion everything a man ought to do is a _Mitzvah_, even if it is pleasant.”
”Oh, then, even I must have laid up some good deeds,” laughed David, ”for I have always enjoyed myself. Really, it isn't such a bad religion after all.”
”Bad religion!” echoed Reb Shemuel genially. ”Wait till you've tried it.
You've never had a proper training, that's clear. Are your parents alive?”
”No, they both died when I was a child,” said David, becoming serious.
”I thought so!” said Reb Shemuel. ”Fortunately my Hannah's didn't.” He smiled at the humor of the phrase and Hannah took his hand and pressed it tenderly. ”Ah, it will be all right,” said the Reb with a characteristic burst of optimism. ”G.o.d is good. You have a sound Jewish heart at bottom, David, my son. Hannah, get the _Yomtovdik_ wine. We will drink, a gla.s.s for _Mazzoltov_, and I hope your mother will be back in time to join in.”
Hannah ran into the kitchen feeling happier than she had ever been in her life. She wept a little and laughed a little, and loitered a little to recover her composure and allow the two men to get to know each other a little.
”How is your Hannah's late husband?” inquired the Reb with almost a wink, for everything combined to make him jolly as a sandboy. ”I understand he is a friend of yours.”
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