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A FRIDAY EVENING.
19

"It was an instance of divine providence, for which I shall ever be thankful, that I recognized you directly you passed," said his father to the stranger.

"So you know my son, Baruch, already; this is my youngest daughter. How old are you now, Miriam?"

"Only a year younger than Baruch," answered the maiden, blushing.

"A foolish answer," said her father: "she is fourteen, I believe. I have an elder daughter, already married."

"Ah, my dears! I have two children also," said the stranger. "My Isabella is about your age, Miriam; my son will soon be twenty now. I hope when my children come here you will take care of them, especially in things pertaining to religion, for in all such they are wholly inexperienced. But stay," continued the stranger as he stood with folded arms before Baruch. "When I look at Baruch again, I cannot understand how it was I did not recognize him in the graveyard: his singularly dark complexion, his long, dark, almost black eyebrows, are just like yours in your younger days, when you meditated some daring adventure or other; and this frown on his uneven brow—that is just you; but the black wavy hair, and fine-cut mouth, with the soft dimple at the corner—ah, with what celestial sweetness Manuela smiled with