"But you, maiden," said Rowena—"you surely can have nothing to fear. She who nursed the sick bed of Ivanhoe," she continued, rising with enthusiasm—"she can have nothing to fear in England, where Saxon and Norman will contend who shall most do her honour."
"Thy speech is fair, lady," said Rebecca, "and thy purpose fairer; but it may not be—there is a gulph betwixt us. Our breeding, our faith, alike forbid either to pass over it. Farewell—yet, e'er I go, indulge me one request. The bridal-veil hangs over thy face; raise it, and let me see the features of which fame speaks so highly."
"They are scarce worthy of being looked upon," said Rowena; "but, expecting the same from my visitant, I remove the veil."
She took it off accordingly, and partly from the consciousness of beauty, partly from bashfulness, she blushed so intensely, that cheek, brow, neck, and bosom, were suffused with crimson. Rebecca blushed also, but it was a momentary feeling; and, mastered by higher emotions, past slowly from her features like the crim-
