He re-entered the turret-chamber, and descended the stair, leaving

Rebecca scarcely more terrified at the prospect of the death to which

she had been so lately exposed, than at the furious ambition of the bold

bad man in whose power she found herself so unhappily placed. When she

entered the turret-chamber, her first duty was to return thanks to

the God of Jacob for the protection which he had afforded her, and to

implore its continuance for her and for her father. Another name glided

into her petition--it was that of the wounded Christian, whom fate had

placed in the hands of bloodthirsty men, his avowed enemies. Her heart

indeed checked her, as if, even in communing with the Deity in prayer,

she mingled in her devotions the recollection of one with whose fate

hers could have no alliance--a Nazarene, and an enemy to her faith. But

the petition was already breathed, nor could all the narrow prejudices

of her sect induce Rebecca to wish it recalled.




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