“What means this, lady?” said the surprised bride; “or why do you offer to me a deference so unusual?”

“Because to you, Lady of Ivanhoe,” said Rebecca, rising up and resuming the usual quiet dignity of her manner, “I may lawfully, and without rebuke, pay the debt of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I am⁠—forgive the boldness which has offered to you the homage of my country⁠—I am the unhappy Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded his life against such fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe.”

“Damsel,” said Rowena, “Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back but in slight measure your unceasing charity towards him in his wounds and misfortunes. Speak, is there aught remains in which he or I can serve thee?”

“Nothing,” said Rebecca, calmly, “unless you will transmit to him my grateful farewell.”

“You leave England then?” said Rowena, scarce recovering the surprise of this extraordinary visit.