But I feared to grieve thee

  Her father's head was bent. She lifted it up by the chin and looked pleadingly into the big brown eyes.   "Thou art not angry with me, father?"   "No, Hannah. But thou shouldst have told me from the first."   "I always meant to, father. But I feared to grieve thee."   "Wherefore? The man is a Jew. And thou lovest him, dost thou not?"   "As my life, father."   He kissed her lips.   "It is enough, my Hannah. With thee to love him, he will become pious. When a man has a good Jewish wife like my beloved daughter, who will keep a good Jewish house, he cannot be long among the sinners. The light of a true Jewish home will lead his footsteps back to God."   Hannah pressed her face to his in silence. She could not speak. She had not strength to undeceive him further, to tell him she had no care for trivial forms. Besides, in the flush of gratitude and surprise at her father's tolerance, she felt stirrings of responsive tolerance to his religion. It was not the moment to analyze her feelings or to enunciate her state of mind regarding religion. She simply let herself sink in the sweet sense of restored confidence and love, her head resting against his.   Presently Reb Shemuel put his hands on her head and murmured again: "May God make thee as Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah."