“But how would I, no more than a steward, and a man of Damascus by birth, hope to choose the woman who should be Isaac’s bride? The choice could not be mine. It had to be the Lord’s. So this evening, as I stood by the well of Haran, knowing that the women of this place would come there for water, I prayed that God would show me the woman he chose. I asked for this sign, that when I asked a woman for a drink of water, she would not only give it to me, but would also offer water for my animals.”

Mother raised an eyebrow at this. Rebekah suspected what she was thinking: Eliezer had not chosen an easy sign for God to fulfill. The kind of woman who would, of herself, talk freely to a stranger at the well, and pour water for him, was not the kind of woman that he could bring home as bride for his master’s son. So he made the sign even more outrageous—that she must offer to water his animals as well, even though he had servants with him who were perfectly capable of doing it. What woman, of low or high station, would go so far?

And when Father read Eliezer’s words, he looked sharply at Rebekah, for of course he knew that they would not be having this conversation if Rebekah had not fulfilled the sign in every particular, which meant that she had behaved in an outrageously immodest manner.

Rebekah merely bowed her head demurely. Let Father think what he would. She was led by God today. What seemed brazen to her parents had felt like ordinary generosity to her at the time. Or not even that. It had simply felt right.

Eliezer went on. “Your daughter, with astonishing kindness, put my request and the needs of my animals above her own modesty. I received my sign from the Lord in every particular. Then, to learn that she is in fact the daughter of Bethuel, a young woman whom any great man would desire for the bride of his heir—and, of course, my own eyes told me of her beauty, which will greatly please my master’s son.”

Rebekah saw Laban smirking, and imagined what he’d say to her later about what he’d do if Father ever suggested that Pillel should go choose a wife for him.

“And now, if you will treat my master with kindness and faithfulness, tell me. And if not, tell me there is no hope for my master’s suit, so I can know which way to turn.”

Father began nodding as he read this, though Rebekah well knew that the demand for an immediate answer was very abrupt. No, it was rude.

So Rebekah wrote her own words in the dirt, the letters facing Father, even as Laban was still writing Eliezer’s words.

“I will obey God’s will,” wrote Rebekah.