choly smile played about the mobile lips. "I brought myself up,"
she said. "You look puzzled--Oh, I know! Confess you think I'm Miss
Goldsmith!"

"Why--are--you--not?" he stammered.

"No, my name is Ansell, Esther Ansell."

"Pardon me. I am so bad at remembering names in introductions. But I've
just come back from Oxford and it's the first time I've been to this
house, and seeing you here without a cavalier when we arrived, I thought
you lived here."

"You thought rightly, I do live here." She laughed gently at his
changing expression.

"I wonder Sidney never mentioned you to me," he said.

"Do you mean Mr. Graham?" she said with a slight blush.

"Yes, I know he visits here."

"Oh, he is an artist. He has eyes only for the beautiful." She spoke
quickly, a little embarrassed.

"You wrong him; his interests are wider than that."

"Do you know I am so glad you didn't pay me the obvious compliment?" she
said, recovering herself. "It looked as if I were fishing for it. I'm so
stupid."

He looked at her blankly.

"_I'm_ stupid," he said, "for I don't know what compliment I missed
paying."

"If you regret it I shall not think so well of you," she said. "You know
I've heard all about your brilliant success at Oxford."

"They put all those petty little things in the Jewish papers, don't
they?"

"I read it in the _Times_," retorted Esther. "You took a double first
and the prize for poetry and a heap of other things, but I noticed the
prize for poetry, because it is so rare to find a Jew writing poetry."

"Prize poetry is not poetry," he reminded her. "But, considering the
Jewish Bible contains the finest poetry in the world, I do not see why
you should be surprised to find a Jew trying to write some."

"Oh, you know what I mean," answered Esther. "What is the use of talking
about the old Jews? We seem to be a different race now. Who cares for
poetry?"

"Our poet's scroll reaches on uninterruptedly through the Middle Ages.
The passing phenomenon of to-day must not blind us to the real traits of
our race," said Raphael.

"Nor must we be blind to the passing phenomenon of to-day," retorted
Esther. "We have no ideals now."

"I see Sidney has been infecting you," he said gently.

"No, no; I beg you will not think that," she said, flushing almost
resentfully. "I have thought these things, as the Scripture tells us to
meditate on the Law, day and night, sleeping and waking, standing up and
sitting down."