ng? Esther stared at him
from every page. She was the heroine of her own book; yes, and the hero,
too, for he was but another side of herself translated into the
masculine. The whole book was Esther, the whole Esther and nothing but
Esther, for even the satirical descriptions were but the revolt of
Esther's soul against mean and evil things. He turned to the great
love-scene of the book, and read on and on, fascinated, without getting
further than the chapter.

CHAPTER XI.

GOING HOME.

No need to delay longer; every need for instant flight. Esther had found
courage to confess her crime against the community to Raphael; there was
no seething of the blood to nerve her to face Mrs. Henry Goldsmith. She
retired to her room soon after dinner on the plea (which was not a
pretext) of a headache. Then she wrote:

"DEAR MRS. GOLDSMITH:

"When you read this, I shall have left your house, never to return.
It would be idle to attempt to explain my reasons. I could not hope
to make you see through my eyes. Suffice it to say that I cannot
any longer endure a life of dependence, and that I feel I have
abused your favor by writing that Jewish novel of which you
disapprove so vehemently. I never intended to keep the secret from
you, after publication. I thought the book would succeed and you
would be pleased; at the same time I dimly felt that you might
object to certain things and ask to have them altered, and I have
always wanted to write my own ideas, and not other people's. With
my temperament, I see now that it was a mistake to fetter myself by
obligations to anybody, but the mistake was made in my girlhood
when I knew little of the world and perhaps less of myself.
Nevertheless, I wish you to believe, dear Mrs. Goldsmith, that all
the blame for the unhappy situation which has arisen I put upon my
own shoulders, and that I have nothing for you but the greatest
affection and gratitude for all the kindnesses I have received at
your hands. I beg you not to think that I make the slightest
reproach against you; on the contrary, I shall always henceforth
reproach myself with the thought that I have made you so poor a
return for your generosity and incessant thoughtfulness. But the
sphere in which you move is too high for me; I cannot assimilate
with it and I return, not without gladness, to the humble sph