one way and I another.'
'But you think wrongly. I would have you see your error, and turn from
it. Can you believe in the Christian faith and yet----'
'I am a Jew,' he said.
'A Jew!' she exclaimed. She began to preach against that error also;
entering into a long argument in a dull dogmatic way, but with an
earnestness which held the two men irresolute with wonder and surprise.
'It would seem, madam,' said the Jew, after she had talked much, 'that
you desire greatly to set an erring world to rights again.'
'And should we not all desire that?' she asked, unconscious of the
irony. 'For what else are we placed in the world but to pass on to
others the light that God has entrusted to us?'
'I verily believe, madam,' said he seriously, 'that you think exactly
what you say, and that you desire greatly to do me good. But, putting
these questions aside, will you tell me if you have this ornament which
I venerate?'
'Yes, I have it.'
'You took it from the breast of my sister when she lay dead upon your
shore?'
'I unfastened it from her neck, and have kept it with the greatest
care. It was an ornament which was quite unsuitable to your sister's
station in life. I could not have allowed any of our poor women to see
such a valuable stone on the neck of a girl like themselves in station;
it would have given them false ideas, and I am careful to teach them
simplicity in dress. In England we do not approve of people of your
class wearing jewellery.'
The curate put his arms on the table and bowed his head on his hands.
'Be that as it may,' said the Jew, rising, 'I will thank you if you will
give me my property now and let me go.'
'I cannot give it to you.' She was a little flustered in her manner, but
not much. 'It would be against my conscience to give you what you would
use profanely. Providence has placed it in my care, and I am responsible
for its use. If I gave it to you it would be tempting you to sin.'
He sat down again and looked at her with wonder in his soft brown eyes.
'You have had the stone taken out,' he said, 'and set in a ring.'
'Yes, and I have given it to my daughter, so that it is no longer mine
to return to you. You must be aware that the marble cross stone I set up
over your sister's grave cost me much more than the value of this stone.
I am very much surprised that you should ask me to give it back. Surely
any real feeling of gratitude for what I did for her would prompt you to
be glad
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