ly a leper's life. In the Peninsula they had dissembled
among Christians; he would dissemble among Jews, aping the ancient
apes. He foresaw no difficulty in the recantation. And--famous
idea!--his brother Joseph, poor, dear fool, should bring it about
under the illusion that he was the instrument of Providence: for to
employ Dom Diego as go-between were to risk the scenting of his real
motive. Then, when the Synagogue had taken him to its sanctimonious
arms, Ianthe--overwhelming thought!--would become his wife. He had
little doubt of that; her farewell glance, after her father's back was
turned, was sweet with promises and beseechments, and a brief note
from her early the next morning dissipated his last doubts.

"My poor Senhor Da Costa," she wrote, "I have lain awake all night
thinking of thee. Why ruin thy life for a mere abstraction? Canst thou
not make peace!--Thy friend, Ianthe."

He kissed the note; then, his wits abnormally sharpened, he set to
work to devise how to meet his brother, and even as he was meditating
how to trick him, his heart was full of affection for his little
Vidal. Poor Vidal! How he must have suffered to lose his beautiful
wife!

There were days on which Joseph's business or pleasure took him past
his brother's house, though he always walked on the further side, and
Uriel now set himself to keep watch at his study window from morning
to night, the pair of Dutch mirrors fixed slantingly outside the
window enabling him to see all the street life without being seen.
After three days, his patience was rewarded by the reflected image of
the portly pillar of the synagogue, and with him his little boy of
six. He ran downstairs and into the street and caught up the boy in
his arms--

"Oh, Vidal!" he said, real affection struggling in his voice.

"Thou!" said Joseph, staggering with the shock, and trembling at the
sound of his submerged name. Then, recovering himself, he said
angrily, "Pollute not my Daniel with thy touch."

"He is my nephew. I love him, too! How beautiful he is!" And he
kissed the wondering little fellow. He refused to put him down. He ran
towards his own door. He begged Vidal to give him a word in pity of
his loneliness. Joseph looked fearfully up and down the street. No Jew
was in sight. He slipped hastily through the door. From that moment
Uriel played his portly brother like a chess-piece, which should make
complicated moves and think it made them of its own free will.
Gr