er. "I met your brother at the theatre."

Hannah's face lit up.

"How long was that ago?" she said anxiously.

"I remember exactly. It was the night before the first _Seder_ night."

"Was he well?"

"Perfectly."

"Oh, I am so glad."

She told Esther of Levi's strange failure to appear at the annual family
festival. "My father went out to look for him. Our anxiety was
intolerable. He did not return until half-past one in the morning. He
was in a terrible state. 'Well,' we asked, 'have you seen him?' 'I have
seen him,' he answered. 'He is dead.'"

Esther grew pallid. Was this the sequel to the strange episode in Mr.
Henry Goldsmith's library?

"Of course he wasn't really dead," pursued Hannah to Esther's relief.
"My father would hardly speak a word more, but we gathered he had seen
him doing something very dreadful, and that henceforth Levi would be
dead to him. Since then we dare not speak his name. Please don't refer
to him at tea. I went to his rooms on the sly a few days afterwards, but
he had left them, and since then I haven't been able to hear anything of
him. Sometimes I fancy he's gone off to the Cape."

"More likely to the provinces with a band of strolling players. He told
me he thought of throwing up the law for the boards, and I know you
cannot make a beginning in London."

"Do you think that's it?" said Hannah, looking relieved in her turn.

"I feel sure that's the explanation, if he's not in London. But what in
Heaven's name can your father have seen him doing?"

"Nothing very dreadful, depend upon it," said Hannah, a slight shade of
bitterness crossing her wistful features. "I know he's inclined to be
wild, and he should never have been allowed to get the bit between his
teeth, but I dare say it was only some ceremonial crime Levi was caught
committing."

"Certainly. That would be it," said Esther. "He confessed to me that he
was very _link_. Judging by your tone, you seem rather inclined that way
yourself," she said, smiling and a little surprised.

"Do I? I don't know," said Hannah, simply. "Sometimes I think I'm very
_froom_."

"Surely you know what you are?" persisted Esther. Hannah shook her head.

"Well, you know whether you believe in Judaism or not?"

"I don't know what I believe. I do everything a Jewess ought to do, I
suppose. And yet--oh, I don't know."

Esther's smile faded; she looked at her companion with fresh interest.
Hannah's face was full of brooding thought, and