that you have something to give me in return.' She paused, then
harped again upon the other string. 'But under any circumstances I could
not feel justified in giving you anything that you would put to a bad
use.'

'That you have stolen my property does not make it yours to withhold,
whatever may be your sentiments concerning it.'

'"Stolen!" I do not understand you when you use such a word. Do you
think it possible that I should steal? I took the chain from your
sister's neck with the highest motives. Do not use such a word as
"stolen" in speaking to me.'

'Truly, madam,' he said, 'you could almost persuade me that you are in
the right, and that I insult you.'

She looked at him stolidly, although evidently not without some inward
apprehension. It was a piteous sight--the poor distorted reasoning
faculty grovelling as a slave to the selfish will.

'I cannot give you back the amethyst,' she said, 'for I have given it
away; but if you will promise me never again to regard it as having any
value as an amulet or talisman, I will give you the necklace, and I will
pay you something to have another stone put in.'

The curate looked up. 'Get him the necklace and Violetta's ring,' he
said, 'and we will go.'

A man had arisen within the curate who was stronger than his
self-control. They might have argued with her for ever: he frightened
her into compliance. He took her by the arm and turned her to the door.

'There is not a man, woman or child in this town,' he said, 'who shall
not hear of this affair if you delay another moment to get him the chain
and the ring. It is due to his charity if the matter is concealed then.'

When she was gone the Jew was disposed to make remarks. 'I truly
believe,' he said, 'that it is as you say, that this woman is very
virtuous in the sight of her own conscience.'

A servant brought them a packet. The Jew opened it, taking out the chain
and the ring reverently and putting them in his breast. Then they went
out into the wind and the rain.

The Jew went to his native city, and the curate accompanied him as far
as London. There he said good-bye to him as to a friend. He did not
return at once to his parish, but found a substitute to do his work
there, and went inland for a month, seeking by change and relaxation to
attain to the true judgment of calm pulses and quiet nerves. It was in
April and in Lent that he returned.

Higgs, the irrepressible, received him with joy. 'It's you that