Then Mr. Dillworthy might be wrong in his estimate of the young man's character. The only objection Lord Storndale had to the union was that Ruth was a Jewess. But she was not a Jewess, and it was in his power to go to the young man's father and make the disclosure to him. Lord Storndale's natural reply would be: "Let it be clearly understood. You have done this lady a grievous wrong. You are a wealthy man. Repair the wrong by making a suitable settlement upon her. But it must be publicly done, and the injustice of which you have been guilty must be publicly acknowledged." The only answer he could make would be: "It is just. I will do as you dictate." What would be the effect as regarded himself? Among his co-religionists he was held up as a pillar of the old Jewish faith. His voice had been raised against apostasy; he had taken a decided stand against the more liberal ideas of civilized life which prevailed and were adopted by a large section of his race. Even now he was pledged to deliver a public address against the backsliding of the modern Jew, who was disposed to adapt his life to the altered circumstances of the times. He had written his address, and public attention had been drawn to the coming event. His arguments were to himself convincing, and by them he hoped to stem the tide. He had always been orthodox, and he hoped to prevail against the wave of heterodoxy which was sweeping over modern Judaism. He had stepped forward as a champion. In the light of the duty which properly devolved upon him, how dare he, himself a transgressor, presume to teach his brethren their religious duty? His sound judgment of things which interested or affected him was due to his common sense, which, he had been heard to say, was a rare quality. "You are always right," Mr. Moss once said to him. "How is it?" "If I form a correct opinion," he replied, with a smile, "it is because I exercise my common sense. I do not judge from my own standpoint." He did this now. He put himself in the place of other men. He listened to his own confession. He passed the verdict upon himself. "This man has been living the life of a hypocrite. He has accepted money for false services. Not in words, but by his acts, he has lied. He has violated the canons of his religion. He has deceived his wife--for money, which he pretends to despise. He has robbed a young girl of her birthright. And he dares to preach to us of duty!" Who would believe if he told the true story of his hard trial--if he described the bitter tribulation of his soul when his beloved wife was lying at death's door? He had counseled many men in their days of struggle and temptation to be brave and do their duty. How had he performed his in _his_ hour of temptation? No one would believe the only story he could plead in extenuation of his sin. He would be condemned by all.