"You do not know the gentleman you have insulted," said Mr. Whimpole as he walked toward the door. "You do not know my position in this town. I am in the expectation of being made a justice of the peace. You will live to repent this." "I think not," said Aaron, taking the candle to show his visitor out. "I trust you may." "You may find your residence in Gosport, where I am universally respected, not as agreeable as you would wish it to be." "We shall see, we shall see," said Aaron, still smiling. "I may also make myself respected here." "There is a prejudice against your race----" "Am I not aware of it? Is not every Jew aware of it? Is it not thrown in our teeth by the bigoted and narrow-minded upon every possible occasion? We will live it down, sir. We have already done much; we will yet do more. Your use of the word prejudice is appropriate, for, as I understand its meaning, it represents a judgment formed without proper knowledge. Yes, sir, it is not to be disputed that there exists a prejudice against our race." "Which, without putting any false meaning upon it, will make this ancient and respectable town"--here Mr. Whimpole found himself at a loss, and he was compelled to wind up with the vulgar figure of speech--"too hot to hold you." "This ancient town," said Aaron with a deeper seriousness in his voice, "is known to modern men as Gosport." "A clever discovery," sneered Mr. Whimpole. "Are you going to put another of your false constructions on it?" "No, sir. I am about to tell you a plain and beautiful truth. When in olden times a name was given to this place it was not Gosport. It was God's Port; and what God's port is there throughout the civilized world in which Jew and Christian alike have not an equal right to live, despite prejudice, despite bigotry, and despite the unreasonable anger of large corn-chandlers and respected churchwardens? I wish you, sir, good-night." And having by this time reached the street door, Aaron Cohen opened it for Mr. Whimpole, and bowed him politely out. CHAPTER XII. THE COURSE OF THE SEASONS. Upon Aaron's return to the little parlor he saw that Rachel was greatly disturbed. "My life!" he said, and he folded her in his arms and tenderly embraced her. "Don't let such a little thing as this distress you; it will all come right in the end." "But how you kept your temper," she said, "that is what surprised me." "It gave me the advantage of him, Rachel. I was really amused." He pinched her cheeks to bring the color back to them. "Some men must be managed one way, some another. And now for our game of bezique. Mr. Whimpole's visit"--he laughed at the recollection--"will make me enjoy it all the more."