Lady Montella listened to her son’s confession with compressed lips and a cloud on her brow. She had nothing against the woman of his choice—the Lady Patricia was well-born, and all that could be desired in looks, manner, and disposition—but there was one great, insuperable objection: the girl was a Christian. “Are there not good and sweet Jewish girls among your acquaintance that you must seek a wife of another race?” she asked, with a touch of reproach. “Could you not set your affections upon Raie Emanuel, for instance, or Zillah Lorm?” “Mother!” He glanced at her in surprise. “I thought you would understand. Can a man just calmly and dispassionately choose a girl first, and _then_ pour his love upon her? I admire Miss Lorm, and I am fond of our little Raie, but I would no more think of marrying either of them than I would think of a journey to the moon. Don’t you see, mother, that my feeling for Patricia is totally different. She herself is different to all other women—whether Jewish or Christian—that I have ever met. Her thoughts are mine, her sympathies are mine, her love is mine. Oh, I can’t explain it properly, but surely you must know!” There was an eager expression, half of entreaty, in his face. His mother regarded him earnestly, and realised the effort it was costing him to break through his accustomed reserve. Her face relaxed a little of its sternness, but the determination remained. “Lionel,” she asked quietly, “are you a true and zealous Jew?” “Yes.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “At least I try to be.” “And yet you would marry a Christian?” “I would marry the Lady Patricia; that she is a Christian is a mere accident of birth.” “Until now the Montella stock has been entirely and purely Jewish. Do you think the prestige of the family would gain by an infusion of Gentile blood?” “If you put it that way, as long as it is ‘blue blood’ I do not think the prestige of family would suffer.” Lady Montella could not resist a smile, but it quickly faded. “Is Patricia willing to become a Jewess or, rather, a proselyte?” she asked. The young man’s face clouded. “I do not know,” was his rejoinder. “Patricia and I have never discussed the subject of religion, but I believe she belongs, nominally at least, to the Church of England. If her faith is, to her, a source of happiness, I scarcely like to ask her to give it up.” Again the mother’s swift glance seemed to penetrate his being; again the question passed her lips. “Lionel, are you a true Jew?” The colour surged into his cheeks. “Have you any reason to doubt my sincerity?” he said. “I trust not; but, my son, I am more far-seeing than you. A Christian mother means Christian children, a Christian household. In this way the Montella traditions will be destroyed.”