One of the first visitors to offer her condolence was Lady Patricia Byrne. Accompanied by Mrs. Lowther, she drove up in a closed carriage, bringing a beautiful wreath composed of lilies and violets. As no flowers were permitted to decorate the coffin, however, the wreath was placed in the room where the _shiva_[5] was held. It was the first opportunity Lady Montella’s relatives and friends had of observing Lionel’s future wife, and they did not scruple to make the most of it. Attired in complimentary mourning, with a black picture hat to set off the fairness of her hair and complexion, and carrying herself with an unaffected but distinguished air of grace, the girl certainly satisfied their critical eyes. With her face lit up with honest sympathy, she conversed with the mourners in a way which proved her tact and her knowledge of Jewish customs. Lionel’s face glowed with pride and gratification at the presence of his beloved. Footnote 5: Mourning. Mrs. Lowther was a colonel’s widow, fair, fat, and forty. She was devoted to her charge, but she did not understand the girl in the least. She was much too prosaic and matter-of-fact to enter into the hidden depths of Patricia’s temperament; and although she had lived with her for years, she knew only her exterior. Her manner towards Lionel Montella’s relatives was decidedly distant, and sitting apart, she did not attempt to join in the conversation. She showed unmistakably that she had come merely for Patricia’s sake, and not for her own. Her face expressed disapproval as they re-entered the carriage and were driven homewards. “You are the most curious girl I ever came across, Pat,” she said, with a sigh. “I wonder what your poor mother would have thought of you had she lived.” “_À propos_ of what?” interrogated Patricia, with wonder. “Why, your foolish engagement to this young man, of course.” Patricia’s brow contracted. “I thought you liked him,” she said. “Yes; I’ve nothing against him personally, but I do not approve of your becoming connected with a Jewish family.” “I am not going to marry the family,” the girl corrected amiably. “I have no desire to have more than one husband.” Her chaperon frowned. “You ought not to joke on this subject, Patricia,” she rejoined. “Your words confirm my opinion: you do not realise the gravity of the step you intend to take.” “Yes, I do—to its fullest extent. That is why I have allowed Mr. Montella to give me an engagement ring.” “Do you mean to say that you really have anything in common with those people—the people we have just left?” Mrs. Lowther asked, still unconvinced, “Cannot you see that they live in a world of their own, cemented by their religious and national customs? You may attempt to enter that world, but you must for ever remain an outsider. Even if you marry a Jew, you are not, and never can be, a Jewess. There is no strain of Oriental blood in you.”