At last the genteel stone-mason found an opportunity of piercing through the throng of friends that surrounded Mr. Brill, and of obsequiously inviting the generous orderer of this especially handsome and profitable tombstone to inspect it. Kitty followed in the wake of her parents. Almost at the tomb, a corpulent man with graying hair, issuing suddenly from an avenue of headstones, accosted her. She frowned. "You oughtn't to have come," she said. "Since I belong to the family, Kitty," he remonstrated, playing nervously with his massive watch seals. "No, you don't," she retorted. Then, relentingly: "I told you, Moss, that I could not give you my formal consent till after my sister's tombstone was set. That is the least respect I can pay her." And she turned away from the somewhat disconcerted Rosenstein, feeling very right-minded and very forgiving toward Salvina for delaying by so many years her marriage with the South African magnate. Meantime Mr. Brill, in his heavily draped high hat, stood beside the pompous granite memorial, surveying it approvingly. His wife's hand lay tenderly in his own. Underneath their feet lay the wormy dust that had once palpitated with truth and honour, that had kept the conscience of the household. "That bit of scroll-work," said the stone-mason admiringly, and with an air of having thrown it in at a loss; "you don't often see a bit like that--everybody's been saying so." "Very fine!" replied Mr. Brill obediently. "I paid the synagogue bill for you--to save you trouble," added the stone-mason, insinuatingly. But Mr. Brill was abstractedly studying the stone, and the mason moved off delicately. Mrs. Brill tried to spell out a few of the words, but, as there was no one to reprimand her, admitted her break-down. "Read it to me, dear heart," she whispered to Mr. Brill. "I did read it you, my precious one," he said, "when Kitty sent it us. It says:-- "'SALVINA BRILL, Whom God took suddenly, On May 29th, 1897, Aged twenty-five; Loved and lamented by all For her perfect goodness.' Then come the Hebrew letters." "Poor Salvina!" sighed Mrs. Brill. "She deserves it, though she did spoil our lives for years." He pressed her hand. "I can't tell you how frightened I was of her," she went on. "She almost made me think I ought not to forgive you even on the Day of Atonement. But I don't bear her malice, and I don't grudge her what the stone says." "No, you mustn't," he said piously. "Besides, everybody knows one never puts the whole truth on tombstones." * * * * * VIII SATAN MEKATRIG * * * * * VIII SATAN MEKATRIG "_Suffer not the evil imagination to have dominion over us ... deliver me from the destructive Satan._"--Morning Prayer.