Lady Marjorie’s blue eyes were quite troubled. “I don’t know about that,” she said musingly. “My dear husband was a Roman Catholic and I am a Protestant, yet we never had a single quarrel over religion; and he was a man with peculiar views, you know. I dare say you remember that, when he died, I had to send his heart to be buried in Jerusalem--that was just one of his religious fads, and he had many more, poor dear.” She paused a moment to raise a diminutive lace handkerchief to her eyes, and then added cheerfully, “But I let him go his way, and I went mine, and we were very happy together.” “Yes, but in this case there is a difference of race as well as religion. Celia is not prejudiced in any way, nevertheless she would find many little things that would go against the grain, so to speak, and offend her inborn Jewish instincts. I do not think there can be perfect unity between a Christian husband and a Jewish wife, or _vice versâ_; there are bound to be certain jars for which neither is to blame.” Lady Marjorie moved her position, so that he could not see her face. “If you really loved a woman,” she said in a low voice, “it would not matter to you if she were a Heathen Chinee. Love knows neither nationality nor creed. Besides, Celia is not a Jewish Jewess, you know.” “More’s the pity,” he answered, as he rose and paced the room. “I am afraid that I have not quite done my duty in allowing her to grow up without any Jewish society and influence other than my own. However, I am sending her to stay with an orthodox Jewish family in Maida Vale, where she will see more of Jewish home and social life than she has ever done before.” He ceased speaking abruptly as the girl herself made her appearance. Her eyes were bright, and there was a slight flush on her cheeks. She sank on to a chair with an air of relief, for she had been for a long walk and was tired. Lady Marjorie greeted her with warmth. “So you are going to leave us, naughty girl!” she said affectionately. “I hope that when you have become a second Patti, you will not forget old friends.” Celia laughed merrily. “Oh no, I won’t forget you,” she answered lightly. “Besides, I am going to make my _début_ at your ‘At Home,’ you know.” “Yes, that’s right. I shall be in town at the end of April, and shall quite enjoy being the first to ‘discover’ the coming singer.” “I don’t suppose she will be allowed to sing in public for several years yet,” said Herbert, doubtfully. “There is a great deal of hard work to be gone through first.” Celia made a little grimace. “Herbert is a dreadful damper,” she said with a pout. “I don’t believe he wants me to go.” “Ah well, he will miss you, dear,” said Lady Marjorie, kindly. “There will be no one to look after him when you are gone.” “He ought to get married,” suggested the girl with a smile. “A wife is just the very thing he wants. I wish you would persuade him to look out for one, Lady Marjie.”