“Are you really proud of being a Jewess?” she asked suddenly, with shy diffidence. “Honestly glad and proud, I mean? I try to be, but somehow I--I can’t!” She blushed as she made the confession. Mrs. Cohen regarded her musingly. Her sombre mourning-gown threw into relief the brilliancy of her hair and complexion. Her eyes were deeply thoughtful, and her face glowed with the health and ingenuousness of girlhood. It was a pity, the elder lady thought, that this sweet and beautiful girl should have picked up such strangely unconventional ideas. “Don’t you think, dear child,” she said slowly, “that we have a right to be proud of our ancient Race? Think of our great and glorious past. What other nation has been through the vicissitudes and misfortunes which have afflicted us, and yet come through them all uncrushed as we have done? Surely you have read our history in the Old Testament--how we were made the chosen people of God in Abraham’s time; and although the other nations which surrounded us gave themselves over to idolatry and lasciviousness, we ever remained faithful to our divine heritage, until our pure Monotheism became the religion of the civilized world. “Think of our great men of bygone days--Moses, who received the Decalogue, which is as potent to-day as when it was given on Mount Sinai; Joshua, the mighty leader; David, the soldier-poet; Solomon, the wise king; Elijah, the prophet. Is it not something to belong to a race which has produced such men as those--a race upon whom God has set His seal, and, in spite of assimilation, has kept a peculiar people unto Himself?” But Celia still looked doubtful. “You are like my brother,” she said. “You look at Israel through a veil of idealism. I can only think of what we are to-day. We have had a great past--yes; but what have we to link us with that past? Our glory departed when Jerusalem was destroyed, and since the dispersion we have surely fallen into disrepute. I always feel, in reading over our history, that, from the call of Abraham, we were working up to a climax, and no climax came, unless ’twere overlooked; as if we were, so to speak, a building without a coping-stone. We were established as a nation, we throve and grew great; but our greatness was overthrown, and we toppled over from the eminence on which we stood, with our divine purpose but half fulfilled. And we cannot live in the past, grand though it may have been. It seems to me that we must have degenerated greatly since then. Our national characteristics of to-day are not such as should give us cause for pride; and even though they have undoubtedly been exaggerated by our Gentile neighbours, we cannot deny that there is some foundation for the unfortunate reputation we bear.”