Lady Marjorie gave vent to an ejaculation of amazement. “How could that possibly be?” she asked, her eyes distended in surprise. The announcement almost took her breath away. “She has decided to become a Christian,” he replied, as if apprising her of some calamity. “And by doing so, according to the terms of her father’s will, forfeits all claim to his wealth, which will go to build a Jewish hospital in South Africa.” Lady Marjorie stared at him blankly. “The little goose!” she exclaimed. Then she corrected herself. “No, I didn’t mean that. Of course she must act according to her belief. But I wonder what made her father insert such a nonsensical stipulation in his will. I suppose she is aware of it?” “No; judging by her letter, I do not think she is,” the artist answered, with troubled brow. “I blame myself very much that I did not inform her of it when I received the copy of the will, but I never dreamt of such a thing as this happening. Her _fiancé_ knows, however--Bernie Franks must have told him himself,--and he is in a dreadful way about it. He is staying at Mrs. Rosen’s house in Brighton, and begs me to join him there without delay. Celia’s baptism is fixed for next Sunday; and, of course, if that is allowed to take place, nothing can be done. Salmon writes that we must prevent that at all costs, but I don’t see how we can if the girl has thoroughly made up her mind to it.” “No, I suppose not, as she is of age. But you may be able to persuade her to postpone her baptism for a few months or so. It is possible that her opinions may yet undergo another change. Does she seem very enthusiastic over the matter?” For answer Herbert handed her Celia’s letter to read. It consisted of eight closely written pages; and judging by the frequent erasures, had evidently been a difficult one to indite. Lady Marjorie perused it carefully, reading several passages two or three times in order to fully comprehend their meaning. At length she replaced it in the envelope, and returned it without comment. “Well?” interrogated Karne, briefly. “What do you think about it?” “I hardly know. You see, I’m a Christian myself--though not a good one, I’m afraid,--and I can understand how Celia feels about it. Religion is a strange and fascinating subject; and it has evidently taken strong hold of her. I do not think you will be able to deter her from carrying out her intention. She seems to take it for granted that you will not blame her for what she is doing. But I should not think she is aware of the loss of fortune her conversion entails.” “Oh, I do not blame her,” he said quickly. “If she imagines she can be happier as a Christian, let her be one by all means. I do not suppose there will be anything gained by attempting to argue the question with her. She will probably prefer to be guided by the instinct she calls faith than to consider any reasoning of mine.” A clock in the adjoining hall struck eleven. Herbert glanced at his watch.