“True; but I am afraid that he is not so unworldly as yourself. Tell me, sis dear, would it hurt you very much if he were to give you up?” Her heart beat fast; she had never thought of such a possibility. “Do you think he would do that?” she asked, evading his question; and her brother did not omit to notice the eager light in her eyes. “Well, I had a lengthy conversation with him this morning,” he answered slowly. “And it appears to me that this affair has brought out a new side to his character; not a very commendable one, either, I am afraid. Of course he, in common with the Friedbergs and Rosens, is shocked and disgusted; not so much because of your change of faith--although the idea of his marrying a converted Jewess is repugnant to them all--but because, by so doing, you are deliberately throwing away a fortune. He informed me that, on his marriage, Mr. Rosen intended taking him into partnership; but were he to marry you without your money, the scheme would, of necessity, fall through. Then he asked me what dowry I would give you, in the event of your losing your inheritance. Now, you may be sure, dear sis, that I shall always do my best to make ample provision for you; and you shall never want, I trust, whilst I am alive; but I thought I would just meet Salmon on his own ground. So I told him that I lived up to my income, pretty well--which is quite true,--and that, having never foreseen this contingency, I found myself utterly unable to provide you with a marriage portion. I don’t think he quite believed that; anyway, he suggested my raising a mortgage on the Towers, or something of that sort. Then, when he saw that I was obdurate, he said that, much as he likes you, he could not afford to marry a girl without money; so that, if you persist in what he calls your madness, the engagement will have to be broken off. Finally, he asked me to persuade you to reconsider your decision; and sincerely hoped that I would bring him back good news.” Celia was filled with indignation; but, because she had never really loved him, the avariciousness of her _fiancé_ occasioned her no grief. Rather, she was relieved that his true nature was thus manifested before it was too late. “It is a wonder he did not suggest my singing or acting as a means of support,” she said. “He did; but I told him that I did not believe in a woman working to keep her husband, unless he happened to be incapacitated by illness, or there were some other urgent necessity. So it remains with you to decide whether you will marry him or not. From what Marjie--Lady Marjorie, I mean--has told me, I do not think your affections were deeply involved, so that I can guess pretty well what your answer will be--eh, Celia?”