Part 78 (2/2)

”You seem very interested in it,” said Mrs. Goldsmith, with a little surprise.

”Yes, I--I wanted to know what they said about it,” explained Esther quickly; ”one hears so many worthless opinions.”

”Well, I'm glad to see we were all right about it,” said Mrs. Goldsmith, whose eye had been running down the column. ”Listen here. 'It is a disagreeable book at best; what might have been a powerful tragedy being disfigured by clumsy workmans.h.i.+p and sordid superfluous detail. The exaggerated unhealthy pessimism, which the very young mistake for insight, pervades the work and there are some spiteful touches of observation which seem to point to a woman's hand. Some of the minor personages have the air of being sketched from life. The novel can scarcely be acceptable to the writer's circle. Readers, however, in search of the unusual will find new ground broken in this immature study of Jewish life.'”

”There, Esther, isn't that just what I've been saying in other words?”

”It's hardly worth bothering about the book now,” said Esther in low tones, ”it's such a long time ago now since it came out. I don't know what's the good of reviewing it now. These literary papers always seem so cold and cruel to unknown writers.”

”Cruel, it isn't half what he deserves,” said Mrs. Goldsmith, ”or ought I to say she? Do you think there's anything, Esther, in that idea of its being a woman?”

”Really, dear, I'm sick to death of that book,” said Esther. ”These reviewers always try to be very clever and to see through brick walls.

What does it matter if it's a he, or a she?”

”It doesn't matter, but it makes it more disgraceful, if it's a woman. A woman has no business to know the seamy side of human nature.”

At this instant, a domestic knocked and announced that Mr. Leonard James had called to see Miss Ansell. Annoyance, surprise and relief struggled to express themselves on Esther's face.

”Is the gentleman waiting to see me?” she said.

”Yes, miss, he's in the hall.”

Esther turned to Mrs. Goldsmith. ”It's a young man I came across unexpectedly last night at the theatre. He's the son of Reb Shemuel, of whom you may have heard. I haven't met him since we were boy and girl together. He asked permission to call, but I didn't expect him so soon.”

”Oh, see him by all means, dear. He is probably anxious to talk over old times.”

”May I ask him up here?”

”No--unless you particularly want to introduce him to me. I dare say he would rather have you to himself.” There was a touch of superciliousness about her tone, which Esther rather resented, although not particularly anxious for Levi's social recognition.

”Show him into the library,” she said to the servant. ”I will be down in a minute.” She lingered a few indifferent remarks with her companion and then went down, wondering at Levi's precipitancy in renewing the acquaintance. She could not help thinking of the strangeness of life.

That time yesterday she had not dreamed of Levi, and now she was about to see him for the second time and seemed to know him as intimately as if they had never been parted.

Leonard James was pacing the carpet. His face was perturbed, though his stylishly cut clothes were composed and immaculate. A cloak was thrown loosely across his shoulders. In his right hand he held a bouquet of Spring flowers, which he transferred to his left in order to shake hands with her.

”Good afternoon, Esther,” he said heartily. ”By Jove, you have got among tip-top people. I had no idea. Fancy you ordering Jeames de la Pluche about. And how happy you must be among all these books! I've brought you a bouquet. There! Isn't it a beauty? I got it at Covent Garden this morning.”

”It's very kind of you,” murmured Esther, not so pleased as she might have been, considering her love of beautiful things. ”But you really ought not to waste your money like that.”

”What nonsense, Esther! Don't forget I'm not in the position my father was. I'm going to be a rich man. No, don't put it into a vase; put it in your own room where it will remind you of me. Just smell those violets, they are awfully sweet and fresh. I flatter myself, it's quite as swell and tasteful as the bouquet you had last night. Who gave you that.

Esther?” The ”Esther” mitigated the off-handedness of the question, but made the sentence jar doubly upon her ear. She might have brought herself to call him ”Levi” in exchange, but then she was not certain he would like it. ”Leonard” was impossible. So she forbore to call him by any name.

”I think Mr. Graham brought it. Won't you sit down?” she said indifferently.

<script>