"Sir Christian, stop!" interrupted Ben Israel, who, now his feelings had
found vent, had composed himself, so as to meet his wily adversary with
tolerable fortitude: "Sir Christian, stop! There are two classes of
human kind your sect deceive without regret--betray without
compunction--and destroy, body and soul, without remorse--women and
Jews. It is nought, sir, nought--mere pastime--women's hearts and
reputations, and old men's grey hairs! Alas! alas! and is such the
religion of England!" The old man bent his head, and moaned heavily;
then, after a little space of time, raised himself, and said, "In the
name of the God of Jacob, I will take you point by point! Reply unto my
questioning; and, if thou canst, acquit thyself."--A ray of hope darted
over his expressive features, like a beam of light athwart a
thunder-cloud. "But no," he continued, his countenance again darkening,
"it cannot be--it cannot be."
"Worthy Ben Israel! excellent Rabbi!" replied Burrell; "dissect me as
you will; and if I answer not thy expectation----"
"Too truly wilt thou answer my expectation," said the Jew. "The Lord of
Hosts be praised that these iniquities are unpractised by the children
of my people! The innocent lamb torn from the fold; or, what is worse,
decoyed from the tents of her fathers! Had she been dead, I could have
said, 'The Lord's will be done,' He hath taken the child back into her
mother's bosom. But answer unto me these points--Didst often see
Zillah?"
"I certainly did see your daughter at times, during my stay in Paris."
"And why, having delivered my messages? Of what importance ought thy
visits to have been to one of the despised race?"
"You surely would not impute evil to my inquiring if your daughter
wished to write to her father when I forwarded despatches to England?"
"Strange, then, she should never have availed herself of such kindness.
Did she give no reason for this neglect of her parent?"
"I saw so little of her," replied Burrell carelessly, "that I really
forget."
The Rabbi shook his head.
"Perhaps, then, Sir Willmott Burrell, you can remember this trinket, and
inform me how it came into my daughter's hands: it was forced from her
previous to her flight."
Burrell started, for it was a miniature of himself, which he had given
her in the bud of his affection. At last he brazened out an assurance
that, however like, it was not his; that he could not tell how young
ladies obtained miniature pictures; that, if the Rabbi would look, he
would observe the hair and eyes to be much lighter.