“Should I?” said Esther, smiling in return and beginning to like Hannah.  She had seen very little of her in those olden days, for Hannah had been an adult and well-to-do as long as Esther could remember; it seemed amusing now to walk side by side with her in perfect equality and apparently little younger.  For Hannah’s appearance had not aged perceptibly, which was perhaps why Esther recognized her at once.  She had not become angular like her mother, nor coarse and stout like other mothers.  She remained slim and graceful, with a virginal charm of expression.  But the pretty face had gained in refinement; it looked earnest, almost spiritual, telling of suffering and patience, not unblent with peace.

Esther silently extracted half-a-crown from her purse and handed it to Hannah.

“I didn’t mean to ask you, indeed I didn’t,” said Hannah.

“Oh, I am glad you told me,” said Esther tremulously.

The idea of her giving charity, after the account of herself she had just heard, seemed ironical enough.  She wished the transfer of the coin had taken place within eyeshot of Malka; then dismissed the thought as unworthy.

“You’ll come in and have a cup of tea with us, won’t you, after we’ve lodged the Greeners?” said Hannah.  “Now don’t say no.  It’ll brighten up my father to see ‘Reb Moshe’s little girl.’”

Esther tacitly assented.

“I heard of all of you recently,” she said, when they had hurried on a little further.  “I met your brother at the theatre.”

Hannah’s face lit up.

“How long was that ago?” she said anxiously.

“I remember exactly.  It was the night before the first Seder night.”

“Was he well?”

“Perfectly.”

“Oh, I am so glad.”

She told Esther of Levi’s strange failure to appear at the annual family festival.  “My father went out to look for him.  Our anxiety was intolerable.  He did not return until half-past one in the morning.  He was in a terrible state.  ‘Well,’ we asked, ‘have you seen him?’ ’I have seen him,’ he answered.  ‘He is dead.’”

Esther grew pallid.  Was this the sequel to the strange episode in Mr. Henry Goldsmith’s library?

“Of course he wasn’t really dead,” pursued Hannah to Esther’s relief.  “My father would hardly speak a word more, but we gathered he had seen him doing something very dreadful, and that henceforth Levi would be dead to him.  Since then we dare not speak his name.  Please don’t refer to him at tea.  I went to his rooms on the sly a few days afterwards, but he had left them, and since then I haven’t been able to hear anything of him.  Sometimes I fancy he’s gone off to the Cape.”

“More likely to the provinces with a band of strolling players.  He told me he thought of throwing up the law for the boards, and I know you cannot make a beginning in London.”

“Do you think that’s it?” said Hannah, looking relieved in her turn.