“Addie,” he said, “isn’t it funny I should be marrying a Jewish girl, after all?”

He wanted to work round to it like that, to tell her of his engagement to Miss Hannibal at least, and how, on discovering with whom he was really in love, he had got out of it simply by writing to the Wesleyan M.P. that he was a Jew—­a fact sufficient to disgust the disciple of Dissent and the claimant champion of religious liberty.  But Addie only smiled at the question.

“You smile,” he said:  “I see you do think it funny.”

“That’s not why I am smiling.”

“Then why are you smiling?” The lovely face piqued him; he kissed the lips quickly with a bird-like peck.

“Oh—­I—­no, you wouldn’t understand.”

“That means you don’t understand.  But there!  I suppose when a girl is in love, she’s not accountable for her expression.  All the same, it is strange.  You know, Addie dear, I have come to the conclusion that Judaism exercises a strange centrifugal and centripetal effect on its sons—­sometimes it repulses them, sometimes it draws them; only it never leaves them neutral.  Now, here had I deliberately made up my mind not to marry a Jewess.”

“Oh!  Why not?” said Addie, pouting.

“Merely because she would be a Jewess.  It’s a fact.”

“And why have you broken your resolution?” she said, looking up naively into his face, so that the scent of her hair thrilled him.

“I don’t know.” he said frankly, scarcely giving the answer to be expected. “C’est plus fort que moi.  I’ve struggled hard, but I’m beaten.  Isn’t there something of the kind in Esther—­in Miss Ansell’s book?  I know I’ve read it somewhere—­and anything that’s beastly subtle I always connect with her.”

“Poor Esther!” murmured Addie.

Sidney patted her soft warm hand, and smoothed the finely-curved arm, and did not seem disposed to let the shadow of Esther mar the moment, though he would ever remain grateful to her for the hint which had simultaneously opened his eyes to Addie’s affection for him, and to his own answering affection so imperceptibly grown up.  The river glided on softly, glorified by the sunset.

“It makes one believe in a dogged destiny,” he grumbled, “shaping the ends of the race, and keeping it together, despite all human volition.  To think that I should be doomed to fall in love, not only with a Jewess but with a pious Jewess!  But clever men always fall in love with conventional women.  I wonder what makes you so conventional, Addie.”

Addie, still smiling, pressed his hand in silence, and gazed at him in fond admiration.

“Ah, well, since you are so conventional, you may as well kiss me.”

Addie’s blush deepened, her eyes sparkled ere she lowered them, and subtly fascinating waves of expression passed across the lovely face.

“They’ll be wondering what on earth has become of us,” she said.