"I beg your pardon," he said, flushing up.
"For what?" asked the shopkeeper. "For saying you were afraid I was a Jew? My dear sir, I'm proud of it, proud of it." And then he made this singular statement: "If I hadn't been a Jew, I shouldn't have spoken to this young lady."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Hart, in a tone which invited an explanation.
"You wouldn't take me for a Jew from my appearance," continued the shopkeeper, thus giving utterance to a strange hallucination indulged in by many of the race, for the speaker's Jewish cast of features was unmistakable; "but perhaps my name over the shop-door was enough for you?"
"No," said Mr. Hart; "I did not observe your name."
"The letters are big enough any way; every man and woman in Plymouth knows Lewis Nathan."
Margaret looked up with a sudden exclamation of surprise, and advanced a step towards Mr. Nathan.
"What name did you say?" she asked, with a strange fluttering at her breast.
"Lewis Nathan, my dear," he replied, in an earnest fatherly tone; and then, more earnestly still, "Have you heard it before, my dear?"
She did not reply to him, but drew Mr. Hart aside, and whispered a few words to him in an agitated manner. His countenance expressed surprise.