"I did."
"You never knew any one of his race guilty of a dishonorable act?"
"Never did."
"And now you find him aged and helpless,—find myself, his only hope, reduced to the last extreme of poverty, with no prospect but (your own words), starvation, or the streets,—"
"Ay." Israel, beneath his spectacles, seemed to cast an admiring glance at his Turkish trowsers and red morocco boots.
"And in this hour, you, an old friend of the family, who have never known one of our name guilty of an act of dishonor, come to me, and seeing my father's affliction, and my perfectly helpless condition, gravely propose that I shall escape dishonor by becoming your—mistress! That is your proposition, sir."
She rose and placed her hand firmly on Israel's shoulder, and looked him fixedly in the eye. The little man was thunderstruck. Her flashing eyes, her bosom heaving proudly under its faded covering, the proud curl of her lip, and the firm pressure of the hand which rested on his shoulder, took the Financier completely by surprise.
"I am scarce sixteen years old," she continued, her eyes growing larger and brighter, "my childhood was passed without a care. But in the last two years I have gone through trials that madden me now to think upon; trials that the aged and experienced are rarely called upon to encounter; but in the darkest hour, I have never forgotten these words, 'Trust in God;' never for an instant believed that God would ever leave me to become the prey of a man like you!"
And she pressed his shoulder, until the little man shook again, his gold spectacles rattling on his nose.
"For, do you mark me, the very trials that have well-nigh driven me mad, have also given me strength and courage, may be, the strength, the courage of despair, but still the courage, when the last hope fails, to choose death before dishonor!"