"Her own composition—words and music," she whispered. "I wanted her to publish it, but she is so shy and retiring. Who would think she was the child of a pauper emigrant, a rough jewel one has picked up and polished? If you really are going to start a new Jewish paper, she might be of use to you. And then there is Miss Cissy Levine—you have read her novels, of course? Sweetly pretty! Do you know, I think we are badly in want of a new paper, and you are the only man in the community who could give it us. We want educating, we poor people, we know so little of our faith and our literature."
"I am so glad you feel the want of it," whispered Raphael, forgetting
Esther in his pleasure at finding a soul yearning for the light.
"Intensely. I suppose it will be advanced?"
Raphael looked at her a moment a little bewildered.
"No, it will be orthodox. It is the orthodox party that supplies the funds."
A flash of light leaped into Mrs. Goldsmith's eyes.
"I am so glad it is not as I feared." she said. "The rival party has hitherto monopolized the press, and I was afraid that like most of our young men of talent you would give it that tendency. Now at last we poor orthodox will have a voice. It will be written in English?"
"As far as I can," he said, smiling.
"No, you know what I mean. I thought the majority of the orthodox couldn't read English and that they have their jargon papers. Will you be able to get a circulation?"
"There are thousands of families in the East End now among whom English is read if not written. The evening papers sell as well there as anywhere else in London."