“Why should you say you suppose, sir? Is there nothing distinctive enough about the possession of Christianity to give assurance of it to its possessor? I do not suppose I am a Jew, sir (by religion I mean, and not merely by race.) No, sir, I do not suppose, for I know it. There is all the difference in the world, it seems to me, sir, between the mere theology and the religion of the faith we profess. The religion is life, it seems to me, sir; theology is only the science of that life.”
Both men were so utterly absorbed in their talk that they did not hear a touch on the handle of the door. It was only as it opened that they turned round. Zillah stood framed in the doorway. Cohen, who saw her every day, realized that she had never looked so radiantly beautiful before. She had almost burst into the room, but paused as she saw that a stranger was present.
“Excuse me,” she began; “I had no idea you had a friend with you, Abraham.”
She would have retreated, but he stopped her with an eager—
“Come in, Zillah.”
She advanced, gazing in curious inquiry at Hammond.
“This is Mr. Tom Hammond, editor of the ‘Courier,’ Zillah,” Cohen explained to the young girl. To Hammond he added, “My wife’s sister, Zillah Robart.”
The introduced pair shook hands. The young Jew went on to explain to Zillah how the great editor came to be visiting him.
Tom Hammond’s eyes were fixed upon the vision of loveliness that the Jewess made. She was going to assist at the wedding of a girl-friend, and had come to show herself to her brother-in-law before starting. Lovely at the most ordinary times, she looked perfectly radiant in her well-chosen wedding finery.
Tom Hammond had seen female loveliness in many lands—East, North, West, South. He had gazed upon women who seemed too lovely for earth—women whose flesh was alabaster, whose glance would woo emperors; women whose skins glowed with the olive of southern lands, the glance of whose black, lustrous eyes intoxicated the beholder in the first instant: Inez of Spain, Mousmee of Japan, Katrina of Russia, Carlotta of Naples, Rosie of Paris, Maggie of the Scottish Highlands, Patty of Wales, Kate of Ireland, and a score of other typical beauties. But this Jewish maiden, this Zillah of Finsbury—she was beyond all his thought or knowledge of feminine loveliness.