“Mother!” He glanced at her in surprise. “I thought you would understand. Can a man just calmly and dispassionately choose a girl first, and then pour his love upon her? I admire Miss Lorm, and I am fond of our little Raie, but I would no more think of marrying either of them than I would think of a journey to the moon. Don’t you see, mother, that my feeling for Patricia is totally different. She herself is different to all other women—whether Jewish or Christian—that I have ever met. Her thoughts are mine, her sympathies are mine, her love is mine. Oh, I can’t explain it properly, but surely you must know!”
There was an eager expression, half of entreaty, in his face. His mother regarded him earnestly, and realised the effort it was costing him to break through his accustomed reserve. Her face relaxed a little of its sternness, but the determination remained.
“Lionel,” she asked quietly, “are you a true and zealous Jew?”
“Yes.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “At least I try to be.”
“And yet you would marry a Christian?”
“I would marry the Lady Patricia; that she is a Christian is a mere accident of birth.”
“Until now the Montella stock has been entirely and purely Jewish. Do you think the prestige of the family would gain by an infusion of Gentile blood?”
“If you put it that way, as long as it is ‘blue blood’ I do not think the prestige of family would suffer.”
Lady Montella could not resist a smile, but it quickly faded.
“Is Patricia willing to become a Jewess or, rather, a proselyte?” she asked.