‘I cannot give it to you.’  She was a little flustered in her manner, but not much.  ’It would be against my conscience to give you what you would use profanely.  Providence has placed it in my care, and I am responsible for its use.  If I gave it to you it would be tempting you to sin.’

He sat down again and looked at her with wonder in his soft brown eyes.  ‘You have had the stone taken out,’ he said, ‘and set in a ring.’

’Yes, and I have given it to my daughter, so that it is no longer mine to return to you.  You must be aware that the marble cross stone I set up over your sister’s grave cost me much more than the value of this stone.  I am very much surprised that you should ask me to give it back.  Surely any real feeling of gratitude for what I did for her would prompt you to be glad that you have something to give me in return.’  She paused, then harped again upon the other string.  ’But under any circumstances I could not feel justified in giving you anything that you would put to a bad use.’

’That you have stolen my property does not make it yours to withhold, whatever may be your sentiments concerning it.’

’"Stolen!” I do not understand you when you use such a word.  Do you think it possible that I should steal?  I took the chain from your sister’s neck with the highest motives.  Do not use such a word as “stolen” in speaking to me.’

‘Truly, madam,’ he said, ’you could almost persuade me that you are in the right, and that I insult you.’

She looked at him stolidly, although evidently not without some inward apprehension.  It was a piteous sight—­the poor distorted reasoning faculty grovelling as a slave to the selfish will.

‘I cannot give you back the amethyst,’ she said, ’for I have given it away; but if you will promise me never again to regard it as having any value as an amulet or talisman, I will give you the necklace, and I will pay you something to have another stone put in.’

The curate looked up.  ‘Get him the necklace and Violetta’s ring,’ he said, ‘and we will go.’

A man had arisen within the curate who was stronger than his self-control.  They might have argued with her for ever:  he frightened her into compliance.  He took her by the arm and turned her to the door.

‘There is not a man, woman or child in this town,’ he said, ’who shall not hear of this affair if you delay another moment to get him the chain and the ring.  It is due to his charity if the matter is concealed then.’

When she was gone the Jew was disposed to make remarks.  ’I truly believe,’ he said, ’that it is as you say, that this woman is very virtuous in the sight of her own conscience.’

A servant brought them a packet.  The Jew opened it, taking out the chain and the ring reverently and putting them in his breast.  Then they went out into the wind and the rain.

The Jew went to his native city, and the curate accompanied him as far as London.  There he said good-bye to him as to a friend.  He did not return at once to his parish, but found a substitute to do his work there, and went inland for a month, seeking by change and relaxation to attain to the true judgment of calm pulses and quiet nerves.  It was in April and in Lent that he returned.