he placed it, and he built it partly in the Moorish and partly in the
English fashion, with an open court and corridors, marble pillars, and a
marble staircase, walls of small tiles, and ceilings of stalactites, but
also with windows and with doors. And when his house was raised he put
no haities into it, and spread no mattresses on the floors, but sent for
tables and chairs and couches out of England; and everything he did in
this wise cut him off the more from the people about him, both Moors and
Jews.

And being settled at last, and his own master in his own dwelling, out
of the power of his enemies to push him back into the streets, suddenly
it occurred to him for the first time that whereas the house he had
built was a refuge for himself, it was doomed to be little better than a
prison for his wife. In marrying Ruth he had enlarged the circle of his
intimates by one faithful and loving soul, but in marrying him she had
reduced even her friends to that number. Her father was dead; if she was
the daughter of a Chief Rabbi she was also the wife of an outcast, the
companion of a pariah, and save for him, she must be for ever alone.
Even their bondwomen still spoke a foreign dialect, and commerce with
them was mainly by signs.

Thinking of all this with some remorse, one idea fixed itself on
Israel's mind, one hope on his heart--that Ruth might soon bear a child.
Then would her solitude be broken by the dearest company that a woman
might know on earth. And, if he had wronged her, his child would make
amends.

Israel thought of this again and again. The delicious hope pursued him.
It was his secret, and he never gave it speech. But time passed, and no
child was born. And Ruth herself saw that she was barren, and she began