A Daughter of Israel by Fred M. White — Read

Had the haughty families, Montagu and Capulet, been next door neighbours--to use our homely idiom--the disasters of the unhappy lovers would probably have been still more intensified in those good old days when gentlemen carried rapiers and were hypersensitive of their name and honour. But in the broad light of the nineteenth century, the exigencies of Society demand a different method of maintaining a respectable family feud, and the belligerents may live side by side without danger of mortal combat and the slitting of wizends. Certain it is that the Abrahams and Meyers hated one another with the same rancour as their more patrician prototypes, though they dwelt side by side, and pursued the same occupation of general dealers and pawnbrokers. The houses, low-browed and half-timbered, with beetling gables, had originally been one shop, standing in Horton-street, and were, perhaps, the only relics of the Middle Ages at present remaining in Westport. The shops were dark and stuffy, by reason of the kind of trade carried on there, and in the back part of the premises, the portion devoted to pawnbroking, there were sundry little boxes where the more timid might retire to bargain with Rebecca Abraham for a loan on any valuable they might be fortunate enough to possess, to say nothing of the advantage of a side door leading into a lane, thus ensuring privacy and protection against the nagging of slanderous tongues. Another lane ran by the side of Meyer's establishment, and their private boxes were situated in exactly the same place, with a few holes bored in the wainscot for ventilation, so that anyone of a curious turn doing business in one place could hear what was being transacted in the other. On the broad, shallow landing, four bedrooms led out on either side, except one, where a partition had been erected when the houses had been made into two; and here was a door, connecting the two establishments, but which now had been carefully barred for years.

Between the long, narrow counters Miriam led the way, followed by the stranger, Hazael coming close behind, and Abishai lingering after him, banging his crutch with an angry jerk upon the floor, and scowling hideously. The guide led the way to a little room behind, where an elderly woman was seated, with a pile of silver lying on the table before her. These she was polishing in a loving, tender fashion with a chamois leather. Her hair was quite white, and there were lines upon her face graven by years of care and trouble. Her eyes were still full and flashing, her nose such as you see only in one race.