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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..817c471 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53296 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53296) diff --git a/old/53296-8.txt b/old/53296-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 03edfe6..0000000 --- a/old/53296-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12355 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fair Jewess, by B. L. Farjeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Fair Jewess - -Author: B. L. Farjeon - -Release Date: October 16, 2016 [EBook #53296] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FAIR JEWESS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Harvard University) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=emlLN6DE1I - (Harvard University) - 2. This book was also published as "Aaron the Jew. A Novel," in - London by Hutchinson & Co. in 1895. - - - - - -A Fair Jewess - - - -BY -B. L. FARJEON, - -_Author of "The Last Tenant" Etc_. - - - - -NEW YORK: -THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY. - - - - - - -Copyright, 1894, by -THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. - -_All rights reserved_. - - - - - - -CONTENTS. - -CHAPTER -I. The Poor Doctor -II. Dr. Spenlove's Visitor -III. Dr. Spenlove Undertakes a Delicate Mission -IV. "One More Unfortunate" -V. "Come! We Will End It" -VI. The Friend in Need -VII. The Result of Dr. Spenlove's Mission -VIII. What was Put in the Iron Box -IX. Mr. Moss Plays his Part -X. The Vision in the Churchyard -XI. Mr. Whimpole Introduces Himself -XII. The Course of the Seasons -XIII. Aaron Cohen Preaches a Sermon on Large Noses -XIV. A Proclamation of War -XV. The Battle is Fought and Won -XVI. Joy and Sorrow -XVII. Divine Consolation -XVIII. In the New House -XIX. The Doctor Speaks Plainly to Aaron Cohen -XX. A Momentous Night -XXI. The Temptation -XXII. The Living and the Dead -XXIII. Plucked from the Jaws of Death -XXIV. The Curtain Falls -XXV. After Many Years -XXVI. The Foundation of Aaron's Fortune -XXVII. The Farewell -XXVIII. Revisits Gosport -XXIX. What Shall be Done to the Man whom the - King Delighteth to Honor? -XXX. The Honorable Percy Storndale -XXXI. The Spirit of the Dead Past -XXXII. Before All, Duty -XXXIII. A Cheerful Doctor -XXXIV. Ruth's Secret -XXXV. The Honorable Percy Storndale Makes an - Appeal -XXXVI. A Duty Performed -XXXVII. The Mother's Appeal -XXXVIII. A Mother's Joy -XXXIX. A Panic in the City -XL. "Can you Forgive me?" -XLI. A Poisoned Arrow -XLII. Retribution - - - - - - -A FAIR JEWESS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -THE POOR DOCTOR. - - -On a bright, snowy night in December, some years ago, Dr. Spenlove, -having been employed all the afternoon and evening in paying farewell -visits to his patients, walked briskly toward his home through the -narrowest and most squalid thoroughfares in Portsmouth. - -The animation of his movements may be set down to the severity of the -weather, and not to any inward cheerfulness of spirits, for as he -passed familiar landmarks he looked at them with a certain regret -which men devoid of sentiment would have pronounced an indication of a -weak nature. In this opinion, however, they would have been wrong, for -Dr. Spenlove's intended departure early the following morning from a -field which had strong claims upon his sympathies was dictated by a -law of inexorable necessity. He was a practitioner of considerable -skill, and he had conscientiously striven to achieve a reputation in -some measure commensurate with his abilities. - -From a worldly point of view his efforts had been attended with -mortifying failure; he had not only been unsuccessful in earning a -bare livelihood, but he had completely exhausted the limited resources -with which he had started upon his career; he had, moreover, endured -severe privation, and an opening presenting itself in the wider field -of London he had accepted it with gladness and reluctance. With -gladness because he was an ambitious man, and had desires apart from -his profession; with reluctance because it pained him to bid farewell -to patients in whom he took a genuine interest, and whom he would have -liked to continue to befriend. He had, indeed, assisted many of them -to the full extent of his power, and in some instances had gone beyond -this limit, depriving himself of the necessaries of life to supply -them with medicines and nourishing food, and robbing his nights of -rest to minister to their woes. He bore about him distinguishing marks -of the beautiful self-sacrifice. - -On this last night of his residence among them his purse was empty, -and inclement as was the weather he wore, on his road home, but one -thin coat which was but a feeble protection from the freezing air -which pierced to his skin, though every button was put to its proper -use. A hacking cough, which caused him to pause occasionally, denoted -that he was running a dangerous risk in being so insufficiently clad; -but he seemed to make light of this, and smiled when the paroxysm was -over. In no profession can be found displayed a more noble humanity -and philanthropy than in that which Dr. Spenlove practiced, and needy -as he was, and narrow as had been his means from the start, his young -career already afforded a striking example of sweet and unselfish -attributes. In the divine placing of human hosts the poor doctor and -the poor priest shall be found marching in the van side by side. - -During the whole of the day snow had been falling, and during the -whole of the day Dr. Spenlove had had but one meal. He did not -complain; he had been accustomed to live from hand to mouth, and well -knew what it was to go to bed hungry; and there was before him the -prospect of brighter times. - -But cheering as was this prospect his walk home through the falling -snow was saddened by the scenes he had witnessed in the course of the -day, and one especially dwelt in his mind. - -"Poor creature!" he mused. "What will become of her and her baby? Oh, -pitiless world! Does it not contain a single human being who will hold -out a helping hand?" - -Before one of the poorest houses in one of the poorest streets he -paused, and, admitting himself with a private latchkey, unlocked a -door on the ground floor, and entered a room which faced the street. -There was a wire blind to the window, on which was inscribed, -"Consultations from 9 till 11 A. M." This room, with a communicating -bedroom at the back, comprised his professional and private residence. - -Dr. Spenlove groped in the dark for the matches, and, lighting a -candle, applied a match to a fire laid with scrupulous economy in the -matter of coals. As he was thus employed his landlady knocked at the -door and entered. - -"Is it you, Mrs. Radcliffe?" he asked, not turning his head. - -"Yes, sir. Let me do that, please." - -The paper he had lit in the grate was smoldering away without kindling -the wood; the landlady knelt down, and with a skillful touch the flame -leaped up. Dr. Spenlove, unbuttoning his thin coat, spread out his -hands to the warmth. - -"Any callers, Mrs. Radcliffe?" - -"A gentleman, sir, who seemed very anxious to see you. He did not -leave his name or card, but said he would call again this evening." - -"Did he mention the hour?" - -"Nine, sir." - -Dr. Spenlove put his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and quickly -withdrew it, with a smile of humor and self-pity. The landlady noticed -the action, and dolefully shook her head. - -"Very anxious to see me, you say, Mrs. Radcliffe?" - -"Very anxious, indeed, sir. Dear, dear, you're wet through!" - -"It is a bitter night," he said, coughing. - -"You may well say that, sir. Bad weather for you to be out, with that -nasty cough of yours." - -"There are many people worse off than I am, without either fire or -food." - -"We all have our trials, sir. It's a hard world." - -"Indeed, indeed," he said, thinking of the female patient whom he had -last visited. - -"Where's your overcoat, sir? I'll take it down to the kitchen; it'll -dry sooner there." She looked around in vain for it. - -"Never mind my overcoat, Mrs. Radcliffe." - -"But you had it on when you went out, sir!" - -"Did I? Don't trouble about it. It will dry quickly enough where it -is." - -He was now busily employed making a parcel of books and instruments -which he had taken from different parts of the room, and which were -the only articles of value belonging to himself it contained. The -landlady stood for a moment or two watching his movements, and then -she hurried down to her kitchen, and presently returned with a cup of -hot tea. As she passed through the passage with the cup in one hand -and a candle in the other she glanced at the empty umbrella stand. - -"His umbrella, too, as well as his overcoat," she muttered. "The man's -heart's too big for his body." - -She re-entered the room. - -"I've brought you a cup of tea, sir, if you don't mind taking it." - -"Not at all, Mrs. Radcliffe. It is very kind of you." - -He drank the tea, which warmed him through and through. - -"We're all sorry at your leaving us, sir," said the lady. "There's -plenty that'll miss you." - -"I am sorry, too," he replied, "but when needs must, you know. I can -do no good to myself or others by remaining. If the gentleman calls -again ask him to wait if his business is of importance. You had better -tell him I am leaving Portsmouth to-morrow morning." - -With his parcel under his arm he left the house, and trudging through -the snow again halted at a pawnbroker's shop, lingering a while before -he entered, as sensitive men do before putting the finishing touch to -a humiliating act. Then, shrugging his shoulders and muttering, "I -ought to be used to it by this time," he plunged into the shop, where -he obtained upon his few last treasures as much as would pay his -third-class fare to London and the two weeks' rent he owed his -landlady. Thus safeguarded for a few hours at least, he left the shop, -but instead of immediately retracing his steps to his lodgings he -lingered once more irresolutely, with the air of a man who was at war -with himself upon a momentous question. The sixteen shillings due to -his landlady was in his pocket, and undoubtedly it was simple honesty -that it should be handed over to her without hesitation. But the -hapless female patient who had occupied his thoughts during the last -hour was at this moment in the throes of a desperate human crisis, and -dark as was the present to her suffering soul the terrors which the -future held in store for her were still more agonizing. She had a -young baby at her breast; she had no food in her cupboard, not a loaf -of bread, not a cup of milk; she had not a friend in the world to whom -she could appeal for help. She, too, was in debt to her landlord, a -hard man, who was waiting for another sun to rise to thrust her and -her infant into the white and pitiless streets. It would have been -done to-day but for the intervention of Dr. Spenlove, who had pawned -his overcoat and umbrella to buy of the poor creature's landlord a -respite of twenty-four hours. The sixteen shillings due to Mrs. -Radcliffe would buy her another respite for a longer term, but when -this was expired there was still the hopeless future to face. Dr. -Spenlove thrust aside this latter consideration, and thought only of -the ineffable relief it was in his power to bring to a heart racked -with anguish and despair. He lost sight of the fact that the wretched -woman would still be without food, and that she was too weak to work -for it. Even when she was strong, and able to ply her needle -throughout the whole of the day and the greater part of the night, her -earnings had never exceeded six shillings a week; she had confessed as -much to the good doctor, but for whose timely aid the workhouse would -have been her only refuge. As he stood debating with himself the -sentiment of pity was strong within him, but he could not banish the -voice of justice which whispered that the money was not his to dispose -of. All the people with whom he was acquainted were poor, and his -landlady was as poor as the rest; he knew that she often depended upon -the payment of his rent to pay her own. It might be that just now she -could afford to wait a while for what was due to her; if so he would -dispose of the sixteen shillings as his benevolent instincts impelled -him to do; he must, however, ascertain how the land lay before he -acted. It may appear strange to many fortunate persons that issues so -grave and vital should hang upon a sum of money which to them would -not be worth a thought, but it would be a good lesson for them to -learn that opportunities are not scarce for bringing heaven's -brightest sunshine to overcharged hearts by the judicious bestowal of -a few small coins out of the wealth which yields them all the material -comforts of life. - -Having made up his mind upon the important matter, Dr. Spenlove turned -homeward, and as he walked he recalled the incidents in connection -with the unhappy woman in which he had played a part. She was a -stranger in the neighborhood, and had lived her lonely life in a -garret for five months. No person with whom she came in contact knew -anything of her or of her antecedents, and it was by chance that he -became acquainted with her. Attending to his poor patients in the -street in which she resided, he passed her one afternoon, and was -attracted as much by her modest and ladylike appearance as by the -evidence of extreme weakness which could hardly escape the observation -of a man so kindly hearted as himself. He perceived at once that she -was of a superior class to those among whom she moved, and he was -impressed by a peculiar expression on her face when his eyes rested on -her. It was the expression of a hunted woman, of one who dreaded being -recognized. He made inquiries about her, but no one could give him any -information concerning her, and in the press of onerous cares and -duties she passed out of his mind. Some weeks later he met her again, -and his first impressions were renewed and strengthened, and pity -stirred his heart as he observed from her garments that she was on the -downward path of poverty. It was clear that she was frightened by his -observance of her, for she hurried quickly on, but physical weakness -frustrated her desire to avoid him; she staggered and would have -fallen had he not ran forward and caught her. Weak as she was she -struggled to release herself; he kept firm hold of her, however, -animated by compassion and fortified by honest intention. - -"You have nothing to fear from me," he said. "Allow me to assist you. -I am Dr. Spenlove." - -It was the first time he had addressed her, but his name was familiar -to her as that of a gentleman to whom the whole neighborhood was under -a debt of gratitude for numberless acts of goodness. She glanced -timidly at his face, and a vague hope stirred her heart; she knew that -the time was approaching when she would need such a friend. But the -hope did not live long; it was crushed by a sudden fear. - -"Do you know me, sir?" - -"No," replied Dr. Spenlove in a cheerful tone. "You are a stranger to -me, as I dare say I am to you." - -"No, sir," she said; "I have heard of your kindness to many suffering -people." - -"Tush, tush!" he exclaimed. "A man deserves no credit for doing his -duty. You feel stronger now, do you not? If you have no doctor you -will allow me to come and see you. Do not hesitate; you need such -advice as I can give you, and," he added gently, "I will send in my -account when you are rich. Not till then, upon my honor; and meanwhile -I promise to ask no questions." - -"I am deeply grateful to you, sir." - -From that day he attended her regularly, and she was strengthened and -comforted by his considerate conduct toward her. She was known as Mrs. -Turner, but it was strange if she were wife or widow that she should -wear no wedding ring. As their intimacy ripened his first impression -that she was a lady was confirmed, and although he was naturally -curious about her history, he kept his promise by not asking her any -questions which he felt it would be painful to her to answer. Even -when he discovered that she was about to become a mother he made no -inquiries concerning the father of her unborn child. On the day he -bade her farewell her baby, a girl, was two weeks old, and a dark and -terrible future lay before the hapless woman. His heart bled for her, -but he was powerless to help her further. Weak and despairing, she sat -in her chair, with her child at her wasted breast; her dark and -deep-sunken eyes seemed to be contemplating this future in hopeless -terror. - -"I am grieved to leave you so," he said, gazing sadly at her, "but it -is out of my power to do what I would wish. Unhappily I am almost as -poor as yourself. You will try to get strong, will you not?" - -"I don't know," she murmured. - -"Remember," he said, taking her hand, "you have a duty to perform. -What will you do when you are strong?" - -"I don't know." - -"Nay, nay," he urged, "you must not speak so despondently. Believe me, -I do not wish to force your confidence, but I have gathered from -chance words you have let drop that you lived in London. I am going -there to-morrow. Can I call upon any person who would be likely to -assist you?" - -"There is no one." - -"But surely you must have some friends or relations----" - -"I have none. When you leave me I shall be without a friend in the -world." - -"God help you!" he sighed. - -"Will he?" - -The question was asked in the voice of one who had abandoned hope, who -had lost faith in human goodness and eternal justice, and who was -tasting the bitterness of death. - -Dr. Spenlove remained with her an hour, striving to cheer her, to -instill hope into her heart, but his words had no effect upon her, -and, indeed, he felt at times that the platitudes to which he was -giving utterance were little better than mockery. Was not this woman -face to face with the practical issues of life and death in their most -awful aspect, and was there any other than a practical remedy for -them? She asked for bread, and he was offering her a stone. It was -then he went from her room, and learned the full truth from her -landlord, who was only waiting till he was gone to turn her into the -streets. We know by what means he bought a day's respite for her. -Finally he left her, and bore away with him the darkest picture of -human misery of which he had ever had experience. - - - - -CHAPTER II. -DR. SPENLOVE'S VISITOR. - - -His landlady, Mrs. Radcliffe, met him on the doorstep, and informed -him that the gentleman who had called to see him in the afternoon had -called again, and was in his room. - -"A word, Mrs. Radcliffe," he said hurriedly. "I am going to ask a -great favor of you. I owe you two weeks' rent." - -"Yes, sir." - -His heart sank within him; he divined immediately from her tone that -she was in need of the money. - -"Would it inconvenience you to wait a little while for it?" - -"I must, sir, if you haven't got it," she replied, "but I am -dreadfully hard pressed, and I reckoned on it. I'm behindhand myself, -sir, and my landlord's been threatening me----" - -"Say no more, Mrs. Radcliffe. Justice must be first served. I have the -money; take it, for Heaven's sake. I must not rob the poor to help the -poor." - -He muttered the last words to himself as he thrust the sixteen -shillings into her hand. - -"I am so sorry, sir," said the distressed woman. - -He interrupted her with, "There, there, I am ashamed that I asked you. -I am sure no one has a kinder heart than you, and I am greatly obliged -to you for all the attention you have shown me while I have been in -your house. The gentleman is in my room, you say----" - -It was a proof of Mrs. Radcliffe's kindness of heart that there was a -bright fire blazing in the room, made with her own coals, and that the -lamp had been replenished with her own oil. Dr. Spenlove was grateful -to her, and he inwardly acknowledged that he could not have otherwise -disposed of the few shillings which he had no right to call his own. -His visitor rose as he entered, a well-dressed man some forty years of -age, sturdily built, with touches of gray already in his hair and -beard, and with signs in his face and on his forehead indicative of a -strong will. - -"Dr. Spenlove?" he asked. - -"That is my name." - -"Mine is Gordon. I have come to see you on a matter of great -importance." - -Dr. Spenlove motioned to the chair from which his visitor had risen, -and he resumed his seat; but although he had said that he had come -upon a matter of great importance, he seemed to be either in no hurry -to open it or to be uncertain in which way to do so, for he sat for -some moments in silence, smoothing his bearded chin and studying Dr. -Spenlove's face with a stern and studious intentness. - -"Can you spare me half an hour of your time?" he said at length. - -"Longer, if you wish," said Dr. Spenlove. - -"It may be longer if you offer no opposition to the service I wish you -to render me; and perhaps it is as well to say that I am willing and -can afford to pay for the service." - -Dr. Spenlove bent his head. - -"It is seldom," continued Mr. Gordon, "that I make mistakes, and the -reason is not far to seek. I make inquiries, I clear the ground, I -resolve upon a course of action, and I pursue it to its end without -deviation. I will be quite frank with you, Dr. Spenlove; I am a hard, -inflexible man; thrown upon the world when I was a lad, I pushed my -way to fortune; I am self-made; I can speak fair English; I have -received little education, none at all in a classical way, but I -possess common sense, and I make it apply to my affairs. That is -better than education if a man is resolved to get along in life--as I -was resolved to do. When I was a young man I said, 'I will grow rich, -or I will know the reason why.' I have grown rich. I do not say it as -a boast--it is only fools who boast--but I am worth to-day a solid -twenty thousand a year. I make this statement merely as a proof that I -am in a position to carry out a plan in which I desire your assistance -and co-operation." - -"My dear sir," said Dr. Spenlove, who could not but perceive that his -visitor was very much in earnest, "the qualities you mention are -admirable in their way but I fear you have come to the wrong man. I am -a doctor, and if you do not need my professional advice----" - -"Stop a moment," interrupted Mr. Gordon; "I have come to the right -man, and I do not need professional advice. I am as sound as a bell, -and I have never had occasion to pay a doctor's fee. I know what I am -about in the mission which brings me here. I have made inquiries -concerning you, and have heard something of your career and its -results; I have heard of your kindness and of the esteem in which you -are held. You have influence with your patients; any counsel you might -give them, apart from your prescriptions, would be received with -respect and attention; and I believe I am not wrong when I say that -you are to some extent a man of the world." - -"To some slight extent only," corrected Dr. Spenlove, with a faint -smile. - -"Sufficient," proceeded Mr. Gordon, "for my purpose. You are not blind -to the perils which lie before weak and helpless women--before, we -will say, a woman who has no friends, who is living where she is not -known, who is in a position of grave danger, who is entirely without -means, and who, at the best, is unable by the work of her hands to -support herself." - -Dr. Spenlove looked sharply at his visitor. "You have such a woman in -your mind, Mr. Gordon?" - -"I have such a woman in my mind, Dr. Spenlove." - -"A patient of mine?" - -"A patient of yours." - -There was but one who answered to this description whose future seemed -so dark and hopeless. For the first time during this interview he -began to be interested in his visitor. He motioned him to proceed. - -"We are speaking in confidence, Dr. Spenlove." - -"In perfect confidence, Mr. Gordon." - -"Whether my errand here is successful or not, I ask that nothing that -passes between us shall ever be divulged to a third person." - -"I promise it." - -"I will mention the name of the woman to whom I have referred, or, at -least, the name by which she is known to you. Mrs. Turner." - -"You mean her no harm, sir?" - -"None. I am prepared to befriend her, to save her, if my conditions -are accepted." - -Dr. Spenlove drew a deep breath of relief. He would go to his new -field of labors with a light heart if this unhappy woman was saved. - -"You have come at a critical moment," he said, "and you have -accurately described the position in which she is placed. But how can -my mediation or the mediation of any man be necessary in such a case? -She will hail you as her savior, and the savior of her babe. Hasten to -her immediately, dear sir; or perhaps you do not know where she lives, -and wish me to take you to her. I am ready; do not let us lose a -moment, for every moment deepens her misery." - -He did not observe the frown which passed into Mr. Gordon's face at -his mention of the child; he was so eager that his hat was already on -his head and his hand on the handle of the door. Mr. Gordon did not -rise from his chair. - -"You are in too great a hurry, Dr. Spenlove. Be seated, and listen to -what I have to say. You ask how your mediation can avail. I answer, in -the event of her refusal to accept the conditions upon which I am -ready to marry her." - -"To marry her!" exclaimed Dr. Spenlove. - -"To marry her," repeated Mr. Gordon. "She is not a married woman, and -her real name need not be divulged. When you hear the story I am about -to relate, when you hear the conditions, the only conditions, on which -I will consent to lift her from the degrading depths into which she -has fallen, you will understand why I desire your assistance. You will -be able to make clear to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon -her destiny and the destiny of her child; you will be able to use -arguments which are in my mind, but to which I shall not give -utterance. And remember, through all, that her child is a child of -shame, and that I hold out to her the only prospect of that child -being brought up in a reputable way and of herself being raised to -respectability." - -He paused a moment or two before he opened fresh matter. - -"I was a poor lad, Dr. Spenlove, without parents, without a home, and -when I was fourteen years of age I was working as an errand boy in -London, and keeping myself upon a wage of four shillings a week. I -lost this situation through the bankruptcy of my employer, and I was -not successful in obtaining another. One day I saw on the walls a bill -of a vessel going to Australia, and I applied at the agent's office -with a vague idea that I might obtain a passage by working aboard ship -in some capacity or other. I was a strong boy--starvation agrees with -some lads--and a willing boy, and it happened that one of my stamp was -wanted in the cook's galley. I was engaged at a shilling a month, and -I landed in Melbourne with four shillings in my pocket. - -"How I lived till I became a man is neither here nor there, but when -gold was discovered I lived well, for I got enough to buy a share in a -cattle station, which now belongs entirely to me. In 1860, being then -on the highroad to fortune, I made the acquaintance of a man whom I -will call Mr. Charles, and of his only child, a girl of fourteen, whom -I will call Mary. I was taken with Mr. Charles, and I was taken in by -him as well, for he disappeared from the colony a couple of years -afterward in my debt to the tune of two thousand pounds. He had the -grace to write to me from London, saying he would pay me some day, and -there the matter rested for seven years more, which brings me to two -years ago. - -"At that time I had occasion to visit England on business, and in -London I hunted up my debtor, and we renewed our acquaintance. Mary -was then a young woman of twenty-one, and had it not been for her it -is more than likely I might have made things unpleasant for her -father, who was leading the disreputable life of a gambler on race -courses and in clubs of a low character. Dr. Spenlove, you must have -gathered from the insight I have given you into my character that I am -not a man of sentiment, and you will probably consider it all the more -strange that I should have entertained feelings toward Mary which -caused me to consider whether she would not make me a creditable wife. -Of these feelings I prefer not to speak in a warmer strain, but shall -leave you to place your own construction upon them. While I was -debating with myself as to the course I should pursue the matter was -decided for me by the death of Mr. Charles. He died in disgrace and -poverty, and Mary was left friendless and homeless. - -"I stepped in to her rescue, and I made a proposal of marriage to her; -at the same time I told her that I thought it advisable for her sake -and mine that a little time should elapse before this proposal was -carried into effect. I suggested that our marriage should take place -in two years; meanwhile I would return to Australia, to build a -suitable house and to prepare a home for her, and she would remain in -England to fit herself for her new sphere of duties. She accepted me, -and I arranged with a lady of refinement to receive her. To this lady -both she and I were utter strangers, and it was settled between Mary -and myself that she should enter her temporary home under an assumed -name. It was my proposal that this pardonable deceit should be -practiced; no person was wronged by it, and it would assist toward -Mary's complete severance from old associations. Our future was in our -own hands, and concerned nobody but ourselves. - -"I returned to Australia and made my preparations. We corresponded -once a month, and some few months ago I informed her of the date of my -intended arrival in England. To that letter I received no reply, and -when I landed and called at the lady's house I learned that she had -fled. I set to work to discover the truth, and I have discovered it. I -set to work to track her, and I have succeeded. Her story is a common -story of betrayal and desertion, and I am not inclined to trouble you -with it. She has not the remotest hope of assistance from the man who -betrayed her; she has not the remotest hope of assistance from a -person in the world with the exception of myself. - -"Dr. Spenlove, notwithstanding what has occurred, I am here in -Portsmouth this night with the intention of carrying out the -engagement into which I entered with her. I am here, prepared to marry -her, on express conditions. The adoption of assumed names, the -obscurity she has courted, the absolute silence which is certain to be -observed by her, by me, by you, by the man who betrayed her, render me -safe. It is known that I have come to England to be married, and she -will be accepted as I present her when I return with her as my wife. I -will have no discussion as to my motives for taking what the world -would consider an unwise step, but you will understand that my -feelings for the woman who has played me false must be of a deep and -sincere nature, or I should not dream of taking it. - -"It now only remains for me to state the conditions under which I am -prepared to save her from even a more shameful degradation than that -into which she has already fallen. I speak plainly; you know as well -as I the fate that is in store for her if my offer is rejected." - - - - -CHAPTER III. -DR. SPENLOVE UNDERTAKES A DELICATE MISSION. - - -Mr. Gordon had spoken throughout in a cold, passionless tone, and with -no accent of emotion in his voice. If anything could have been -destructive of the idea that he loved the woman he wished to marry, it -was his measured delivery of the story he had related; and yet there -could be no question that there was some nobility in the nature of the -sacrifice he was prepared to make for her sake. The contrast between -the man and the woman struck Dr. Spenlove very forcibly; the man was -hard and cold, the woman was sensitive and sympathetic. Had their -circumstances been equal, and had Dr. Spenlove been an interested -adviser, he would have had no hesitation in saying to her, "Do not -marry this man; no touch of tenderness unites you; you can never -kindle in his heart the fire which burns within your own; wedded to -him a dull routine of years will be your portion." But he felt that he -dared not encourage himself to pursue this line of argument. Although -the most pregnant part of Mr. Gordon's errand had yet to be disclosed, -it seemed to him that he would very likely presently be the arbiter of -her destiny. "You will be able," Mr. Gordon had said, "to make clear -to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon her destiny and the -destiny of her child." Whatever the conditions, it would be his duty -to urge her to accept the offer that would be made to her; otherwise -he might be condemning her to a course of life he shuddered to -contemplate. The responsibility would be too solemn for mere -sentimental considerations. These were the thoughts that flashed -through his mind in the momentary pause before Mr. Gordon spoke again. - -"I believe," his visitor then said, "that I am in possession of the -facts relating to Mrs. Turner's circumstances"--he reverted to the -name by which she was generally known--"but you will corroborate them -perhaps. She is in want." - -"She is in the lowest depths of poverty." - -"Unless she pays the arrears of rent she will be turned into the -streets to-morrow." - -"That is the landlord's determination." - -"She would have been turned out to-day but for your intervention." - -"You are well informed, I see," observed Dr. Spenlove, rather nettled. - -"I have conversed with the landlord and with others concerning her. -She lives among the poor, who have troubles enough of their own to -grapple with, and are unable, even if they were inclined, to render -her the assistance of which she stands in need. She seems to have kept -herself aloof from them, for which I commend her. Now, Dr. Spenlove, I -will have no specter of shame and degradation to haunt her life and -mine. Her past must be buried, and the grave must never be opened. To -that I am resolved, and no power on earth can turn me from it." - -"But her child," faltered Dr. Spenlove. - -"She will have no child. She must part with her, and the parting must -be final and irrevocable. The steps that I shall take to this end -shall be so effectual that if by chance in the future they should -happen to meet she shall not recognize her. I propose to have the -child placed with a family who will adopt her as a child of their own; -there will be little difficulty in finding such a family, to the head -of which a sum of one hundred pounds will be paid yearly for -maintenance. I name no limit as to time. So long as the child lives so -long will the payment be made through my lawyers. Should the child die -before she reaches the age of twenty-one the sum of five hundred -pounds will be paid to the people who undertake the charge; they will -know nothing of me or of the mother; our names will not be divulged to -them, and they will not be able to trace us. Should they evince a -disposition to be troublesome in this respect the child will be taken -from them by my lawyers, and another home provided for her. A hundred -pounds a year is a liberal sum, and there will not be the least -difficulty in carrying out the proposed arrangement. In proof that I -desire the child to have every chance of leading a happy life I will -engage to give her a marriage portion of five hundred pounds. Judge -for yourself whether a woman in Mrs. Turner's circumstances would be -acting wisely in rejecting my proposition." - -"You have spoken in a most generous spirit," said Dr. Spenlove slowly, -"so far as money goes, but you seem not to have taken into -consideration a mother's feelings." - -"I have not taken them into consideration; they are not part of my -plan. I have looked at the matter only from two points of view--the -worldly aspect of it, and my desire to carry out my personal wishes. I -decline to regard it or to argue upon it from the point of view of a -mother's feelings. I ask you to judge of it as a man of the world." - -"Of which," said Dr. Spenlove, "as I have hinted to you, I am a poor -example. Do you expect me to provide for the babe such a home as that -you have described?" - -"Not at all. It is my business to carry out my plan if she accepts the -conditions." - -"What, then, do you wish me to do?" - -"To lay my proposition before her as nearly as possible in my own -words; to impress upon her that it is her duty to agree to it for her -own sake and for the sake of the child." - -"Why not do so yourself?" - -"I have not seen her. I will not see her while she holds in her arms -her burden of shame. She shall come to me free and unencumbered, or -she shall not come at all. I could not speak to her as I have spoken -to you; I should not be able to command myself. She would plead to me, -and I should answer her in bitterness and anger. Such a scene would -set me so strongly against her that I should immediately relinquish my -purpose. You can reason with her; you can show her the path in which -her duty clearly lies. I do not deny that she is called upon to make a -sacrifice, but it is a sacrifice which will lead to good, it is a -sacrifice which every right-minded man would urge her to make. -Indifferent man of the world as you proclaim yourself to be you cannot -be blind to the almost sure fate in store for her in the position in -which she is placed. Your experiences must have made you acquainted -with the stories of women who have fallen as she has fallen, and you -will know how many of them were raised from the depths, and how many -of them fell into deeper shame. Dr. Spenlove, I have entirely finished -what I came here to say." - -"Before I undertake to do what you require of me," said Dr. Spenlove, -who by this time understood the man he had to deal with, "I must ask -you a question or two." - -"If they relate to the present business," responded Mr. Gordon, "I -will answer them." - -"Failing me, will you employ some other person to act as your envoy to -Mrs. Turner?" - -"I shall employ no other, for the reason that there is no other whose -counsel would be likely to influence her. And for another reason--I -have disclosed to you what I will disclose to no other person." - -"Would you leave her as she is?" - -"I would leave her as she is. Early in the morning I should take my -departure, and she would have to face the future unaided by me." - -"If she will not listen to me, if she will not make the sacrifice, you -will surely give her, out of your abundance, some little assistance to -help her along?" - -"Out of my abundance," replied Mr. Gordon sternly, "I will give her -nothing, not the smallest coin. Make your mind easy upon one point, -Dr. Spenlove. So far as a practical man like myself is likely to go I -will do what I can to make her happy. She will live in a respectable -atmosphere, she will be surrounded by respectable people, she will -have all the comforts that money can purchase, and I shall never utter -to her a word of reproach. Her past will be as dead to me as if it had -never been." - -Dr. Spenlove rose. "It is your desire that I shall go to her -to-night?" - -"It is. The matter must be settled without delay." - -"If she asks for time to reflect----" - -"I must have the answer to-night, yea or nay." - -There was no more to be said. The man who had been wronged and -deceived, and who had made an offer so strange and generous and cruel, -was fixed and implacable. - -"I may be absent for some time," said Dr. Spenlove. "Where shall I see -you upon my return?" - -"Here, if you will allow me to stay." - -"You are welcome. My landlady will make you a bed on the sofa." - -"Thank you; I need no bed. I can employ myself while you are away." - -Dr. Spenlove stepped to the door, and turned on the threshold. - -"One other question, Mr. Gordon. If I succeed, when will you require -her to give up her child?" - -"To-morrow evening. I will have a carriage ready at the door. On the -following day Mrs. Turner and I will leave Portsmouth, and there is no -probability after that that you and I will ever meet again." - -Dr. Spenlove nodded, and left the house. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -"ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE." - - -The snow was falling more heavily, and a strong wind blew the flakes -into his face as he made his way to Mrs. Turner's garret. He walked as -quickly as he could, but his progress was impeded by the force of the -wind and by its driving the snow into his eyes. Despite these -obstacles his intuitive observance of what was passing around him and -all his mental forces were in active play, and it was a proof of his -kindly and unselfish nature that, in the light of the vital errand -upon which he was engaged, he was oblivious of the sense of physical -discomfort. Conflicting questions agitated his mind. No longer under -the influence of the cold, cruel logic which distinguished Mr. -Gordon's utterances, he once more asked himself whether he would be -right in urging Mrs. Turner to renounce her maternal duties and -obligations, and to part forever with the child of her blood. The -human and the divine law were in conflict. On one side degradation and -direst poverty from which there seemed no prospect of escape, and -driving the mother perhaps to a course of life condemned alike by God -and man; on the other side a life of material comfort and -respectability for herself and child. A fortuitous accident--a chance -for which he had prayed earlier in the night--had made him at once the -arbiter and the judge; his hand was upon the wheel to steer these two -helpless beings through the voyage upon which they were embarked, and -upon him rested the responsibility. There was no case here of plowing -through unknown waters over hidden rocks; he saw the ocean of life -before him, he saw the rocks beneath. Amid those rocks lay the forms -of lost, abandoned women who in their mortal career would surely have -been saved had an offer of rescue come such as had come to the woman -who chiefly occupied his thoughts. They would have been spared the -suffering of despairing days, the horrors of despairing death; they -would have been lifted from the gulf of shame and ignominy. New hopes, -new joys, would have arisen to comfort them. The sacrifice they would -have been called upon to make would have been hallowed by the -consciousness that they had performed their duty. It was not alone the -happiness of the mortal life that had to be considered. If the -ministrations of God's ministers on earth were not a mockery and a -snare, it was the immortal life that was equally at stake. The soul's -reward sprang from the body's suffering. - -And still the pitiless snow fell, and the wind howled around him, and -through the white whirlwind he beheld the light of heaven and the -stars shining upon him. - -How should he act? He imagined himself steering the vessel through an -ocean of sad waters. On the right lay a haven of rest, on the left lay -a dark and desolate shore. Which way should he turn the wheel? His -pity for her had drawn from him during their last interview the -exclamation, "God help you!" and she had asked hopelessly, "Will he?" -He had turned from her then; he had no answer to make. There is, he -said to himself now, no divine mediation in human affairs; the divine -hand is not stretched forth to give food to the hungry. In so grave an -issue as the starvation of a human being dependence upon divine aid -will not avail. Admitting this, he felt it to be almost a heresy, but -at the same time he knew that it was true. - -There were but few people in the white streets, and of those few a -large proportion tinged his musings with a deeper melancholy. These -were ragged, shivering children, and women recklessly or despondently -gashing the white carpet, so pure and innocent and fair in its -sentimental aspect, so hard and bitter and cruel in its material. By a -devious process of reasoning he drew a parallel between it and the -problem he was engaged in solving. It was poetic, and it freezed the -marrow; it had a soul and a body, one a sweet and smiling spirit, the -other a harsh and frowning reality. The heart of a poet without boots -would have sunk within him as he trod the snow-clad streets. - -Dr. Spenlove's meditations were arrested by a sudden tumult. A number -of people approached him gesticulating and talking eagerly and -excitedly, the cause of their excitement being a couple of policemen -who bore between them the wet, limp body of a motionless woman. He was -drawn magnetically toward the crowd, and was immediately recognized. - -"Here's Dr. Spenlove," they cried. "He knows her." - -Yes, he knew her the moment his eyes fell upon her, the people having -made way for him. The body borne by the policemen was that of a young -girl scarcely out of her teens, an unfortunate who had walked the -streets for two or three years past. - -"You had better come with us, doctor," said one of the policemen, to -both of whom he was known. "We have just picked her out of the water." - -A middle-aged woman pushed herself close to Dr. Spenlove. - -"She said she'd do it a month ago," said this woman, "if luck didn't -turn." - -Good God! If luck didn't turn! What direction in the unfortunate -girl's career was the lucky turn to take to prevent her from courting -death? - -"You will come with us, sir," said the policeman. - -"Yes," answered Dr. Spenlove mechanically. - -The police station was but a hundred yards away, and thither they -walked, Dr. Spenlove making a hasty examination of the body as they -proceeded. - -"Too late, I'm afraid, sir," said the policeman. - -"I fear so," said Dr. Spenlove gravely. - -It proved to be the case. The girl was dead. - -The signing of papers and other formalities detained Dr. Spenlove at -the police station for nearly an hour, and he departed with a heavy -weight at his heart. He had been acquainted with the girl whose life's -troubles were over since the commencement of his career in Portsmouth. -She was then a child of fourteen, living with her parents, who were -respectable working people. Growing into dangerous beauty, she had -fallen as others had fallen, and had fled from her home to find -herself after a time deserted by her betrayer. Meanwhile the home in -which she had been reared was broken up; the mother died, the father -left the town. Thrown upon her own resources, she drifted into the -ranks of the "unfortunates," and became a familiar figure in low -haunts, one of civilization's painted, bedizened nightbirds of the -streets. Dr. Spenlove had befriended her, counseled her, warned her, -urged her to reform, and her refrain was: "What can I do? I must -live." It was not an uncommon case; the good doctor came in contact -with many such, and could have prophesied with unerring accuracy the -fate in store for them. The handwriting is ever on the wall, and no -special gift is needed to decipher it. Drifting, drifting, drifting, -forever drifting and sinking lower and lower till the end comes. It -had come soon to this young girl--mercifully, thought Dr. Spenlove as -he plodded slowly on, for surely the snapping of life's chord in the -spring, time of her life was better than the sure descent into a -premature, haggard, and sinful old age. Recalling these reminiscences, -his doubts with respect to his duty in the mission he had undertaken -were solved. There was but one safe course for Mrs. Turner to follow. - -He hastened his steps. His interview with Mr. Gordon and the tragic -incident in which he had been engaged had occupied a considerable -time, and it was now close upon midnight. It was late for an ordinary -visit, but he was a medical man, and the doors of his patients were -open to him at all hours. In the poor street in which Mrs. Turner -resided many of the houses were left unlocked night and day for the -convenience of the lodgers, and her house being one of these, Dr. -Spenlove had no difficulty in obtaining admission. He shook the snow -from his clothes, and ascending the stairs, knocked at Mrs. Turner's -door; no answer coming he knocked again and again, and at length he -turned the handle and entered. - -The room was quite dark; there was no fire in the grate, no candle -light. He listened for the sound of breathing, but none reached his -ears. - -"Mrs. Turner!" he cried. - -Receiving no response, he struck a match. The room was empty. Greatly -alarmed, he went to the landing and knocked at an adjoining door. A -woman's voice called. - -"Who's there?" - -"It is I, Dr. Spenlove." - -"Wait a moment, sir." - -He heard shuffling steps, and presently the tenant appeared, only -partially dressed, with a lighted candle in her hand. - -"I didn't send for you, doctor," she said. - -"No. I want to ask you about Mrs. Turner. She is not in her room." - -"I thought it was strange I didn't hear the baby crying, but I don't -know where she is." - -"Did you not hear her go out?" - -"No, sir; I come home at ten soaked through and through, and I was -glad to get to bed. It aint a night a woman would care to keep out in -unless she couldn't help herself." - -"Indeed it is not. Did you see anything of her before you went to -bed?" - -"I didn't see her; I heard her. I was just going off when she knocked -at my door and asked if I could give her a little milk for the baby, -but I hadn't any to give. Besides, she aint got a feeding bottle that -I know of. She's been trying to borrow one, but nobody in the house -could oblige her. She's having a hard time of it, doctor." - -"She is, poor soul!" said Dr. Spenlove, with a sigh. - -"It's the way with all of us, sir; no one ought to know that better -than you do. There aint a lodger in the house that's earning more than -twelve shillings a week--not much to keep a family on, is it, sir? And -we've got a landlord with a heart of stone. If it hadn't been for her -baby, and that it might have got him in hot water, he'd have turned -her out weeks ago. He's bound to do it to-morrow if her rent aint -paid. He told me so this morning when he screwed the last penny out of -me." - -"Do you know whether she succeeded in obtaining milk for the child?" - -"It's hardly likely, I should say. Charity begins at home, doctor." - -"It is natural and just that it should--but it is terrible, terrible! -Where can Mrs. Turner have gone to?" - -"Heaven knows. One thing I do know, doctor--she's got no friends; she -wouldn't make any, kept herself to herself, gave herself airs, some -said, though I don't go as far as that; I dare say she has her -reasons, only when a woman sets herself up like that it turns people -against her. Are you sure she aint in her room?" - -"The room is empty." - -"It's enough to be the death of a baby to take it out such a night as -this. Listen to the wind." - -A furious gust shook the house, and made every window rattle. To Dr. -Spenlove's agitated senses it seemed to be alive with ominous voices, -proclaiming death and destruction to every weak and helpless creature -that dared to brave it. He passed his hand across his forehead in -distress. - -"I must find her. I suppose you cannot tell me of any place she may -have gone to for assistance." - -"I can't, sir. There's a bare chance that, as she had no coals and no -money to buy 'em with, someone in the house has taken her in for the -night. I'll inquire if you like." - -"I shall be obliged to you if you will," said Dr. Spenlove, catching -eagerly at the suggestion, "and I pray that you may be right." - -"You won't mind waiting in the passage, sir, till I've dressed myself. -I shan't be a minute." - -She was very soon ready, and she went about the house making -inquiries; and, returning, said that none of the lodgers could give -her any information concerning Mrs. Turner. - -"I am sorry to have disturbed you," said Dr. Spenlove, and wishing her -good-night he once more faced the storm. The fear by which he was -oppressed was that the offer of succor had come too late, and that -Mrs. Turner had been driven by despair to the execution of some -desperate design to put an end to her misery. Instinctively, and with -a sinking heart, he took the direction of the sea, hurrying eagerly -after every person he saw ahead of him in the hope that it might be -the woman of whom he was in search. The snow was many inches thick on -the roads, and was falling fast; the wind tore through the now almost -deserted streets, moaning, sobbing, shrieking, with an appalling human -suggestion in its tones created by Dr. Spenlove's fears. Now and then -he met a policeman, and stopped to exchange a few words with him, the -intention of which was to ascertain if the man had seen any person -answering to the description of Mrs. Turner. He did not mention her by -name, for he had an idea--supposing his search to be happily -successful--that Mr. Gordon would withdraw his offer if any publicity -were attracted to the woman he was ready to marry. The policemen could -not assist him; they had seen no woman with a baby in her arms -tramping the streets on this wild night. - -"Anything special, sir?" they asked. - -"No," he replied, "nothing special," and so went on his way. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -"COME! WE WILL END IT." - - -When Dr. Spenlove left Mrs. Turner she sat for some time in a state of -dull lethargy. No tear came into her eyes, no sigh escaped from her -bosom. During the past few months she had exhausted the entire range -of remorseful and despairing emotion. The only comfort she had -received through all those dreary months sprang from the helpful -sympathy of Dr. Spenlove; apart from that she had never been buoyed up -by a ray of light, had never been cheered by the hope of a brighter -day. Her one prevailing thought, which she did not express in words, -was that she would be better dead than alive. She did not court death; -she waited for it, and silently prayed that it would come soon. It was -not from the strength of inward moral support that she had the courage -to live on, it was simply that she had schooled herself into the -belief that before or when her child was born death would release her -from the horrors of life. "If I live till my baby is born," she -thought, "I pray that it may die with me." - -Here was the case of a woman without the moral support which springs -from faith in any kind of religion. In some few mortals such faith is -intuitive, but in most instances it requires guidance and wise -direction in childhood. Often it degenerates into bigotry and -intolerance, and assumes the hateful, narrow form of condemning to -perdition all who do not subscribe to their own particular belief. -Pagans are as worthy of esteem as the bigots who arrogate to -themselves the monopoly of heavenly rewards. - -Mrs. Turner was neither pagan not bigot; she was a nullity. Her -religious convictions had not yet taken shape, and though, if she had -been asked, "Are you a Christian?" she would have replied, "Oh, yes, I -am a Christian," she would have been unable to demonstrate in what -way she was a Christian, or what she understood by the term. In this -respect many thousands of human beings resemble her. - -Faith is strength, mightier than the sword, mightier than the pen, -mightier than all the world's store of gold and precious stones, and -when this strength is displayed in the sweetness of resignation, or in -submission to the divine will which chastens human life with sorrow, -its influence upon the passions is sustaining and purifying and -sublime. If Mrs. Turner had been blessed with faith which displayed -itself in this direction she would have been the happier for it, and -hard as were her trials she would to the last have looked forward with -hope instead of despair. - -The story related by Mr. Gordon to Dr. Spenlove was true in every -particular. There was no distortion or exaggeration; he had done for -Mrs. Turner and her father all that he said he had done. He had not -mentioned the word "love" in connection with the woman he had asked to -be his wife. She, on her part, had no such love for him as that which -should bind a man and a woman in a lifelong tie; she held him in -respect and esteem--that was all. But she had accepted him, and had -contemplated the future with satisfaction until, until---- - -Until a man crossed her path who wooed her in different fashion, and -who lavished upon her flatteries and endearments which made her false -to the promise she had given. For this man she had deserted the home -which Mr. Gordon had provided for her, and had deserted it in such a -fashion that she could never return to it, could never again be -received in it--and this without a word of explanation to the man she -had deceived. She was in her turn deceived, and she awoke from her -dream to find herself a lost and abandoned woman. In horror she fled -from him, and cast her lot among strangers, knowing full well that she -would meet with unbearable contumely among those to whom she was -known. Hot words had passed between her and her betrayer, and in her -anger she had written letters to him which in the eyes of the law -would have released him from any obligation it might otherwise have -imposed upon him. He was well pleased with this, and he smiled as he -put the letters into a place of safety, to be brought forward only in -case she annoyed him. She did nothing of the kind; her scorn for him -was so profound that she was content to release him unconditionally. -So she passed out of his life as he passed out of hers. Neither of -these beings, the betrayed or betrayer, reckoned with the future; -neither of them gave a thought to the probability that the skeins of -fate, which to-day separated them as surely as if they had lived at -opposite poles of the earth, might at some future time bring them -together again, and that the pages of the book which they believed was -closed forever might be reopened again for weal or woe. - -The child's moans aroused the mother from her lethargy. She had no -milk to give the babe; Nature's founts were dry, and she went from -door to door in the house in which she lived to beg for food. She -returned as she went, empty-handed, and the child continued to moan. - -Dr. Spenlove, her only friend, had bidden her farewell. She had not a -penny in her pocket; there was not a crust of bread in the cupboard; -not an ounce of coal, not a stick of wood to kindle a fire. She was -thinly clad, and she did not possess a single article upon which she -could have obtained the smallest advance. She had taken the room -furnished, and if what it contained had been her property a broker -would have given but a few shillings for everything in it. - -The little hand instinctively wandered to the mother's wasted breast, -and plucked at it imploringly, ravenously. The woman looked around in -the last throes of an anguish too deep for expression except in the -appalling words to which she gave despairing utterance. - -"Come!" she cried, "we will end it!" - -Out into the cold streets she crept, unobserved. She shivered, and a -weird smile crossed her lips. - -"Hush, hush!" she murmured to her babe. "It will soon be over. Better -dead--better dead--for you and for me!" - -She crept toward the sea, and hugged the wall when she heard -approaching footsteps. She need not have feared; the night was too -inclement for any but selfish considerations. The soft snow fell, and -enwrapt her and her child in its pitiless shroud. She paused by a lamp -post, and cast an upward look at the heavens, in which she could see -the glimmering of the stars. Then she went on, and pressed her babe -close to her breast to stifle its feeble sobs. - -"Be still, be still," she murmured. "There is no hope in life for -either of us. Better dead--better dead!" - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -THE FRIEND IN NEED. - - -Desperately resolved as she was to carry her fatal design into -execution, she had not reckoned with nature. Weakened by the life of -privation she had led for so many months, and also by the birth of her -child, her physical forces had reached the limit of human endurance. -She faltered and staggered, the ground slipped from beneath her weary -feet. Vain was the struggle; her vital power was spent. From her -overcharged heart a voiceless and terrible prayer went up to heaven. -"Give me strength, O God, give me but a little strength! I have not -far to go!" - -She fought the air with her disengaged hand, and tossed her head this -way and that, but her ruthless prayer was not answered, and though she -struggled fiercely she managed to crawl only a few more steps. She had -yet hundreds of yards to go to reach the sea when some chord within -her seemed to snap; her farther progress was instantly arrested, and -she found herself incapable of moving backward or forward. Swaying to -and fro, the earth, the sky, the whirling snow, and the dim light of -the stars swam in her sight and faded from before her. - -In that supreme moment she saw a spiritual vision of her dishonored -life. - -Deprived early of a mother's counsel and companionship, she had passed -her days with a spendthrift father, whose love for her was so tainted -with selfishness that it was not only valueless but mischievous. When -she grew to woman's estate she was worse than alone; she had no guide, -no teacher, to point out the rocks and shoals of maidenhood, to -inculcate in her the principles of virtue which would have been a -safeguard against the specious wiles of men whose eyes were charmed by -her beauty, and whose only aim was to lure her to ruin. Then her -father died, and a friend came forward who offered her a home and an -honorable position in the world. Friendless and penniless, she -accepted him, and gave him her promise and accepted his money. Love -had not touched her heart; she thought it had when another man wooed -her in a more alluring fashion, and by this man she had, been beguiled -and betrayed. Then she knew what she had lost, but it was too late; -her good name was gone, and she fled to a strange part of the country -and lived among strangers, a heartbroken, despairing woman. All the -salient features in her career flashed before her. She saw the man who -had trusted her, she saw the man in whom she put her trust, she saw -herself, an abandoned creature, with a child of shame in her arms. -These ghostly figures stood clearly limned in that one last moment of -swiftly fading light, as in the moment of sunrise on a frosty morning -every distant object stands sharply outlined against the sky; then -darkness fell upon her, and with an inarticulate, despairing cry she -sank to the ground in a deathlike swoon. The wind sobbed and shrieked -and wailed around her and her child, the falling snow with treacherous -tenderness fell softly upon them; herself insensible, she had no power -to shake it off; her babe was conscious, but its feeble movements were -of small avail against the white pall which was descending upon her -and her outcast mother. Thicker and thicker it grew, and in the wild -outcry of this bitter night Fate seemed to have pronounced its -inexorable sentence of death against these unfortunate beings. - -Ignorant of the fact that chance of a spiritual messenger was guiding -him aright, Dr. Spenlove plodded through the streets. He had no clew, -and received none from the half dozen persons or so he encountered as -he walked toward the sea. He was scarcely fit for the task he had -undertaken, but so intent was he upon his merciful mission that he -bestowed no thought upon himself. The nipping air aggravating the -cough from which he was suffering, he kept his mouth closed as a -protection, and peered anxiously before him for some signs of the -woman he was pursuing. A man walked briskly and cheerily toward him, -puffing at a large and fragrant cigar, and stamping his feet sturdily -into the snow. This man wore a demonstratively furred overcoat; his -hands were gloved in fur; his boots were thick and substantial; and in -the independent assertion that he was at peace with the world, and on -exceedingly good terms with himself, he hummed the words, in Italian, -of the jewel song in "Faust" every time he removed the cigar from his -lips. Although it was but a humming reminiscence of the famous and -beautiful number, his faint rendering of it was absolutely faultless, -and proved him to be a man of refined musicianly taste, quite out of -keeping with his demonstratively furred overcoat. Music, however, was -not his profession. The instincts of his race had welded the divine -art into his soul, and the instincts of his race had made him--a -pawnbroker. Singular conjunction of qualities--the music of the -celestial spheres and fourpence in the pound a month! A vulgar -occupation, that of a pawnbroker, which high-toned gentlemen and -mortals of aristocratic birth regard with scorn and contempt. But the -last vulgar and debasing music-hall ditty which was caroled with -delight by the majority of these gilded beings of a higher social -grade never found lodgment in the soul of Mr. Moss, which, despite -that he devoted his business hours to the lending of insignificant -sums of money upon any small articles which were submitted to his -judgment across the dark counter of his pawnbroking establishment, was -attuned to a far loftier height than theirs in the divine realms of -song. Puff, puff, puff at his cigar, the curling wreaths from which -were whirled into threads of fantastic confusion by the gusts of wind, -or hung in faint gray curls of beauty during a lull. The starry gleam -was transferred from the lips to the fur-covered hand: - - - "E' strano poter il viso suo veder; - Ah! mi posso guardar mi pospo rimirar. - Di, sei tu? Margherita! - Di, sei tu? Dimmi su! - Dimmi su, dì su, dì su, dì su presto!" - - -From hand to lips the starry gleam, and the soul of Mr. Moss followed -the air as he puffed his weed. The pawnbroker broke into ecstasy. From -lips to hand again the starry light, and his voice grew rapturous: - - - "Ceil! E come una man - Che sul baccio mi posa! - Ah! Io rido in poter - Me stessa qui veder!" - - -The last trill brought him close to Dr. Spenlove. - -"Friend, friend!" cried the doctor, "a word with you, for charity's -sake." - -Mr. Moss did not disregard the appeal. Slipping off his right glove, -and thereby displaying two fingers decorated with diamond rings, he -fished a couple of coppers from a capacious pocket, and thrust them -into Dr. Spenlove's outstretched palm. Dr. Spenlove caught his hand -and said: - -"No, no, it is not for that. Will you kindly tell me----" - -"Why," interrupted Mr. Moss, "it is Dr. Spenlove!" - -"Mr. Moss," said Dr. Spenlove, with a sigh of relief, "I am glad it is -you--I am glad it is you." - -"Not gladder than I am," responded Mr. Moss jovially. "Even in weather -like this I shouldn't care to be anybody else but myself." - -This feeble attempt at humor was lost upon Dr. Spenlove. - -"You have come from the direction I am taking, and you may have seen a -person I am looking for--a woman with a baby in her arms--a poor -woman, Mr. Moss, whom I am most anxious to find." - -"I've come from the Hard, but I took no account of the people I -passed. A man has enough to do to look after himself, with the snow -making icicles in his hair, and the wind trying to bite his nose off -his face. The first law of nature, you know, doctor, is----" - -"Humanity," interrupted Dr. Spenlove. - -"No, no, doctor," corrected Mr. Moss; "number one's the first -law--number one, number one." - -"You did not meet the woman, then?" - -"Not to notice her. You've a bad cough, doctor; you'll have to take -some of your own medicine." He laughed. "Standing here is enough to -freeze one." - -"I am sorry I troubled you," said Dr. Spenlove. "Good-night." - -He was moving away when Mr. Moss detained him. - -"But look here, doctor, you're not fit to be tramping the streets in -this storm; you ought to be snuggled up between the blankets. Come -home with me, and Mrs. Moss shall make you a hot grog." - -Dr. Spenlove shook his head and passed on. Mr. Moss gazed at the -retreating figure, his thoughts commingling. - -"A charitable man, the good doctor, a large-hearted gentleman. 'Tardi -si fa--' And poor as a church mouse. What woman is he running after? -Mrs. Moss would give her a piece of her mind for taking out a baby on -such a night. Too bad to let him go alone, but Mrs. Moss will be -waiting up for me. She won't mind when I tell her. I've a good mind -to---- Yes, I will." - -And after the doctor went Mr. Moss, and caught up to him. - -"Doctor, can I be of any assistance to you?" - -"I shall be glad of your help," said Dr. Spenlove eagerly. "I'm rather -worn out--I have had a hard day." - -"It's a trying life, the life of a doctor," said Mr. Moss -sympathetically as they walked slowly on. "We were talking of it at -home only a month ago when we were discussing what we should put -Michael to--our eldest boy, doctor." - -"You have a large family," observed Dr. Spenlove. - -"Not too large," said Mr. Moss cheerfully. "Only eleven. My mother had -twenty-five, and I've a sister with eighteen. Our youngest--what a -rogue he is, doctor--is eight months; our eldest, Michael, is -seventeen next birthday. Schooldays over, he buckles to for work. We -had a family council to decide what he should be. We discussed all the -professions, and reduced them to two--doctor, stockbroker. Michael had -a leaning to be a doctor, that's why we kept it in for discussion, and -we succeeded in arguing him out of it. Your time's not your own, you -see. Called up at all hours of the night and in all weathers; go to a -dinner party, and dragged away before it's half over; obliged to leave -the best behind you; can't enjoy a game of cards or billiards. You've -got a little bet on, perhaps, or you're playing for points, and you're -just winning when it's, 'Doctor, you must come at once; so and so's -dying.' What's the consequence? You make a miscue, or you revoke, and -you lose your money. If you're married you're worse off than if you're -single; you haven't any comfort of your life. 'No, no, Michael,' says -I, 'no doctoring. Stockbroking--that's what you'll go for.' And that's -what he is going for. Most of our people, doctor, are lucky in their -children; they don't forget to honor their father and their mother -that their days may be long in the land, and so on. There's big fish -on the Stock Exchange, and they're worth trying for. What's the use of -sprats? It takes a hundred to fill a dish. Catch one salmon and your -dish is filled. A grand fish, doctor, a grand fish! What to do with -our sons? Why, put them where they can make money. _We_ know what -we're about. There's no brain in the world to compare with ours, and -that's no boast, let me tell you. Take your strikes now--a strike of -bricklayers for a rise of twopence per day in their wages. How many of -our race among the strikers? Not one. Did you ever see a Jewish -bricklayer carrying a hod up a hundred-foot ladder, and risking his -neck for bread, cheese, and beer? No, and you never will. We did our -share of that kind of work in old Egypt; we made all the bricks we -wanted to, and now we're taking a rest. A strike of bootmakers. How -many of our race among the cobblers? One in a thousand, and he's an -addlepate. We deal in boots--wholesale, but we don't make them -ourselves. Not likely. We build houses--with _our_ money and _your_ -bricks and mortar. When we're after birds we don't care for sparrows; -we aim at eagles, and we bring them down, we bring them down." He beat -his gloved hands together and chuckled. "What's your opinion, doctor?" - -"You are right, quite right," said Dr. Spenlove, upon whose ears his -companion's words had fallen like the buzzing of insects. - -"Should say I was," said Mr. Moss, and would have continued had not -Dr. Spenlove hurried forward out of hearing. - -During the time that Mr. Moss was expounding his views they had not -met a soul, and Dr. Spenlove had seen nothing to sustain his hope of -finding Mrs. Turner. But now his observant eyes detected a movement in -the snow-laden road which thrilled him with apprehension, and caused -him to hasten hurriedly to the spot. It was as if some living creature -was striving feebly to release itself from the fatal white shroud. Mr. -Moss hurried after him, and they reached the spot at the same moment. -In a fever of anxiety Dr. Spenlove knelt and pushed the snow aside, -and then there came into view a baby's hand and arm. - -"Good God!" he murmured, and gently lifted the babe from the cold bed. - -"Is it alive, is it alive?" cried Mr. Moss, all his nerves tingling -with excitements "Give it to me--quick; there's someone else there." - -He saw portions of female clothing in the snow which Dr. Spenlove was -pushing frantically away. He snatched up the babe, and opening his fur -coat, clasped the little one closely to his breast, and enveloped it -in its warm folds. To release Mrs. Turner from her perilous condition, -to raise her to her feet, to put his mouth to her mouth, his ear to -her heart, to assure himself that there was a faint pulsation in her -body--all this was the work of a few moments. - -"Does she breathe, doctor?" asked Mr. Moss. - -"She does," replied Dr. Spenlove, and added in deep distress, "but she -may die in my arms!" - -"Not if we can save her. Here, help me off with this thick coat. Easy, -easy; I have only one arm free. Now let us get her into it. That's -capitally done. Put the baby inside as well; it will hold them both -comfortably. Button it over them. There, that will keep them nice and -warm. Do you know her? Does she live far from here? Is she the woman -you are looking for?" - -"Yes, and her lodging is a mile away. How can we get her home?" - -"We'll manage it. Ah, we're in luck! Here's a cab coming toward us. -Hold on to them while I speak to the driver." - -He was off and back again with the cab, with the driver of which he -had made a rapid bargain, in a wonderfully short space of time. The -mother and her babe were lifted tenderly in, the address was given to -the driver, the two kind-hearted men took their seats, the windows -were pulled up, and the cab crawled slowly on toward Mrs. Turner's -lodging. Dr. Spenlove's skillful hands were busy over the woman, -restoring animation to her frozen limbs, and Mr. Moss was doing the -same to the child. - -"How are you getting along, doctor? I am progressing famously. The -child is warming up, and is beginning to breathe quite nicely." He was -handling the babe as tenderly as if it were a child of his own. - -"She will recover, I trust," said Dr. Spenlove, "but we were only just -in time. It is fortunate that I met you, Mr. Moss; you have been the -means of saving two helpless, unfortunate beings." - -"Nonsense, nonsense," answered Mr. Moss. "I have only done what any -man would do. It is you who have saved them, doctor, not I. I am proud -to know you, and I shall be glad to hear of your getting along in the -world. You haven't done very well up to now, I fear. Go for the big -fish and the big birds, doctor." - -"If that were the universal law of life," asked Dr. Spenlove in a tone -of exquisite compassion, with a motion of his hands toward Mrs. Turner -and her child, "what would become of these?" - -"Ah, yes, yes," responded Mr. Moss gravely, "but I mean in a general -way, you know. To be sure, there are millions more little fish and -birds than there are big ones, but it's a selfish world, doctor." - -"You are not an exemplification of it," said Dr. Spenlove, his eyes -brightening. "The milk of human kindness will never be frozen, even on -such bitter nights as this, while men like you are in it." - -"You make me ashamed of myself," cried Mr. Moss violently, but -instantly sobered down. "And now, as I see we are close to the poor -woman's house, perhaps you will tell me what more I can do." - -Dr. Spenlove took from his pocket the money with which he had intended -to pay his fare to London, and held it out to Mr. Moss. "Pay the -cabman for me, and assist me to carry the woman up to her room." - -Mr. Moss thrust the money back. "I will pay him myself; it is my cab, -not yours. I don't allow anyone to get the better of me if I can help -it." - -When the cab stopped he jumped out and settled with the driver, and -then he and Dr. Spenlove carried Mrs. Turner and her babe to the top -of the house. The room was dark and cold, and Mr. Moss shivered. He -struck a match, and held it while Dr. Spenlove laid the mother and -child upon their wretched bed. - -"Kindly stop here a moment," said the doctor. - -He went into the passage, and called to the lodger on the same floor -of whom he had made inquiries earlier in the night. She soon appeared, -and after they had exchanged a few words accompanied him, but -partially dressed, to Mrs. Turner's room. She brought a lighted candle -with her, and upon Mr. Moss taking it from her devoted herself, with -Dr. Spenlove, to her fellow-lodger and the babe. - -"Dear, dear, dear!" she said piteously. "Poor soul, poor soul!" - -Mr. Moss was not idle. All the finer qualities of his nature were -stirred to action by the adventures of the night. He knelt before the -grate; it was empty; not a cinder had been left; some gray ashes on -the hearth--that was all. He looked into the broken coal scuttle; it -had been scraped bare. Rising to his feet, he stepped to the cupboard; -a cracked cup and saucer were there, a chipped plate or two, a -mouthless jug, and not a vestige of food. Without a word he left the -room, and sped downstairs. - -He was absent fifteen or twenty minutes, and when he returned it was -in the company of a man who carried a hundredweight of coals upon his -shoulders. Mr. Moss himself was loaded; under his armpits two bundles -of wood; in one hand a loaf of bread, tea, and butter; in his other -hand a can of milk. - -"God bless you, sir!" said the woman who was assisting Dr. Spenlove. - -Mr. Moss knelt again before the grate, and made a fire. Kettle in hand -he searched for water. - -"You will find some in my room, sir," said the woman. - -Mrs. Turner and her babe were now in bed, the child still craving for -food, the mother still unconscious, but breathing heavily. The fire -lit, and the kettle on, Mr. Moss put on his fur overcoat, whispered a -good-night to Dr. Spenlove, received a grateful pressure of the hand -in reply, slipped out of the house, and took his way home, humming: - - - "O del ciel angeli immortal, - Deh mi guidate con voi lassù! - Dio giusto, a te m'abbandono, - Buon Dio m'accorda il tuo perdono!" - - -He looked at his hands, which were black from contact with the coals. - -"What will Mrs. Moss say?" he murmured. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -THE RESULT OF DR. SPENLOVE'S MISSION. - - -An hour after Mr. Moss' departure Mrs. Turner opened her eyes. It was -a moment for which Dr. Spenlove had anxiously waited. He had satisfied -himself that both of his patients were in a fair way of recovery, and -thus far his heart was relieved. The woman who had assisted him had -also taken her departure after having given the babe some warm milk. -Her hunger appeased, the little one was sleeping calmly and peacefully -by her mother's side. - -The room was now warm and cheerful. A bright fire was blazing, the -kettle was simmering, and a pot of hot tea was standing on the hearth. - -Mrs. Turner gazed around in bewilderment. The one candle in the room -but dimly lighted it up, and the flickering flames of the fire threw -fantastic shadows on walls and ceiling, but so bright was the blaze -that there was nothing distressful in these shadowy phantasmagoria. At -a little distance from the bed stood Dr. Spenlove, his pale face -turned to the waking woman. She looked at him long and steadily, and -did not answer him when he smiled encouragingly at her and spoke a few -gentle words. She passed her hand over the form of her sleeping child, -and then across her forehead, in the effort to recall what had passed. -But her mind was confused; bewildering images of the stages of her -desperate resolve presented themselves--blinding snow, shrieking wind, -the sea which she had not reached, the phantoms she had conjured up -when her senses were deserting her in the white streets. - -"Am I alive?" she murmured. - -"Happily, dear Mrs. Turner," said Dr. Spenlove. "You are in your own -room, and you will soon be well." - -"Who brought me here?" - -"I and a good friend I was fortunate enough to meet when I was seeking -you." - -"Why did you seek me?" - -"To save you." - -"To save me! You knew, then----" She paused. - -"I knew nothing except that you were in trouble." - -"Where did you find me?" - -"In the snow, you and your child. A few minutes longer and it would -have been too late. But an angel directed my steps." - -"No angel directed you. A devil led you on. Why did you not leave me -to die? It was what I went out for. I confess it," she cried -recklessly. "It was my purpose not to live; it was my purpose not to -allow my child to live! I was justified. Is not a quick death better -than a slow, lingering torture which must end in death? Why did you -save me? Why did you not leave me to die?" - -"It would have been a crime." - -"It would have been a mercy. You have brought me back to misery. I do -not thank you, doctor." - -"You may live to thank me. Drink this tea; it will do you good." - -She shook her head rebelliously. "What is the use? You have done me an -ill turn. Had it not been for you I should have been at peace. There -would have been no more hunger, no more privation. There would have -been an end to my shame and degradation." - -"You would have taken it with you to the Judgment Seat," said Dr. -Spenlove with solemn tenderness. "There would have been worse than -hunger and privation. What answer could you have made to the Eternal -when you presented yourself before the throne with the crime of murder -on your soul?" - -"Murder!" she gasped. - -"Murder," he gently repeated. "If you went out to-night with an -intention so appalling it was not only your own life you would have -taken, it was the life of the innocent babe now slumbering by your -side. Can you have forgotten that?" - -"No," she answered in a tone of faint defiance, "I have not forgotten -it; I do not forget it. God would have forgiven me." - -"He would not have forgiven you." - -"He would. What has she to live for? What have I to live for, a lost -and abandoned woman, a mother whose association would bring -degradation upon her child? How should I meet her reproaches when she -grew to be a woman herself? I am not ungrateful for what you have done -for me"--she glanced at the fire and the tea he held in his hand--"but -it cannot continue. To-morrow will come. There is always a to-morrow -to strike terror to the hearts of such as I. Do you know what I have -suffered? Do you see the future that lies before us? What hope is -there in this world for me and my child?" - -"There is hope. You brought her into the world." - -"God help me, I did!" she moaned. - -"By what right, having given her life, would you rob her of the -happiness which may be in store for her?" - -"Happiness!" she exclaimed. "You speak to me of happiness!" - -"I do, in truth and sincerity, if you are willing to make a sacrifice, -willing to perform a duty." - -"What would I not be willing to do," she cried despairingly, "what -would I not cheerfully do, to make her life innocent and happy--not -like mine, oh, not like mine! But you are mocking me with empty -words." - -"Indeed I am not," said Dr. Spenlove earnestly. "Since I left you -some hours ago, not expecting to see you again, something has occurred -of which I came to speak to you. I found your room deserted, and -feared--what we will not mention again. I searched and discovered you -in time to save you--and with all my heart I thank God for it. Now -drink this tea. I have much to say to you, and you need strength to -consider it. If you can eat a little bread and butter--ah, you can. -Let me fill your cup again. That is right. Now I recognize the lady it -was my pleasure to be able to assist--not to the extent I would have -wished, because of my own circumstances." - -His reference to her as a lady, no less than the respectful -consideration of his manner toward her, brought a flush to her cheeks -as she ate. And indeed she ate ravenously; defiant and desperate as -had been her mood, nature's demands are imperative, and no mortal is -strong enough to resist them. When she had finished he sat by her -side, and was silent a while, debating with himself how he should -approach the task which Mr. Gordon had imposed upon him. She saved him -the trouble of commencing. - -"Are you acquainted with the story of my life?" she asked. - -"It has been imparted to me," he replied, "by one to whom I was a -stranger till within the last few hours." - -"Do I know him?" - -"You know him well." - -For a moment she thought of the man who had brought her to this gulf -of shame, but she dismissed the thought. It was impossible. He was too -heartless and base to send a messenger to her on an errand of -friendship, and Dr. Spenlove would have undertaken no errand of an -opposite nature. - -"Who is the gentleman who takes such an interest in me?" - -"Mr. Gordon." - -She trembled, and her face grew white. She had wronged this man--the -law might say that she had robbed him. Oh, why had her fatal design -been frustrated, why was not this torturing existence ended? - -"You need be under no apprehension," continued Dr. Spenlove; "he comes -as a friend." She tossed her head in scorn of herself as one unworthy -of friendship. "He has but lately arrived in England from the -colonies, and he came with the hope of taking you back with him as his -wife. It is from him I learned the sad particulars of your life. -Believe me when I say that he is desirous to befriend you." - -"In what way? Does he offer me money? I have cost him enough already; -my father tricked him, and I have shamefully deceived him. To receive -more from him would fill me with shame, but for the sake of my child I -will submit to any sacrifice, to any humiliation--I will do anything, -anything! It would well become me to show pride when charity is -offered to me!" - -"Do not forget those words--'for the sake of your child you will -submit to any sacrifice.' It is your duty, for her sake, to accept any -honorable proposition, and Mr. Gordon offers nothing that is not -honorable." He sighed as he said this, for he thought of the -sacredness of a mother's love for her firstborn. "He will not give you -money apart from himself. United to him, all he has is yours. He -wishes to marry you." - -She stared at him in amazement. "Are you mad," she cried, "or do you -think that I am?" - -"I am speaking the sober truth. Mr. Gordon has followed you here -because he wishes to marry you." - -"Knowing me for what I am," she said, still incredulous, "knowing that -I am in the lowest depths of degradation, knowing this"--she touched -her child with a gentle hand--"he wishes to marry me!" - -"He knows all. There is not an incident in your career with which he -does not seem to be acquainted, and in the errand with which he has -charged me he is sincerely in earnest." - -"Dr. Spenlove," she said slowly, "what is your opinion of a man who -comes forward to pluck from shame and poverty a woman, who has been -wronged as I have wronged Mr. Gordon?" - -"His actions speak for him," replied Dr. Spenlove. - -"He must have a noble nature," she said. "I never regarded him in that -light. I took him to be a hard, conscientious, fair-dealing man, who -thought I would make him a good wife, but I never believed that he -loved me. I did him the injustice of supposing him incapable of love. -I am not worthy of him, or of any man." - -"Set your mind not upon the past, but upon the future. Think of -yourself and of your child in the years to come, and remember the fear -and horror by which you have been oppressed in your contemplation of -them. I have something further to disclose to you. Mr. Gordon imposes -a condition from which he will not swerve, and to which I beg of you -to listen with calmness. When you have heard all do not answer -hastily. Reflect upon the consequences which hang on your decision, -and bear in mind that you have to make that decision before I leave -you. I am to take your answer to him to-night; he is waiting in my -rooms to receive it." - -Then, softening down all that was harsh in the proposal and magnifying -all its better points, Dr. Spenlove related to her what had passed -between Mr. Gordon and himself. She listened in silence, and he could -not judge from her demeanor whether he was to succeed or to fail. -Frequently she turned her face from his tenderly searching gaze, as -though more effectually to conceal her thoughts from him. When he -finished speaking she showed that she had taken to heart his counsel -not to decide hastily, for she did not speak for several minutes. Then -she said plaintively: - -"There is no appeal, doctor?" - -"None," he answered in a decisive tone. - -"He sought you out and made you his messenger, because of his -impression that you had influence with me, and would advise me for my -good?" - -"As I have told you--in his own words as nearly as I have been able to -recall them." - -"He was right. There is no man in the world I honor more than I honor -you. I would accept what you say against my own convictions, against -my own feelings. Advise me, doctor. My mind is distracted--I cannot be -guided by it. You know what I am, you know what I have been, you -foresee the future that lies before me. Advise me." - -The moment he dreaded had arrived. The issue was with him. He felt -that this woman's fate was in his hands. - -"My advice is," he said in a low tone, "that you accept Mr. Gordon's -offer." - -"And cast aside a mother's duty?" - -"What did you cast aside," he asked sadly, "when you went with your -child on such a night as this toward the sea?" - -She shuddered. She would not look at her child; with stern resolution -she kept her eyes from wandering to the spot upon which the infant -lay. She even moved away from the little body so that she should not -come in contact with it. - -A long silence ensued, which Dr. Spenlove dared not break. - -"I cannot blame him," she then said, her voice now and again broken by -a sob, "for making conditions. It is his respectability that is at -stake, and he is noble and generous for taking such a risk upon -himself. It would be mockery for me to say that I love my child with a -love equal to that I should have felt if she had come into the world -without the mark of shame with which I have branded her. With my love -for her was mingled a loathing of myself, a terror of the living -evidence of my fall. But I love her, doctor, I love her--and never yet -so much as now when I am asked to part with her! What I did a while -ago was done in a frenzy of despair; I had no food, you see, and she -was crying for it; and the horror and the anguish of that hour may -overpower me again if I am left as I am. I will accept Mr. Gordon's -offer, and I will be as good a wife to him as it is in my power to -be--but I, also, have a condition to make. Mr. Gordon is much older -than I, and it may be that I shall outlive him. The condition I make -is--and whatever the consequences I am determined to abide by it--that -in the event of my husband's death and of there being no children of -our union, I shall be free to seek the child I am called upon to -desert. In everything else I will perform my part of the contract -faithfully. Take my decision to Mr. Gordon, and if it is possible for -you to return here to-night with his answer I implore you to do so. I -cannot close my eyes, I cannot rest, until I hear the worst. God alone -knows on which side lies the right, on which the wrong!" - -"I will return with his answer," said Dr. Spenlove, "to-night." - -"There is still something more," she said in an imploring tone, "and -it must be a secret sacredly kept between you and me. It may happen -that you will become acquainted with the name of the guardian of my -child. I have a small memorial which I desire she shall retain until -she is of age, say until she is twenty-one, or until, in the event of -my husband's death, I am free to seek her in years to come. If you do -not discover who the guardian is I ask you to keep this memorial for -me until I reclaim it--which may be never. Will you do this for me?" - -"I will." - -"Thank you for all your goodness to me. But I have nothing to put the -memorial in. Could you add to your many kindnesses by giving me a -small box which I can lock and secure? Dear Dr. Spenlove, it is a -mother who will presently be torn from her child who implores you." - -He bethought him of a small iron box he had at home, which contained -some private papers of his own. He could spare this box without -inconvenience to himself, and he promised to bring it to her--and so, -with sincere words of consolation, he left her. - -In the course of an hour he returned. Mr. Gordon had consented to the -condition she imposed. - -"Should I be thankful or not?" she asked wistfully. - -"You should be thankful," he replied. "Your child, rest assured, will -have a comfortable and happy home. Here is the box and the key. It is -a patent lock--no other key will unlock it. I will show you how to use -it. Yes, that is the way." He paused a moment, his hand in his pocket. -"You will be ready to meet Mr. Gordon at three to-morrow?" - -"And my child?" she asked, with tears in her voice. "When will that be -taken from me?" - -"At twelve." His hand was still fumbling in his pocket, and he -suddenly shook his head, as if indignant with himself. "You may want -to purchase one or two little things in the morning. Here are a few -shillings. Pray accept them." - -He laid on the table the money with which he had intended to pay his -fare to London. - -"Heaven reward you," said the grateful woman, "and make your life -bright and prosperous!" - -Her tears bedewed his hand as she kissed it humbly, and Dr. Spenlove -walked wearily home once more, penniless, but not unhappy. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -WHAT WAS PUT IN THE IRON BOX. - - -The mother's vigil with her child on this last night was fraught with -conflicting emotions of agony and rebellion. Upon Dr. Spenlove's -departure she rose and dressed herself completely, all her thoughts -and feelings being so engrossed by the impending separation that she -took no heed of her damp clothes. She entertained no doubt that the -renunciation was imperative and in the interests of her babe; nor did -she doubt that the man who had dictated it was acting in simple -justice to himself and perhaps in a spirit of mercy toward her; but -she was in no mood to regard with gratitude one who in the most dread -crisis in her life had saved her from destruction. The cause of this -injustice lay in the fact that until this moment the true maternal -instinct had not been awakened within her breast. As she had -faithfully expressed it to Dr. Spenlove the birth of her babe had -filled her with terror and with a loathing of herself. Had there been -no consequences of her error apparent to the world she would have -struggled on and might have been able to preserve her good name; her -dishonor would not have been made clear to censorious eyes; but the -living evidence of her shame was by her side, and, left to her own -resources, she had conceived the idea that death was her only refuge. -Her acceptance of the better course that had been opened for her -loosened the floodgates of tenderness for the child who was soon to be -torn from her arms. Love and remorse shone in her eyes as she knelt by -the bedside and fondled the little hands and kissed the innocent lips. - -"Will you not wake, darling," she murmured, "and let me see your dear -eyes? Wake, darling, wake! Do you not know what is going to happen? -They are going to take you from me. We may never meet again--and if we -do you have not even a name by which I can call you! But perhaps that -will not matter. Surely you will know your mother, surely I shall know -my child, and we shall fly to each other's arms! I want to tell you -all this--I want you to hear it. Wake, sweet, sweet!" - -The child slept on. Presently she murmured: - -"It is hard, it is hard! How can God permit such cruelty?" - -Half an hour passed in this way, and then she became more composed. -Her mind, which had been unbalanced by her misfortunes, recovered its -equilibrium, and she could reason with comparative calmness upon the -future. In sorrow and pain she mentally mapped out the years to come. -She saw her future, as she believed, a joyless life, a life of cold -duty. She would not entertain the possibility of a brighter side--the -possibility of her becoming reconciled to her fate, of her growing to -love her husband, of her having other children who would be as dear to -her as this one was. In the state of her feelings it seemed to her -monstrous to entertain such ideas, a wrong perpetrated upon the babe -she was deserting. In dogged rebellion she hugged misery to her -breast, and dwelt upon it as part of the punishment she had brought -upon herself. There was no hope of happiness for her in the future, -there was no ray of light to illumine her path. Forever would she be -thinking of the child for whom she now, for the first time since its -birth, felt a mother's love, and who was henceforth to find a home -among strangers. - -In this hopeless fashion did she muse for some time, and then a star -appeared in her dark sky. She might, as she had suggested to Dr. -Spenlove, survive her husband; it was more than possible--it was -probable; and though there was in the contemplation a touch of treason -toward the man who had come to her rescue, she derived satisfaction -from it. In the event of his death she must adopt some steps to prove -that the child was hers, and that she, and she alone, had the sole -right to her. No stranger should keep her darling from her, should rob -her of her reward for the sufferings she had undergone. It was for -this reason that she had asked Dr. Spenlove for the iron box. - -It was a compact, well-made box, and very heavy for its size. Any -person receiving it as a precious deposit under the conditions she -imposed might, when it was in his possession, reasonably believe that -it contained mementoes of price, valuable jewels, perhaps, which she -wished her child to wear when she grew to womanhood. She had no such -treasure. Unlocking the box, she took from her pocket a letter, which -she read with a bitterness which displayed itself strongly in her -face, which made her quiver with passionate indignation. - -"The villain!" she muttered. "If he stood before me I would strike him -dead at my feet!" - -There was no lingering accent of tenderness in her voice. For the -father of her child she had only feelings of hatred and scorn. Clearly -she was a woman of strong passions, a woman who could love and hate in -no niggardly fashion. - -She tore the letter down in two uneven strips, and placed one strip in -the box; the other she folded carefully and returned to her pocket. -Then she locked the box, and tying the key with a piece of string, -hung it round her neck and allowed it to fall, hidden in her bosom. - -"If there is justice in heaven," she muttered, "a day will come!" - -The portion of the letter which she had deposited in the box read as -follows: - - -"My Darling: - - "My heart is -dear girl that I do no -can express my feelings -would be powerless to ex -will show my deep love in -life shall be devoted to t -of making you happy. Neve -have occasion for one moment -that you have consented to be -I have thoroughly convinced yo -marriage with Mr. Gordon would b -of bringing the deepest misery up -be truly a living death. With me -be filled with love and sunshine. N -be allowed to darken it. As your p -as your devoted husband, I solemnly sw -will forever shield and guard you. In -hours our new and joyful life will be com -Meet me to-morrow night at the appointed p -and be careful not to whisper a word of you -flight to a living soul. The least suspicion -certainly ruin your happiness and mine. And -sure that you burn this letter as you have bur -With fond and everlasting love, believe me, my o -be forever and ever your faithful and constant l - - -Putting the iron box on the table she sat by the bedside, her eyes -fixed upon her child. Her thoughts, shaped in words, ran somewhat in -this fashion: - -"In a few hours she will be taken from me; in a few short hours we -shall be separated, and then, and then--ah! how can I think of it?--an -ocean of waters will divide us. She will not miss me, she does not -know me. She will receive another woman's endearments; she will never -bestow a thought upon me, her wretched mother, and I--I shall be -forever thinking of her! She is all my own now; presently I shall have -no claim upon her. Would it not be better to end it as I had -intended--to end it now, this moment?" She rose to her feet, and stood -with her lips tightly pressed and her hands convulsively clenched; and -then she cried in horror: "No, no! I dare not--I dare not! It would be -murder, and he said that God would not forgive me. Oh, my darling, my -darling, it is merciful that you are a baby, and do not know what is -passing in my mind! If you do not love me now you may in the future, -when I shall be free, and then you shall feel how different is a -mother's love from the love of a strange woman. But how shall I -recognize you if you are a woman before we meet again; how shall I -prove to you, to the world, that you are truly mine? Your eyes will be -black, as mine are, and your hair, I hope, will be as dark, but there -are thousands like that. I am grateful that you resemble me, and not -your base father, whom I pray God to strike and punish. Oh, that it -were ever in my power to repay him for his treachery, to say to him, -'As you dragged me down so do I drag you down! As you ruined my life -so do I ruin yours!' But I cannot hope for that. The woman weeps, the -man laughs. Never mind, child, never mind. If in future years we are -reunited it will be happiness enough. Dark hair, black eyes, small -hands and feet--oh, darling, darling!" She covered the little hands -and feet with kisses. "And yes, yes"--with feverish eagerness she -gazed at the child's neck--"these two tiny moles, like those on my -neck--I shall know you, I shall know you, I shall be able to prove -that you are my daughter." - -With a lighter heart she resumed her seat, and set to work mending the -infant's scanty clothing, which she fondled and kissed as though it -had sense and feeling. A church clock in the distance tolled five; she -had been listening for the hour, hoping it was earlier. - -"Five o'clock," she muttered. "I thought it was not later than three. -I am being robbed. Oh, if time would only stand still! Five o'clock. -In seven hours she will be taken from me. Seven hours--seven short -hours! I will not close my eyes." - -But after a while her lids dropped, and she was not conscious of it. -The abnormal fatigues of the day and night, the relaxing of the -overstrung nerves, the warmth of the room, produced their effect; her -head sank upon the bed, and she fell into a dreamful sleep. - -It was merciful that her dreaming fancies were not drawn from the -past. The psychological cause of her slumbers being beguiled by bright -visions may be found in the circumstance that, despite the conflicting -passions to which she had proved she was too prone to yield, the -worldly ease which was secured to her and her child by Mr. Gordon's -offer had removed a heavy weight from her heart. In her visions she -saw her baby grow into a happy girlhood, she had glimpses of holiday -times when they were together in the fields, or by the seaside, or -walking in the glow of lovely sunsets, gathering flowers in the hush -of the woods, or winding their way through the golden corn. From -girlhood to womanhood in these fair dreams her baby passed, and happy -smiles wreathed the lips of the woe-worn woman as she lay in her poor -garments on the humble bed by the side of her child. - -"Do you love me, darling?" asked the sleeping mother. - -"Dearly, dearly," answered the dream child. "With my whole heart, -mother." - -"Call me mother again. It is like the music of the angels." - -"Mother--mother!" - -"You will love me always, darling?" - -"Always, mother; forever and ever and ever." - -"Say that you will never love me less, that you will never forget me." - -"I will never love you less. I will never forget you." - -"Darling child, how beautiful you are! There is not in the world a -lovelier woman. It is for me to protect and guard you. I can do so--I -have had experience. Come--let us rest." - -They sat upon a mossy bank, and the mother folded her arms around her -child, who lay slumbering on her breast. - -There had been a few blissful days in this woman's life, during which -she had believed in man's faithfulness and God's goodness, but the -dreaming hours she was now enjoying were fraught with a heavenly -gladness. Nature and dreams are the fairies of the poor and the -afflicted. - -She awoke as the church clock chimed eight. Again had she to face the -stern realities of life. The sad moment of separation was fast -approaching. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -MR. MOSS PLAYS HIS PART. - - -At five o'clock on the afternoon of that day Dr. Spenlove returned to -his apartments. Having given away the money with which he had intended -to pay his fare to London, he had bethought him of a gentleman living -in Southsea of whom he thought he could borrow a sovereign or two for -a few weeks. He had walked the distance, and had met with -disappointment; the gentleman was absent on business and might be -absent several days. - -"Upon my word," said the good doctor as he drearily retraced his -steps, "it is almost as bad as being shipwrecked. Worse, because there -are no railways on desert islands. What on earth am I to do? Get to -London I must, by hook or by crook, and there is absolutely nothing I -can turn into money." - -Then he bethought himself of Mr. Moss, and in his extremity determined -to make an appeal in that quarter. Had it not been for what had -occurred last night he would not have dreamed of going to this -gentleman, of whose goodness of heart he had had no previous -experience, and upon whose kindness he had not the slightest claim. -Arriving at Mr. Moss' establishment, another disappointment attended -him; Mr. Moss was not at home, and they could not say when he would -return. So Dr. Spenlove, greatly depressed, walked slowly on, his mind -distressed with troubles and perplexities. - -He had seen nothing more of Mr. Gordon, who had left him in the early -morning with a simple acknowledgment in words of the services he had -rendered; nor had he seen anything further of Mrs. Turner. On his road -home he called at her lodgings, and heard from her fellow-lodger that -she had left the house. - -"We don't know where she's gone to, sir," the woman said, "but the -rent has been paid up, and a sovereign was slipped under my door. If -it wasn't that she was so hard up I should have thought it came from -her." - -"I have no doubt it did," Dr. Spenlove answered. "She has friends who -are well to do, and I know that one of these friends, discovering her -position, was anxious to assist her." - -"I am glad to hear it," said the woman, "and it was more than kind of -her to remember me. I always had an idea that she was above us." - -As he was entering his room his landlady ran up from the kitchen. - -"Oh, doctor, there's a parcel and two letters for you in your room, -and Mr. Moss has been here to see you. He said he would come again." - -"Very well, Mrs. Radcliffe," said Dr. Spenlove, and cheered by the -news of the promised visit he passed into his apartment. On the table -were the letters and the parcel. The latter, carefully wrapped in -thick brown paper, was the iron box he had given to Mrs. Turner. One -of the letters was in her handwriting, and it informed him that her -child had been taken away, and that she was on the point of leaving -Portsmouth. - -"I am not permitted," the letter ran, "to inform you where I am going, -and I am under the obligation of not writing to you personally after I -leave this place. This letter is sent without the knowledge of the -gentleman for whom you acted, and I do not consider myself bound to -tell him that I have written it. What I have promised to do I will do -faithfully, but nothing further. You who, of all men in the world, -perhaps know me best will understand what I am suffering as I pen -these lines. I send with this letter the box you were kind enough to -give me last night. It contains the memorial of which I spoke to you. -Dear Dr. Spenlove, I rely upon you to carry out my wishes with respect -to it. If you are acquainted with the guardian of my child convey it -to him, and beg him to retain it until my darling is of age, or until -I am free to seek her. It is not in your nature to refuse the petition -of a heartbroken mother; it is not in your nature to violate a -promise. For all the kindnesses you have shown me receive my grateful -and humble thanks. That you will be happy and successful, and that God -will prosper you in all your undertakings, will be my constant prayer. -Farewell." - -Laying this letter aside he opened the second, which was in a -handwriting strange to him: - - -"Dear Sir: All my arrangements are made, and the business upon which -we spoke together is satisfactorily concluded. You will find inclosed -a practical expression of my thanks. I do not give you my address for -two reasons. First, I desire no acknowledgment of the inclosure; -second, I desire that there shall be no correspondence between us upon -any subject. Feeling perfectly satisfied that the confidence I reposed -in you will be respected, I am, - -"Your obedient servant, - - "G. Gordon." - - -The inclosure consisted of five Bank of England notes for twenty -pounds each. Dr. Spenlove was very much astonished and very much -relieved. At this juncture the money was a fortune to him; there was a -likelihood of its proving the turning point in his career; and -although it had not been earned in the exercise of his profession, he -had no scruple in accepting it. The generosity of the donor was, -moreover, in some sense an assurance that he was sincere in all the -professions he had made. - -"Mr. Moss, sir," said Mrs. Radcliffe, opening the door, and that -gentleman entered the room. - -As usual he was humming an operatic air, but he ceased as he closed -the door, which, after a momentary pause, he reopened to convince -himself that the landlady was not listening in the passage. - -"Can't be too careful, doctor," he observed, with a wink, "when you -have something you want to keep to yourself. You have been running -after me and I have been running after you. Did you wish to see me -particularly?" - -"To tell you the truth," replied Dr. Spenlove, "I had a special reason -for calling upon you, but," he added, with a smile, "as it no longer -exists I need not trouble you." - -"No trouble, no trouble at all. I am at your service, doctor. Anything -I could have done, or can do now, to oblige, you may safely reckon -upon. Within limits, you know, within limits." - -"Of course, but the necessity is obviated. I intended to ask you to -lend me a small sum of money--without security, Mr. Moss." - -"I guessed as much. You should have had it, doctor, and no inquiries -made, though it isn't the way I usually conduct my business; but there -are men you can trust and are inclined to trust, and there are men you -wouldn't trust without binding them down hard and fast. If you still -need the money don't be afraid to ask." - -"I should not be afraid, but I am in funds. I am not the less indebted -to you, Mr. Moss." - -"All right. Now for another affair--_my_ affair I suppose I must call -it till I have shifted it to other shoulders, which will soon be done. -Dr. Spenlove, that was a strange adventure last night." - -"It was. A strange and sad adventure. You behaved very kindly, and I -should like to repay what you expended on behalf of the poor lady." - -"No, no, doctor, let it rest where it is. I don't acknowledge your -right to repay what you don't owe, and perhaps I am none the worse off -for what I did. Throw your bread on the waters, you know. My present -visit has reference to the lady--as you call her one I will do the -same--we picked out of the snow last night. Did you ever notice that -things go in runs?" - -"I don't quite follow you." - -"A run of rainy weather, a run of fine weather, a run of good fortune, -a run of ill fortune." - -"I understand." - -"You meet a person to-day whom you have never seen or heard of before. -The odds are that you will meet that person to-morrow, and probably -the next day as well. You begin to have bad cards, you go on having -bad cards; you begin to make money, you go on making money." - -"You infer that there are seasons of circumstances, as of weather. No -doubt you are right." - -"I know I am right. Making the acquaintance of your friend Mrs. Turner -last night in a very extraordinary manner, I am not at all surprised -that I have business in hand in which she is concerned. You look -astonished, but it is true. You gave her a good character, doctor." - -"Which she deserves. It happens in life to the best of us that we -cannot avert misfortune. It is a visitor that does not knock at the -door; it enters unannounced." - -"We have unlocked the door ourselves, perhaps," suggested Mr. Moss -sagely. - -"It happens sometimes in a moment of trustfulness, deceived by -specious professions. The weak and confiding become the victims." - -"It is the way of the world, doctor. Hawks and pigeons, you know." - -"There are some who are neither," said Dr. Spenlove, who was not -disposed to hurry his visitor. His mind was easy as to his departure -from Portsmouth, and he divined from the course the conversation was -taking that Mr. Moss had news of a special nature to communicate. He -deemed it wisest to allow him to break it in his own way. - -"They are the best off," responded Mr. Moss; "brains well balanced--an -even scale, doctor--then you can steer straight, and to your own -advantage. Women are the weakest, as you say; too much heart, too much -sentiment. All very well in its proper place, but it weighs one side -of the scale down. Mrs. Moss isn't much better than other women in -that respect. She has her whims and crotchets, and doesn't always take -the business view." - -"Implying that you do, Mr. Moss?" - -"Of course I do; should be ashamed of myself if I didn't. What do I -live for? Business. What do I live by? Business. What do I enjoy most? -Business--and plenty of it." He rubbed his hands together joyously. "I -should like to paint on my shop door, 'Mr. Moss, Business Man.' People -would know it would be no use trying to get the best of me. They don't -get it as it is." - -"You are unjust to yourself. Was it business last night that made you -pay the cabman, and sent you out to buy coals and food for an -unfortunate creature you had never seen before?" - -"That was a little luxury," said Mr. Moss, with a sly chuckle, "which -we business men engage in occasionally to sharpen up our faculties. It -is an investment, and it pays; it puts us on good terms with -ourselves. If you think I have a bit of sentiment in me you are -mistaken." - -"I paint your portrait for myself," protested Dr. Spenlove, "and I -shall not allow you to disfigure it. Granted that you keep, as a rule, -to the main road. Business Road we will call it, if you like----" - -"Very good, doctor, very good." - -"You walk along driving bargains, and making money honestly----" - -"Thank you, doctor," interposed Mr. Moss rather gravely. "There are -people who don't do us so much justice." - -"When unexpectedly," continued Dr. Spenlove with tender gayety, "you -chance upon a little narrow path to the right or left of you, and your -eye lighting on it, you observe a stretch of woodland, a touch of -bright color, a picture of human suffering, that appeals to your -poetical instinct, to your musical tastes, or to your humanity. Down -you plunge toward it, to the confusion for the time being of Business -Road and its business attractions." - -"Sir," said Mr. Moss, bending his head with a dignity which did not -set ill on him, "if all men were of your mind the narrow prejudices of -creed would stand a bad chance of making themselves felt. But we are -wandering from the main road of the purpose which brought me here. I -have not said a word to Mrs. Moss of the adventure of last night; I -don't know why, because a better creature doesn't breathe, but I -gathered from you in some way that you would prefer we should keep it -to ourselves. Mrs. Moss never complains of my being out late; she -rather encourages me, and that will give you an idea of the good wife -she is. 'Enjoyed yourself, Moss?' she asked when I got home. 'Very -much,' I answered, and that was all. Now, doctor, a business man -wouldn't be worth his salt if he wasn't a thinking man as well. After -I was dressed this morning I thought a good deal of the lady and her -child, and I came to the conclusion that you took more than an -ordinary interest in them." - -"You are right," said Dr. Spenlove. - -"Following your lead, which is a good thing to do if you've confidence -in your partner, I found myself taking more than an ordinary interest -in them, but as it wasn't a game of whist we were playing I had no -clew to the cards you held. You will see presently what I am leading -up to. While I was thinking and going over some stock which I am -compelled by law to put up to auction, I received a message that a -gentleman wished to see me on very particular private business. It was -then about half-past nine, and the gentleman remained with me about an -hour. When he went away he made an appointment with me to meet him at -a certain place at twelve o'clock. I met him there; he had a carriage -waiting. I got in, and where do you think he drove me?" - -"I would rather you answered the question yourself," said Dr. -Spenlove, his interest in the conversation receiving an exciting -stimulus. - -"The carriage, doctor, stopped at the house to which we conveyed your -lady friend and her child last night. I opened my eyes, I can tell -you. Now, not to beat about the bush, I will make you acquainted with -the precise nature of the business the gentleman had with me. - -"Pardon me a moment," said Dr. Spenlove. "Was Mr. Gordon the -gentleman?" - -"You have named him," said Mr. Moss, and perceiving that Dr. Spenlove -was about to speak again, he contented himself with answering the -question. But the doctor did not proceed; his first intention had been -to inquire whether the business was confidential, and if so to decline -to listen to the disclosure which his visitor desired to make. A -little consideration, however, inclined him to the opinion that this -might be carrying delicacy too far. He was in the confidence of both -Mr. Gordon and Mrs. Turner, and it might be prejudicial to the mother -and her child if he closed his ears to the issue of the strange -adventure. He waved his hand, thereby inviting Mr. Moss to continue. - -"Just so, doctor," said Mr. Moss in the tone of a man who had disposed -of an objection. "It is a singular affair, but I have been mixed up in -all kinds of queer transactions in my time, and I always give a man -the length of his rope. What induced Mr. Gordon to apply to me is his -concern, not mine. Perhaps he had heard a good report of me, and I am -much obliged to those who gave it; perhaps he thought I was a -tradesman who would take anything in pledge, from a flatiron to a -flesh and blood baby. Anyway, if I chose to regard his visit as a -compliment it is because I am not thin skinned. Mr. Gordon informed me -that he wished to find a home and to provide for a young baby whose -mother could not look after it, being imperatively called away to a -distant part of the world. Had it not been that the terms he proposed -were extraordinarily liberal, and that he gave me the names of an -eminent firm of lawyers in London, who had undertaken the financial -part of the business--and had it not been, also, that as he spoke to -me I thought of a friend whom it might be in my power to serve--I -should have shut him up at once by saying that I was not a baby -farmer, and by requesting him to take his leave. Interrupting myself, -and as it was you who first mentioned the name of Mr. Gordon, I think -I am entitled to ask if you are acquainted with him?" - -"You are entitled to ask the question. I am acquainted with him." - -"Since when, doctor?" - -"Since last night only." - -"Before we met?" - -"Yes, before we met." - -"May I inquire if you were then acting for Mr. Gordon?" - -"To some extent. Had it not been for him I should not have gone in -search of her." - -"In which case," said Mr. Moss in a grave tone, "she and her child -would have been found dead in the snow. That is coming to first -causes, doctor. I have not been setting a trap for you in putting -these questions; I have been testing Mr. Gordon's veracity. When I -asked him whether I was the only person in Portsmouth whom he had -consulted he frankly answered I was not. Upon this I insisted upon his -telling me who this other person was. After some hesitation he said, -'Dr. Spenlove.' Any scruples I may have had were instantly dispelled, -for I knew that it was impossible you could be mixed up in a business -which had not a good end." - -"I thank you." - -"Hearing your name, I thought at once of the lady and her child whom -we were instrumental in saving. Am I right in my impression that you -are in possession of the conditions and terms Mr. Gordon imposes?" - -"I am." - -"Then I need not go into them. I take it, Dr. Spenlove, that you do -not consider the business disreputable." - -"It is not disreputable. Mr. Gordon is a peculiar man, and his story -in connection with the lady in question is a singular one. He is not -the father of the child, and the action he has taken is not prompted -by a desire to rid himself of a responsibility. On the contrary, out -of regard for the lady he has taken upon himself a very heavy -responsibility, which I have little doubt--none, indeed--that he will -honorably discharge." - -"I will continue. Having heard what Mr. Gordon had to say--thinking -all the time of the friend who might be induced to adopt the child, -and that I might be able to serve him--I put the gentleman to the -test. Admitting that his terms were liberal, I said that a sum of -money ought to be paid down at once, in proof of his good faith. 'How -much?' he asked. 'Fifty pounds,' I answered. He instantly produced the -sum in banknotes. Then it occurred to me that it would make things -still safer if I had an assurance from the eminent firm of London -lawyers that the business was honorable, and met with their approval; -and if I also had a notification from them that they were prepared to -pay the money regularly. 'Send them a telegram,' suggested Mr. Gordon, -'and make it full and complete. I will write a shorter one, which you -can send at the same time. Let the answers be addressed here, and open -them both yourself when they arrive, which should be before twelve -o'clock.' The telegrams written, I took them to the office; and before -twelve came the replies, which were perfectly satisfactory. Everything -appeared to be so straightforward that I undertook the business. A -singular feature in it is that Mr. Gordon does not wish to know with -whom the child is placed. 'My lawyers will make inquiries,' he said, -'and they will be content if the people are respectable.' Dr. -Spenlove, I thought it right that you should be informed of what I -have done; you have expressed your approval, and I am satisfied. Don't -you run away with the idea that I have acted philanthropically. -Nothing of the kind, sir; I have been paid for my trouble. And now, if -you would like to ask any questions, fire away." - -"Were no conditions of secrecy imposed upon you?" - -"Yes, but I said I was bound to confide in one person. He may have -thought I meant Mrs. Moss, but it was you I had in my mind. I promised -that it should go no farther, and I do not intend that it shall. Mrs. -Moss will be none the worse for not being let into the secret." - -"Where is the child now?" - -"In the temporary care of a respectable woman who is providing -suitable clothing for it, Mr. Gordon having given me money for the -purpose." - -"He has not spared his purse. When do you propose taking the child to -her new home?" - -"To-night." - -"They are good people?" - -"The best in the world. She cannot help being happy with them." - -"Do they live in Portsmouth?" - -"No, in Gosport. I think this is as much as I have the right to -disclose." - -"I agree with you. Mr. Moss, you can render me an obligation, and you -can do a kindness to the poor child's mother. She has implored me to -endeavor to place this small iron box in the care of the guardians of -her child, to be retained by them for twenty-one years, or until the -mother claims it, which she will be free to do in the event of her -husband dying during her lifetime. I do not know what it contains, and -I understand it is to be given up to no other person than the child or -her mother. Will you do this for me or for her?" - -"For both of you, doctor," replied Mr. Moss, lifting the box from the -table. "It shall be given into their care, as the mother desires. And -now I must be off. I have a busy night before me. Do you go to London -to-morrow?" - -"A train leaves in a couple of hours; I shall travel by that." - -"Well, good-night, and good luck to you. If you want to write to me -you know my address." - -They parted with cordiality, and each took his separate way, Dr. -Spenlove to the City of Unrest, and Mr. Moss to the peaceful town of -Gosport. - - - - -CHAPTER X. -THE VISION IN THE CHURCHYARD. - - -Some twelve months before the occurrence of the events recorded in the -preceding chapters a Jew, bearing the name of Aaron Cohen, had come to -reside in the ancient town of Gosport. He was accompanied by his wife -Rachel. They had no family, and their home was a home of love. - -They were comparatively young, Aaron being twenty-eight and Rachel -twenty-three, and they had been married five years. Hitherto they had -lived in London, and the cause of their taking up their residence in -Gosport was that Aaron had conceived the idea that he could establish -himself there in a good way of business. One child had blessed their -union, whom they called Benjamin. There was great rejoicing at his -birth, and it would have been difficult to calculate how many -macaroons and almond and butter cakes, and cups of chocolate, and -glasses of aniseed were sacrificed upon the altar of hospitality in -the happy father's house for several days after the birth of his -firstborn. "Aaron Cohen does it in style," said the neighbors, and as -both he and Rachel were held in genuine respect by all who knew them, -the encomium was not mere empty praise. Seldom even in the locality in -which the Cohens then resided--the east end of London, where charity -and hospitality are proverbial--had such feasting been seen at the -celebration of a circumcision. "If he lived in Bayswater," said the -company, "he couldn't have treated us better." And when the father -lifted up his voice and said, "Blessed art thou, the Eternal, our God, -King of the universe, who hath sanctified us with his commandments, -and commanded us to introduce our sons into the covenant of our father -Abraham," there was more than usual sincerity in the response, "Even -as this child has now entered this covenant, so may he be initiated -into the covenant of the law, of marriage, and of good works." Perhaps -among those assembled there were some who could not have translated -into English the Hebrew prayers they read so glibly, but this reproach -did not apply to Aaron, who was an erudite as well as an orthodox Jew, -and understood every word he uttered. On this memorable day the -feasting commenced in the morning, and continued during the whole day. -"I wish you joy, Cohen, I wish you joy"--this was the formula, a -hundred and a hundred times repeated to the proud father, who really -believed that a prince had been born among Israel; while the -pale-faced mother, pressing her infant tenderly to her breast, and who -in her maidenhood had never looked so beautiful as now, received in -her bedroom the congratulations of her intimate female friends. The -poorest people in the neighborhood were welcomed, and if the seed of -good wishes could have blossomed into flower a rose-strewn path of -life lay before the child. - -"He shall be the son of my right hand," said Aaron Cohen; and Rachel, -as she kissed her child's mouth and tasted its sweet breath, believed -that Heaven had descended upon earth, and that no mother had ever been -blessed as she was blessed. This precious treasure was the crowning of -their love, and they laid schemes for baby's youth and manhood before -the child was out of long clothes--schemes destined not to be -realized. - -For sixteen months Benjamin filled the hearts of his parents with -ineffable joy, and then the Angel of Death entered their house and -bore the young soul away. How they mourned for the dear one who was -nevermore on earth to rejoice them with his beautiful ways need not -here be related; all parents who have lost their firstborn will -realize the bitterness of their grief. - -But not for long was this grief bitter. In the wise and reverent -interpretation of Aaron Cohen their loss became a source of -consolation to them. "Let us not rebel," he said to his wife, "against -the inevitable and divine will. Give praise unto the Lord, who has -ordained that we shall have a child in heaven waiting to receive us." -Fraught with tenderness and wisdom were his words, and his counsel -instilled comfort into Rachel's heart. Benjamin was waiting for them, -and would meet them at the gates. Beautiful was the thought, radiant -the hope it raised, never, never to fade, nay, to grow brighter even -to her dying hour. Their little child, dead and in his grave, brought -them nearer to God. Heaven and earth were linked by the spirit of -their beloved, who had gone before them; thus was sorrow sweetened, -and happiness chastened by faith. - -Sitting on their low stools during the days of mourning, they spoke, -when they were alone, of the peace and joy of the eternal life, and -thereby were drawn spiritually closer to each other. The lesson they -learned in the darkened room was more precious than jewels and gold; -it is a lesson which comes to all, high and low alike, and rich indeed -are they who learn it aright. For some time thereafter, when the -mother opened the drawer in which her most precious possessions were -kept, and kissed the little shoes her child had worn, she would murmur -amid her tears: - -"My darling is waiting for me--my darling is waiting for me!" - -God send to all sorrowing mothers a comfort so sweet! - -Aaron Cohen had selected a curious spot in Gosport for his habitation. -The windows of the house he had taken overlooked the quaint, peaceful -churchyard of the market town. So small and pretty was this resting -place for the dead that one might almost have imagined it to be a -burial ground for children's broken toys. The headless wooden -soldiers, the battered dolls, the maimed contents of cheap Noah's -arks, the thousand and one treasures of childhood, might have been -interred there, glad to be at rest after the ruthless mutilations they -had undergone. For really, in the dawning white light of a frosty -morning, when every object for miles around sharply outlined itself in -the clear air and seemed to have lost its rotund proportions, it was -hard to realize that, in this tiny churchyard, men and women whose -breasts once throbbed with the passions and sorrows of life should be -crumbling to that dust to which we must all return. No, no; it could -be nothing but the last home of plain and painted shepherds, and -bald-headed pets, and lambs devoid of fleece, and mayhap--a higher -flight which we all hope to take when the time comes for us to claim -our birthright of the grave--of a dead bullfinch or canary, carried -thither on its back, with its legs sticking heavenward, and buried -with grown-up solemnity, and very often with all the genuineness of -grief for a mortal bereavement. Have you not attended such a funeral, -and has not your overcharged heart caused you to sob in your dreams as -you lay in your cot close to mamma's bed? - -But these fantastic fancies will not serve. It was a real human -churchyard, and Rachel Cohen knew it to be so as she stood looking out -upon it from the window of her bedroom on the first floor. It was from -no feeling of unhappiness that her sight became dimmed as she gazed -upon the tombstones. Shadows of children rose before her, the -pattering of whose little feet was once the sweetest music that ever -fell on parent's ears, the touch of whose little hands carried with it -an influence as powerful as a heart-stirring prayer; children with -golden curls, children with laughing eyes, children with wistful -faces--but there was one, ah! there was one that shone as a star amid -the shadows, and that rose up, up, till it was lost in the solemn -clouds, sending therefrom a divine message down to the mother's heart: -"Mamma, mamma, I am waiting for thee!" - -Quiet as was everything around her, Rachel heard the words; in the -midst of the darkness a heavenly light was shining on her. - -She wiped the tears from her eyes, and stole down to the room in which -her husband was sitting. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -MR. WHIMPOLE INTRODUCES HIMSELF. - - -It was the front room of the house on the ground floor which Aaron -Cohen had converted into a shop. The small parlor windows had been -replaced by larger ones, a counter had been put up, behind which were -shelves fitted into the walls. These shelves at present were bare, but -Aaron hoped to see them filled. Under the counter were other shelves, -as empty as those on the walls. - -When Rachel entered her husband was engaged counting out his money, -like the king in his counting house. There was a studious expression -on his face, which was instantly replaced by one of deep tenderness as -he looked up and saw traces of tears in her eyes. He gathered his -money together, banknotes, silver, gold, and coppers, and motioned her -into the room at the rear of the shop. This was their living room, but -a large iron safe in a corner denoted that it was not to be devoted -entirely to domestic affairs. In another corner was the symbol of his -business, which was to be affixed to the front of the premises, over -the shop door--the familiar device of three golden balls. - -Letting his money fall upon the table, he drew his wife to his side, -and passed his arm round her. - -"The house," he said, "is almost in order." - -"Yes, Aaron; there is very little to do." - -"I am also ready for business. I have the license, and to-morrow those -glittering balls will be put up and the name painted. They are rather -large for so small a shop, but they will attract all the more -attention." He gazed at her anxiously. "Do you think you will be -contented and happy here?" - -"Contented and happy anywhere with you," she replied in a tone of the -deepest affection. - -"In this town especially, Rachel?" - -"Yes, in this town especially. It is so peaceful." - -"But," he said, touching her eyes with his fingers, "these?" - -"Not because I am unhappy," she said, and her voice was low and sweet. -"I was looking out upon the churchyard from our bedroom window." - -"Ah!" he said, and he kissed her eyes. - -He divined the cause of her tears, and there was much tenderness in -his utterance of the monosyllable and in the kisses he gave her, Man -and wife for five years, they were still the fondest of lovers. - -"My dear," said Aaron presently, "the spirit of prophecy is upon me. -We shall lead a comfortable life in this town; we shall prosper in -this house. It was a piece of real good fortune my hitting upon it. -When I heard by chance that the man who lived here owned the lease and -wished to dispose of it I hesitated before parting with so large a sum -as a hundred pounds for the purchase. It was nearly half my capital, -but I liked the look of the place, and a little bird whispered that we -should be lucky in it, so I made the venture. I am certain we shall -not regret it. There is a knock at the street door." - -"Who can it be?" asked Rachel anxiously. "We know no one in Gosport, -and it is night." - -"Which is no excuse for our not opening the door," said Aaron Cohen, -sweeping the money off the table into a small chamois leather bag, -which he tied carefully at the neck, and put into his pocket. "True we -believe we are not known here, but there may nevertheless be an old -acquaintance in Gosport who has heard of our arrival, and comes to -welcome us; or Judah Belasco may have told a friend of his we are -here; or it may be an enterprising baker or grocer who wishes to -secure our custom. No," he added as the knock was repeated, "that is -not a tradesman. Let us see who it is that expresses himself so -impatiently." - -Aaron went to the street door, and Rachel followed him into the -passage, carrying a candle. The night was dark, and Rachel stood a -little in the rear, so that Aaron could not distinguish the features -of his visitor. He was a big man, and that was all that was apparent -to the Cohens. - -"Mr. Cohen?" queried the visitor. - -"Yes," said Aaron. - -"Mr. Aaron Cohen?" - -"That is my name." - -"Can I speak with you?" - -"Certainly." And Aaron waited to hear what the stranger had to say. - -"I am not accustomed to be kept waiting on the doorstep. I should -prefer to speak to you in the house." - -Rachel, who was naturally timid, moved closer to her husband, who took -the candle from her hand, and held it up in order to see the face of -the stranger. - -"Step inside," he said. - -The stranger followed Aaron and Rachel into the little parlor, and -without taking off his hat, looked at Aaron, then at Rachel, and then -into every corner of the room; the last object upon which his eyes -rested was the device of the three golden balls, and a frown gathered -on his features as he gazed. Aaron noted these movements and signs -with attention and amusement. - -"Do you detect any blemish in them?" he asked. - -"I do not understand you," said the stranger. - -"In those balls. There was an expression of disapproval on your face -as you gazed on them." - -"I disapprove of them altogether," said the stranger. - -"I am sorry, but we cannot please everybody. I am not responsible for -the insignia; you will find the origin in the armorial bearings of the -Medici. That is a beautiful hat you have on your head." The stranger -stared at him. "Really," continued Aaron blandly, "a beautiful hat; a -fine protection against the hot rays of the sun; a protection, also, -against the wind and rain. But in this room, as you may observe, we -have neither wind nor rain nor sun." The stranger, reddening slightly, -removed his hat, and placed it on the table. "My wife," then said -Aaron. - -The stranger inclined his head, with the air of a man acknowledging an -introduction to one of a lower station. The manner of this -acknowledgment was not lost upon Aaron. - -"My wife," he repeated courteously, "Mrs. Cohen." - -"I see," said the stranger, glancing again at Rachel with -condescension. "With your permission I will take a seat." - -It was distinctly at variance with the hospitable instincts of Aaron -Cohen that he did not respond to this request. - -"You have the advantage of us," he said. "I have had the pleasure of -introducing my wife to you. Afford me the pleasure of introducing you -to my wife." - -Somewhat stiffly the stranger handed Aaron a visiting card, upon which -was inscribed the name of Mr. Edward Whimpole, and in a corner the -word, "Churchwarden." Mr. Whimpole's movements were slow, and intended -to be dignified, but Aaron exhibited no impatience. - -"My dear, Mr. Edward Whimpole, churchwarden." - -Rachel bowed gracefully, and Aaron, with an easy motion of his hand, -invited Mr. Whimpole to a chair, in which he seated himself. Then -Aaron placed a chair for his wife, and took one himself, and prepared -to listen to what Mr. Whimpole had to say. - -Mr. Whimpole was a large-framed man with a great deal of flesh on his -face; his eyes were light, and he had no eyebrows worth speaking of. -The best feature in his face was his mouth, and the most insignificant -his nose, which was really not a fair nose for a man of his build. It -was an added injury inflicted upon him by nature that it was very thin -at the end, as though it had been planed on both sides. But then, as -Aaron had occasion to remark, we don't make our own noses. A distinct -contrast presented itself in the two noses which, if the figure of -speech may be allowed, now faced each other. - -Mr. Whimpole had not disclosed the nature of his visit, but he had -already made it clear that he was not graciously disposed toward the -Jew; the only effect this had upon Aaron was to render him exceedingly -affable. Perhaps he scented a bargain, and was aware that mental -irritation would interfere with the calm exercise of his judgment in a -matter of buying and selling. - -"May I inquire," he said, pointing to the word "churchwarden" on the -card, "whether this is your business or profession?" - -"I am a corn-chandler," said Mr. Whimpole. - -"Churchwarden, my dear," said Aaron, addressing his wife in a pleasant -tone, "_and_ corn-chandler." - -For the life of him Mr. Whimpole could not have explained to the -satisfaction of those not directly interested why he was angry at the -reception he was meeting. That Aaron Cohen was not the kind of man he -had expected to meet would not have been accepted as a sufficient -reason. - -"I am not mistaken," said Mr. Whimpole, with a flush of resentment, -"in believing you to be a Jew?" - -"You are not mistaken," replied Aaron with exceeding urbanity. "I am a -Jew. If I were not proud of the fact it would be folly to attempt to -disguise it, for at least one feature in my face would betray me." - -"It would," said Mr. Whimpole, dealing a blow which had the effect of -causing Aaron to lean back in his chair, and laugh gently to himself -for fully thirty seconds. - -"When you have quite finished," said Mr. Whimpole coldly, "we will -proceed." - -"Excuse me," said Aaron, drawing a deep breath of enjoyment. "I beg -you will not consider me wanting in politeness, but I have the -instincts of my race, and I never waste the smallest trifle, not even -a joke." - -A little tuft of hair which ran down the center of Mr. Whimpole's -head--the right and left banks of which were devoid of -verdure--quivered in sympathy with the proprietor's astonishment. That -a man should make a joke out of that which was generally considered to -be a reproach and a humiliation was, indeed, matter for amazement, -nay, in this instance, for indignation, for in Aaron Cohen's laughter -he, Mr. Whimpole himself, was made to occupy a ridiculous place. - -"We are loath," continued Aaron, "to waste even the thinnest joke. We -are at once both thrifty and liberal." - -"We!" exclaimed Mr. Whimpole in hot repudiation. - -"We Jews, I mean. No person in the world could possibly mistake you -for one of the chosen." - -"I should hope not. The idea is too absurd." - -"Make your mind easy, sir; you would not pass muster in a synagogue -without exciting remark. Yes, we are both thrifty and liberal, wasting -nothing, and in the free spending of our money seeing that we get good -value for it. That is not a reproach, nor is it a reproach that we -thoroughly enjoy an agreeable thing when we get it for nothing. There -are so many things in life to vex us that the opportunity of a good -laugh should never be neglected. Proceed, my dear sir, proceed; you -were saying that you believed you were not mistaken in taking me for a -Jew." - -"Is it your intention," asked Mr. Whimpole, coming now straight to the -point, "to reside in Gosport?" - -"If I am permitted," replied Aaron meekly. - -"I hear, Mr. Cohen, that you have purchased the lease of this house." - -"It is true, sir. The money has been paid and the lease is mine." - -"It has twenty-seven years to run." - -"Twenty-seven years and three months. Who can tell where we shall be, -and how we shall be situated at the end of that time?" - -Mr. Whimpole waved the contemplation aside. "You gave a hundred pounds -for the lease." - -"The precise sum; your information is correct." - -"I had some intention, Mr. Cohen, of buying it myself." - -"Indeed. It is a case of the early bird, then." - -"If it gratifies you to put it that way. I have, therefore, no option -but to purchase the lease of you." - -"Mr. Whimpole," said Aaron after a slight pause, "I am agreeable to -sell you the lease." - -"I thought as much." And Mr. Whimpole disposed himself comfortably in -his chair. - -Rachel's eyes dilated in surprise. Their settlement in Gosport had not -been made in haste, and all arrangements for commencing business were -made. She could not understand her husband's willingness to give up -the house. - -"I do not expect you to take what you gave for it," said Mr. Whimpole; -"I am prepared to give you a profit, and," he added jocosely, "you -will not be backward in accepting it." - -"Not at all backward. You speak like a man of sense." - -"How much do you want for your bargain? How much, Mr. Cohen? Don't -open your mouth too wide. - -"If you will permit me," said Aaron, and he proceeded to pencil down a -calculation. "It is not an undesirable house, Mr. Whimpole?" - -"No, no; I don't say it is." - -"It is compact and convenient?" - -"Fairly so, fairly so!" - -"I will accept," said Aaron, having finished his calculation, "five -hundred pounds." - -"You cannot be in earnest!" gasped Mr. Whimpole his breath fairly -taken away. - -"I am quite in earnest. Are you aware what it is you would buy of me?" - -"Of course I am aware; the lease of this house." - -"Not that alone. You would buy my hopes for the next twenty-seven -years; for I declare to you there is not to my knowledge in all -England a spot in which I so desire to pass my days as in this -peaceful town; and there is not in all Gosport a house in which I -believe I shall be so happy as in this. You see, you propose to -purchase of me something more than a parchment lease." - -"But the--the things you mention are of no value to me." - -"I do not say they are. I am speaking from my point of view, as all -men are bound to do. There is no reason why we should bandy words. I -am not anxious to sell the lease; wait till it is in the market." - -"A most unhealthy situation," observed Mr. Whimpole. - -"It concerns ourselves, and we are contented." - -"I cannot imagine a more unpleasant, not to say obnoxious, view." - -"The view of the churchyard? The spot has already acquired an -inestimable value in my eyes. God rest the souls of those who lie in -it! The contemplation of the peaceful ground will serve to remind me -of the vanity of life, and will be a constant warning to me to be fair -and straightforward in my dealings. The warning may be needed, for in -the business I intend to carry on there are--I do not deny it--many -dangerous temptations." - -"Tush, tush!" exclaimed Mr. Whimpole petulantly. "Straightforward -dealings, indeed! The vanity of life, indeed!" - -Aaron Cohen smiled. - -Only once before in his life had Mr. Whimpole felt so thoroughly -uncomfortable as at the present moment, and that was when he was a -little boy, and fell into a bed of nettles, from which he was unable -to extricate himself until he was covered with stings. It was just the -same now; he was smarting all over from contact with Aaron Cohen, who -was like a porcupine with sharp-pointed quills. But he would not -tamely submit to such treatment; he would show Aaron that he could -sting in return--he knew well enough where to plant his poisoned -arrow. - -It is due to Mr. Whimpole to state that he was not aware that the -manner in which he was conducting himself during this interview was -not commendable. Being a narrow-minded man, he could not take a wide -and generous view of abstract matters, which, by a perversion of -reasoning, he generally regarded from a personal standpoint; such men -as he, in their jealous regard for their own feelings, are apt to -overlook the feelings of others, and, indeed, to behave occasionally -as if they did not possess any. This was Mr. Whimpole's predicament, -and having met a ready-witted man, he was made to suffer for his -misconduct. He sent forth his sting in this wise: - -"You speak, Mr. Cohen, of being straightforward in your dealings, but -for the matter of that we all know what we may expect from a----" - -And having got thus far in his ungenerously prompted speech, he felt -himself unable, in the presence of Rachel, and with her reproachful -eyes raised to his face, to conclude the sentence. Aaron Cohen -finished it for him. - -"For the matter of that," he said gently, "you all know what you may -expect from a Jew. That is what you were going to say. And with this -thought in your mind you came to trade with me. Well, sir, it may be -that we both have something to learn." - -"Mr. Cohen," said Mr. Whimpole slightly abashed, "I am sorry if I have -said anything to hurt your feelings." - -"The offense, sir, is atoned for by the expression of your sorrow." - -This was taking high ground, and Mr. Whimpole's choler was ready to -rise again; but he mastered it and said in a conciliatory tone: - -"I will disguise nothing from you; I was born in this house." - -"The circumstance will make it all the more valuable to us. My -dear"--impressing it upon Rachel with pleasant emphasis--"Mr. Whimpole -was born in this house. A fortunate omen. Good luck will come to us, -as it has come to him. It is a low-rented house, and those who have -been born in it must have been poor men's children. When they rise in -the world, as Mr. Whimpole has done, it is better than a horseshoe -over the door. In which room were you born, Mr. Whimpole?" - -"In the room on the back of the first floor," replied Mr. Whimpole, -making a wild guess. - -"Our bedroom. There should be a record on the walls; there should, -indeed, be a record, such as is placed outside those houses in London -which have been inhabited by famous people. Failing that, it is in the -power of every man, assuredly of every rich man, to make for himself a -record that shall be imperishable--far better, my dear sir, than the -mere fixing of a plate on a cold stone wall." - -Mr. Whimpole gazed at Aaron Cohen to discover if there was any trace -of mockery in his face, but Aaron was perfectly grave and serious. - -"A man's humility," said Mr. Whimpole, raising his eyes to the -ceiling, "his sense of humbleness, would prevent him from making this -record for himself. It has to be left to others to do it when they -have found him out." - -"Aha, my dear sir!" said Aaron softly, "when they have found him out. -True! true! but how few of us are! How few of us receive our just -reward! How few of us, when we are in our graves, receive or deserve -the tribute, 'Here lies a perfect man'! But the record I speak of will -never be lost by a rich man's humility, by his humbleness, for it can -be written unostentatiously in the hearts of the poor by the aid of -silver and gold." - -"I understand you, Mr. Cohen," said Mr. Whimpole inwardly confounding -Aaron's flow of ideas, "by means of charity." - -"Yes, sir, by means of charity. There is an old legend that a man's -actions in life are marked in the air above him, in the places in -which they are performed. There, in invisible space, are inscribed the -records of his good and bad deeds, of his virtues, of his crimes; and -when he dies his soul visits those places, and views the immortal -writing which is visible to all the angels in heaven, and which covers -him with shame or glory. Gosport, doubtless, has many such records of -your charity." - -"I do my best," said Mr. Whimpole, very much confused and mystified, -"I hope I do my best. I said I would disguise nothing from you; I -will, therefore, be quite frank, with no intention of wounding you. I -am a strictly religious man, Mr. Cohen, and it hurts me that one whose -religious belief is opposed to my own should inhabit the house in -which I was born. I will give you a hundred and twenty pounds for the -lease; that will leave you a profit of twenty pounds. Come, now!" - -"I will not accept less for it, sir, than the sum I named." - -"Is that your last word?" - -"It is my last word." - -Mr. Whimpole rose with a face of scarlet, and clapped his hat on his -head. - -"You are a--a----" - -"A Jew. Leave it at that. Can you call me anything worse?" asked Aaron -with no show of anger. - -"No, I cannot. You are a Jew." - -"I regret," said Aaron calmly, "that I cannot retort by calling you a -Christian. May our next meeting be more agreeable! Good-evening, Mr. -Whimpole." - -"You do not know the gentleman you have insulted," said Mr. Whimpole -as he walked toward the door. "You do not know my position in this -town. I am in the expectation of being made a justice of the peace. -You will live to repent this." - -"I think not," said Aaron, taking the candle to show his visitor out. -"I trust you may." - -"You may find your residence in Gosport, where I am universally -respected, not as agreeable as you would wish it to be." - -"We shall see, we shall see," said Aaron, still smiling. "I may also -make myself respected here." - -"There is a prejudice against your race----" - -"Am I not aware of it? Is not every Jew aware of it? Is it not thrown -in our teeth by the bigoted and narrow-minded upon every possible -occasion? We will live it down, sir. We have already done much; we -will yet do more. Your use of the word prejudice is appropriate, for, -as I understand its meaning, it represents a judgment formed without -proper knowledge. Yes, sir, it is not to be disputed that there exists -a prejudice against our race." - -"Which, without putting any false meaning upon it, will make this -ancient and respectable town"--here Mr. Whimpole found himself at a -loss, and he was compelled to wind up with the vulgar figure of -speech--"too hot to hold you." - -"This ancient town," said Aaron with a deeper seriousness in his -voice, "is known to modern men as Gosport." - -"A clever discovery," sneered Mr. Whimpole. "Are you going to put -another of your false constructions on it?" - -"No, sir. I am about to tell you a plain and beautiful truth. When in -olden times a name was given to this place it was not Gosport. It was -God's Port; and what God's port is there throughout the civilized -world in which Jew and Christian alike have not an equal right to -live, despite prejudice, despite bigotry, and despite the unreasonable -anger of large corn-chandlers and respected churchwardens? I wish you, -sir, good-night." - -And having by this time reached the street door, Aaron Cohen opened it -for Mr. Whimpole, and bowed him politely out. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -THE COURSE OF THE SEASONS. - - -Upon Aaron's return to the little parlor he saw that Rachel was -greatly disturbed. - -"My life!" he said, and he folded her in his arms and tenderly -embraced her. "Don't let such a little thing as this distress you; it -will all come right in the end." - -"But how you kept your temper," she said, "that is what surprised me." - -"It gave me the advantage of him, Rachel. I was really amused." He -pinched her cheeks to bring the color back to them. "Some men must be -managed one way, some another. And now for our game of bezique. Mr. -Whimpole's visit"--he laughed at the recollection--"will make me enjoy -it all the more." - -There was no resisting his light-heartedness, and he won a smile from -her, despite her anxiety. Rachel was not clever enough to discover -that it was only by the cunning of her husband that she won the rubber -of bezique. He was a keen judge of human nature, and he knew that this -small victory would help to soothe her. - -The next day was Friday, and the three golden balls were put up, and -the name of Aaron Cohen painted over the shop door. A great many -people came to look, and departed to circulate the news. At one -o'clock the painting was done, and then Aaron said to his wife, "I -shall be out till the evening. Have you found anyone to attend to the -lights and the fire?" They were not rich enough to keep a regular -servant, and Aaron never touched fire on the Sabbath. - -"I have heard of a woman," said Rachel; "she is coming this afternoon -to see me." - -"Good," said Aaron, and, kissing Rachel, went away with a light heart. - -In the afternoon the woman, Mrs. Hawkins, called, and Rachel explained -the nature of the services she required. Mrs. Hawkins was to come to -the house every Friday night to put coals on the fire and extinguish -the lights, and four times on Saturday to perform the same duties. -Rachel proposed eightpence a week, but Mrs. Hawkins stuck out for -tenpence, and this being acceded to, she departed--leaving a strong -flavor of gin behind her. When Aaron came home the two Sabbath candles -were alight upon the snow-white tablecloth, and on the tablecloth a -supper was spread--fried fish, white bread and white butter, and in -the fender a steaming coffeepot. He washed and said his prayers, and -then they sat down to their meal in a state of perfect contentment. -Aaron, having besought the customary blessing on the bread they were -about to eat, praised the fish, praised the butter, praised the -coffee, praised his wife, and after a full meal praised the Lord in a -Song of Degrees for blessings received: "When the Eternal restored the -captivity of Zion we were as those who dream. Our mouths were then -filled with laughter, and our tongues with song." He had a rich -baritone voice, and Rachel listened in pious delight to his intoning -of the prayer. - -The supper things were cleared away, the white tablecloth being -allowed to remain because of the lighted candles on it, which it would -have been breaking the Sabbath to lift, and then there came a knock at -the street door. - -"That is the woman I engaged," said Rachel, hurrying into the passage. -There entered, not Mrs. Hawkins, but a very small girl, carrying a -very large baby. The baby might have been eighteen months old and the -girl ten years, and of the twain the baby was the plumper. - -Without "with your leave," or "by your leave," the small girl pushed -past Rachel before the astonished woman could stop her, and presented -herself before the no less astonished Aaron Cohen. Her comprehensive -glance took in the lighted candles, the cheerful fire, and the master -of the house in one comprehensive flash. With some persons what is -known as making up one's mind is a slow and complicated process; with -the small girl it was electrical. She deposited the large baby in -Aaron's lap, admonishing the infant to "keep quiet, or she'd ketch -it," blew out the candles in two swift puffs, and kneeling before the -grate, proceeded to rake out the fire. So rapid were her movements -that the fender was half filled with cinders and blazing coals before -Rachel had time to reach the room. - -"In Heaven's name," cried Aaron, "what is the meaning of this?" - -"It's all right, sir," said the small girl; "I've come for aunty." - -"Put down the poker instantly," exclaimed Aaron; "your aunty, whoever -she may be, is not here." - -"Tell me somethink I don't know," requested the small girl. "This is -Mr. Cohen's, the Jew, aint it?" - -"It is," replied Aaron, with despairing gestures, for the baby was -dabbing his face with hands sticky with crumbs of sugar stuff. - -"Well, wot are yer 'ollerin for? I'm only doing wot aunty told me." - -"And who is your aunty?" - -"Mrs. 'Orkins. Pretend not to know 'er--do! She sed you'd try to do -'er out of 'er money, and want 'er to take fippence instid of -tenpence." - -"Did she? You have come here by her orders, I suppose?" - -"Yes, I 'ave--to poke out the fire and blow out the candles--and I've -done it." - -"You have," said Aaron ruefully. "And now, little girl, you will do as -I tell you. Put down that poker. Get up. Feel on the mantelshelf for a -box of matches. I beg your pardon; you are too short to reach. Here is -the box. Take out a match. Strike it. Light the candles. Thank you! -Last, but not least, relieve me of this baby with the sticky hands." - -The small girl snatched the baby from his arms, and stood before him -in an attitude of defiance. For the first time he had a clear view of -her. - -"Heaven save us!" he cried, falling back in his chair. - -Her appearance was a sufficient explanation of his astonishment. To -say that she was ragged and dirty and forlorn, and as utterly unlike a -little girl living in civilized society as any little girl could -possibly be, would be but a poor description of her. Her face -suggested that she had been lying with her head in a coal scuttle; she -wore no hat or bonnet; her hair was matted; her frock reached just -below her knees, and might have been picked out of a dust heap; she -had no stockings; on her feet were two odd boots several sizes too -large for her and quite worn out, one tied to her ankle with a piece -of gray list, the other similarly secured with a piece of knotted -twine. Her eyes glittered with preternatural sharpness; her cheek -bones stuck out; her elbows were pointed and red; she was all -bone--literally all bone; there was not an ounce of flesh upon -her--not any part of her body that could be pinched with a sense of -satisfaction. But the baby! What a contrast! Her head was round and -chubby, and was covered with a mass of light curls; her hands were -full of dimples; her face was puffed out with superabundant flesh; the -calves of her legs were a picture. In respect of clothes she was no -better off than Mrs. Hawkins' niece. - -"Wot are yer staring at?" demanded the girl. - -"At you, my child," replied Aaron with compassion in his voice. - -"Let's know when yer done," retorted the girl, "and I'll tell yer wot -I charge for it." - -"And at baby," added Aaron. - -"That'll be hextra. Don't say I didn't warn yer." - -There were conflicting elements in the situation: its humor was -undeniable, but it had its pathetic side. Aaron Cohen was swayed now -by one emotion, now by another. - -"So you are Mrs. Hawkins' niece?" he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. - -"Yes, I am. Wot 'ave yer got to say agin it?" - -"Nothing. Is baby also Mrs. Hawkins' niece, or nephew?" - -"If you've no objections," said the girl with excessive politeness, -"she's Mrs. Pond's little gal, and I nusses 'er." - -"I have no objection. What is your name?" - -"Wot it may be, my lordship," replied the girl, her politeness -becoming Arctic, "is one thing--wot it is is another." - -"You are a clever little girl," said Aaron, smiling and rubbing his -hands--"a sharp, clever little girl." - -"Thank yer for nothink," said the girl. - -She had reached the North Pole; it was necessary to thaw her. - -"Upon the mantelshelf," said Aaron, "just behind that beautiful blue -vase, are two penny pieces. Step on a chair--not that cane one, you'll -go through it; the wooden one--and see if you can find them." - -"I see 'em," said the girl, looking down upon Aaron in more senses -than one. - -"They are yours. Put them in your pocket." - -The girl clutched the pennies, jumped from the chair--whereat the baby -crowed, supposing it to be a game provided for her amusement--and -having no pocket, held the money tight in her hand. Visions of sweet -stuff rose before her. The pennies getting warm, the ice at the North -Pole began to melt. - -"And now perhaps you will tell me your name." - -"Prissy. That's the short un." - -"The long one is----" - -"Priscilla." - -"A grand name. You ought to have a silk gown and satin shoes and a -gold comb." Prissy opened her eyes very wide. The ice was melting -quickly, and the buds were coming on the trees. "And baby's name?" - -"Wictoria Rejiner. That's grander, aint it?" - -"Much grander! Victoria Regina--a little queen!" Prissy gave baby a -kiss, with pride and love in her glittering eyes. "What makes your -face so black, Prissy?" - -"Coals. Aunty deals in 'em--and cabbages and taters and oranges and -lemons. And she takes in washing." - -So genial was Aaron Cohen's voice that spring was coming in fast. "You -look, Prissy, as if you had very little to eat." - -"I don't 'ave much," said Prissy, with a longing sigh. "I could eat -all day and night if I 'ad the chance." - -"My dear," said Aaron to his wife, "there is some coffee left in the -pot. Do you like coffee, Prissy?" - -"Do I like corfey? Don't I like corfey! Oh, no--not me! Jest you try -me!" - -"I will. Give me Victoria Regina. Poke the fire. That's right; you are -the quickest, sharpest little girl in my acquaintance. Pour some water -from the kettle into the coffeepot. Set it on the fire. Rachel, my -dear, take Prissy and baby into the kitchen and let them wash -themselves, and afterward they shall have some supper." - -The buds were breaking into blossom; it really was a lovely spring. - -In a few minutes Rachel and the children re-entered the room from the -kitchen, baby with a clean face, and Prissy with a painfully red and -shining skin. Following her husband's instructions, Rachel cut half a -dozen slices of bread, upon which she spread the butter with a liberal -hand. Prissy, hugging Victoria Regina, watched the proceedings in -silence. By this time the coffee was bubbling in the pot. - -"Take it off the fire, Prissy," said Aaron Cohen; and in another -minute the little girl, with baby in her lap, was sitting at the table -with a cup of hot smoking coffee, well sugared and milked, which she -was so eager to drink that she scalded her throat. The bread and -butter was perhaps the sweetest that Prissy had ever ate, and the -coffee was nectar. The baby ate more than Prissy; indeed, she ate so -much and so quickly that she occasionally choked, and had to be -violently shaken and patted on the back; but she became tired out at -last, and before Prissy had finished her bounteous meal she was fast -asleep in her nurse's arms. - -Aaron Cohen leaned back in his chair, and gazed with benevolent eyes -upon the picture before him; and as he gazed the sweetest of smiles -came to his lips and did not leave them. Rachel, stealing to the back -of his chair, put her arms round his neck, and nestled her face to -his. - -It was a most beautiful summer, and all the trees were in flower. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -AARON COHEN PREACHES A SERMON ON LARGE NOSES. - - -The fire was burning brightly, and the old cat which they had brought -with them to Gosport was stretched at full length upon the hearth rug. -The children were gone, and Prissy had received instructions to come -again at ten o'clock to extinguish the candles. It may be said of -Prissy, in respect of her first visit to the house, that she came in -like a lion and went out like a lamb. - -It was a habit on Sabbath eve for Aaron to read to his wife something -from the general literature of the times, or from the newspapers, and -to accompany his reading with shrewd or sympathetic remarks, to which -Rachel always listened in delight. Occasionally he read from a book of -Hebrew prayers, and commented upon them, throwing a light upon poem -and allegory which made their meaning clear to Rachel's understanding. -Invariably, also, he blessed her, as Jewish fathers who have not -wandered from the paths of orthodoxy bless their children on the -Sabbath. Now, as she stood before him, he placed his hand upon her -head and said: - -"God make thee like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah! May the Eternal -bless and preserve thee! May the Eternal cause his face to shine upon -thee, and be gracious unto thee! May the Eternal lift up his -countenance toward thee, and grant thee peace!" - -It was something more than a blessing; it was prayer of heartfelt -love. Rachel raised her face to his, and they tenderly kissed each -other. Then he took his seat on one side of the fire, and she on the -other. A prayer book and one of Charles Dickens' stories were on the -table, but he did not open them; he had matter for thought, and he was -in the mood for conversation. He was in a light humor, which exhibited -itself in a quiet laugh, which presently deepened in volume. - -"I am thinking of the little girl," he explained to Rachel. "It -was amazing the way she puffed out the candles and poked out the -fire--quick as lightning. It was the most comical thing! And her black -face--and Victoria Regina's sticky fingers! Ha, ha, ha!" - -His merriment was contagious, and it drew forth Rachel's; the room was -filled with pleasant sound. - -"I saw Mr. Whimpole to-day," said Aaron, "and I made him a bow, which -he did not return. My Jewish nose offends him. How unfortunate! Yes, -my life, no one can dispute that the Jew has a big nose. It proclaims -itself; it is a mark and a sign. He himself often despises it--he -himself often looks at it in the glass with aversion, 'Why, why have I -been compelled to endure this affliction?' he murmurs, and he reflects -with envy upon the elegant nose of the Christian. Short-sighted -mortal, not to understand that he owes everything to his big nose! A -great writer--a learned man who passed the whole of his life in the -study of these matters--proclaims the nose to be the foundation or -abutment of the brain. What follows? That the larger the nose of a man -is the better off for it is the man. Listen, my dear." He took a book -from a little nest of bookshelves, and turned over the pages. -"'Whoever,' says this learned writer, 'is acquainted with the Gothic -arch will perfectly understand what I mean by this abutment; for upon -this the whole power of the arch of the forehead rests, and without it -the mouth and cheeks would be oppressed by miserable ruins.' He lays -down exact laws which govern the beautiful (and therefore large) nose. -Its length should equal the length of the forehead, the back should be -broad, its outline remarkably definite, the sides well defined, and -near the eye it must be at least half an inch in breadth. Such a nose, -this great authority declares, is of more worth than a kingdom. It -imparts solidity and unity to the whole countenance; it is the -mountain--bear in mind, my dear, the mountain--that shelters the fair -vales beneath. How proud, then, should I be of my nose, which in some -respects answers to this description! Not in all--no, not in all--I am -not so vain as to believe that my nose is worth more than a kingdom; -but when I am told that a large nose is a sign of sensibility, and of -good nature and good humor, I cannot help a glow of conceited -satisfaction stealing over me. How many great men have you known with -small noses? There are, of course, exceptions, but I speak of the -general rule. Our coreligionist, Benjamin Disraeli--look at his nose; -look at the noses of all our great Jewish musicians and composers--it -is because they are of a proper size that they have become famous. -Some time since in London I had the opportunity of looking over a -wonderful Bible--six enormous volumes published by Mr. Thomas Macklin -nearly a century ago--embellished with grand pictures by the most -eminent English artists, and there I saw the figures of Abraham and -Jacob and Aaron and Moses, and other ancestors of ours. There is not a -small nose on one of the faces of these great patriarchs and prophets; -the great painters who drew them had learned from their studies how to -delineate the biblical heroes. A big nose is a grand decoration, and I -would sooner possess it than a bit of red ribbon in my buttonhole, or -a star on my breast. Indeed, my life, I have it--the nose of my -forefathers." - -Aaron made this declaration in a tone of comic despair. "And having it -I will not part with it, except with life." - -There was so much playful humor in the dissertation that Rachel -laughed outright. Her laugh was the sweetest in the world, and it fell -like music on Aaron's heart. He smiled, and there was a gleam in his -eyes, and presently he spoke again. - -"I am not aware whether you have ever observed the attraction a big -nose has for children. Take the most popular drama of all ages, Punch -and Judy. Where is the artist who would venture to present Punch with -any but an enormous nose? Are the children frightened at it? No, they -revel in it. Do they sympathize with Judy when she is slain? Not at -all; every whack Punch gives her is greeted with shrieks of -laughter--because of his enormous nose. Introduce two strangers to a -baby, one with a very small nose, the other with a very big nose. Let -them both hold out their arms. Instinctively the baby flies to the man -with the large nose. It is Nature's silent voice that instructs the -child. He or she--the sex is not material--instinctively knows which -is the better nose of the two, which is the most promising nose, the -most suggestive of kisses and jumps in the air and cakes and songs, -and all that is dear to a child's heart. The test is infallible. -Nothing will convince me that you did not marry me because of my big -nose." - -"Indeed, dear," said Rachel, still laughing, "I hardly think I would -have married you without it." - -"Then the fact is established. I am about to make a confession to you, -Rachel; I am going to tell you the true reasons for my choosing this -place to reside in, where I am separated by a long distance from the -friends of my youth and manhood, and where you, too, my dear -child"--in his moments of tenderness he occasionally addressed her -thus--"will, I fear, be for a time without friends to whom you can -unbosom yourself." - -"I have you, my dear husband," said Rachel in a tone of deep -affection, drawing closer to him, and slipping her little hand into -his great hand. A fine, large, nervous hand was Aaron Cohen's; a -palmister would have seen great possibilities in it. Rachel's hand, -despite her domestic work, was the hand of a lady; she took a proper -pride in preserving its delicacy and beauty. "I have you, my dear -husband," she said. - -"Yes, my life, but you used to kiss at least a dozen female friends a -day." - -"I kissed Prissy and the baby to-night." - -"When their faces were washed, I hope. Listen to my confession. Pride -and hard-heartedness drove me from the neighborhood in which we were -married. A thousand pounds did my dear father--God rest his -soul--bequeath to me. It dwindled and dwindled--my own fault. I could -not say no. One came to me with a melancholy tale which led to a -little loan; another came and another and another--I did not make you -acquainted with the extent of my transgressions. My dear, I encouraged -the needy ones; I even went out of my way to lend, thinking myself a -fine fellow, and flapping my wings in praise of my stupidity. Not half -I lent came back to me. Then business began to fall off, and I saw -that I was in the wrong groove; I had grown into bad ways, and had I -remained much longer in the old neighborhood I should have been left -without a penny. I thought of our future, of the injustice I was -inflicting upon you. 'I will go,' said I, 'where I am not known, while -I still have a little to earn a living with, among strangers who, when -they borrow, will give me value in return, and where I shall not have -to say to poor friends, "Come to me no more; I am poorer than -yourselves." I have been foolish and weak; I will be wise and strong. -I will grow rich and hard-hearted.' Yes, my dear, that is what I -intend, to grow rich, and my heart will not be oppressed by the sight -of suffering it is out of my power to relieve. Rachel, I am not so -clever as I pretend to be; to speak the truth, I am afraid I am rather -given to crowing; and when it is not alone my own welfare, but the -welfare of one so dear to me as you are, that is concerned, I tremble, -I begin to doubt whether I have done right. Give me your opinion of -the step I have taken." - -She gazed at him with serious, loving, trustful eyes. - -"It is a wise step, Aaron; I am sure it is. Whatever you do is right, -and I am satisfied." - -Ten o'clock struck, and a knock at the door announced the faithful -Prissy, come to put the fire out. She entered with the baby in her -arms, sound asleep. She was flushed and excited, and she held her hand -over the right side of her face. - -"Victoria ought to be abed," said Rachel, taking a peep at baby. - -"She can't go," retorted Prissy, "afore 'er mother's ready to take -'er." - -"Where is her mother?" asked Aaron. - -"At the Jolly Sailor Boy, enj'ying of 'erself." - -"Ah. And where is your aunt?" - -"At the Jolly Sailor Boy, too, 'aving a 'arf-quartern. There's been a -reg'lar row there about Mrs. Macrory's flannin peddicut." - -"What happened to it?" - -"It went wrong. Yes, it did. Yer needn't larf. Call me a story, do! I -would if I was you!" - -"No, no, Prissy," said Aaron in a soothing tone. "How did the flannel -petticoat go wrong?" - -"Nobody knowed at fust. Aunty does Mrs. Macrory's washing, and a lot -more besides, and the things gits mixed sometimes. Aunty can't 'elp -that--'ow can she? So Mrs. Macrory's things was took 'ome without the -peddicut. Mrs. Macrory she meets aunty at the Jolly Sailor Boy, and -begins to kick up about it. 'Where's my peddicut?' she ses. ''Ow -should I know?' ses aunty. Then, wot d'yer think? Mrs. Macrory sees -somethink sticking out of aunty's dress be'ind, and she pulls at it. -'Why,' she ses, 'you've got it on!' That's wot the row wos about. -Aunty didn't know 'ow it come on 'er--she's ready to take 'er oath on -that. Aint it rum?" - -"Very rum. Put out the fire, Prissy. It is time for all good people to -get to bed." - -In the performance of this duty Prissy was compelled to remove her -hand from her face, and when she rose from the floor it was seen that -her right eye was sadly discolored, and that she was in pain. - -"O Prissy, poor child!" exclaimed Rachel; "you have been hurt!" - -"Yes, mum," said Prissy. "Mrs. Macrory's gal--she's twice as big as -me; you should see 'er legs! she ses, 'You're in that job,' she ses, -meaning the peddicut; and she lets fly and gives me a one-er on -account." - -Rachel ran upstairs, and brought down a bottle of gillard water, with -which she bathed the bruise, and tied one of her clean white -handkerchiefs over it. Prissy stood quite still, her lips quivering; -it may have been the gillard water that filled the girl's unbandaged -eye with tears. - -"That will make you feel easier," said Rachel. "Blow out the candles -now, and be here at half-past eight in the morning." - -"I'll be sure to be," said Prissy with a shake in her voice. - -In the dark Aaron Cohen heard the sound of a kiss. - -"Good-night, sir," said the girl. - -"Good-night, Prissy," said Aaron. - -The chain of the street door was put up, and the shutters securely -fastened, and then Aaron and Rachel, hand in hand, went up the dark -stairs to their room. - -"My dear," said Aaron drowsily a few minutes after he and his wife -were in bed, "are you asleep?" - -"No, Aaron," murmured Rachel, who was on the borderland of dreams. - -"I've been thinking"--he dozed off for a moment or two--"I've been -thinking----" - -"Yes, my dear?" - -"That I wouldn't give Prissy's aunt any flannel petticoats to wash." - -Almost before the words had passed his lips sleep claimed him for its -own. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -A PROCLAMATION OF WAR. - - -On Monday morning Aaron commenced business. In the shop window was a -display of miscellaneous articles ticketed at low prices, and Aaron -took his place behind his counter, ready to dispose of them, ready to -argue and bargain, and to advance money on any other articles on which -a temporary loan was required. He did not expect a rush of customers, -being aware that pawnbroking was a tree of very small beginnings, a -seed which needed time before it put forth flourishing branches. The -security was sure, the profits accumulative. He was confident of the -result. Human necessity, even human frailty, was on his side; all he -had to do was to be fair in his dealings. - -In the course of the day he had a good many callers; some to make -inquiries, some to offer different things in pledge. Of these latter -the majority were children, with whom he declined to negotiate. - -"Who sent you?" - -"Mother." - -"Go home and tell her she must come herself." - -He would only do business with grown-up people. Setting before himself -a straight and honest rule of life, he was not the man to wander from -it for the sake of a little profit. - -Of the other description of callers a fair proportion entered the shop -out of idle curiosity. He had pleasant words for all, and gave change -for sixpences and shillings with as much courtesy as if each -transaction was a gain to him--as, indeed, it was, for no man or woman -who entered with an unfavorable opinion of him (influenced by certain -rumors to his discredit which had been circulated by Mr. Whimpole) -departed without having their minds disturbed by his urbanity and -genial manners. "I don't see any harm in him," was the general verdict -from personal evidence; "he's as nice a spoken man as I ever set eyes -on." - -On the evening of this first day he expressed his satisfaction at the -business he had done. - -"Our venture will turn out well," he said to Rachel. "The flag of -fortune is waving over us." - -It was eight o'clock, and although he scarcely expected further -custom, he kept the gas burning in the shop window. - -"Light is an attraction," he observed; "it is better than an -advertisement in the papers." - -The evening was fine; he and Rachel were sitting in the parlor, -with the intermediate door open. Aaron was smoking a handsome -silver-mounted pipe and making up his accounts, while his wife was -busy with her needle. Satan could never have put anything in the shape -of mischief in the way of these two pairs of industrious hands, for -they were never idle, except during the Sabbath and the fasts and the -holidays, and then it was not idleness, but rest divinely ordained. -The silver-mounted pipe was one of Aaron's most precious possessions, -it being his beloved wife's gift to him on his last birthday; he would -not have sold it for ten times its weight in gold. At peace with the -world and with themselves, they conversed happily as they worked; but -malignant influences were at work of which they were soon to feel the -shock. - -Aaron had put his account books in the safe, and was turning the key, -when the sound of loud voices outside his shop reached their ears. The -voices were those of children, male and female, who were exercising -their lungs in bass, treble, and falsetto. Only one word did they -utter: - -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" - -Rachel started up in alarm, her hand at her heart. Her face was white, -her limbs were trembling. - -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" - -Aaron put the key of the safe in his pocket, and laid down his pipe. -His countenance was not troubled, but his brows were puckered. - -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" - -"It is wicked--it is wicked!" cried Rachel, wringing her hands. "Oh, -how can they be so cruel!" - -Aaron's countenance instantly cleared; he had to think, to act, for -her as well as himself. With fond endearments he endeavored to soothe -her, but her agitation was profound, and while these cries of implied -opprobrium continued she could not school herself to calmness. Not for -herself did she fear; it was against her dear, her honored husband -that this wicked demonstration was made, and she dreaded that he would -be subjected to violence. To her perturbed mind the voices seemed to -proceed from men and women; to Aaron's clearer senses they were the -voices of children, and he divined the source of the insult. Rachel -sobbed upon his breast, and clasped him close to protect him. - -"Rachel, my love, my life!" he said in a tone of tender firmness, "be -calm, I entreat you. There is nothing to fear. Have you lost -confidence in your husband? Would you increase my troubles, and make -the task before me more difficult than it is? On my word as a man, on -my faith as a Jew, I will make friends of these foolish children, in -whose outcries there is no deep-seated venom--I declare it, none. They -do not know what they are doing. I will make them respect me; I will -enrich them with a memory which, when they are men and women, will -make them think of the past with shame. I will make my enemies respect -me. If you will help me by your silence and patience I will turn their -bitterness into thistledown, which I can blow away with a breath. Take -heart, my beloved, dear life of my life! Trust to me, and in the -course of a few days you shall see a wonder. There--let me kiss your -tears away. That is my own Rachel, whose little finger is more -precious to me than all the world beside. Good, good, my own dear -wife! Do you think it is a tragedy that is being enacted by those -youngsters? No, no, it is a comedy. You shall see, you shall see!" - -She was comforted by his words; she drew strength from his strength; -she looked at him in wonder as he began to laugh even while he was -caressing her, and her wonder increased when she saw that his eyes -fairly shone with humor. - -"Have no fear, my heart," he said, "have not the slightest fear. I am -going to meet them--not with javelin and spear; with something still -more powerful, and with good temper for my shield." - -"Aaron," she whispered, "are you sure there is no danger?" - -"If I were not sure," he answered merrily, "I would remain snug in -this room. I am not a man of war; I am a man of peace, and with -peaceful weapons will I scatter the enemy. For your dear sake I would -not expose myself to peril, for do I not know that if I were hurt your -pain would be greater than mine? It is my joy to know it. You will -remain quietly here?" - -"I will, dear husband; but you will not go into the street?" - -"I shall go no farther than the street door; I shall not need to go -farther." - -He stopped to fill his pipe and light it, and then, with tender -kisses, and a smile on his lips, he left her. - -When he made his appearance at the shop door there was a sudden hush, -and a sudden scuttling away of the twenty or thirty children who had -congregated to revile him. He remained stationary at the door, smoking -his pipe and gazing benignantly at them. - -Their fears of chastisement dispelled by his peaceful attitude, they -stopped, looked over their shoulders, and slowly and warily came back, -keeping, however, at a safe distance from him. They found their voices -again. - -"Jew? Jew! Jew!" - -"Good children! good children!" said Aaron in a clear, mellifluous -voice. Then he put his pipe to his mouth again, and continued to -smoke. - -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" - -"Good little boys and girls," said Aaron. "Bravo! bravo! You deserve a -reward. Every laborer is worthy of his hire." - -He drew from his pocket three or four pennies, which, with smiling -nods of his head, he threw among them. - -Instantly came into play other passions--greed, avarice, the -determination not to be defrauded of their due. Falling upon the -money, they scrambled and fought for it. Aaron threw among them two or -three more pennies, and their ardor increased. They scratched, they -kicked, they tumbled over each other, blows were exchanged. Those who -had secured pennies scampered away with them, and with loud and -vengeful cries the penniless scampered after them. The next moment -they had all disappeared. - -Shaking with internal laughter, Aaron remained on his steps a while, -purring at his pipe; then he put up the shutters, locked the street -door, and rejoined his wife. - -"My dear," he said, and his voice was so gay that her heart beat with -joy, "that is the end of the first act. They will not come back -to-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -THE BATTLE IS FOUGHT AND WON. - - -"The personal affections by which we are governed," said Aaron Cohen, -seating himself comfortably in his chair, "are, like all orders of -beings to which they come, of various degrees and qualities, and the -smaller become merged and lost in the larger, as the serpents of -Pharaoh's magicians were swallowed up by Aaron's rod. Wisdom is better -than an inheritance, and anger resteth in the bosom of fools. -Moreover, as is observed by Rabbi Chanina, 'wise men promote peace in -the world.' Such, my dear Rachel, is my aim, and so long as the means -within my reach are harmless, so long will I follow the learned -rabbi's precept. If the human heart were not full of envy and deceit -what I have done should bring joy to our persecutors, but I will not -pledge myself that it has done so in this instance. On the contrary, -on the contrary." Aaron paused here to laugh. "The opprobrious cries -ceased suddenly, did they not, Rachel?" - -"They did, and I was very much surprised." - -"You will be more surprised when you hear that I rewarded with modern -shekels the labors of the young rascals who would make our lives a -torment to us." - -"You gave them money!" exclaimed Rachel in amazement. - -"I threw among them seven penny pieces. Why not?" - -"But why?" - -"Ah, why, why? Had I thrown among them seven cannon balls they would -scarcely have been more effective. The truth of this will be made -manifest to our benefit before many days are gone, or Cohen is not my -name. Wife of my soul, I went forth, not with a lion's but with a -fox's skin. Have I not studied the law? Are not the Cohanim priests, -and are not priests supposed to be men of intelligence and resource? -We read in Proverbs, 'Counsel is mine and sound wisdom; I have -understanding, I have strength.' Rabbi Meyer says that the study of -the law endows a man with sovereignty, dominion, and ratiocination. He -is slow to anger, ready to forgive an injury, has a good heart, -receives chastisement with resignation, loves virtue, correction, and -admonition. This, perhaps, is going a little too far, and is endowing -a human being with qualities too transcendent, but it is true to a -certain extent, and I have instinctively profited by it. Ill fitted -should I be to engage in the battle of life if I were not able to cope -with the young rascals who made the night hideous outside our door, -and who, if I am not mistaken, will repeat their performance to-morrow -evening at the same hour." - -"They will come again," cried Rachel, clasping her hands in despair. - -"They will come again, and again, and yet again, and then--well, then -we shall see what we shall see." - -"You gave them money to-night," said Rachel sadly, "and they will -return for more." - -"And they will return for more," said Aaron with complacency. "At the -present moment I should judge that they are engaged in a fierce -contest. When that look comes into your face, my dear, it is an -indication that I have said something you do not exactly understand. I -threw to them seven apples of discord, which the nimblest and the -strongest seized and fled with. But each soldier conceived he had a -right to at least one of the apples, and those who were left -empty-handed labored under a sense of wrong. They had been robbed by -their comrades. After them they rushed to obtain their portion of the -spoils of war. Then ensued a grand scrimmage in which noses are -injured and eyes discolored. I am not there, but I see the scene -clearly with my mind's eye." He took a sovereign from his pocket and -regarded it contemplatively. "Ah, root of much evil and of much good, -what have you not to answer for? Rachel, my love, take heart of -courage, and when you hear those boys shouting outside to-morrow night -do not be alarmed. Trust in me; everything will come right in the -end." - -The scene which Aaron had drawn from his imagination was as near as -possible to the truth. There had been a battle royal between the boys -and girls for possession of the pennies; noses were put out of joint, -eyes were discolored, words of injurious import exchanged, and bad -blood engendered. The sevenpence for which they fought would not have -paid for the repairs to the clothes which were torn and rent during -the fray. The end of it was that the robbers, after being kicked and -cuffed ignominiously, were not allowed to join in a compact made by -the penniless, to the effect that they would assemble outside Aaron -Cohen's shop to-morrow night and repeat the tactics which had been so -well rewarded, and that all moneys received should be equally divided -between the warriors engaged. One, Ted Kite, was appointed commander, -to organize the expedition, and to see fair play. - -Accordingly, on Tuesday night, a score or so of boys and girls -presented themselves in front of the shop and commenced shouting, -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" the fugleman being Ted Kite, who proved himself well -fitted for the task. - -"There he is, there he is," said the youngsters eagerly as Aaron made -his appearance on the doorstep, and, inspired by their captain, they -continued to fire. - -"Good children, good children," said Aaron, nodding benignantly in -approval, and continuing to smoke his silver-mounted pipe. "Very well -done, very well done indeed!" - -"Aint he going to throw us anything?" they asked each other anxiously, -their greedy eyes watching Aaron's movements. - -They were kept rather long in suspense, but at length Aaron's hand -sought his pocket, and half a dozen pennies rattled on the stones. -Down they pounced, and fought and scratched for them as on the -previous night, the fortunate ones scudding away as on the first -occasion, followed by their hungry comrades. They were caught, and -compelled to disgorge; the pennies were changed into farthings, and -each soldier received one for his pay; the two or three that were left -were spent in sweet stuff. - -"What a game!" the children exclaimed, and appointed to meet on the -following night to continue the pastime. - -On this third night they were kept waiting still longer. Aaron Cohen -did not make his appearance so quickly, and several minutes elapsed -before the pennies were thrown to them. On the first night he had -disbursed seven, on the second night six, on this third only four. -There was the usual fighting for them, and the usual scampering away; -and when the sum total was placed in the hands of Ted Kite a great -deal of dissatisfaction was expressed. Only fourpence! They doubted -the correctness of the sum; they were sure that more had been thrown; -one girl said she counted eight, and others supported her statement. -Who had stolen the missing pennies? They quarreled and fought again; -they regarded each other with suspicion; doubts were thrown upon the -honesty of the captain. Off went his coat instantly; off went the -coats of other boys; the girls, having no coats to throw off, tucked -up their sleeves; and presently six or seven couples were hitting, -scratching, and kicking each other. Much personal damage was done, and -more bad blood engendered. The warfare was not by any means of a -heroic nature. - -Nevertheless they assembled on the fourth night, and were kept waiting -still longer before they were paid. Aaron did not show his liberality, -however, until he had had a conference with the captain. His keen eyes -had singled out Ted Kite, and he beckoned to him. Ted hesitated; he -was only a small boy; Aaron Cohen was a big man, and in a personal -contest could have disposed of him comfortably. - -"Yah, you coward!" cried the rank and file to their captain. "What are -you frightened at? What did we make you captain for?" - -Thus taunted, Ted Kite ventured to approach the smiling foe. - -"Come a little nearer," said Aaron; "I am not going to hurt you. I -wish you to do me a favor." - -Ted, with a sidelong look over his shoulder at his army, as if -appealing to it to rush to his rescue in case he was seized, shuffled -forward. Aaron Cohen held out his hand; Ted Kite timidly responded, -and was surprised at the friendly grip he received. - -"You are the leader," said Aaron in his most genial voice. - -"Yes, Mr. Cohen," replied Ted, growing bold; "I'm the captain. - -"Clever lad, clever captain! Here's a penny for you. Don't let them -see you take it. It is for you alone. They will do as you tell them, -of course." - -"I'll let 'em know it if they don't." - -"It's right you should. I think it is very kind of you to come here as -you do, but I want you to oblige me and not come to-morrow night. It -is Friday, and the shop will be closed, so you would be wasting your -time. That would be foolish." - -"Yes, it would," said Ted, somewhat bewildered. "Shall we come on -Saturday night?" - -"Certainly, if you think proper. Then you will not be here to-morrow?" - -"We won't, as you'd rather not, Mr. Cohen." - -"Thank you; I am really obliged to you. Now go and join your army." - -Ted Kite turned away, walked a step or two, and returned. - -"But I say, Mr. Cohen----" - -"Well, my lad?" - -"Do you like it?" - -"Do I like it?" echoed Aaron, with a sly chuckle. "Should I speak to -you as I am doing if I didn't? It is as good as a play. I think it is -very nice of you--very nice, very nice indeed!" - -"Oh," said Ted in a crestfallen tone. As Aaron took pleasure in the -persecution it was not half such good fun as it had been. "He says he -likes it," he said to his comrades when he was among them. "He says -it's as good as a play." - -"How much did he give you?" they inquired, feeling as he did in -respect of the fun of their proceedings. - -"He didn't give me nothing." - -"We saw him hold out his hand to you," they protested. - -"You saw us shake hands, that's what you saw. Let's get on with the -game; we don't want to be kept waiting here all night." - -They went on with the game, calling "Jew! Jew! Jew!" half-heartedly. -Putting the pecuniary reward out of the question, it was a game that -was becoming rather monotonous. They had to call for quite a quarter -of an hour before Aaron paid them; and this time he paid them with two -pennies only. The children fell on the ground, and scraped the stones -for more, but found none, and they retired grumbling, discontented, -and suspicious of each other's honesty. - -On Friday night, the Sabbath eve, Aaron and Rachel had peace; and on -Saturday night the children made their appearance again and gave forth -their chorus. Aaron came to the door and stood there smoking his pipe -and smiling at them. But he did not throw any money to them. They did -not know what to make of it. Their voices grew weaker and weaker, they -wandered about discontentedly, they declared it was not fair on Mr. -Cohen's part. "We'll try him again on Monday night," they said. - -They tried him again on Monday night, and he stood on his steps, -commending them, but he gave them no more money. There was no heart -whatever now in their invectives. They were not philosophers, and did -not know that the course Aaron had pursued had taken the sting out of -their tails. "He likes it," they said to each other as they strolled -off moodily, "and he wants us to come here and scream our throats dry -without being paid for it. Well, we aint going to do it. We won't call -him Jew any more if he wants us ever so much. It aint likely, now, is -it? What does he mean by treating us so shabby?" These young -rapscallions thought the world was out of joint. - -In this way it was that Aaron Cohen fought the battle and gained a -bloodless victory. He laughed in his sleeve as he thought of it, and -laughed aloud in his cozy little parlor when he related the whole -affair to Rachel. - -"One shilling and eightpence has it cost me, my love," he said, "and I -do not begrudge the money. Show me the battle that has been won for -less." - -Rachel was greatly relieved, but her dominant feeling was admiration -for her husband's wisdom. - -"I do not believe any other man in the world would have thought of -it," she said; and though Aaron shook his head in modest deprecation, -he was justified in inwardly congratulating himself upon his astute -tactics. - -The story got about, and the townspeople were much amused by it. "Mr. -Cohen's a clever fellow," they said. He grew to be respected by them, -and as the weeks passed by and it was seen that he was not only a -fair-dealing but a kindly-hearted man the innuendos which Mr. Whimpole -continued to circulate about him produced a very small effect. Mr. -Whimpole was not pleased; where is the man who would have been in his -position? Talking one night with Rachel over the animosity the -corn-chandler bore toward the Jews, Aaron said: - -"I have no doubt, my dear, that he is quite conscientious, and that he -considers his prejudices to be the outcome of a just conviction. -Doubtless his parents had the same conviction, and he imbibed it from -them. There are thousands of people who agree with him, and there are -worse persecutions than that to which we have been subjected. Look at -that infamously governed country Russia, which in the maps ought to be -stamped blood red, with a heavy mourning border around it. The -wretches who inflict incredible sufferings upon countless innocent -beings call themselves Christians. They are not Christians, they are -fiends, and judgment will fall upon them. Spain, once the greatest of -nations, fell into decay when the Jew deserted it. So will it be with -other nations that oppress the Jew. Let Germany look to it. It is easy -to arouse the evil passions of uneducated human beings, but a brand of -fire shall fall upon the heads of those who are employed in work so -vile." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -JOY AND SORROW. - - -Perhaps, however, to Rachel may chiefly be ascribed the general -respect the Cohens earned among the townsfolk. Charitable, kind, and -gentle by nature, she was instinctively drawn to those poor people who -had fallen into misfortune. Upon her sympathetic ears no tale of -distress could fall without bearing fruit. She won friends everywhere, -and her sweet face was like a ray of sunshine in the homes of the -poor. It was not at all uncommon to hear that her timely assistance -had been the means of restoring to health those who had been stricken -down. She walked through life as an angel of mercy might have done, -and flowers grew about her feet. - -Of all the friends who sounded her praises none were more enthusiastic -than little Prissy, who came now regularly to the house to do domestic -work. - -Anxious to increase his trade, Aaron had stocked his shop with such -articles of wear and adornment as were most in request. He had not the -means to pay ready money for the stock, but through a friend in -Portsmouth, Mr. Moss, with whom the readers of this story have already -become acquainted, he obtained credit from wholesale dealers who would -have been chary to trust him without a sufficient recommendation. - -Apart from the pleasures which his modest success in business afforded -him, there was a happiness in store for him to which he looked forward -with a sense of profound gratitude. Rachel was about to become a -mother. To this fond couple, who seemed to live only for each other, -there could be no greater joy than this. They had lost their -firstborn, and God was sending another child to bless their days. They -never closed their eyes at night, they never rose in the morning, -without offering a prayer of thanks to the Most High for his goodness -to them. They saw no cloud gathering to darken their happiness. - -It was an ordinary event, for which Aaron could hardly have been -prepared. - -They had been eleven months in Gosport when one morning Aaron, rising -first, and going down to his shop, found that burglars had been at -work. They had effected an entrance at the back of the house, and had -carried away the most valuable articles in the window. The loss, Aaron -calculated, would not be less than a hundred pounds. - -It was, to him, a serious loss; he had commenced with a very small -capital, and his earnings during the year had left only a small margin -over his household and trade expenses. His business was growing, it is -true, but for the first six months he had barely paid his way; it was -to the future he looked to firmly establish himself, and now in one -night all his profits were swept away. More than this; if he were -called upon to pay his debts he would have but a few pounds left. -Rachel, whose health the last week or two had been delicate, her -confinement being so near, was in bed by his directions; he had -forbidden her to rise till ten o'clock. It was a matter to be thankful -for; he could keep the shock of the loss from her; in her condition -bad news might have a serious effect upon her. - -He set everything in order, spoke no word of what had occurred to his -wife, rearranged the shop window, and took down the shutters. In the -course of the day he told Rachel that he intended to close a couple of -hours earlier than usual; he had to go to Portsmouth upon business in -the evening, and should be absent probably till near midnight. - -"You will not mind being alone, my love?" he said. - -"Oh, no," she answered, with a tender smile; "I have plenty to occupy -me." - -She had been for some time busy with her needle preparing for her -unborn child. - -"But you must go to bed at ten," said Aaron. "I shall lock the shop, -and take the key of the back door with me, so that I can let myself -in." - -She promised to do as he bade her, and in the evening he left her to -transact his business. He had no fear that she would be intruded upon; -it was not likely that the house would be broken into two nights in -succession; besides, with the exception of some pledges of small -value which he kept in the safe, there was little now to tempt -thieves to repeat their knavish doings. So with fond kisses he bade -her good-night. - -They stood facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. Rachel's -eyes were of a tender gray, with a light so sweet in them that he -never looked into them unmoved. He kissed them now with a strange -yearning at his heart. - -"I hope baby's eyes will be like yours, dear love," he said; "the soul -of sweetness and goodness shines in them." - -She smiled happily, and pressed him fondly to her. Ah, if he had -known! - -His first business was with the police. He went to the station, and -telling the inspector of his loss, said that he wished it to be kept -private, because of his fear that it might reach his wife's ears. The -inspector replied that it would be advisable under any circumstances. -Leaving in the officer's hands a list of the articles that had been -stolen, he proceeded to Portsmouth to consult his friend Mr. Moss. -That goodhearted gentleman was deeply concerned at the news. - -"It is a serious thing, Cohen," he said. - -"A very serious thing," replied Aaron gravely, "but I shall overcome -it. Only I require time. I promised to pay some bills to-morrow, and I -shall require a little stock to replace what I have lost; it would -cramp me to do so now." - -He mentioned the name of the tradesmen to whom he had given the -promise, and asked Mr. Moss to call upon them in the morning and -explain the matter to them. - -"They will not lose their money," he said; "it will not take me very -long to make everything right." - -"I will see them," said Mr. Moss, "and I am sure they will give you -time. Aaron Cohen's name is a sufficient guarantee." - -"I hope it will always be," replied Aaron. "It is very unfortunate -just now, because I have extra expenses coming on. The nurse, the -doctor----" - -"I know, I know. How is Mrs. Cohen?" - -"Fairly well, I am glad to say. She knows nothing of what has -occurred." - -"Of course not, of course not. How could you tell her while she is -like that? When Mrs. Moss is in the same way I am always singing and -laughing and saying cheerful things to her. Between you and me we -expect an addition ourselves in about four months." - -"Indeed. That will make----" - -"Fourteen," said Mr. Moss, rubbing his hands briskly together. -"Increase and multiply. It's our bounden duty, eh, Cohen?" - -"Yes," said Aaron rather absently. "And now I must go; it will be late -before I reach home, and for all Rachel's promises I expect she will -keep awake for me. Good-night, and thank you." - -"Nothing to thank me for. Good-night, and good luck." - -When Aaron returned to Gosport it was midnight. Winter was coming on -and it was cold and dark; buttoning his coat close up to his neck, he -hastened his steps. - -He was not despondent; misfortune had fallen upon him, but he had -confidence in himself, and despite the practical common sense which -showed itself in all his actions there was in his nature an underlying -current of spiritual belief in divine assistance toward the successful -accomplishment of just and worthy endeavor. That it was man's duty to -do right, to work, to pray, to be considerate to his neighbors, to -make his home cheerful, to be as charitable as his means will -allow--this was his creed; and it was strengthened by his conviction -that God made himself manifest even upon earth in matters of right and -wrong. He did not relegate the expiation of transgression to the -future; he did not believe that a man could wipe out the sins of the -past year by fasting and praying and beating his breast on the Day of -Atonement. Wrongdoing was not to be set aside and forgotten until a -convenient hour for repentance arrived. Hourly, daily, a man must keep -watch over himself and his actions. This had been his rule of life, -and it contributed to his happiness and to the happiness of those -around him. - -He was within a quarter of a mile of his residence when he was -conscious of an unseen disturbance in the air. A distant glare in the -sky, the faint echoes of loud voices, stole upon his senses. Agitated -as he had been by what had transpired during this long unfortunate -day, he could not at first be certain whether these signs were real or -spiritual, but presently he discovered that they did not spring from -his imagination. The glare in the sky became plainly visible, the loud -voices reached his ears. There was a fire in the town, and he was -proceeding toward it. Instantly his thoughts, his fears, centered upon -Rachel. He ran forward quickly, and found himself struggling through -an excited crowd. Flames shot upward; the air was filled with floating -sparks of fire. Great God! It was his own house that was being -destroyed by the devouring element. He did not heed that; the -destruction of his worldly goods did not affect him. "My wife!" he -screamed. "Where is my wife?" By main force they held him back, for he -was rushing into the flames. - -"Let me go!" he screamed. "Where is my wife?" - -"It is all right, Mr. Cohen," a number of voices replied. "She is -saved." - -"Thank God, oh, thank God!" he cried. "Take me to her. Where is she?" - -He cared not for the ruin that had overtaken him; like cool water to a -parched throat came the joyful news that she was saved. - -"Take me to her. In the name of Heaven, tell me where she is!" - -She was in a house at a safe distance from the fire, and thither he -was led. Rachel was lying on a couch in her night dress; sympathizing -people were about her. - -"Rachel, Rachel!" he cried, and fell upon his knees by her side. - -She did not answer him; she was insensible. - -"Do not agitate yourself, Mr. Cohen," said a voice; it was that of the -physician who had been attending to her. "Be thankful that she lives." - -"O Lord, I thank thee," murmured the stricken man. "My Rachel lives!" - -What mattered all the rest? What mattered worldly ruin and -destruction? The beloved of his heart was spared to him. - -"You are a sensible man, Mr. Cohen," said the physician, "and you must -be calm for her sake. In her condition there will be danger if she -witnesses your agitation when she recovers." - -"I will be calm, sir," said Aaron humbly. "She is all I have in the -world." - -He made no inquiries as to the cause of the fire; he did not stir from -Rachel's side, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her pallid face. The -physician remained with them an hour, and then took his departure, -saying he would return early in the morning, and leaving instructions -to Aaron what to do. - -At sunrise Rachel awoke. Passing one hand over her eyes, she held out -the other in a groping, uncertain way. Aaron took it in his, and held -it fondly; the pallor left her cheeks. - -"It is you, my dear?" she murmured. - -"Yes, it is I, my life!" he said in a low and gentle tone. - -"You are well--you are safe?" - -"I am well--I am safe," he replied. "And you, Rachel--how do you -feel?" - -"I have a slight headache. It will soon pass away. Oh, my dear -husband, how thankful I am! When did you return?" - -"Not till you were taken from the house. Do not talk now. Rest, rest, -my beloved!" - -The endearing words brought a glad smile to her lips. - -"I will sleep presently, Aaron. Is the doctor here?" - -"No, but he will come soon. Shall I go for him?" - -"I can wait, dear; when he comes I should like to speak to him alone." - -"You are hurt!" he said, alarmed. "Tell me!" - -"I am not hurt, dear; it is only that my head aches a little. He will -give me something to relieve me. Have no fear for me, Aaron; I am in -no danger; indeed, indeed, I am not!" - -"God be praised!" - -She drew his head to her breast, and they lay in silence a while, -fondly embracing. - -"Let me tell you, dear, and then I will go to sleep again. I went to -bed at ten, as you bade me, and though I had it in my mind to keep -awake for you, I could not do so. I do not know how long I slept, but -I awoke in confusion, and there was a strong glare in my eyes. I -hardly remember what followed. I heard voices calling to me--Prissy's -voice was the loudest, I think--and then I felt that strong arms were -around me, and I was being carried from the house. That is all, my -dear, till I heard your voice, here. Where am I?" - -He informed her, and then, holding him close to her, she fell asleep -again. As the clock struck nine the physician entered the room, and -Aaron told him what had passed. - -"I can spare half an hour," said the physician. "Go and see after your -affairs. I will not leave her till you return." - -Kissing Rachel tenderly, and smoothing the hair from her forehead, -Aaron left the house, and went to his own. Before he departed he -learned from the kind neighbors who had given Rachel shelter that they -were not in a position to keep her and Aaron with them, and he said -that he would make arrangements to remove her in the course of the -day, if the doctor thought it would be safe to do so. His own house, -he found, was completely destroyed, but he heard of another at no -great distance which was to be let furnished for a few weeks, and this -he took at once, and installed Prissy therein, to light fires and get -the rooms warm. The arrangement completed, he hastened back to Rachel, -between whom and the physician a long consultation had taken place -during his absence. At the conclusion of their conversation she had -asked him one question: - -"Shall I be so all my life, doctor?" - -"I fear so," was the reply. - -"My poor husband!" she murmured. "My poor, dear husband! Say nothing -to him, doctor, I implore you. Let him hear the truth from my lips." - -He consented, not sorry to be spared a painful duty. "She is -surprisingly well," he said to Aaron, "and in a few days will be able -to get about a little, though you must not expect her to be quite -strong till her child is born." - -The news was so much better than Aaron expected that he drew a deep -breath of exquisite relief. - -"Can she be removed to-day with safety?" he asked. - -"I think so. She will be happier with you alone. Give me your new -address; I will call and see her there this evening." - -At noon she was taken in a cab to her new abode, and Aaron carried her -in and laid her on the sofa before a bright fire. In the evening the -physician called according to his promise. "She is progressing -famously," he said to Aaron. "Get her to bed early, and it may be -advisable that she should keep there a few days. But I shall speak -more definitely about this later on. Mr. Cohen, you have my best -wishes. You are blessed with a noble wife." Tears shone in Aaron's -eyes. "Let me impress upon you," continued the doctor, "to be strong -as she is strong; but at present, with the birth of her child so near, -it is scarcely physical power that sustains her. She is supported by a -spiritual strength drawn from her love for you and her unborn babe." - -With these words the physician left them together. Prissy was gone, -and Aaron and Rachel were alone. - -They exchanged but few words. Rachel still occupied the couch before -the fire, and as she seemed to be dozing Aaron would not disturb her. -Thus an hour passed by, and then Rachel said: - -"The doctor advises me to go to bed early. Will you help me up, dear?" - -She stood on her feet before him, and as his eyes rested on her face a -strange fear entered his heart. - -"Come, my life," he said. - -"A moment, dear husband," she said. "I have something to tell you, -something that will grieve you. I do not know how it happened, nor -does the good doctor know. He has heard of only one such case before. -I am not in pain; I do not suffer. It is much to be grateful for, and -I am humbly, humbly grateful. It might have been so much worse." - -"Rachel, my beloved," said Aaron, placing his hands on her shoulders. - -"Keep your arms about me, my honored husband. Let me feel your dear -hands, your dear face. Kiss me, Aaron. May I tell you now?" - -"Tell me now, my beloved." - -"Look into my eyes, dear. I cannot look into yours. Dear husband, I am -blind!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -DIVINE CONSOLATION. - - -The shock of this revelation was so overwhelming that for a few -moments Aaron was unable to speak. In the words of the prophet, "His -tongue clave to the roof of his mouth." His soul was plunged in -darkness, and a feeling of passionate rebellion racked his heart. That -upon his sweet and innocent wife should have fallen an infliction so -awful seemed to blot all brightness out of the world. Nay, more--it -seemed to blot out the principle of justice, to render it a mockery -and a snare. The sentiment which animated him was one of horror and -indignation, and he yielded to it unresistingly. What had Rachel done -to deserve the cruel blow? Not with a crown of sorrow but with a crown -of glory should she have been crowned. And was it not natural that he -should rebel against it? He was her champion, her protector, her -defender; she had no one else. Should he stand tamely by and show no -sense of the injustice which had been inflicted upon her! - -Very, very rarely had Aaron been dominated by so stubborn a mood; -very, very rarely had he allowed it to take possession of him; and -never in a single instance on his own account. Mere worldly -misfortune, however disastrous in its effect, he had invariably met -with philosophic calm and fortitude. Many reverses had attended him, -and he had borne them bravely, as a man should, as it is a man's duty -to do. With a courage which may be said to be heroic had he accepted -each successive stroke, and had immediately applied himself to the -task of repairing the breach. No faint-hearted soldier he, sitting -down and weeping by the roadside when he received a wound. To be up -and doing--that was his creed. These were but ordinary checks which a -man must be prepared to encounter in his course through life; weak, -indeed, would he prove himself to be who did not at once set to work -manfully and energetically to make the best instead of the worst of -each rebuff. Aaron's keen gift of humor and his talent for justifiable -device were of immense assistance to him in these encounters, and in -his conversations with Rachel he was in the habit of throwing so droll -a light upon the difficulties with which he was contending that he -lifted from her heart and from his own a weight which otherwise would -have remained there and impeded his efforts. He treated every personal -ailment which visited him, and every little incident he met with, in -the same spirit, laughing away Rachel's distress and bearing his pain -without the least symptom of querulousness. "You seem almost to like -pain, my dear," she had said. "There is pleasure in pain," he had -answered; "think of the relief." Thus did he make the pack upon his -shoulders easy to carry, and thus did he contribute to Rachel's -enjoyment of life. - -Over and above these lesser features in his character reigned the -great factors truth and justice. He took no credit to himself that he -was never guilty of a meanness; it was simply that it was not in his -nature to fall so low, and that he walked instinctively in the right -path. He had frequently conversed with Rachel upon the doctrine of -responsibility, arguing that children born of vicious parents should -not be made accountable for their evil acts to the fullest extent. "It -is an inheritance," he argued, "and it is not they who are wholly -guilty. My parents gave me an inheritance of cheerfulness and good -temper, and I am more grateful for it than I should be if they had -left me a bag of gold." Upon questions of right and wrong his good -sense and his rectitude led him unerringly to the just side, and when -his own interests were involved in a decision he was called upon to -make in such and such an issue he never for a moment hesitated. To -have benefited himself at the expense of justice would have been in -his eyes a sin which was not to be forgiven. A sin of unconscious -omission could be expiated, but a sin of deliberate commission would -have weighed forever on his soul. Could such a man as this, a devout -and conscientious Jew, faithful every day of his life in the -observances of his religion, with a firm belief in the mercy and -goodness of the Eternal God, and with the principles of truth and -justice shining ever before him, be guilty of such a sin? It will be -presently seen. - -So far himself, considered as an entity. Had he been alone in life, -with no other life so welded into his own as to be inseparable from -it, it is scarcely possible that he could have been guilty of a -conscious wrong, for his soul would have risen in revolt against the -suggestion. Had he been alone misfortunes might have fallen upon him -unceasingly, poverty might have been his lot through all his days, -disease might have racked his bones--he would have borne all with -tranquillity and resignation, and would have lifted up his voice in -praise of the Most High to his last hour. Of such stuff are martyrs -made; from such elements springs the lofty ideal into which, once in a -generation, is breathed the breath of life, the self-sacrificing hero -who sheds his blood and dies with a glad light on his face in the -battle of right against might, in the battle of weak innocence against -the ruthless hand of power. But Aaron was not alone; Rachel was by his -side, leaning upon his heart, looking to him for joy, for peace, for -happiness. And when he suffered it was through her he suffered; and -when he was oppressed with sorrow it was through her he sorrowed. So -keen was his sympathy with her, so intense was his love for her, that -if only her finger ached he was in pain. We are but human after all, -and no man can go beyond a man's strength. Legends are handed down to -us of divine inspiration falling upon a man who, thus inspired, -becomes a leader, a hero, a prophet; but in that man's heartstrings -are not entwined the tender fingers of wife and children. As blades of -grass which we can rub into nothingness between our fingers force -their upward way to air and sunshine through adamantine stones, as -rocks are worn away by the trickling of drops of water, so may a man's -sublimest qualities, so may a man's heart and soul be pierced and reft -by human love. - -It was this absorbing sentiment that agitated Aaron when Rachel -revealed to him that she was blind; it was this that struck him dumb. - -Meekly and patiently she stood before him--he had fallen back a -step--and waited for him to speak. He did not utter a word. - -Presently her sweet voice stole upon his senses. - -"Aaron, my beloved, why are you silent? Why do you not speak to me?" - -He lifted his head and groaned. - -"Ah, do not groan, dear husband," she continued. "It is for me you -suffer, but I am not suffering--did I not tell you so? It is, indeed, -the truth. Look into my face; you will see no pain there. I need you -more than ever now. Next to God you are my rock, my salvation. He has -cast this affliction upon me out of his goodness and wisdom. Let us -lift our voices in his praise." - -And from her lips flowed in the ancient tongue the sublime prayer: - -"Hear, O Israel, the Eternal, our God! the Eternal is One. And thou -shalt love the Eternal, thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy -soul, and with all thy might. And these words which I command thee -this day shall be in thine heart. And thou shalt teach them diligently -unto thy children, and shall speak of them when thou sittest in thine -house, and when thou walkest by the way; when thou liest down, and -when thou risest up." - -An angel's voice could not have been more melodious and sweet, and the -beauty of the prayer acquired truly a divine strength through Rachel's -intoning of the pious words. But it was not only her voice that -resounded in the room. The moment she commenced to pray rebellion -against fate's decree melted out of Aaron's heart, and pity took its -place; he was restored to his better self. Holding her hand, he joined -her in prayer, but not in so loud a voice as usual; he followed her, -as it were, and was led by her, and when the prayer was ended her head -sank upon his breast, and her arms entwined themselves around his -neck. - -"You are resigned, my dear?" she whispered. - -"I bow my head," he answered; "the Lord's will be done!" - -"I could not keep it from you any longer. I was blind when I opened my -eyes in the house of the good people who gave me shelter; I was blind -when you sat by my side there; but I feared to tell you; I wished to -speak to the doctor first. It was so strange, so sudden, that I hoped -it would not last. I awoke with the cry of fire in my ears, and as I -leaped from bed the bright glare of the flames seemed to strike sight -out of my eyes. I fainted, and remember nothing more; only that when I -opened my eyes again I could not see. It was merciful that there was -no pain. Oh, my dear husband, I am so sorry for you, so sorry, so -sorry!" - -"Rachel, dear Rachel, dear life of my life, it is not for me you -should grieve--it is for yourself." - -"No, dear love, I do not grieve for myself. Should I not rather -rejoice? Because I know, I know"--she put his hand to her lips and -kissed it, then held it to her heart--"that you will bear with me, -that I shall not be a trouble to you." - -"A trouble to me, Rachel! You are dearer to me than ever--more -precious to me than ever. Oh, my dear, I never loved you as I love you -now!" - -"How sweet, how sweet!" she murmured. "How beautiful is life! No woman -was ever blessed as I am blessed! And soon, dear love, we shall have -with us another evidence of the Lord's great mercy. Our child, our -darling, will be here. Ah, what happiness!" - -Was there already in her heart the shadow of an abiding sorrow -springing from the knowledge that she would never see the face of her -unborn child, that she would never be able to look into the beautiful -eyes which in a short time would open upon the world? Aaron had hoped -that baby's eyes would be like hers, but she would never know from -personal evidence whether they were or not. If such a sorrow was -making itself felt she kept it to herself and guarded it jealously, -lest Aaron should participate in it. Her face was radiant as they -continued to converse, and by her loving words she succeeded in -thoroughly banishing from Aaron's soul the rebellious promptings by -which he had first been agitated. Thus did Rachel, to whom the light -of the universe was henceforth as night, become the divine consoler in -the home. - -"I am tired, dear. Will you lead me to our room?" - -He took her in his arms and carried her up, as he would have carried a -child, and this new office of love, and indeed everything he did for -her, drew them spiritually closer to each other. - -When she was in bed she asked him to tell her about the fire, and if -he would be a great loser by it. He softened the loss, said that he -was well insured, that they had a good friend in Mr. Moss, and that it -would not be long before he was on his feet again. Content and -happiness were expressed on her face as she listened. - -"It will be a comfort to you to know," he said, "that no one will lose -anything by me; every demand will be met; every penny will be paid. In -my mansion"--his study of the law and his devotion to his faith led -him occasionally into a biblical phrase--"are three stars: First, the -Eternal God; next, you, my beloved; next, our good name." - -"That is safe in your keeping, dear," she said. - -"And will ever be, so far as human endeavor can aid me. You will be -glad to hear, too, that the townspeople sympathize with us in our -trouble." - -"I am very glad; it could hardly have been otherwise. Who that lives -to know you does not learn to honor you?" She held his hand in a -tender clasp and kissed it repeatedly. "I will tell you something. I -am beginning already to acquire a new sense. When you look at me I -feel it--you are looking at me now. When your eyes are not on my face -I know it. I shall learn a good deal very soon, very soon! I do not -intend to be a burden to you." This was said with tender gayety. - -"You can never be that." He touched her eyes. "Henceforth I am your -eyes. It is a poor return, for you, Rachel, are my very life." - -"Dear husband! Dear love! Kiss me. I want to fall asleep with those -words in my ears. You will not stop up long?" - -"I will go down and put out the lights, and see that all is safe. Then -I will come up at once. Sleep, my life, sleep!" - -He passed his fingers caressingly across her forehead, and she fell -asleep with a smile on her lips. - -He stole softly from the room in his stocking feet, and went down and -made the house safe; then he returned to the bedroom. - -The smile had left Rachel's lips; her face was paler, and there was a -worn look on it. A terrible fear entered his heart. "O God, if she -should die! O God, if I should lose her!" He took his silk taleth from -its bag, and wrapping it around him put on his hat, and stood and -prayed, with his face to the east. - -"How precious is thy mercy, O God! The children of men take refuge -under the shadow of thy wing. They are satisfied with the richness of -thy house, and thou causeth them to drink of the stream of thy -delight. For with thee is the fountain of life, by thy light only do -we see light. Oh, continue thy mercy unto them who know thee and thy -righteousness to the upright of heart!" - -One line in the prayer he repeated again and again: "For with thee is -the fountain of life, and by thy light only do we see light." And so -he prayed till midnight, and the one supplication into which all else -was merged was sent forth with touching pathos from his very heart of -hearts: "O Lord of the Universe, Giver of all good, humbly I beseech -thee to spare my beloved! Take her not from me! Let her live, let her -live to bless my days! Let not darkness overwhelm me! It is thy hand -that directs the fountain of life." - -And Rachel slept on, and dreamed of the child whose face she was never -to see upon earth. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -IN THE NEW HOUSE. - - -Three weeks of great anxiety followed. Despite the courage with which -Rachel had borne the sudden visitation of blindness her physical -strength did not hold out, and, by the doctor's orders, she kept her -bed. During these weeks Aaron had enough to do to put his affairs in -order, and he had the additional trouble that matters turned out worse -than he had anticipated. For security's sake, and to set the borrowers -at ease, he transferred all the pledges that had been saved to another -pawnbroker; those that were destroyed he considered himself bound in -honor and common honesty to make good; he made no demur to the claims -that were brought against them, but settled them promptly, and settled -also all his trade debts. What with all this harassing business and -his domestic sorrows he was occupied day and night, but he was careful -that Rachel should not suspect how things were with him. The doctor -came daily, and Rachel's time was very near. At every visit Aaron -watched his face for hopeful news of Rachel's condition, but the -doctor volunteered no information, and only gave instructions to do -this or that. This reticence was torture to Aaron, and one day he -begged the doctor to conceal nothing from him. - -"There is nothing to conceal," said the doctor. "Her state is -critical, but what else could be expected? Consider what she has -passed through." - -"I think of nothing else, of nothing else," said Aaron, his fingers -working convulsively, for a question was trembling on his lips which -he felt he must ask, but to which he could scarcely give utterance. -"Doctor, will she live?" - -The doctor bit his lip as he gazed upon Aaron's misery. "We will do -our best; but remember, we are all in God's hands." And with these -words, and a look of compassion, he departed. - -Aaron stood motionless a while. We are all in God's hands! How often -has that been said, and how terrible is its import! Human science and -skill have done all it is in their power to do--the rest is with God. -Aaron reasoned the true meaning away. - -"We are all in God's hands," he murmured, "old and young, rich and -poor, the strong and the feeble alike. It is so with one and all. I -thank God he did not tell me to prepare for the worst!" - -He drew comfort not from what was said, but from what was not said. He -continued to commune with himself. - -"How can she be otherwise than weak? And doctors sometimes think it -their duty not to look on the brightest side. My Rachel will be spared -to me. God will not take her away." - -He went up to her; a nurse he had engaged was in the room; she could -come for only a week, her services at the end of that time being -required elsewhere. She put her fingers to her lips as he entered. - -"Is she asleep?" he asked in a whisper. - -She nodded in reply, but when he approached the bed Rachel held out -her hand to him. - -"Nurse thought you were asleep, dear," he said, bending down to her. - -"I may have been," she answered. "I fall off into a doze a dozen times -an hour, it seems, but I always know when you are near me." She put -her hand to her head. - -"Are you in pain, my life?" - -"Oh, no. I am rather weak, but I shall get strong soon. Whenever I -doze I see our dear one. Aaron, dear love, do not be anxious for me; I -shall soon hold our darling in my arms." - -The nurse gave him a warning look not to encourage her to talk, and -understanding the silent monition, he kissed Rachel tenderly and went -down to muse and pray. - -The settlement of all his debts had left him almost a beggar. He owed -not a shilling, except to the doctor, who had said nothing about his -account; the week's money for the nurse was carefully put away; he -could not have afforded to engage her for a longer term, for all the -money he had left in the world amounted to barely two pounds. What was -he to do when that was spent? Commence business again upon borrowed -capital? But who would lend it to him? It was no small sum that would -be required, and all his friends, with the exception of Mr. Moss, were -poor. Mr. Moss was comparatively a new friend, and he could not expect -him to render such substantial assistance. It would be unreasonable to -ask for so large a loan, say, as fifty pounds, for that was the least -that he could begin again with; besides, he would be sure to be met -with a refusal. But what was he to do? - -He thrust these worldly contemplations aside, and, indeed, it was -impossible for him to dwell upon them with a heavier sorrow at his -door. He trusted in God--yes; but he knew that a man must work for his -livelihood. Well, he would work; he was willing and ready for any -honest occupation; but he must wait--for what? He stepped into the -passage, and softly ascending the stairs, listened at Rachel's door. -As he stood there the nurse came out. - -"Go for the doctor," she whispered. - -He flew. There was no thought in his mind now of his worldly troubles; -he thought only of his beloved wife and unborn child. The doctor was -not in, but was expected in a quarter of an hour, and would be sure to -come round at once. Leaving an urgent entreaty not to delay a moment, -Aaron hastened back to his house, and on the road found himself -intercepted by Prissy, who had grown taller but no stouter since the -night upon which she introduced herself to him. By reason of her -increased height she looked thinner and scraggier than ever; as usual -Victoria Regina, who had grown plumper and rounder, was in the girl's -arms. - -"Mr. Cohen, Mr. Cohen!" cried Prissy. - -"I can't stop now," he replied, passing her quickly. - -But Prissy's long legs were as active as his, and though Victoria -Regina was a heavy weight to carry, she kept pace with him. - -"D'yer know wot everybody's saying about yer, Mr. Cohen?" - -"Never mind, never mind, my good girl; I have no time to listen." - -"They're saying, everybody is," continued Prissy, "that yer as good as -ruined, and that you 'aven't got a shilling left to pay yer way with." - -"What does it matter what people say, Prissy? Never listen to -tittle-tattle." - -"'Ow's it to be 'elped, Mr. Cohen, when they ding it in yer ears? Mr. -Whimpole, he ses he sor wot was coming all along, and when I ups and -gives 'im a bit o' my mind he slaps my face, he does, and pushes me -into the gutter. I don't mind that, but no one's going to speak agin -yer when I'm by. It aint likely after all yer've done for me." - -"You are a good girl, but take no notice of what Mr. Whimpole says. -There are many here who still have a good word for me." - -"Plenty, sir, and that's wot makes Mr. Whimpole mad; he can't make 'em -think as he wants 'em to. You look ill, Mr. Cohen. I 'ope missis is no -wus, I do." - -"She is still weak and ill, Prissy; but she will get well soon--eh, -Prissy?--she will get well soon?" - -He cast a swift, anxious look upon her; even from the lips of this -poor girl he sought the comfort of a consoling word. - -"Yes, sir, she's sure to. Don't you worry yerself, Mr. Cohen. Gawd -won't let nothink wrong 'appen to 'er. Wot did she say 'erself to me -more nor once? 'Be a good gal,' she ses, 'and tell the truth, and be -as kind as yer can to everybody, and Gawd 'll look after yer.' And -aint she good, sir? and does she ever say anythink but the truth? and -aint she as kind as kind can be to everybody about 'er? Why, it's in -everybody's mouth, 'xcept Mr. Whimpole's. She's sure to get well, Mr. -Cohen, and then yer'll let me see 'er, sir, won't yer?" - -"Yes, Prissy, yes," said Aaron, laying his hand for a moment on -Prissy's tangled hair; he had reached the door of his house, and was -unlocking the door. "She will get well, please God, and you shall see -her. Thank you, thank you, my good girl, and now run away." - -"I'm off, Mr. Cohen," said Prissy; "this is going to bring yer luck, -it is," and slipping a large paper parcel into his hand, she scuttled -away. - -He did not know what it was he held until he reached his room, and -then he examined it. When he removed the paper he saw a horseshoe and -two penny pieces, which had been rubbed bright with sand, so that they -shone like gold. Something shone in Aaron's eyes as he gazed at the -humble offering; he smiled wistfully, and muttering, "It is an omen of -good fortune; God bless you, little Prissy!" put the shoe and the -pennies carefully aside. Then he stepped softly upstairs, and softly -tapped at the bedroom door. - -"How is she, nurse?" - -"Bearing up wonderfully, sir." - -"Thank God! The doctor will be here presently. I will wait for him at -the street door." - -He had not long to wait; in a very short time he saw the welcome form -turning the corner, and the doctor, with a friendly, smiling nod, -passed into the house. - -Aaron paced to and fro in the room below, and waited for the word that -was to bring joy or sorrow to his soul. He had put his slippers on, in -order that his footsteps should not be heard. In such times of -tribulation his thoughts were invariably directed to the divine -footstool; as with all devout Jews prayer was part of his life, and -never, since the day of his birth, had he prayed so earnestly and -fervently as now. Every few moments he paused in the supplications he -was sending forth, and stepped softly into the passage, and listened. -He heard no sound, not a sob, not a cry; then he returned to his room, -and resumed his prayers. His heart was with Rachel, and he knew that -she was thinking of him. In the light of the perfect love that existed -between them, in the anxious expectancy of these lagging minutes, what -mattered poverty or riches, what mattered mere worldly misfortune? A -stout spirit, a strong shoulder to the wheel, and all would be well; -thus much could a man do with a cheerful heart. But here and now he -was helpless, impotent; here and now was impending a graver issue -which he was powerless to influence. A life--the life of his -beloved--was hanging in the balance; and all that he could do was to -wait and hope and pray. - -Hush! What was that? An infant's wail--the cry of a newborn child! -With his heart in his ears he stood in the passage, then sank upon the -stairs, with his face in his hands. His child lived--but Rachel! how -was it with her? - -The bedroom door opened and closed, and the doctor came down. The -passage was dark, for it was now evening, and Aaron could not see the -doctor's face. Taking Aaron's arm, which shook in his grasp like a -leaf in a strong wind, the doctor led Aaron into the sitting room and -lit the gas. - -"Doctor!" implored Aaron, with clasped hands. - -"You have a little girl." - -"And Rachel--my wife!" - -"Be comforted. She is in no immediate danger. She is a brave and noble -woman. I will return in a couple of hours. The nurse will tell you -when you can go up and see her." - -Aaron laid his head upon the table and wept. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -THE DOCTOR SPEAKS PLAINLY TO AARON COHEN. - - -"Aaron!" - -"My beloved!" - -"Is our darling beautiful?" - -"Very beautiful--like you." - -"You spoil me, dear; you think too much of me." - -"It is not possible, Rachel. Loving you as I do, with my whole heart, -there is still some wisdom in my love. Rachel, without you my life -would not be perfect; without you I should be a broken man." - -"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she said, clasping his hand tight. "It is out -of my power to repay you for all your goodness to me." - -"You repay me every moment of your life. Not for a throne would I -exchange my place by your side; not for a palace would I exchange my -humble home with you to hallow it." Their lips met, and there was -silence in the room a while. - -"Dear husband, you are not disappointed that our child is a girl?" - -"I am rejoiced that we have with us a daughter in Israel. What greater -happiness could I desire? When you are strong, when I hear your -footsteps about the house again, all will be well." - -A holy joy dwelt in her face. "My darling, my darling!" she murmured -as she held the sleeping babe to her breast. "I had a fear, but it is -gone--a fear that our precious one would be born blind, as I am. Thank -God, I did not bring that misfortune upon her. What happiness entered -my heart when the doctor told me that her eyes were bright and -beautiful. If only the gracious Lord will not take her--if only he -will spare her to live to an honored old age!" - -"He will, he will, my beloved! We must not talk any more. Sleep and -grow strong." - -He sat by her bedside in silence, gazing upon her face, which was as -the face of an angel, and then he stole softly downstairs. He had much -to occupy his thoughts; Rachel's danger happily passed, as he hoped, -he could turn his attention to his worldly affairs, which indeed, -being at a desperate pass, would have forced themselves to the front -under any circumstances. By the doctor's orders he had been compelled -to make certain purchases which had not only emptied his purse, but -had driven him to the necessity of parting with the few articles of -jewelry which he and Rachel possessed. These proceeds gone he was an -absolute beggar. - -Never in his life had he been placed in so serious a position. -Difficulties had been encountered and confronted with courage and -success, times of embarrassment had been tided over, losses had been -made good, and he had fought his way cheerfully; but now his heart -sank within him at the prospect that was opening out. Rachel needed -not only care and unremitting attention, but delicacies in the shape -of food to keep up her strength. Nourishing soups, a glass of port -wine, a chicken--these were no trifles to a man in Aaron's position; -and unable to afford the regular services of a servant, he had to look -after these matters himself, to perform domestic work, to cook, and to -keep the whole house in order. The nurse's attention was devoted -solely to the sick room, and he could not therefore look to assistance -from her; Prissy made her appearance daily, but Aaron dismissed her -quickly, feeling the injustice of accepting services for which he -could not pay. It was no easy matter to get rid of Prissy, who was not -only willing but anxious to remain, and she feebly protested against -being turned away so unceremoniously; her protests would have been -more vigorous had she not entertained a certain awe of Aaron's -strength of character, before which she, as it were, was compelled to -prostrate herself. Thus Aaron, from force of circumstance and from his -inherent sense of justice, was thrown entirely upon his own resources. - -Counting the money in his purse, he calculated that it was sufficient -to last for nine or ten days. In four days the nurse would take her -departure, and then he and Rachel and their babe would be left alone -in the house. At the expiration of less than a week after that he must -be prepared to face the most serious difficulties. He had friends in -London, to whom he had already written, and had received replies of -regret that they were unable to assist him. Mr. Moss had been so good -a friend that he hardly dared appeal again to him, and he resolved to -leave it to the last moment. With a troubled heart, and hardly having -the strength to hope against hope, he went about the house and -attended to his duties. The four days passed, the nurse, having taken -her leave of Rachel, came down to Aaron to receive her wages and bid -him good-by. He paid her with a sad smile, and thanked her for her -services. The "good-day" exchanged, she lingered a moment. With quick -apprehension he divined why she delayed. - -"You have something to say to me, nurse, about my wife." - -"Yes, Mr. Cohen, I have," she replied, "and I am glad you have -mentioned it, as I did not know how to bring it out." She paused -again. - -"Well, nurse?" - -"I think you ought to know, Mr. Cohen, that your wife is not so well -as you suppose." - -"Nurse!" - -"She keeps it from you, sir, and has begged me not to alarm you, but -it is my duty. No, sir, she is far from well, and is not getting on as -she ought. She grows weaker and weaker--and baby, too, is not thriving. -It is that which keeps Mrs. Cohen back." - -"What can be done, nurse?" asked Aaron, the agony of his feelings -depicted on his countenance. - -"It isn't for me to say, Mr. Cohen. If I were you I would ask the -doctor to tell me plainly." - -"I will, I will. Nurse, does she suffer?" - -"She's just the one to suffer, sir, and to say nothing. It would be a -dreadful thing for you, sir, if----" But here the woman stopped -suddenly and bit her lip. She had said more than she intended. -"Good-day, sir, and I hope we may all be wrong." - -He caught her arm. "No, no, nurse. I will ask the doctor to speak -plainly to me, but he will not be here till to-morrow, and I cannot go -to him and leave my wife and child alone in the house. Finish what you -were about to say. 'It would be a dreadful thing if----'" - -"Well, sir, it is best to face the truth. If your poor lady was to -die." - -"Great God! There is danger, then?" - -"I am afraid there is, sir. Don't take on so, sir, don't! I am sorry I -spoke." - -"You have done what is right," Aaron groaned. - -"We must all of us be prepared, sir; trouble comes to all of us." - -"Alas, it is a human heritage! But you do not know what this means to -me--you do not know what it means to me!" - -"Perhaps I have made things out worse than they are; I hope so, I am -sure. But you ask the doctor, sir, and don't give way. I shall think -of your lady a good deal when I am gone." - -With that, and with a sympathetic look at him, the woman departed. - -At length, at length, the truth had been spoken; at length, at length, -he knew the worst. It was as if a sentence of death had been -pronounced. His Rachel, his beloved wife, the tenderest, the truest -that man had ever been blessed with, was to be taken from him. His -child, also, perhaps; but that was a lesser grief, upon which he had -no heart to brood. His one overwhelming anxiety was for Rachel, who, -as it now seemed to him, was lying at death's door in the room above. - -He had some soup ready, and he took a basin up to her. - -"Can you drink this, dear?" - -"I will try." - -He assisted her to rise, and put a pillow at her back. As he fed her -he watched her face, and he saw that it had grown wan and thin. It was -well for both of them that she could not see him; the sight of his -agony would have deepened her sufferings and added to his own. With -wonderful control he spoke to her with some semblance of cheerfulness, -and his voice and words brought a smile to her lips. So through the -day he ministered to her, and every time he left her room his fears -grew stronger. He did not expect the doctor till the following day, -and was surprised when he made his appearance at nightfall. - -"I happened to be passing," he said to Aaron, "and I thought I would -drop in to see how you are getting along." - -When they came down from the sick-room Aaron observed a graver -expression on his face. - -"It is unfortunate that you have no nurse, Mr. Cohen," he said; "your -wife needs constant care and watchfulness." - -"She will have it, doctor. Is she any better, sir? How is she -progressing?" - -"She is still the same, still the same; no better and no worse." - -"It is not in her favor, doctor, that she remains the same?" - -"No, I cannot conscientiously say it is. At this stage a little -additional strength would be of great assistance to her. Nature's -forces require rallying--but we will hope for the best, Mr. Cohen." - -"We will, doctor, but will hope avail?" - -His sad voice struck significantly upon the doctor's ears. "Perhaps -not, but it is a consolation." - -"There are human griefs, sir, for which there is no consolation. I -cannot wrest my thoughts from the selfish view. There are sorrows that -come so close home as to take complete possession of us." - -"It is human, Mr. Cohen, it is natural; but we must not shut out -resignation, fortitude, submission." - -"Doctor, will you speak plainly to me? It will be merciful." - -"What is it you wish to know?" - -"Tell me exactly how my wife and child are, so that I may be -prepared"--his voice faltered--"for the worst." - -"You do not know, then?" - -"I fear--but I do not know." - -"We doctors have frequently hard duties to perform, Mr. Cohen--duties -which to others appear cruel. I will speak plainly; it will be best. -It is due to your wife's gentle and loving nature that I have not done -so before, and I yielded to her imploring solicitations, deeming it -likely that you would discover the state of the case from your own -powers of observation. Mr. Cohen, I have rarely had so sad and -affecting an experience as I find here. It would be wrong for me to -say that your wife is not in danger; she has been in danger for some -days past, and it is only an inward moral strength that has supported -her through the crisis. She has still a vital power which, under -certain conditions, will be of immense assistance to her, which will -enable her--so far as it is in human power to judge--to pull through. -You will gather from my words that her safety, nay, her life, depends -not so much upon herself as upon others--upon you to some extent, but -to a much greater extent upon her babe. It is her deep love for you -both that has sustained her, that still sustains her. Were anything to -happen to either of you I should fear the gravest results. It would -react upon her, and in her delicate state there would be no hope." - -"I am physically strong and well, doctor; nothing is likely to happen -to me. Her danger, then, lies in our child?" - -"You have clearly expressed it. Her life hangs upon the life of her -child. So fine and delicate are her susceptibilities, so profound is -her love for those who are dear to her, that I, a doctor, who is -supposed to be nothing if he is not scientific, am compelled to -confess that here my learned theories are at fault. I will no longer -disguise from you that her life hangs upon the balance." - -"And our child, doctor, how is it with her?" - -"I can answer you with less certainty. Something of the delicate -susceptibilities of the mother has in the course of nature entered her -child's being. The baby is not strong, but she may grow into strength; -it is as yet a problem to be solved, and a physician's skill is almost -powerless to help to a happy issue. Hope, Mr. Cohen, hope; and in -bidding you hope, and in explaining matters to you, I have not said -all that it is necessary for me to say. There remains something more." - -"One question first, doctor," said Aaron in a hushed voice; "if our -child lives there is hope that my wife will live." - -"A strong hope; I speak with confidence." - -"And if our child dies?" - -"The mother will die. Forgive me for my cruel frankness." - -"It is the best kindness you can show me. You have something more to -tell me." - -"Something almost as cruel, but it must be spoken. Mr. Cohen, your -wife has been severely tried; the shock of the fire, the shock of her -sudden blindness, coming so close upon her expected confinement, have -left their effects upon her. If things take a favorable turn with her -it will be imperative, in the course of the next three or four -weeks--earlier if possible, and if she can be removed with safety-- -that you take her to a softer climate, where she can be nursed into -permanent strength. We are going to have a severe winter, and I will -not answer for its effects upon her. From three or four weeks hence -till the spring in a warmer atmosphere, where there are no fogs or -east winds, will be of invaluable service to her, will set her up -probably for many years to come. You must recognize this yourself, and -if by any possibility or sacrifice you can manage it you must do so." - -"It is vitally necessary, doctor?" - -"It is, I have no hesitation in saying, vitally necessary. And now -good-night, Mr. Cohen. I leave my best wishes behind me." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. -A MOMENTOUS NIGHT. - - -Each day, each hour, Aaron became more anxious and troubled. In the -doctor's plain speaking there was no reading between the lines, and no -possible mistaking of his meaning. Aaron saw clearly what was before -him, but he could not see a way out of his difficulties, nor to doing -what he was told it was imperative upon him that he should do, in the -happy event of Rachel's coming safely through her present crisis. -There was no apparent change in her; she lay weak and powerless in her -bed, receiving Aaron always with sweet and patient words, and nursing -her child as well as her feeble state would allow her. The condition -of the babe pained and troubled him. There was no indication of -suffering, no querulousness in the child; it was simply that she lay -supine, as though life were flowing quietly out of her. Every time -Aaron crept up to the bedside and found the babe asleep he leaned -anxiously over her to catch the sound of her breathing; and so faint -and soft was her respiration that again and again he was smitten with -a fear that she had passed away. Acutely sensitive and sensible now of -every sign in his wife, it became with him an absolute conviction that -the doctor spoke the truth when he declared that her life and the life -of her babe were inseparable--that if one lived the other would live, -that if one died the other would die. During this torturing time -strange thoughts oppressed him, and oppressed him more powerfully -because he scarcely understood them. The tenor of these thoughts -resolved itself into the one burning desire to do something to keep -his wife with him even if she should lose her babe, but toward the -accomplishment of this he felt that he could do nothing. He was but an -instrument; if he were to be successful in steering his beloved to a -haven of peace and health it must be through outside influences which -up to the present were not visible to him. "Show me the way, oh, -gracious Lord, show me the way!" This was his constant prayer, and -although in less agitated times he would have blamed himself for -praying for a seeming impossibility, he encouraged himself in it now, -in the dim and despairing hope that some miracle would occur to -further his agonizing desire. - -Meanwhile his funds had run completely out, and with spiritual sight -he saw the wolf approaching the door. He had not the means to pay for -the necessaries of the next twenty-four hours. Then it was that he -resolved to make his appeal to Mr. Moss. He would tell him everything, -he would reveal his hapless position in the plainest terms, and he -would beg for an immediate temporary loan of money which he would -promise to faithfully repay when the cloud was lifted from his house. - -It was evening, a cold and bitter evening. The snow had been falling -heavily, a fierce wind was raging. He thought of Rachel, homeless and -hungry, and his heart was torn with woe. It seemed as if her life -depended upon him; he was her shield; could he not keep desolation and -despair from her--could he not keep death from her? He did not know -that the angel was already in his house. - -The doctor had paid a visit earlier in the day, and had spoken even -more gravely of Rachel. - -"Much depends," he said, "upon the next day or two. For some days past -she has been silently suffering, and I have succeeded in piercing the -veil of sorrow which hangs upon her soul. She fears that her child -will not live, and if unhappily her fears are confirmed----" - -He did not finish the sentence; there was no need for further words to -convey his meaning. - -"This harrowing thought," he continued, "keeps her from rest, prevents -her sleeping. There are periods of sickness when sleep means life; I -will send round a sleeping draught, which you will give her at eight -o'clock to-night; it will insure her oblivion for a good twelve hours, -and if when she wakes all is well with the child all will be well with -her." - -"Can you tell me, doctor, why this fear has grown stronger within her -these last few days?" - -"The babe lies quietly in her arms; she does not hear its voice, and -only by its soft breathing can she convince herself that it lives. -Tender accents from the child she has brought into the world would -fall as a blessing upon her sorrowing heart. At any moment the child -may find its voice; let us hope that it will very soon." - -The sleeping draught was sent to Aaron, and it was now on the table. -The hour was six; in a couple of hours he would give it to her; and -while he waited he sat down to write his letter to Mr. Moss. It was a -long letter, for he had much to say, and he was but halfway through -when a postman's knock summoned him to the street door. He hurried -there quickly, so that the knock should not be repeated, and to his -surprise received a telegram. It was from Mr. Moss, and it informed -him that that gentleman was coming to see him upon a very important -matter, and that he was to be sure not to leave home that night. Aaron -wondered what this important matter could be, and there was a joyful -feeling in his heart that the telegram might be the presage of good -fortune; he knew enough of Mr. Moss' kindly nature to be convinced -that he would not be the herald of bad news. - -"There is a rift in the clouds," he murmured as he pondered over the -message; "I see the light, I see the light!" - -Would Mr. Moss' errand open up the means of giving Rachel the benefit -of soft air and sunshine in a more genial clime? He prayed that it -might, and he had never prayed more fervently. But the night was -inclement, and Mr. Moss might not be able in consequence to pay the -promised visit. Time pressed; the necessity was imminent, and would -brook no delay; therefore he determined to finish his letter, and to -post it this night in the event of Mr. Moss not making his appearance. - -It wanted a few minutes to eight when his task was completed. He read -the letter over and addressed an envelope, but did not stamp it; he -had but one stamp, and every penny was of importance. He looked at the -clock; eight o'clock. With gentle steps he went up to Rachel. - -"It is time for the draught, my love," he said. - -"I will take it, dear." - -He poured it into a glass, and she drank it reclining in his arms. - -"If our dear one lives, Aaron," said Rachel, "we will call her Ruth, -after your mother." - -"It shall be so, love," answered Aaron, laying her head upon the -pillow. "God will vouchsafe the mercy to us. She will live, Rachel, -she will live." Desirous that she should not talk now that she had -taken the sleeping draught he kissed her tenderly and would have left -her, but she held him by the hand. - -"Has the doctor told you that I am in sorrow, Aaron?" - -"You have the gift of divinity, love. Yes, he has told me, and he said -that to-morrow perhaps, please God, you will hear our darling's -voice." - -"Did he say so? Heaven bless him. She is sleeping?" - -"Yes, beloved." - -"I pray that the good doctor may be right. I shall dream of it. -To-morrow--perhaps to-morrow! Ah, what happiness! It needs but that, -dear husband, it needs but that! How tired you must be with all that -you are doing for me! Kiss me again. God guard you." - -And so she fell asleep. - -The small fire in the room required attention, and Aaron arranged each -piece of coal and cinder with scrupulous care; never had there been so -much need for thrift as now. In all his movements there was not the -least sound; so softly did he step that his feet might have been shod -with velvet pile. One of Rachel's arms was lying exposed on the -counterpane, he gently shifted it beneath the warm coverings; then he -quitted the apartment and closed the door upon his wife and child--and -upon the angel of death, who was standing by the bedside to receive a -departing soul. - -Aaron did not return to his room below; he stood by the open street -door, looking anxiously up and down for Mr. Moss, and thinking with -sadness that if that gentleman delayed his visit he would be compelled -in the morning to part for a time with his silver-mounted pipe, which -was the only article of any value that was left to him. Of all his -personal belongings he cherished this pipe the most; it was Rachel's -gift, and she had often filled it for him. It was not between his lips -at the present moment; he had no heart to smoke. For nearly an hour he -stood upon the watch, interrupting it only for the purpose of creeping -upstairs to see if Rachel were still sleeping. At nine o'clock Mr. -Moss made his welcome appearance in the street; even as he turned the -corner at a distance of many yards Aaron recognized him. He was -enveloped in his great fur coat, which was pulled up close to his -ears; a lighted cigar was between his lips, and he was humming an -operatic air as he puffed at it. - -"Why, Cohen," said Mr. Moss in a hearty tone, "what are you standing -at the door for on such a cold night?" - -"I have been expecting you," Aaron answered, "and I did not wish you -to knock. Rachel has taken a sleeping draught, and must not be -disturbed." - -"Yes, yes, I understand," said Mr. Moss, accompanying his friend into -the house. "How is she?" - -"Not well, not at all well, I am grieved to say. Mr. Moss, my heart is -almost broken." He turned aside with a little sob. - -"No, no, no!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. "That will never do, Cohen. Look on -the best side. Things will right themselves; they will, mark my words. -I am here to set them right. What is this? An envelope addressed to -me?" - -"I was writing you a letter when your telegram arrived." - -"And then you did not stop to finish it?" - -"I did finish it, Mr. Moss, in case you did not come." - -"May I read it?" - -"Yes; it will explain matters; you will learn from it what it would -pain me to tell you in any other way." - -"Smoke a cigar while I read." - -Aaron took the cigar and laid it aside, and then Mr. Moss, who had -taken off his thick coat, sat down and perused the letter. - -"I have come in the nick of time, Cohen," he said--"in the nick of -time. There is a silver lining to every cloud. I have brought it with -me." - -"I felt," said Aaron, his hopes rising, "that you could not be the -bearer of bad news." - -"Not likely, friend Cohen--not likely. I am the bearer of good news, -of the best of news. Don't be led away; it isn't a legacy--no, no, it -isn't a legacy, but something almost as good, and I hope you will not -throw away the chance." - -"If it is anything that will relieve me from my terrible -embarrassments it is not likely that I shall throw it away." - -"It will do that for a certainty, and there is money attaching to it -which I have in my pocket, and which you can have this very night." - -"How can I thank you--how can I thank you?" - -"Don't try to, and don't be surprised at what you hear. It is a -strange piece of business, and I should have refused to undertake it -if I had not said to myself, 'This will suit my friend Cohen; it will -lift him out of his trouble.' But, upon my word, now that I'm here I -don't know how to commence. I never met with anything like it in all -my life, and if you were well off you would be the last man in the -world I should have dreamed of coming to. But you are not well off, -Cohen; you have lost everything; Rachel is ill, and the doctor says -she must be taken out of this cold and dismal climate to a place where -she can see the sun, and where the air is mild and warm. I dare say -you're thinking, 'Moss is speaking in a strange way'; and so I am; but -it's nothing to what I've got to tell you. Cohen, what will happen if -you can't afford to do as the doctor advises you?" - -"Do not ask me," groaned Aaron. "I dare not think of it--I dare not, I -dare not!" - -"I don't say it unkindly, Cohen, but it seems to be a matter of life -and death." Aaron clasped his forehead. "Very well, then; and don't -forget that it is in your own hands. Before I commence I must say a -word about myself. I can't do all you ask me in this letter; as I'm a -living man I should be glad to assist you, but I have entered into a -large speculation which has taken all my spare cash, and the most I -could afford would be eight or ten pounds. How long would that last -you? In two or three weeks it would be gone, and you would be no -better off than you were before; and as to taking Rachel to the south -of France, that would be quite out of the question." - -"But you held out hope to me," said the trembling Aaron; "you said you -were the bearer of good news." - -"I said what is true, Cohen, but it is not my money that I have to -deal with. I have brought fifty pounds with me, another man's money, -intrusted to me for special purposes, and which you can have at once -if you will undertake a certain task and accept a certain -responsibility. It is only out of my friendship for you; it is only -because I know you to be so badly off that you hardly know which way -to turn; it is only because Rachel is ill, and requires what you can't -afford to pay for, that it entered my mind to offer you the chance." - -"Fifty pounds would be the saving of me, Mr. Moss," said Aaron in an -agony of suspense. "It would restore my Rachel to health, it would -bring happiness into my life. Surely Heaven has directed you to come -to my assistance." - -"You shall judge for yourself. Listen patiently to what I am going to -tell you; it will startle you, but don't decide hastily or rashly. And -bear in mind that what passes between us is not to be disclosed to -another person on earth." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. -THE TEMPTATION. - - -Mr. Moss then proceeded to unfold the nature of the mission he had -undertaken for Mr. Gordon, with the particulars of which the reader -has been made acquainted through the earlier chapters of this story. -Aaron listened with attention and surprise, with attention because of -his anxiety to ascertain whether the proposal was likely to extricate -him from his cruel position, with surprise because the wildest stretch -of his imagination would not have enabled him to guess the purport of -the singular disclosure. When Mr. Moss ceased speaking the afflicted -man rose and paced the room in distress and disappointment. - -"I told you I should startle you," said Mr. Moss with a shrewd -observance of his friend's demeanor, and for the good of that friend -preparing for a battle. "What do you say to it?" - -"It is impossible--impossible!" muttered Aaron. - -"I told you also," continued Mr. Moss calmly, "not to decide hastily -or rashly. In the way of ordinary business I should not, as I have -said, have dreamed of coming to you, and I should not have undertaken -the mission. But the position in which you are placed is not ordinary, -and you are bound to consider the matter, not upon its merits alone, -but in relation to your circumstances. I need not say that I shall -make nothing out of it myself." - -"Indeed, you need not," said Aaron, pressing Mr. Moss' hand. "Pure -friendship has brought you here--I know, I know; but surely you must -see that it is impossible for me to undertake the responsibility." - -"I see nothing of the kind. Honestly and truly, Cohen, I look upon it -as a windfall, and if you turn your back upon it you will repent it -all your life. What is it I urge you to do? A crime?" - -"No, no, I do not say that. Heaven forbid!" - -"You are naturally startled and agitated. Cohen, you are a man of -intelligence and discernment. My wife has often said, 'If Mr. Cohen -was a rich man he would be one of the heads of our people.' She is -right; she always is. But there are times when a man cannot exercise -his judgment, when he is so upset that his mind gets off the balance. -It has happened to me, and I have said afterward, 'Moss, you are a -fool'; it happens to all of us. Let me put the matter clearly before -you. Have you ever been in such trouble as you are in now?" - -"Never in my life." - -"Misfortune after misfortune has fallen upon you. All your money is -gone; everything is gone; you can't get through this week without -assistance. You have tried all your friends, and they cannot help you; -you have tried me, and I can only offer you what will meet the -necessities of the next few days. It is known that you are badly off, -and you cannot get credit; if you could it would cut you to the soul, -because you know you would be owing people money that there was no -expectation of your being able to pay. You would be ashamed to look -people in the face; you would lose your sense of self-respect, and -every fresh step you took would be a step down instead of up. Poor -Rachel is lying sick almost to death; she has a stronger claim than -ever upon your love, upon your wisdom. The doctor has told you what -she requires, and of the possible consequences if you are unable to -carry out his directions. Cohen, not one of these things must be lost -sight of in the answer you give to what I propose." - -Great beads of perspiration were on Aaron's forehead as he murmured, -"I do not lose sight of them. They are like daggers in my heart." - -"Strangely and unexpectedly," pursued Mr. Moss, "a chance offers -itself that will extricate you out of all your difficulties. You will -not only receive immediately a large sum of money, but you will be in -receipt of a hundred a year, sufficient to keep your family in a -moderate way. What are you asked to do in return for this good -fortune? To take care of an innocent child who has no one to look -after her, who will never be claimed, and about whom you will never be -troubled. You can engage a servant to attend to her, and when you -explain everything to Rachel she will approve of what you have done. -Before I came to you I consulted a gentleman--Dr. Spenlove--who has a -kind heart and correct principles, and agreed with me that the -transaction was perfectly honorable. I have no doubt of it myself, or -I should not be here. Be persuaded, Cohen; it will be a benevolent as -well as a wise act, and all your difficulties will be at an end. What -is it Shakspere says? 'There is a tide in the affairs of men which, -taken at the flood,'--you know the rest. Why, there are thousands who -would jump at the opportunity. Come, now, for Rachel's sake?" Mr. Moss -was genuinely sincere in his advice, and he spoke with earnestness and -feeling. - -"The child is a girl, Mr. Moss?" - -"A dear little girl, of the same age as your own." - -"Hush! You forget. This little stranger is born of Christian parents." - -"That is no crime, Cohen." - -"Do I say it is? But we are Jews. The stipulation is that she should -be brought up as one of our family, and indeed it could scarcely be -otherwise. She would live her life in a Jewish household. It is that I -am thinking of Mr. Moss, I am at war with my conscience." - -"She will be none the worse off for living with you and Rachel. Your -character is well known, and Rachel is the soul of kindness. You would -be committing no sin, Cohen." - -"I am not so sure." - -"Then who is to know? You and Rachel are alone, and when she is able -to be moved you will take her for a time to another place. You need -not return here. Rachel's health restored, you should go to London or -Liverpool or Manchester, where your talents would have a larger field. -I always thought it wrong for you to bury yourself in so small a town -as this. There is no scope for you in it; you would never make your -fortune here." - -"If I go from this place I shall not return to it. You ask who is to -know, Mr. Moss. God would know; Rachel and I would know. How can I -reconcile it with my conscience to bring up a child in a faith in -which she is not born? It would weigh heavily upon me." - -"That is because your views are so strict. I do not see why it should -weigh heavily upon you. If it were a boy I should not press it upon -you; but girls are different. There is very little for them to learn. -To pray--there is only one God. To be good and virtuous--there is only -one code of morality. You know that well enough." - -"I do know it, but still I cannot reconcile it with my conscience." - -"In your position," continued Mr. Moss, perceiving that Aaron was -wavering, "I should not hesitate; I should thank God that such a -chance fell in my way. Even as it is, if I did not have eleven -children, and expecting the twelfth, I would take this lamb into my -fold--I would, indeed, Cohen. But my hands are full. Cohen, let me -imagine a case. It is a cold and bitter night, and the world is filled -with poor struggling creatures, with little children who are being -brought up the wrong way. Rachel is asleep upstairs. You are here -alone. Suddenly you hear a cry in the street, the cry of a babe. You -go to the door, and upon the step you see an infant lying, -unsheltered, without a protector. What would you do?" - -"I should bring it into my house." - -"With pity in your heart, Cohen." - -"I hope so. With pity in my heart." - -"Poor as you are, you would share what you have with the deserted -babe; you would nourish it, you would cherish it. You would say to -Rachel, 'I heard a cry outside the house on this bitter night, and -upon the doorstep I discovered this poor babe; I brought it in, and -gave it shelter.' What would Rachel answer?" - -"She is a tender-hearted woman; she would answer that I did what was -right." - -"Look upon it in that light, and I will continue the case. In the -child's clothes you find a fifty-pound note, and a letter, unsigned, -to the effect that the little one has no protector, is alone in the -world, and beseeching you to take charge of it and save it from -destitution and degradation. No scruples as to the child being a -Christian would disturb you then; you would act as humanity dictated. -In the case I have imagined you would not be at war with your -conscience; why should you be at war with it now?" - -"Still I must reflect; and I have a question or two to ask. The name -of the mother?" - -"Not to be divulged." - -"The name of the father?" - -"The same answer. Indeed, I do not know it myself." - -"Where is the child?" - -"At the Salutation Hotel, in the charge of a woman I brought with me." - -"My decision must be made to-night?" - -"To-night." - -"Supposing it to be in the affirmative, what position do you occupy in -the matter in the future?" - -"None whatever. The task undertook executed, I retire, and have -nothing further to do with it. Anything you choose to communicate with -me would be entirely at your discretion. Voluntarily I should never -make reference to it." - -"What has passed between us, you informed me, is not to be disclosed -to any other person?" - -"To no other person whatever." - -"Am I to understand that it has been disclosed to no other?" - -"You are. Only Dr. Spenlove and the gentleman who intrusted me with -the commission have any knowledge of it." - -"How about the woman who is now taking care of the child at the -Salutation Hotel?" - -"She is in entire ignorance of the whole proceeding." - -"Is she not aware that you have come to my house?" - -"She is not. In the event of your deciding to undertake the charge I -myself will bring the child here." - -"Is the mother to be made acquainted with my name?" - -"It is an express stipulation that she is to be kept in ignorance of -it." - -"And to this she consented willingly?" - -"Willingly, for her child's good and her own." - -"Is Dr. Spenlove to be made acquainted with it?" - -"He is not." - -"And the gentleman whose commission you are executing?" - -"Neither is he to know. It is his own wish." - -"The liberal allowance for the rearing of the child: by whom will it -be paid?" - -"By a firm of eminent London lawyers whose name and address I will -give you, and to whom I shall communicate by telegram to-night. All -the future business will be solely between you and them without -interference from any living being." - -"Mr. Moss, I thank you; you have performed the office of a friend." - -"It was my desire, Cohen. Then you consent?" - -"No. I must have time for reflection. In an hour from now you shall -have my answer." - -"Don't throw away the chance," said Mr. Moss very earnestly. -"Remember, it is for Rachel's sake." - -"I will remember it; but I must commune with myself. If before one -hour has passed you do not see me at the Salutation Hotel you will -understand that I refuse." - -"What will you do then, Cohen? How will you manage?" - -"God knows. Perhaps he will direct me." - -Mr. Moss considered a moment, then took ten five pound banknotes from -his pocket, and laid them on the table. - -"I will leave this money with you," he said. - -"No, no!" cried Aaron. - -"Why not? It will do no harm. You are to be trusted, Cohen. In case -you refuse I will take it back. If you do not come for me I will come -for you, so I will not wish you good-night. Don't trouble to come to -the door; I can find my way out." - -Aaron was alone, fully conscious that this hour was, perhaps, the most -momentous in his life. The money was before him, and he could not keep -his eyes from it. It meant so much! It seemed to speak to him, to say, -"Life or death to your beloved wife. Reject me, and you know what will -follow." All his efforts to bring himself to a calm reflection of the -position were unavailing. He could not reason, he could not argue with -himself. The question to be answered was not whether it would be right -to take a child born of Christian parents into his house, to bring her -up as one of a Jewish family, but whether his dear wife was to live or -die. And he was the judge, and if he bade his friend take the money -back he would be the executioner. Of what value then would life be to -him? Devout and full of faith as he was, he still, in this dread -crisis, was of the earth earthy. His heart was torn with love's agony. - -The means of redemption were within his reach. Why should he not avail -himself of them? - -Rachel enjoyed life for the pleasure it gave her; stricken with -blindness as she was, he knew that she would still enjoy it, and that -she would shed comfort and happiness upon all who came in contact with -her. Was it for him to snap the cord, to say, "You shall no longer -enjoy; you shall no longer bestow happiness upon others; you shall no -longer live to lighten the trouble of many suffering mortals, to shed -light and sweetness in many homes"? Was this the way to prove his love -for her? No, he would not shut the door of earthly salvation which had -been so providentially opened to him; he would not pronounce a -sentence of death against the dear woman he had sworn to love and -cherish. - -Aaron was not aware that in the view he was taking he was calling to -his aid only these personal and sympathetic affections which bound him -and Rachel together and that out of a common, human selfishness he was -thrusting from the scale the purely moral and religious obligations -which usually played so large a part in his conduct of life. In this -dark hour love was supreme and held him in its thrall; in this dark -hour he was intensely and completely human; in this dark hour the soft -breathing of a feeble woman was more potent than the sound of angels' -trumpets from the Throne of Grace, the sight of a white, worn face -more powerful than that of a flaming sword of justice in the skies. - -He had arrived at a decision; he would receive the child of strangers -into his home. - -Before going to the Salutation Hotel to make the announcement to Mr. -Moss he would see that his wife was sleeping, and not likely to awake -during his brief absence from the house. The doctor had assured him -that she would sleep for twelve hours, and he had full confidence in -the assurance; but he must look upon her face once more before he left -her even for a few minutes. - -He stood at her bedside; she was sleeping peacefully and soundly; her -countenance was now calm and untroubled, and Aaron believed that he -saw in it an indication of returning health. Certainly the rest she -was enjoying was doing her good. He stooped and kissed her, and she -did not stir; her sweet breath fanned his cheeks. Then he turned his -eyes upon his child. And as he gazed upon the infant in its white -dress a terror for which there is no name stole into his heart. Why -was the babe so still and white? Like a marble statue she lay, bereft -of life and motion. He put his ear to her lips--not a breath escaped -them; he laid his hand upon her heart--not the faintest flutter of a -pulse was there. With feverish haste he lifted the little hand, the -head, the body, and for all the response he received he might have -been handling an image of stone. Gradually the truth forced itself -upon him. The young soul had gone to its Maker. His child was dead! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. -THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. - - -"If our child lives there is hope that my wife will live?" - -"A strong hope; I speak with confidence." - -"And if our child dies?" - -"The mother will die." - -No voice was speaking in the chamber of death, but Aaron heard again -these words which had passed between the doctor and himself. If the -child lived the mother would live; if the child died the mother would -die. - -A black darkness fell upon his soul. His mind, his soul, every -principle of his being, was engulfed in the one despairing thought -that Rachel was doomed, that although she was sleeping peacefully -before his eyes, death would be her portion when she awoke to the fact -that her babe had been taken from her. - -"If when she wakes all is well with the child all will be well with -her." - -The spiritual echo of the doctor's words, uttered but a few hours ago. -He heard them as clearly as he had heard the others. - -How to avert the threatened doom? How to save his Rachel's life? -Prayer would not avail, or he would have flown to it instinctively. It -was not that he asked himself the question, or that in his agony he -doubted or believed in the efficacy of prayer. It may be, indeed, that -he evaded it, for already a strange and terrible temptation was -invading the fortress of his soul. To save the life of his beloved was -he ready to commit a sin? What was the true interpretation of sin? A -perpetrated act which would benefit one human being to the injury of -another. Then if an act were perpetrated which would insure the -happiness and well-doing not of one human creature but of three, and -would inflict injury upon no living soul, that act was not a sin. -Unmistakably not a sin. But if this were really so, wherefore the -necessity for impressing it upon himself? The conviction that he was -acting justly in this hour of woe--that the contemplated act was not -open to doubt in a moral or religious sense--was in itself sufficient. -Wherefore, then, the iteration that it was not a sin? - -He could not think the matter out in the presence of Rachel and of his -dead child. He stole down to his room, and gave himself up to -reflection. He turned down the gas almost to vanishing point, and -stood in the dark, now thinking in silence, now uttering his thoughts -aloud. - -A friend had come to him and begged him to receive into his household -a babe, a girl, of the same age as his own babe lying dead in the room -above. She was deserted, friendless, alone. All natural claims had -been abandoned, and the infant was thrown upon the world, without -parents, without kith or kin. Even while he believed his own child to -be alive he had decided to accept the trust. Why should he hesitate -now that his child was dead? It was almost like a miraculous -interposition, or so he chose to present it to himself. - -"Even as we spoke together," he said aloud, "my child had passed away. -Even as I hesitated the messenger was urging me to accept the trust. -It was as if an angel had presented himself, and said, 'The life of -your beloved hangs upon the life of a babe, and the Eternal has called -her child to him. Here is another to take her place. The mother will -not know; she is blind, and has never seen the face of her babe, has -scarcely heard its voice. To-morrow she lives or dies--it is the -critical day in her existence--and whether she lives or dies rests -with you, and with you alone. Science is powerless to help her in the -hour of her trial; love alone will lift her into life, into joy, into -happiness; and upon you lies the responsibility. It is for you to -pronounce the sentence--life or death for your beloved, life or death -for a good woman who, if you do not harden your heart, will shed peace -and blessings upon all around her. Embrace the gift that God has -offered you. Allow no small scruples to drive you from the duty of -love.' Yes," cried Aaron in a louder tone, "it was as if an angel -spoke. Rachel shall live." - -If there was sophistry in this reasoning he did not see it; but the -still, small voice whispered: - -"It is a deception you are about to practice. You are about to place -in your wife's arms a child that is not of her blood or yours. You are -about to take a Christian babe to your heart, to rear and instruct her -as if she were born in the old and sacred faith that has survived long -centuries of suffering and oppression. Can you justify it?" - -"Love justifies it," he answered. "The good that will spring from it -justifies it. A sweet and ennobling life will be saved. My own life -will be made the better for it, for without my beloved I should be -lost, I should be lost!" - -Again the voice: "It is of yourself you are thinking." - -"And if I am?" he answered. "If our lives are so interwoven that one -would be useless and broken without the other, where is the sin?" - -Again the voice: "Ah, the sin! You have pronounced the word. Remember, -it is a sin of commission." - -"I know it," he said, "and I can justify it--and if need arise I can -atone for it in the future. The child will be reared in a virtuous -home, and will have a good woman for a mother. With such an example -before her she cannot fail to grow into a bright and useful womanhood. -I pluck her from the doubtful possibilities which might otherwise -attend her; no word of reproach will ever reach her ears; she will -live in ignorance of the sad circumstances of her birth. Is all this -nothing? Will it not weigh in the balance?" - -Again the voice: "It is much, and the child is fortunate to fall into -the hands of such protectors. But, I repeat, in using these arguments -you are not thinking of the child; you think only of yourself." - -"It is not so," he said; "not alone of myself am I thinking. I am the -arbiter of my wife's earthly destiny. Having the opportunity of -rescuing her from death, what would my future life be if I stand idly -by and see her die before my eyes? Do you ask of me that I shall be -her executioner? The heart of the Eternal is filled with love; he -bestows upon us the gift of love as our divinest consolation. He has -bestowed it upon me in its sweetest form. Shall I lightly throw away -the gift and do a double wrong--to the child that needs a home, to the -woman whose fate is in my hands? Afflict me no longer; I am resolved, -and am doing what I believe to be right in the sight of the Most -High." - -The voice was silent and spake no more. - -Aaron turned up the gas, gathered the money which Mr. Moss had left -upon the table, and quietly left the house. As he approached the -Salutation Hotel, which was situated at but a short distance, he saw -the light of Mr. Moss' cigar in the street. That gentleman was walking -to and fro, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his friend. - -"You are here, Cohen," he cried, "and the hour has barely passed! In -order that absolute secrecy should be preserved I thought it best to -wait outside for you. You have decided?" - -"I have decided," said Aaron; "I will receive the child." - -"Good, good, good," said Mr. Moss, his eyes beaming with satisfaction. -"You are acting like a sensible man, and you have lifted yourself out -of your difficulties. I cannot tell you how glad you make me, for I -take a real interest in you, a real interest. Remain here; I will -bring the babe, and we will walk together to your house. It is well -wrapped up, and we will walk quickly, to protect it from the night -air. I shall not be a minute." - -He darted into the hotel, and soon returned, with the babe in his -arms. Upon Aaron's offering to take the child from him he said gayly: - -"No, no, Cohen; I am more used to carrying babies than you. When you -have a dozen of them, like me, I will admit that we are equal; but not -till then, not till then." - -Although his joyous tones jarred upon Aaron, he made no remark, and -they proceeded to Aaron's house, Mr. Moss being the loquacious one on -the road. - -"The woman I brought with me does not know, does not suspect, where -the child is going to, so we are safe. She goes back to Portsmouth -to-night; I shall remain till the morning. The baby is fast asleep. -What would the world be without children? Did you ever think of that, -Cohen? It would not be worth living in. A home without children--I -cannot imagine it. When I see a childless woman I pity her from my -heart. They try to make up for it with a cat or a dog, but it's a poor -substitute, a poor substitute. If I had no children I would adopt one -or two--yes, indeed. There is a happy future before this child; if she -but knew, if she could speak, her voice would ring out a song of -praise." - -When they arrived at the house Aaron left Mr. Moss in the room below, -and ran up to ascertain if Rachel had been disturbed. She had not -moved since he last quitted the room, and an expression of profound -peace was settling on her face. His own child lay white and still; a -heavy sigh escaped him as he gazed upon the inanimate tiny form. He -closed the door softly, and rejoined his friend. - -"I will not stay with you, Cohen," said Mr. Moss; "you will have -enough to do. To-morrow you must get a woman to assist in the house. -You have the fifty pounds safe?" - -Aaron nodded. - -"I have some more money to give you, twenty-five pounds, three months' -payment in advance of the allowance to be made to you for the rearing -of the child. Here it is, and here, also, is the address of the London -lawyers, who will remit to you regularly at the commencement of every -quarter. I shall not leave Gosport till eleven in the morning, and if -you have anything to say to me I shall be at the Salutation till that -hour. Good-night, Cohen; I wish you happiness and good fortune." - -Alone with the babe, who lay on the sofa, which had been drawn up to -the fire, Aaron stood face to face with the solemn responsibility he -had taken upon himself, and with the still more solemn deception to -which he was pledged. For a while he hardly dared to uncover the face -of the sleeping child, but time was precious, and he nerved himself to -the necessity. He sat on the sofa, and gently removed the wrappings -which had protected the child from the cold night, but had not impeded -its powers of respiration. - -A feeling of awe stole upon him; the child he was gazing on might have -been his own dead child, so startling was the resemblance between -them. There was a little hair upon the pretty head, as there was upon -the head of his dead babe; it was dark, as hers was; there was a -singular resemblance in the features of the children; the limbs, the -feet, the little baby hands, the pouting mouth, might have been cast -in the same mold. The subtle instinct of a mother's love would have -enabled her to know instinctively which of the two was her own babe, -but it would be necessary for that mother to be blessed with sight -before she could arrive at her unerring conclusion. A father could be -easily deceived, and the tender age of the children would have been an -important--perhaps the chief--factor in doubt. "Surely," Aaron thought -as he contemplated the sleeping babe, "this is a sign that I am acting -rightly." Men less devout than he might have regarded it as a divine -interposition. - -The next hour was occupied in necessary details which had not hitherto -occurred to him. The clothing of the children had to be exchanged. It -was done; the dead was arrayed as the living, the living as the dead. -Mere words are powerless to express Aaron's feelings as he performed -this task, and when he placed the living, breathing babe in the bed in -which Rachel lay, and took his own dead child to an adjoining room and -laid it in his own bed, scalding tears ran down his cheeks. "God -forgive me, God forgive me!" he murmured again and again. He knelt by -Rachel's bed and buried his face in his hands. He had committed -himself to the deception; there was no retreat now. For weal or woe -the deed was done. - -And there was so much yet to do--so much that he had not thought of! -Each false step he was taking was leading to another as false as that -which preceded it. But if the end justified the means--if he did not -betray himself--if Rachel, awaking, suspected nothing, and heard the -voice of the babe by her side, without suspecting that it was not her -own, why, then, all would be well! And all through his life, to his -last hour, he would endeavor to make atonement for his sin. He -inwardly acknowledged it now, without attempting to gloss it over. It -was a sin; though good would spring from it, though a blessing might -attend it, the act was sinful. - -His painful musings were arrested by a knock at the street door. With -a guilty start he rose to his feet and gazed around with fear in his -eyes. What did the knock portend? Was it in some dread way connected -with his doings? The thought was harrowing. But presently he -straightened himself, set his lips firmly, and went downstairs to -attend to the summons. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. -PLUCKED FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH. - - -Mr. Moss stood at the street door, bearing in his arms the little iron -safe which Dr. Spenlove, at the intercession of the mother who had -consented to part with her child, had intrusted to him. - -"In my excitement, Cohen," he commenced before Aaron could speak, -"something slipped my memory when we were talking together. I rapped -softly at first, fearing to disturb Rachel, but no one answering, I -had to use the knocker. I hope I have not disturbed her." - -"She is sleeping peacefully," replied Aaron, "and is taking a turn for -the better, I am thankful to say. To-morrow, I trust, all danger will -be over. Come in." - -He closed the door gently, and they entered the parlor. - -"I have come back about this little safe," said Mr. Moss, depositing -it on the table; "it belongs to the task I undertook. The mother of -the babe made it a stipulation that whoever had the care of the child -should receive the safe, and hold it in trust for her until she -claimed it." - -"But I understood," said Aaron in apprehension, "that the mother had -no intention of claiming her child." - -"In a certain sense that is a fact. Don't look worried; there is no -fear of any trouble in the future; only she made it a condition that -the safe should go with the child, and that, when the girl was -twenty-one years of age, it should be given to her in case the mother -did not make her appearance and claim the property. It stands this -way, Cohen: The mother took into consideration the chance that the -gentleman she is marrying may die before her, in which event she -stipulated that she should be free to seek her child. That is -reasonable, is it not?" - -"Quite reasonable." - -"And natural?" - -"Quite natural. But I should have been informed of it." - -"It escaped me--it really escaped me, Cohen; and what difference can -it make? It is only a mother's fancy." - -"Yes, only a mother's fancy." - -"I'll lay a thousand to one you never hear anything more about it. Put -the box away, and don't give it another thought." - -Aaron lifted it from the table. - -"It is heavy, Mr. Moss." - -"Yes, it is heavy." - -"Do you know what it contains?" - -"I haven't the slightest idea." - -"It must be something that the mother sets store on--jewels, perhaps." - -"Nothing more unlikely. The poor woman didn't have a shilling to bless -herself with. I shouldn't trouble about it if I were you." - -"I have gone too far," said Aaron, sighing; "I cannot retreat." - -"It would be madness to dream of such a thing. Remember what depends -upon it. Cohen, in case anything occurs I think I ought to tell you -what has been passing in my mind." - -"In case anything occurs!" repeated Aaron in a hollow tone, and with a -startled look. - -"The poor child," continued Mr. Moss, "has had a hard time of it. We -almost dug her out of the snow last night; the exposure was enough to -kill an infant of tender years, and there's no saying what effect it -may have upon her. If it had been a child of my own I should be -alarmed for the consequences, and I should scarcely expect her to live -through it." Aaron gasped. "The idea distresses you, but we must -always take the human view. Should she not survive no one can be -blamed for it. How is your own dear little girl?" - -"She is well," replied Aaron mechanically. He passed his hand across -his eyes despairingly. - -"Good-night again," said Mr. Moss. "I have sent my telegram to the -London lawyers. Don't forget that I shall be at the Salutation till -eleven in the morning." - -It was not only the incident of the iron safe that Mr. Moss in the -first instance had omitted to impart to Aaron. In the agreement -formulated by Mr. Gordon there was an undertaking that in the event of -the child's death, or of her marriage if she grew to womanhood, the -lawyers were to pay the sum of five hundred pounds to the person into -whose home the child was received. Mr. Moss had not mentioned this, -and Aaron was in consequence ignorant of the fact. Had he been aware -of it, is it likely that he would have shrunk from carrying out the -scheme inspired by his agony? It is hard to say. During these pregnant -and eventful hours he was dominated by the one overpowering passionate -desire to save the life of his beloved; during these hours all that -was highest and noblest in his nature was deadened by human love. - -There was no rest for him on this night; he did not dare to undress -and seek repose. The moments were too precious; some action had to be -taken, and to be taken soon, and, his mind torn with agony and -remorse, he devoted himself to the consideration of it. In the course -of this mental debate he was plunged at times into the lowest depths -of self-abasement, but the strength of his character and the serious -issues at stake lifted him out of these depths. Ever and anon he crept -into Rachel's room, and derived consolation from the calm sleep she -was enjoying. The doctor's prognostications of returning health seemed -to be on the point of realization; when she awoke in the morning and -clasped her child to her bosom, and heard its sweet voice, all would -be well with her. What need, then, for further justification? - -But his further action must be decided upon and carried out before -Rachel awoke. And it was imperative that she should be kept in -ignorance of what had taken place. On no account must it be revealed -to her that he had taken a strange child into the house, and that it -had died there within a few hours. In her delicate state the news -might be fatal. - -Gradually all that it was necessary for him to do unfolded itself, and -was mentally arranged in consecutive order. He waited till three -o'clock, and then he went from his house to the Salutation Hotel. The -night porter, half asleep, was in attendance, and after some demur he -conducted Aaron to Mr. Moss' sleeping apartment. - -"Who is there?" cried Mr. Moss, aroused by the knocking at his door. - -"It is I," replied Aaron. "I must speak to you at once." - -Mr. Moss jumped from bed. - -"Is it all right, sir?" asked the night porter. - -"Of course it is all right," said Mr. Moss, opening the door, and -admitting his visitor. - -The night porter returned to his duties, and fell into a doze. - -"What brings you here at this time of night?" exclaimed Mr. Moss, and -then, seeing the distress in Aaron's face, "Good God! It is not about -Rachel?" - -"No, it is not about Rachel; it is bad enough, but not so bad as that. -How shall I tell you--how shall I tell you?" - -"Stop a moment," said Mr. Moss. "I ordered half a bottle of port -before I went out, and there is a glass or two left. Drink this." - -The wine gave Aaron courage to proceed with his task. - -"I have dreadful news to tell you," he said, putting down the glass. - -"I guess it," interrupted Mr. Moss. "The child!" - -"Yes," answered Aaron, with averted eyes, "the child." - -"Is she very ill?" - -"Mr. Moss, the child is dead." - -"Heavens!" cried Mr. Moss, slipping into his clothes as fast as he -could. "What a calamity! But at the same time, Cohen, what a release! -Tell me all about it. Does Rachel know?" - -"Rachel does not know. She is still sleeping, and she must not know. -It would kill her--it would kill her!" - -"I see the necessity, Cohen; it must be kept from her, and I think I -see how it can be managed. It is a fortunate thing that the woman who -accompanied me here with the poor child has not returned to -Portsmouth, as I bade her. She met with some friends in Gosport, who -persuaded her to stop the night, and she was going back with me in the -morning. I promised to call for her, but she will have to remain here -now till the child is buried. She will not mind, because it will be -something in her pocket. A sad ending, Cohen, a sad ending, but I -feared it. Did I not prophesy it? What else was to be expected after -last night's adventure? But you have not told me how it occurred." - -"It was very simple," said Aaron in a low tone. "I laid the child in -my own bed, intending to call in a woman as soon after daylight as -possible to attend it till Rachel was well and able to get about. She -seemed to be asleep, and was in no pain. I determined not to go to -bed, but to keep up all night, to attend to the little one, and to -Rachel and my own child. Bear with me, Mr. Moss, I am unstrung." - -"No wonder. Take time, Cohen, take time." - -"Now and again I went to look at the child, and observed nothing to -alarm me. An hour ago I closed my eyes, and must have slept; I was -tired out. When I awoke I went upstairs, and was startled by a strange -stillness in the child. I lifted her in my arms. Mr. Moss, she was -dead. I came to you at once to advise me what to do. You must help me, -Mr. Moss; my dear Rachel's life hangs upon it. You know how sensitive -she is; and the doctor has warned me that a sudden shock might be -fatal." - -"I will help you, Cohen, of course I will help you; it is my duty, -because it is I who have brought this trouble upon you. But I did it -with the best intentions. I see a way out of the difficulty. The woman -I employed--how fortunate, how fortunate that she is still here!--is a -godsend to us. She is a kind-hearted creature, and she will be sorry -to hear of the child's death, but at the same time she is poor and -will be glad to earn a sovereign. A doctor must see the child, to -testify that she died a natural death. She must have passed away in -her sleep." - -"She did. Is it necessary that the doctor should visit my house in -order to see the child?" - -"Not at all. I have everything planned in my mind. Now I am ready to -go out. First, to the telegraph office--it is open all night here--to -dispatch a telegram to the London lawyers to send a representative -down immediately, who, when he comes, will take the affair out of our -hands, I expect. Afterward to the house of the woman's friends; she -must accompany us to your house, and we will take the child away -before daylight. Then we will call in a doctor, and nothing need reach -Rachel's ears. Don't take it to heart, Cohen; you have troubles enough -of your own. The news you give me of Rachel is the best of news. Joy -and sorrow, Cohen--how close they are together!" - -In the telegraph office Mr. Moss wrote a long message to Mr. Gordon's -lawyers, impressing upon them the necessity of sending a -representative without delay to take charge of the body, and to attend -to the funeral arrangements. - -"Between ourselves, Cohen," he said as they walked to the house of the -woman's friends, "the lawyers will be rather glad of the news than -otherwise; and so will Mr. Gordon when it reaches him. It clears the -way for him, in a manner of speaking. I am not sure whether I made the -matter clear to you, but there is no doubt whatever that, so far as -Mr. Gordon is concerned, the child was an encumbrance--to say nothing -of the expense, which perhaps he would not have minded, being almost a -millionaire. But still, as it has turned out, he has got rid of a -difficulty, and he will not be sorry when he hears of it." - -"And the mother," said Aaron--"how will she take it?" - -"That is another matter, and I will not pretend to say. There are -mothers and mothers, and fathers and fathers. We know, Cohen, what we -think of our own children, but there are people in the world with -different ideas from ours. The mother of this little one will feel -grieved at first, no doubt, but she will soon get over it. Then, -perhaps, her husband will not tell her. Here we are at the woman's -house." - -They halted before a small cottage, evidently inhabited by people in -humble circumstances. Before he aroused the inmates Mr. Moss said: - -"I shall keep your name out of the affair, Cohen, but to a certain -extent the woman must be taken into our confidence. Secrecy will be -imposed upon her, and she will be paid for it. Remain in the -background; I will speak to her alone." - -The woman herself came to the door, and when she was dressed Mr. Moss -had a conversation with her, the result of which was that she and the -two men walked to Aaron's house, where she took charge of the dead -child, and carried it to the cottage. Then she went for a doctor--to -Aaron's relief not the doctor who attended his wife--and as there was -no doubt that the child had died a natural death, a certificate to -that effect was given. At six in the morning Aaron returned to Rachel, -and sitting by her bedside, waited for her awakening. The potion she -had taken was to insure sleep for twelve hours; in two hours he would -hear her voice; in two hours she would be caressing a babe to which -she had not given birth. - -It seemed to Aaron as though months had passed since Mr. Moss had -presented himself at his house last night, and for a while it almost -seemed as though, in that brief time, it was not himself who had -played the principal part in this strange human drama, but another -being who had acted for him, and who had made him responsible for an -act which was to color all his future life. But he did not permit -himself to indulge long in this view of what had transpired; he knew -and felt that he, and he alone, was responsible, and that to his dying -day he would be accountable for it. Well, he would bear the burden, -and would, by every means within his power, endeavor to atone for it. -He would keep strict watch over himself; he would never give way to -temptation; he would act justly and honorably; he would check the -hasty word; he would make no enemies; he would be kind and considerate -to all around him. He did not lay the flattering unction to his soul -that in thus sketching his future rule of life he was merely -committing himself to that which he had always followed in the past. -This one act seemed to cast a shadow over all that had gone before; he -had to commence anew. - -At eight o'clock Rachel stirred; she raised her arm and put her hand -to her eyes, blind to all the world, blind to his sin, blind to -everything but love. Then instinctively she drew the babe nearer to -her. A faint cooing issued from the infant's lips, and an expression -of joy overspread the mother's features. This joy found its reflex in -Aaron's heart, but the anxiety under which he labored was not yet -dispelled. Was there some suitable instinct in a mother's love which -would convey to Rachel's sense the agonizing truth that the child she -held in her arms was not her own. - -There was no indication of it. She fondled the child, she suckled it, -the light of heaven shone in her face. - -"Aaron!" - -"My beloved!" - -"Do you hear our child, our dear one? Ah, what happiness!" - -"Thank God!" said Aaron inly. "Oh, God be thanked!" - -"Is it early or late, dear love?" asked Rachel. "It is morning, I -know, for I see the light; I feel it here"--with her hand pressing the -infant's head to her heart. - -"It is eight o'clock, beloved," said Aaron. - -"I have had a long and beautiful sleep. I do not think I have dreamed, -but I have been so happy--so happy! My strength seems to be returning. -I have not felt so well since the night of the fire. Our darling seems -stronger too; it is because I am so much better. I must think of that; -it is a mother's duty to keep well for her child's sake, and, dear -husband, for your sake also. I do not love you less because I love our -child so dearly." - -"I am sure of that, beloved. Should I be jealous of our child? That -would be as foolish as it would be unwise." - -"You speak more cheerfully, Aaron. Is that because of me?" - -"It is because of you, beloved. We both draw life and happiness from -you. Therefore get strong soon." - -"I shall--I feel I shall. My mind is clear; there is no weight on my -heart. Before many days have passed I shall be out of bed, learning my -new duties. Aaron, our child will live!" - -"She will live to bless and comfort us, beloved." - -She passed her hand over his face. "You are crying, Aaron." - -"They are tears of joy, Rachel, at seeing you so much better. A -terrible fear has weighed me down; it is removed, thanks be to the -Eternal! The world was dark till now; I dared not think of the future. -Now all is well." - -"Am I, indeed, so much to you, dear husband?" - -"You are my life. As the sun is to the earth so are you to me." - -The wife, the husband, and the child lay in each other's embrace. - -"God is good," murmured Rachel. "I did so want to live, for you and -for our child! But I feared, I feared; strength seemed to be departing -from me. What will they do, I thought, when I am gone? But God has -laid his hand upon us and blessed us. Praised be his name forever and -ever!" - -"Amen, amen! I have not yet said my morning prayers. It is time." - -She sank back in bed, and he put on his taleth and phylacteries, and -prayed fervently. He did not confine himself to his usual morning -devotions, but sought his book for propitiatory supplications for -forgiveness for transgression. "Forgive us, oh, our Father! for we -have sinned; pardon us, oh, our King! for we have transgressed; for -thou art ever ready to pardon and forgive. Blessed art thou, the -Eternal, who is gracious and doth abundantly pardon." And while he -supplicated forgiveness Rachel lay and sang a song of love. - -His prayers ended, Aaron folded his taleth and wound up his -phylacteries, and resumed his seat by Rachel's bed. - -"While you slept last night, dear love," he said, "a piece of good -fortune fell to my share, through our friend, Mr. Moss. I shall be -able to take a servant in the house." - -"How glad I am!" she answered. "It distressed me greatly to know that -you had everything to attend to yourself. A woman, or a girl, is so -necessary!" - -"There is altogether a brighter outlook for us, Rachel. Do you think -Prissy would do?" - -"She is very handy, and very willing. If you could manage until I can -get up I could soon teach her." - -"I will go, then, and see if she is able to come. You must not mind -being alone a little while." - -"I shall not be alone, dear," said Rachel, with a bright smile at the -child. - -He prepared breakfast for her before he left, and she partook of it -with a keen appetite. Then he went on his mission, and met Mr. Moss -coming to the house. - -"I have had a telegram," said that gentleman, "in reply to mine. A -gentleman will arrive from London this afternoon to attend to matters. -You look brighter." - -"Rachel is much better," said Aaron. - -"You are in luck all round, Cohen. There are men who always fall on -their feet. I'm one of them; you're another. This time yesterday you -were in despair; now you're in clover. Upon my word, I am as glad as -if it had happened to myself. You know one of our sayings: 'Next to me -my wife; next to my wife my child; next to my child my friend.' My -good old father told me it was one of the wise sayings of Rabbi ben--I -forgot who he was the son of. A friend of ours who used to come to our -house said to my father that there was no wisdom and no goodness in -the saying, because the rabbi put himself first, as being of more -consequence than wife and child and friend. My father answered, 'You -are wrong; there is wisdom, there is goodness, there is sense in it. -Self is the greatest of earthly kings. Put yourself in one scale, and -pile up all the world in the other, and you will weigh it down.' He -was right. What comes so close home to us as our own troubles and -sorrows?" - -"Nothing," said Aaron rather sadly; "they outweigh all the rest. We -are all human, and being human, fallible. Can you imagine an instance, -Mr. Moss, where love may lead to crime?" - -"I can, and what is more, I would undertake to justify it. Who is this -little girl?" - -The diversion in the conversation was caused by Prissy, who had run to -Aaron, and was plucking at his coat. - -"A good girl who attends to our Sabbath lights." - -"'Ow's missis, please, sir?" inquired Prissy anxiously. - -"Much better this morning, thank you." - -"And the babby, sir?" - -"Also better and stronger, Prissy." Prissy jumped up and down in -delight. "I was coming to see you. Do you think your aunt would let -you come to us as a regular servant, to live and eat and sleep in the -house." - -This vision of happiness almost took Prissy's breath away, but she -managed to reply, "If yer'd make it worth 'er while she would, Mr. -Cohen. She's allus telling me I'm taking the bread out of 'er mouth, -and aint worth my salt. Oh, Mr. Cohen, _will_ yer take me, _will_ yer? -I don't care where I sleep, I don't care wot yer give me to eat, I'll -work for yer day and night, I will! Aunty makes my life a misery, she -does, and I've lost Wictoria Rejiner, sir. She's got another nuss, and -I aint got nobody to care for now. Aunty sed this morning I was a -reg'lar pest, and she wished she could sell me at so much a pound." - -"You don't weigh a great deal," said Aaron, gazing at Prissy in pity, -and then, with a touch of his old humor, "How much a pound do you -think she would take?" - -"Come and arks 'er, Mr. Cohen, come and arks 'er," cried Prissy, -running before Aaron, and looking back imploringly at him. - -He and Mr. Moss followed the girl into the presence of Prissy's aunt, -and although he did not buy Prissy by the pound weight, he made a -bargain with the woman, and by the outlay of five shillings secured -the girl's permanent services, it being understood that she was not to -take her niece away without Prissy's consent. As they walked back to -Aaron's house he spoke to Prissy about wages, but the girl, who felt -as if heaven's gates had opened for her to enter, interrupted him by -saying: - -"Don't talk about wages, sir, please don't. I don't want no wages. -Give me a frock and a bone, and I'll work the skin off my fingers for -yer, I will!" - -Extravagant as were her professions, never was a poor girl more in -earnest than Prissy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. -THE CURTAIN FALLS. - - -Mr. Moss and Aaron spent the greater part of the day together, -awaiting the arrival of Mr. Gordon's legal representative. The doctor -who attended Rachel called only once, and gave a good report of her -condition. - -"The crisis is over," he said to Aaron. "Your wife and child will -live. In a few days Mrs. Cohen will be strong enough to be removed, -and I advise that you take her away without delay to the south of -France, where, before spring, her health will be completely -re-established." - -It was not until the doctor had departed that the question presented -itself to Aaron whether he had any right to the fifty pounds he had -received from Mr. Moss. He was clear as to the second sum of -twenty-five pounds; that must be returned. He wished Mr. Moss to take -it back, but that gentleman would have nothing to do with it; and as -to Aaron's right to retain the fifty pounds he entertained no doubt. - -"It is undisputably yours," he said; "it was handed to me by Mr. -Gordon himself for a specific purpose, and I look upon it as a -retaining fee. No lawyer returns such a fee when the case breaks down. -Understand, please, Cohen, that I am no longer acting in the affair. -It rests now between you and the lawyers." - -Late in the afternoon Mr. Moss went to the railway station to meet the -lawyer, and the two proceeded together to the house where the dead -child lay. Arrangements for the funeral were made, and then Mr. Moss -conducted the lawyer, whose name was Chesterman, to Aaron's house. - -"Mr. Chesterman has something to say to you, Cohen," he said; "I will -leave you together." He took Aaron aside. "It is something of great -importance, a wonderful stroke of fortune. Don't throw it away. It -will be the making of you--and remember Rachel." - -"Mr. Moss," commenced Mr. Chesterman when he and Aaron were alone, -"has related to me all that has occurred. In a general sense the death -of the child is to be regretted, as would be the death of any person, -old or young, but there are peculiar circumstances in this case which -render this visitation of God a relief to certain parties. It removes -all difficulties from the future, and there is now no likelihood of -our client's plans being hampered or interfered with. You are aware -that he is a gentleman of fortune." - -"I have been so informed." - -"You may not be aware, however, that he is a gentleman of very decided -views, and that he is not to be turned from any resolution he may have -formed. We lawyers have to deal with clients of very different -temperaments, and when a case is submitted to us by a strong-minded -gentleman we may advise, but we may not waste time in arguing. I -understand from Mr. Moss that you have some scruples with respect to -the money you have received from him?" - -"I wish to know whether I may consider the first sum of fifty pounds -mine; I have my doubts about it. As to the second sum of twenty-five -pounds paid in advance for the rearing of the child I have no doubt -whatever." - -"We have nothing to do with either of those sums; they do not come -from us, but independently from our client to Mr. Moss, and from Mr. -Moss to you. Without being consulted professionally, I agree with Mr. -Moss that the fifty pounds are yours. I offer no opinion upon the -second sum." - -"If you will give me your client's address I will communicate with -him." - -"We cannot disclose it to you; it is confided to us professionally, -and our instructions are to keep it secret." - -"You can give him my name and address." - -"No. His stipulation is that it is not to be made known to him. If at -any time he asks us voluntarily for it that is another matter, and I -will make a note of it. The special purpose of my visit is to complete -and carry out to the last letter our client's instructions. The -conditions to which he bound himself were very liberal. With a -generous desire for the child's welfare in the event of her living and -marrying, he placed in our hands the sum of five hundred pounds as a -marriage dowry, to be paid over to her on her wedding day." - -"A noble-minded gentleman," said Aaron. - -Mr. Chesterman smiled. "Different people, different temperaments. In -the event of the child's death this five hundred pounds was to be paid -over to the party or parties who undertook the charge of her. The -child is dead; the five hundred pounds is to be paid over to you." - -"But, sir," said Aaron in astonishment, "do you not understand that I -cannot accept this money?" - -"It is not for us to understand; it is for us to carry out -instructions. I have brought the sum with me, and all I have to do is -to hand it over to you, and to take your receipt for it. Mr. Moss -hinted to me that you might raise objections; my reply was, Nonsense. -The money belongs to you by legal and moral right, and I decline to -listen to objections. If it is any satisfaction to you I may tell you -that our client can well afford to pay it, and that by its early -payment he is a considerable gainer, for he is no longer under the -obligation to pay a hundred a year for the child's maintenance. Here -is the receipt legally drawn out; oblige me by signing it." - -It was in vain for Aaron to protest; the lawyer insisted, and at -length, fearing the consequences of a decided refusal, Aaron put his -name to the paper. - -"Our business being concluded," said Mr. Chesterman, rising, "I have -the pleasure of wishing you good-day. Should in the future any -necessity for the statement arise I shall not hesitate to declare that -the child was placed in the care of an honorable gentleman who would -have faithfully performed his duty toward her." - -"God forgive me," said Aaron when his visitor was gone, "for the sin I -have committed! God help me to atone for it!" - -But he would have been less than human had he not felt grateful that -the means were placed in his hands to restore his beloved wife to -health and strength. Before a week had passed he and Rachel and the -child, accompanied by Prissy, were travelers to a milder clime. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. -AFTER MANY YEARS. - -A man upon whose face all that is noble and steadfast seems to have -set its seal, to give the world assurance that here was one who, had -his lot been so cast, would have ruled over men with justice, truth, -and honor. He is of a goodly height, and his features are large and -clearly defined. A sensitive, resolute mouth, calm, well-proportioned -lips, which close without restraint and are eloquent even when the -tongue is silent, a nose gently arched, with curved, indented -nostrils, a massive forehead, almost oval at the top, and with -projecting lower arches, the eyebrows near to the large brown -eyes, the chin and cheeks clothed in a handsome beard, in which -gray hairs are making themselves manifest. Powerful, benignant, and -self-possessed as is his appearance, there is an underlying sadness in -his eyes which could be variously construed--as born of a large -experience of human ways, and of the errors into which mortals are -prone to fall, or, maybe, of an ever-abiding remembrance of one moment -in his own life when he also was tempted and fell. But no such thought -as the latter ever entered the minds of those who knew him personally -and those who judged him by the repute he bore, which could only have -been earned by a man who walked unflinchingly and unerringly in the -straight path, and was just and merciful to all who came in contact -with him. This is Aaron Cohen, now close upon his fiftieth year. - -A woman whose tranquil eyes never see the light of day, but in which, -nevertheless, there is no sign of repining or regret. Purity and -sweetness dwell in her face, and as she stands motionless, in a -listening attitude, her white hand resting on the table, no more -exquisite representation of peace and universal love and sympathy -could be found in living form or marble statue. She is fair almost to -whiteness, and although her figure is slight and there is no color in -her cheeks, she is in perfect health--only that sometimes during the -day she closes her eyes and sleeps in her armchair for a few minutes. -In those intervals of unconsciousness, and when she seeks her couch, -she sees fairer pictures, perhaps, than if the wonders of the visible -world were an open book to her. Her dreams are inspired by a soul of -goodness, and her husband's heart, as he gazes upon her in her -unconscious hours, is always stirred to prayer and thankfulness that -she is by his side to bless his days. Not only in the house is her -influence felt. She is indefatigable in her efforts to seek out -deserving cases of distress and to relieve them; and she does not -confine her charity to those of her faith. In this regard Jew and -Christian are alike to her, and not a week passes that she does not -plant in some poor home a seed which grows into a flower to gladden -and cheer the hearts of the unfortunate and suffering. Grateful eyes -follow her movements, and a blessing is shed upon her as she departs. -A ministering angel is she, whose words are balm, whose presence -brings sweet life into dark spaces. So might an invisible herald of -the Lord walk the earth, healing the sick, lifting up the fallen, -laying his hand upon the wounded breast, and whispering to all: "Be -comforted. God has heard your prayers, and has sent me to relieve -you." This is Rachel Cohen, Aaron's wife, in her forty-fourth year. - -A younger woman, in her springtime, with life's fairest pages spread -before her. Darker than Rachel is she, with darker hair and eyes and -complexion, slim, graceful, and beautiful. It is impossible that she -should not have felt the influence of the home in which she has been -reared, and that she should not be the better for it, for it is a home -in which the domestic affections unceasingly display themselves in -their tenderest aspect, in which the purest and most ennobling lessons -of life are inculcated by precept and practice; but a profound student -of human nature, whose keen insight would enable him to plumb the -depths of passion, to detect what lay beneath the surface, to trace -the probable course of the psychological inheritance which all parents -transmit to their children, would have come to the conclusion that in -this fair young creature were instincts and promptings which were -likely one day to give forth a discordant note in this abode of peace -and love, and to break into rebellion. There is no outward indication -of such possible rebellion. To the friends and acquaintances of the -household she is a lovely and gracious Jewish maiden, who shall in -time become a mother in Judah. This is Ruth Cohen, in the eyes of all -the world the daughter of Aaron and Rachel. - -A young man, Ruth's junior by a year, with his father's strength of -character and his mother's sweetness of disposition. He is, as yet, -too young for the full development of this rare combination of -qualities, the outcome of which is to be made manifest in the future, -but he is not too young to win love and respect. His love for his -parents is ardent, his faith in them indelible. To him his mother is a -saint, his father a man without blemish. Were he asked to express his -most earnest wishes he would answer, "When I am my father's age may I -be honored as he is; when I marry may my wife be as my mother is." -This is Joseph Cohen, the one other child of Aaron and Rachel. - -A tall ungainly woman of thirty, working like a willing slave from -morning to night, taking pride and pleasure in the home, and -metaphorically prostrating herself before everyone who lives beneath -its roof. Esteemed and valued by her master and mistress, for whom she -is ready to sacrifice herself, and to undergo any privation; -especially watchful of her mistress, and tender toward her; jealous of -the good name of those whom she serves with devotion. This is Prissy, -the ever true, the ever faithful. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. -THE FOUNDATION OF AARON'S FORTUNE. - - -Eventful indeed to Aaron Cohen had been the twenty years since he left -Gosport. In the south of France, where they remained for a much longer -time than he intended, Rachel was restored to health, and Aaron had -the joy of seeing her move happily about the house and garden, and of -hearing her sing to her baby the songs and lullabys which, from a -mother's lips, are so fraught with melodious and tender meaning. It -almost seemed as if she had inward cause for thankfulness that -blindness had fallen upon her, for Aaron had never known her to be so -blithe and lighthearted as during those weeks of returning health. -Prissy was invaluable to them, and proved to be a veritable treasure. -The short time it took her to learn her duties, the swiftness and -eagerness with which they were performed, the delight she took in the -babe, who soon replaced Victoria Regina in her affections, and the -care and skill with which she guided her mistress' movements, amazed -Aaron. He had divined from the first that she was a shrewd, clever -girl, and he had the satisfaction of discovering that she was much -cleverer than he would have ventured to give her credit for. She was -tidier in her dress, too, and never presented herself unless she was -clean and neat. She became, in a sense, her mistress' teacher, and -Rachel was so apt a pupil that Aaron's apprehensions that she would -meet with an accident if she moved too freely about were soon -dispelled. - -"Is it not wonderful, love?" she said. "I think I must have eyes at -the tips of my fingers. But it is Prissy I have to thank for it." - -She repaid the girl, be sure. Gradually Prissy's mode of expressing -herself underwent improvement; she did not use so many negatives, she -dropped fewer h's, she learned to distinguish between g's and k's, and -Aaron himself laid the first stone in her education by teaching her -the A B C. One thing Prissy would not learn; she obstinately refused -to have anything to do with the French language. She did make a -commencement, but when she was told that _chou_ (she scornfully turned -her back on _du_) was cabbage it was the last straw. "In course we -choo," she said; "wot do we put things in our mouth for?" She had -previously shied at _pain_, declaring that bread was pleasure. English -was good enough for her, she declared, and to the English tongue she -nailed her colors. Fond as she was of babies, she would not -countenance French babies, and said it was a shame to dress them so. -"I'm a troo bloo, sir," she said to Aaron; "please don't force me." -And with a hearty laugh he desisted. - -He himself spoke French fluently, and to this may be ascribed the -first change in his fortunes. Easy in his mind respecting Rachel, easy -respecting money, he found himself at leisure to look about him and -observe. He made friends, and among them a poor French engineer of -great skill. In conversation one day this engineer mentioned that -tenders were invited for the construction of a local bridge. It was -not a very important matter; the lake it was to span was of no great -dimensions, and the bridge required was by no means formidable. - -"There are only two contractors who will tender for it," said the -engineer, "and they are in each other's confidence. They will settle -privately the amount of their separate tenders, and the lowest will -obtain the contract. They will divide the profits between them. If I -had a little money to commence with I would tender for the work, and -my tender would be at least ten thousand francs below theirs. Then it -would be I who would construct the bridge, and public money would be -saved." - -"What would be your profit?" asked Aaron. - -"Twenty thousand francs," was the reply, "perhaps more." - -"And the amount of your tender?" - -"Eighty thousand francs. I have the plans and specifications, and -every detail of expense for material and labor, in my house. Will you -come and look over them?" - -Aaron examined them, and submitting them to the test of inquiry -as to the cost of labor and material, found them to be correct. A -simple-minded man might have been taken in by a schemer who had -prepared complicated figures for the purpose of trading with another -person's money, and standing the chance of losing or winning; but -Aaron was not simple-minded, the poor engineer was not a schemer, and -the figures were honestly set down. - -"It would not need a great amount of money," said the engineer. "If a -certain sum were deposited in the bank a further sum could be raised -upon the signed contract being given as security, and moreover, as the -work proceeds, specified payments will be made by the local -authorities." - -"How much would be required to commence operations, and to make -everything safe?" - -"Ten thousand francs." - -Roughly, that was four hundred pounds. The five hundred pounds he had -received from the lawyers were as yet untouched, for they lived very -economically, and they were in a part of the world where thrift was -part of the people's education. Aaron believed the project to be safe. - -"If I advance it?" he asked. - -"We would make it a partnership affair," replied the poor engineer -eagerly. - -Upon that understanding the bridge was tendered for, and the tender -accepted. In four months the work was executed and passed by the -inspectors; they received the balance due to them, and a division of -the profits was made. After paying all his expenses Aaron was the -richer by two hundred pounds. He gave fifty pounds to the poor, which -raised him in the estimation of the people among whom he was -temporarily sojourning. He had not been idle during the four months -occupied by the building of the bridge; under the guidance of his -partner he had superintended the workmen and undertaken the -correspondence and management of the accounts; and new as these duties -were to him he had shown great intelligence and aptitude. - -"We met on a fortunate day," said the engineer. - -At about this time a new engineering project presented itself. It was -on a larger scale than the first, and the two men, emboldened by their -success, tendered for it. Again did fortune favor them; everybody, -with the exception of rival contractors, was on their side. In the -carrying out of their first contract there had not been a hitch; they -had paid their workmen better wages, they had behaved honestly and -liberally all around, and they had already achieved a reputation. -Moreover, people were talking of Rachel's kindness and of Aaron's -benevolence. Hats were lifted to them, women and children left flowers -at their door; rich was the harvest they gathered for their charity. - -When it was known they had obtained another contract the best workmen -came to them for employment, and they learned what all employers of -labor may learn, that it is wise policy to pay generously for bone and -muscle. The hateful political economy of Ricardo, which would grind -labor down to starvation pittance, could never find lodgment in the -mind of such a man as Aaron Cohen. The new venture was entirely -successful, and being of greater magnitude than the first, the profits -were larger. Aaron was the possessor of two thousand pounds. He gave -two hundred pounds to the poor. He did more than this. The doctor who -had attended Rachel in Gosport had declined to accept a fee, and Aaron -now wrote him a grateful letter, inclosing in it a draught for a -hundred pounds, which he asked the doctor to distribute among the -local charities. That the receipt of this money afforded gratification -to the doctor was evidenced in his reply. "Everyone here," he said, -"has kind words for you and your estimable wife, and the general -feeling is that if you had continued to reside in Gosport it would -have been a source of pleasure to all of us. When I speak of your good -fortune all the townsfolk say, 'We are glad to hear it.'" Thus did -good spring out of evil. - -Aaron felt that his foot was on the ladder. He entered into a three -years' partnership with his friend the engineer, and they executed -many public works, and never had a failure. The justness of their -trading, their consideration for the toilers who were helping to build -up a fortune for them, the honest wages they paid, earned for them an -exceptional reputation for rectitude and fair dealing. In these -matters, and in this direction, Aaron was the guiding spirit. He left -to his partner the technical working out of their operations, and took -himself the control of wages and finance. - -Occasionally there were arguments between him and his partner, the -latter hinting, perhaps, that there was a cheaper market, and that so -much money could be saved by employing such and such middlemen, who -offered to supply labor and material at prices that were not equitable -from the point of view of the toilers and producers. Aaron would not -entertain propositions of this kind. - -"We are doing well," he said, "we are making money, we are harvesting. -Be satisfied." - -His partner gave way; Aaron's character was too strong for resistance. - -"Clean and comfortable homes," said Aaron, "a good education for their -children, a modest enjoyment of the world's pleasures--these are the -laborers' due." - -Hearing of this, some large employers called him quixotic and said he -was ruining trade, but he pursued the just and even tenor of his way, -satisfied that he was a savior and not a spoiler. - -Upon the conclusion of each transaction, when the accounts were -balanced, he devoted a portion of his profits to benevolent purposes, -and he became renowned as a public benefactor. The thanks that were -showered upon him did not please him, but tended rather to humiliate -and humble him; he would not listen to expressions of gratitude; and -it will be presently seen that when he returned to England he took -steps to avoid the publicity which was distasteful to him. - -Meanwhile Rachel throve. She walked with an elastic spring in her -feet, as though in response to nature's greeting, and joy and -happiness accompanied her everywhere. She was profoundly and devoutly -grateful for her husband's better fortune, and daily rendered up -thanks for it to the Giver of all good. She took pleasure in -everything; blind as she was, she enjoyed nature's gifts to the full. -In winter it was extraordinary to hear her describe the aspect of -woods and fields in their white feathery mantle; with deep-drawn -breath she inhaled the fresh cold air, and a glory rested on her face -as she trod the snow-clad paths. - -When she visited the poor on those cold days Prissy accompanied her, -carrying a well-filled basket on her arm. Her sympathy with the sick -and suffering was divine, and in the bleakest hours, when the sky was -overcast and the light was hidden from shivering mortals, she was the -herald of sunshine. A priest met her on one of these journeys, and -gave her good-day. - -"Good-day, father," she said. - -"You know me!" he exclaimed, surprised. - -"I heard your voice a fortnight ago," she replied, "in the cottage I -am going to now, and I never forget a voice. After you were gone the -poor woman told me you were her priest. I heard so much of you that -was beautiful." - -She put forth her hand; he hesitated a moment, then took it and -pressed it. - -"You are a Jewess?" - -"Yes, father." - -"Let me come and talk to you." - -"Yes, father, come and talk to me of your poor, to whom you are so -good. You do so much; I, being blind, can do so little. If you will -allow me"--she offered him some gold pieces, and he accepted them. - -"The Holy Mother have you in her keeping," he said: and went his way. - -Dogs and horses were her friends, and looked wistfully for recognition -when she was near them. She scattered food for the birds, and they -grew to know her; some would even pick crumbs from her hands. "I do -not think," she said, "they would trust me so if I were not blind. -They know I cannot see, and cannot harm them." Aaron thought -differently; not a creature that drew breath could fail to trust and -love this sweet woman whom God had spared to him. - -Whom God had spared to him! When the thought thus expressed itself he -raised his eyes to heaven in supplication. - -She was the first to taste the sweet breath of spring. - -"Spring is coming," she said; "the birds are trilling the joyful news. -How busy they are over their nests! In a little while we shall see the -flowers." - -She invariably spoke of things as if she could see them, as doubtless -she did with spiritual sight, investing them with a beauty which was -not of this world. It was her delight in summer to sit beneath the -branches of a favorite cherry tree, and to follow with her ears the -gambols of her children. For she had two now. - -A year after they left Gosport another child was born to them, Joseph, -to whom Aaron clave with intense and passionate love. It was not that -he was cold to Ruth, that he was not unremitting in showing her -affection, but in his love for his son there was a finer quality of -which no one but himself was conscious. He had prayed for another -child, and the blessing was bestowed upon him. - -In the first flush of his happiness he was tempted to regard this gift -of God as a token that his sin was forgiven, but he soon thrust this -reflection aside, refusing to accept his own interpretation of his sin -as an atonement for its committal. It was presumptuous in man to set -lines and boundaries to the judgment of the Eternal. It was to Rachel -that this blessing was vouchsafed, for a time might come when she -would find in it a consolation for a revelation that would embitter -the sweet waters of life. Both the children were pretty and engaging, -and had winning and endearing ways, which in the mother's sightless -eyes were magnified a thousandfold. - -In the following year a picture by a famous painter was exhibited by -the Paris Salon; it was entitled "A Jewish Mother," and represented a -woman sitting beneath a cherry tree in flower, with two young children -gamboling on the turf at her feet. In the background were two men, -the curé of the village and a Jew, the latter being the woman's -husband, and looking like a modern Moses. The faces of the men--one -full-flushed, with massive features and a grand beard, the other -spare and lean, with thin, clear-cut features and a close-shaven -face--formed a fine contrast. But although the points of this contrast -were brought out in masterly fashion, and although the rustic scene -was full of beauty, the supreme attraction of the picture lay in the -woman's face. It dwelt in the minds of all who beheld it, and it is -not too much to say that it carried with it an influence for good. - -So is it also with a pure poem and story; the impression they leave is -an incentive to kindly act and tolerant judgment; they soften, they -ameliorate, they bring into play the higher attributes of human -nature, and in their practical results a benefit is conferred equally -upon the sufferer by the wayside and the Samaritan who pours oil upon -his wounds. - -"Who is the woman?" asked the critics, and no one could answer the -question except the painter, and he held his tongue. - -The secret was this: The famous painter, passing through the village -with the subject of his next great picture in his mind, saw Rachel, -and was spellbound by the purity and grace of her face and figure. -Traveling under an assumed name, in order that he should not be -disturbed by the trumpet blasts of fame--a proof (clear to few men) -that there is pleasure in obscurity--he cast aside the subject he had -intended to paint, and determined to take Rachel in its stead. He made -himself acquainted with her story, was introduced to Aaron, and -contrived to make himself welcome in their home--no difficult matter, -for Aaron was ever ready to appreciate intellect. - -Many an evening did this painter pass with them, sometimes in company -with the curé, and many a friendly argument did they have. He did not -ask Rachel and Aaron to be his models, but he made innumerable -sketches of them, and remained in the village long enough to -accumulate all the principal points and accessories for his picture. -Then he departed and painted his masterpiece elsewhere. - -Some time afterward he revisited the village with the intention of -making acknowledgment for the inspiration, but Aaron and his family -had departed, and the painter's secret was undivulged. - -As it was with Rachel in winter and spring so was it in summer and -autumn. The flowers, the butterflies, the fragrant perfumes of garden -and hedgerow, all appealed powerfully to her, and all were in kinship -with her. The village children would follow her in the gloaming, -singing their simple songs; brawlers, ashamed, would cease contending -when she came in sight; women would stand at their cottage doors, and -gaze reverently upon her as she passed. Not a harsh thought was -harbored against her or hers; her gentle spirit was an incentive to -gentleness; she was a living tender embodiment of peace on earth and -good will to all. The whisper of the corn in the autumn, when the -golden stalks bowed their heads to the passing breeze, conveyed a -divine message to her soul; and indeed she said seriously to Aaron -that she sometimes fancied she heard voices in the air, and that they -were a pleasure to her. - -The three years having expired, the partnership came to an end. The -engineer was invited to Russia to undertake some great work for the -government, and Aaron would not accompany him. - -"In the first place," he said, "I will not expose my wife and children -to the rigors of such a climate. In the second place, I will not go -because I am a Jew, and because, being one, I should meet with no -justice in that land. In the annals of history no greater infamy can -be found than the persecution to which my brethren are subjected in -that horrible country. In former ages, when the masses lived and died -ignorant and unlettered, like the beasts of the field, one can -understand how it was that the iron hand ruled and crushed common -human rights out of existence; but in these days, when light is -spreading all over the world except in such a den of hideous -corruption and monstrous tyranny as Russia, it is almost incredible -that these cruelties are allowed to be practiced." - -"How would you put a stop to them?" asked the engineer. - -"I will suppose a case," Aaron answered. "You are a married man, with -wife and children, and you have for your neighbor another married man -with wife and children. You bring up your family decently, you treat -them kindly, you have an affection for them. All round you other men -with wives are doing the same; but there is one exception--your brutal -neighbor. Daily and nightly shrieks of agony are heard proceeding from -his house, terrible cries of suffering, imploring appeals for help and -mercy. He has a numerous family of children, all of whom have been -born in the house of which he is a ruler, all of whom recognize him as -their king and are ready and anxious to pay him respect, all of whom -have a natural claim upon him for protection, all of whom work for him -and contribute toward the expenses of his household. Some of these -children he loves, some he hates, and it is those he hates whom he -oppresses. From them proceed these shrieks of agony, these cries of -suffering, these appeals for help. You see them issue from his house -torn and bleeding, their faces convulsed with anguish, their hearts -racked with woe; you see them return to it--inexorable necessity -drives them there; they have no other home, and there is no escape for -them--trembling with fear, for the lash awaits them, and torture -chambers are there to drive them to the last stage of despair. And -their shrieks and supplications eternally pierce the air you breathe, -while the oppressed ones stretch forth their hands to the monster who -makes their lives a hell upon earth. What do they ask? That they -should be allowed to live in peace. But this reasonable and natural -request infuriates the tyrant. He flings them to the ground and grinds -his iron heel into their bleeding flesh, he spits in their faces, and -orders his torturers to draw the cords tighter around them. It is not -for a day, it is not for a week, it is not for a year, it is forever. -They die, and leave children behind them who are treated in the same -fashion, and for them, as it was with their fathers, there is no hope. -No attempt is made to hide these infamies, these cruelties, which -would disgrace the lowest order of beasts; they are perpetrated in the -light of day, and the monster who is responsible for them sneers at -you, and says, 'If you were in their place I would treat you the -same.' He laughs at your remonstrances, and draws the cords still -tighter, and tortures the quivering flesh still more mercilessly, and -cries, 'It is my house--they are my children, and I will do as I -please with them. Their bodies are mine, they have no souls!' Talk to -him of humanity, and he derides and defies you. You burn with -indignation--but what action do you take?" - -"It is a strong illustration," said the engineer, "but it is not with -nations as with families." - -"It is," said Aaron with passionate fervor. "There is no distinction -in the eyes of God. We are all members of one family, and the world is -our heritage. The world is divided into nations, nations into cities, -towns, and villages, and these are subdivided into houses, each having -its separate ruler; and though physically and geographically wide -apart, all are linked by the one common tie of our common humanity. -The same emotions, the same passions, the same aspirations, run -through all alike. Does it make an innocent babe a malefactor because -he is born in Russia instead of France or England? But it is so -considered, and his life is made a misery to him by monsters who, when -they give bloody work to their armies to do, blasphemously call upon -the Lord of Hosts to bless their infamous banners." - -It was seldom that Aaron expressed himself so passionately, and as the -engineer made no reply they did not pursue the discussion. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. -THE FAREWELL. - - -When it became known that Aaron was about to leave the quiet resting -place in which the last few years had been passed, and in which he had -enjoyed peace and prosperity, a general feeling of regret was -expressed, and efforts were made to induce him to change his -resolution. The well-to-do and the poor alike deplored the impending -loss, but their appeals were unsuccessful. There was in Aaron a latent -ambition, of which he himself was scarcely aware, to move in a larger -sphere, and to play his part in life among his own people. His -intention had been at first to remain in the pretty French village -only long enough to benefit Rachel's health, and had it not been for -the chance that threw him and the engineer together, and which opened -up enterprises which had led to such fortunate results, he would have -fulfilled this intention and have selected some populous center in -England to pursue his career. - -One venture had led to another, and the success which had attended -them was a sufficient inducement to tarry. But now that the -partnership was at an end the incentive was gone, and he was not sorry -that he was in a certain sense compelled to return to his native land. -One thing in his life in the village had weighed heavily upon him. He -was the only Jewish man in the place; there was no synagogue in which -he and his family could worship, and it was in his own home that he -carried out all the ceremonials of his religion. Not one of these did -he omit; he strictly observed the Sabbaths and holidays and fasts, and -under no consideration would he perform any kind of work on those -occasions. - -He obtained his Passover cakes and his meat (killed according to the -Jewish law) from neighboring towns, and he did not excite the ire of -the local butcher, because he spent more money with him in providing -for the wants of the poor than he could have done in his own -establishment had it been twice as large as it was. Every year he -erected in his garden a tent in which to celebrate the Feast of -Tabernacles, and in all these observances Rachel took a devout and -heartfelt pleasure. - -If the great painter who had painted her portrait as she sat beneath -the cherry tree had been a witness of the scene when the family were -assembled in the prettily decorated tent, and Aaron, with the palm -branch in his hand, intoned in his rich musical voice, "When I wave -the branches do Thou pour down the blessings of thy heavenly influence -on Thine habitation, the bridal canopy, the dwelling place of our -God," while Rachel, with her young children, stood meekly before him, -he would have been inspired to produce another picture which would -have rivaled the first in popularity. But much as Aaron had reason to -be grateful for, he yearned to follow the practices of his religion -among his co-religionists, he yearned to have the honor of taking the -sacred scroll from the ark, to hear the chazan's voice from the pulpit -and the melodious chant, of the choir, followed by the deep responses -of the congregation. There was another consideration. - -He wished his son, Joseph, to grow up amid such surroundings, so that -he might be fixed firmly in the faith of his forefathers. There was no -Jewish school in the village in which the lad could be educated, there -was no Jewish society in which he could mix. He looked forward to the -future. Joseph would become a man, and in this village there would be -no Jewish maiden to attract his heart. He discussed these matters with -Rachel. - -"Yes," she said, "let us go. But I shall never forget the happy years -we have passed here." - -"Nor I," said Aaron. "Peace and good fortune have attended us. May a -blessing rest upon the village and all the dwellers therein!" - -Then Rachel spoke of her poor and of her regret at leaving them. - -"We will bear them in remembrance," said Aaron, "and before we bid -them farewell something can be done to place them in comfort." - -Much was done by Rachel and himself. For some time past he had -bestowed a great part of his benefactions in such a manner that those -whom he befriended were ignorant of the source from which the good -flowed. In order that this should be carried out as he wished he had -to seek an agent, and, after consideration, he asked the curé of the -village to be his almoner, explaining that he did not wish it to be -known that the money came from him. The curé, much surprised, accepted -the office; Aaron was grievously disturbing his opinion of the -heretic. - -After his meeting with Rachel, which has been described in the -previous chapter, he had visited her home with the laudable desire of -converting the family to the true faith, and had found himself -confronted with peculiar difficulties. He strove to draw them into -argument, but in a theological sense they slipped through his fingers. -Aaron's course in this respect was premeditated, Rachel's was -unconsciously pursued. She listened to all he said, and smilingly -acquiesced in his declaration that there was only one road open to -heaven's gates. - -"It is the road of right-doing, father," she said, "the road of -kindness, of doing unto others as you would they should do unto you, -of dispensing out of your store, whether it be abundant or not, what -you can do to relieve the unfortunate. You are right, father; there is -only one road." - -By her sweetness and charity, by her practical sympathy with the -suffering, she cut the ground from under his feet. He spoke of the -saints, and she said they were good men and women, and were receiving -their reward. In a word, she took the strength and subtlety out of -him, and he yielded with sighs of regret and admiration. With Aaron he -was more trenchant, and quite as unsuccessful. - -Many of Aaron's humorous observations made the good priest laugh in -spite of himself, and the pearls of wisdom which fell from the Jew's -lips crumbled his arguments to dust. There was no scoffing or -irreverence on Aaron's part; he simply parried the thrusts with a -wisdom and humanity deeper and truer than those of which his -antagonist could boast. - -"My son," said the curé, "would you not make me a Jew if it were in -your power?" - -"No," replied Aaron, "we do not proselytize, and even if we did you -are too good a Christian for me to wish to make you a Jew." - -This was one of the puzzling remarks which caused the curé to ponder -and which dwelt long in his mind; sometimes he thought that Aaron was -a man of deep subtlety, sometimes that he was a man of great -simplicity, but whether subtle or simple he felt it impossible to -withhold a full measure of respect from one whose eternal lot he -sighed to think was perdition and everlasting torment. - -That sincerity was the true test of faith, as Aaron declared, he would -not admit; there could be no sincerity in a faith that was false, -there could be no sincerity if you did not believe as he believed. -Nevertheless he had an uncomfortable impression that he was being -continually worsted in the peaceful war of words in which they -invariably engaged when they came together. - -As Aaron was not to be turned from his resolution to leave the country -the villagers took steps to show their respect for him. Public -meetings were held, which were attended by many persons from -surrounding districts, and there was a banquet, of which Aaron did not -partake, the food not being cooked after the Jewish mode. He contented -himself with fruit and bread, and made a good and sufficient meal. -Speeches were made in his honor, and he was held up as an example to -old and young alike. - -His response was in admirable taste. He said that the years he had -spent among them were the happiest in his life, and that it was with -true regret he found himself compelled to leave the village. He spoke -of his first coming among them with a beloved wife in a delicate state -of health, who had grown well and strong in the beautiful spot. It was -not alone the sweet air, he said, which had brought the blessing of -health to her; the bond of sympathy which had been established between -her and her neighbors had been as a spiritual medicine to her, which -had given life a value of which it would otherwise have been deprived. - -It was not so much the material reward of our labors that conferred -happiness upon us as the feeling that we were passing our days among -friends who always had a smile and a pleasant greeting for us. Riches -were perishable, kindly remembrances immortal. - -The best lessons of life were to be learned from the performance of -simple acts of duty, for he regarded it a duty to so conduct ourselves -as to make our presence welcome and agreeable to those with whom we -were in daily association. As for the kind things that had been said -of him, he felt that he was scarcely worthy of them. - -"There is," he said, "a leaven of human selfishness in all that we do, -and the little I have, with the blessing of God, been enabled to do -has conferred upon me a much greater pleasure than it could possibly -have conferred upon others. To you and to my residence among you I owe -my dear wife's restoration to health, and it would be ingratitude -indeed did I not endeavor to make some return for the good you have -showered upon me. I shall never forget you, nor will my wife forget -you; in our native land we shall constantly recall the happy years we -spent among you, and we shall constantly pray that peace and -prosperity may never desert you." - -The earnestness and feeling with which these sentiments were uttered -were unmistakable and convincing, and when Aaron resumed his seat the -eyes of all who had assembled to do him honor were turned upon him -approvingly and sympathizingly. - -"Ah," groaned the good curé, "were he not a Jew he would be a perfect -man." - -The flowers which graced the banqueting table were sent by special -messenger to Rachel, and the following day she pressed a few and kept -them ever afterward among her precious relics. Aaron did not come home -till late in the night, and he found Rachel waiting up for him. He -delighted her by describing the incidents and speeches of the -memorable evening. Aaron was a great smoker, and while they talked he -smoked the silver-mounted pipe which he had grown to regard with an -affection which was really spiritual. There are in the possession of -many men and women dumb memorials of insignificant value which they -would not part with for untold gold, and this silver-mounted pipe of -Aaron's--Rachel's gift to him in the early years of their married -life--was one of these. A special case had been made for it, and he -handled it almost with the care and affection he bestowed upon his -children. - -"Your health was proposed," said Aaron, "and the health of our little -ones. What was said about you, my life, gave me much more pleasure -than what was said about myself. It abashes one to have to sit and -listen to extravagant praises far beyond one's merits, but it is the -habit of men to run into extravagance." - -"They could say nothing, dear husband, that you do not deserve." - -"You, too!" exclaimed Aaron gayly. "It is well for me that you were -not there, for you might have been called upon to give your -testimony." - -"I should not have had courage." She fondly pressed his hand. "I am -glad they spoke of me kindly." - -"They spoke of you truly, and my heart leaped up within me at what the -good curé said of you, for it was he who proposed the toast. I -appreciated it more from him than I should have done from anyone else, -and he was quite sincere at the moment in all the sentiments he -expressed, whatever he may have thought of himself afterward for -asking his flock to drink the health of a Jewess. Well, well, it takes -all sorts to make a world." - -"How much we have to be grateful for!" said Rachel, with a happy sigh. - -"Indeed, indeed--for boundless gratitude. Think of what we passed -through in Gosport." He paused suddenly. The one experience which -weighed upon his conscience brought a dark and troubled shadow into -his face. - -"Why do you pause, dear? Has not my blindness proved a blessing to us? -Do I miss my sight? Nay, I think it has made life sweeter. But for -that we should not have come to this place, but for that we should not -have had the means to do something toward the relief of a few -suffering and deserving people. What good has sprung from it! Our Lord -God be praised!" - -Aaron recovered himself. - -"There was Mr. Whimpole's visit to us before I commenced business; -there were those stupid boys who distressed you so with their -revilings, which I managed to turn against themselves. It was this -pipe of yours, my life, that gave me the inspiration how to disarm -them. It sharpens my faculties, it brings out my best points; it is -really to me a friend and counselor. And now I have smoked enough, and -it is time to go to bed. I will join you presently." - -In solitude the one troubled memory of the past forced itself -painfully upon him. Did he deserve what had been said in his honor on -this night? He valued men's good opinion, and of all the men he knew -he valued most the good opinion of the curé. What would this -single-minded, conscientious priest think of him if he were acquainted -with the sin of which he had been guilty, the sin of bringing up an -alien child in a religion in which she had not been born? He would -look upon him with horror. - -And it was a bitter punishment that he was compelled to keep this -secret locked up in his own breast, that he dared not reveal it to a -single human creature, that he dared not say openly, "I have sinned, I -have sinned. Have mercy upon me!" - -To his own beloved wife, dearer to him than life itself, he had -behaved treacherously; even in her he dared not confide. It was not -with Rachel as it was with him; there was no difference in the love -she bore her children; they were both equally precious to her. - -To fall upon his knees before her and make confession would be like -striking a dagger into her heart; it almost drove him mad to think of -the shock such a revelation would be to her. No, he must guard his -secret and his sin jealously to the last hour of his life. So far as -human discovery went he believed that he was safe; the betrayal, if it -ever came, lay with himself. True, he had in his possession testimony -which might damn him were it to fall into other hands--the little iron -safe which Mr. Moss had received from Dr. Spenlove, and at the -mother's request had conveyed to him. - -In his reflections upon the matter lately the question had intruded -itself, "What did this little box contain?" It was impossible for him -to say, but he felt instinctively that it contained evidence which -would bring his sin home to him. He allowed his thoughts now to dwell -upon the mother. From the day on which he received the five hundred -pounds from Mr. Gordon's lawyer he had heard nothing from them, -nothing from Mr. Moss or from anybody, relating to the matter. Between -himself and Mr. Moss there had been a regular, though not very -frequent, correspondence, but his friend had never written one word -concerning it, and Aaron, of course, had not referred to it. Thus far, -therefore, it was buried in a deep grave. - -But would this grave never be opened? If other hands were not -responsible for the act would it not be his duty to open the grave? -The mother had stipulated that, in the event of her husband's death, -she should be free to seek her child, should be free to claim the box. -Upon this contingency seemed to hang his fate; but there were -arguments in his favor. - -Mr. Gordon might live, and the mother could do nothing. Arguing that -the man died, it was more than probable that his wife had borne other -children who had a claim upon her love which she acknowledged. To seek -then her child of shame would be the means of bringing disgrace upon -these children of her marriage. Would she deliberately do this? He -answered the question immediately, No. In the consideration of these -phases of the matter he bore in mind that, although the false news of -the child's death must of necessity have been communicated to Mr. -Gordon by his lawyers, it was likely that it had been kept from the -knowledge of the mother. Aaron had been made to understand that Mr. -Gordon was a man of inflexible resolution, and that he had pledged -himself never, under any circumstances, to make mention of the child -to the woman he had married. Even setting this aside, even going to -the length of arguing that, hearing of the child's death, Mr. Gordon -departed from the strict letter of the resolution, and said to his -wife, "Your child is dead," was it not likely that she would reply, "I -do not believe it; you tell me so only to deceive me"? In that case, -her husband dead and herself childless, would she not search the world -over for her offspring? - -Setting all this aside, however, the _onus_ still devolved upon him to -open the grave. One of the stipulations attached to his receipt of the -box was that when Ruth was twenty-one years of age it should be handed -over to her. Would he dare to violate this condition? Would he so far -tamper with his conscience as to neglect an obligation which might be -deemed sacred? The question tortured him; he could not answer it. - -He heard Rachel moving in the room above, and with a troubled heart he -went up to her. - -Thus this night, the events of which were intended to shed honor and -glory upon him, ended in sadness, and thus was it proved that a deceit -when first practiced may be as a feather weight to the solemn and -heavy consequences which follow in its train. - -Everything was ready for the departure of the Cohens, which was to -take place at the end of the week. Before the day arrived they -received other tokens in proof of the appreciation in which they were -held. A deputation of workingmen waited on Aaron, and presented him -with an address. The employers of labor themselves--secretly glad, -perhaps, that he was going from among them--paid him a special honor. -Rachel's heart throbbed with gratitude and with pride in her husband. -But her greatest pleasure--in which were mingled touches of deep -sorrow--was derived from the affecting testimony of the poor she had -befriended. Old men and women witnessed their departure, and bidding -farewell to Rachel, prayed God's blessing upon her. Children gave her -flowers, and their childish voices were full of affection. The tears -ran from her eyes; she could hardly tear herself away. At length it -was over; they were gone; but it was long before her sweet face faded -from their memory. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. -REVISITS GOSPORT. - - -The years that followed until Ruth was grown to womanhood and Joseph -was a young man were eventful years for Aaron Cohen and his family. He -returned to England the possessor of a moderate fortune, but he had no -idea of retiring from the active duties of life. To such a man -idleness would have been little less than a living death, and taking -up his residence in London, he embarked very soon in enterprises of -magnitude. The knowledge he had gained during his partnership in -France was of immense value to him, and in conjunction with other men -of technical resource he contracted for public works in various parts -of the country. His fortune grew, and he gradually became wealthy. He -moved from one house to another, and each move was a step up the -ladder. A house in Prince's Gate came into the market, and Aaron -purchased it, and furnished it with taste and elegance. There he -entertained liberally, but not lavishly, for his judgment led him -always to the happy mean, and the house became the resort of men and -women of intellect and culture. Mr. Moss, who was wedded to -Portsmouth, and continued to flourish there, paid periodical visits to -London, and was always welcome in the home. He was as musically -inclined as ever, and opportunities were afforded him of hearing the -finest singers and players at Prince's Gate. On two or three occasions -Aaron readily consented to give an introduction through a concert held -in his house to a young aspirant in whom Mr. Moss took an interest, -and to other budding talent in the same direction Aaron's rooms were -always open. The only conversation between Mr. Moss and Aaron in -relation to their intimacy in Gosport occurred some three years after -the latter had taken up his residence in London. Aaron had just -completed a successful contract, and business had called Mr. Moss to -the metropolis. - -"I heard to-day," said Mr. Moss, "that you had cleared six or seven -thousand pounds by the contract." - -"The balance on the right side," replied Aaron, "is a little over -seven thousand." - -"I congratulate you. The gentleman I spoke with said that if he had -had the contract he would have made a profit of three times as much." - -"It is likely." - -"Then why didn't you do it, Cohen?" - -Aaron smiled and shook his head. - -"Let us speak of another subject." - -"But I want to get at the bottom of this. I should like you to know -what the gentleman said about it. His view is that you are ruining the -labor market." - -"In what way?" - -"By high wages and short hours." - -"That is a new view." - -"You do pay high wages, Cohen, according to what everybody says." - -"Oh! it's everybody now as well as your gentleman friend. I pay good -wages, and I don't consider them high." - -"And the hours are not as long as they might be." - -"They are reasonably long enough. If I am satisfied and my workmen are -satisfied I give offense to no man." - -"You are wrong, Cohen; you give offense to the capitalist." - -"I regret to hear it." - -"The idea is that you are ruining the capitalist." - -"Oh! I am ruining the capitalist now. But if that is the case he is no -longer a capitalist." - -"You know what I mean. I don't pretend to understand these things as -you do, because I have not studied political economy." - -"I have, and believe me it is a horse that has been ridden too hard. -Mischief will come of it. Apply your common sense. In what way would -your friend have made twenty-one thousand pounds out of the contract -instead of seven thousand?" - -"By getting his labor cheaper and by making his own men work longer -hours." - -"Exactly. And the difference of fourteen thousand pounds would have -gone into his pocket instead of the pockets of his workmen?" - -"Yes, of course." - -"Ask yourself if that is fair. The wages I pay my men are sufficient -to enable them to maintain a home decently, to bring up their families -decently, and perhaps, if they are wise and thrifty--only, mind you, -if they are wise and thrifty--to make a small provision for old age, -when they are no longer able to work. Their hours are long enough to -give them just a little leisure, which they can employ partly in -reasonable amusement and partly in intellectual improvement. I have -gone thoroughly into these matters, and know what I am talking -about. Men who do their work honestly--and I employ and will keep no -others--have a right to fair wages and a little leisure, and I decline -to grind my men down after the fashion of the extreme political -economist. The contract I have just completed was tendered for in an -open market. My tender was the lowest and was accepted. I make a -considerable sum of money out of it, and each of my men contributes a -mickle toward it. They believe I have treated them fairly, and I am -certain they have treated me fairly. Upon those lines I intend to make -my way. Your sweater is a political economist. I am not a sweater. It -is the course I pursued in France, and by it I laid the foundation of -what may prove to be a great fortune. I am tendering now for other -contracts, and I shall obtain my share, and shall pursue precisely the -same course. Mr. Moss, you and I are Jews. At a great disadvantage -because of the nature of your business, which I myself once intended -to follow, you have made yourself respected in the town in which you -reside. I, on my part, wish to make myself respected here. Surely -there is no race in the world to which it is greater honor, and should -be a greater pride, to belong than the Jewish race; and by my conduct -through life I trust I shall do nothing to tarnish that honor or lower -that pride. It may or may not be for that reason that I decline to -follow the political economist to the depths into which he has -fallen." - -Mr. Moss' eyes gleamed; Aaron had touched a sympathetic chord; the men -shook hands and smiled cordially at each other. - -"When you were in Gosport," said Mr. Moss, "I ought to have asked you -to go into partnership with me." - -"If you had made me the offer," responded Aaron, "I'm afraid I should -have accepted it." - -"Lucky for you that I missed my opportunity. It is a fortunate thing -that you went to France when you did." - -"Very fortunate. It opened up a new career for me; it restored my dear -wife to health; my son was born there." - -"About the poor child I brought to you in Gosport, Cohen; we have -never spoken of it." - -"That is true." - -"Did the lawyers ever write to you again?" - -"Never." - -"And I have heard nothing. The iron box I gave you--you have it still, -I suppose?" - -"I have it still." - -"I have often wondered what it contains, and whether the mother will -ever call for it." - -"If she does it shall be handed to her in the same condition as you -handed it to me. But she does not know in whose possession it is?" - -"No, she does not know, and she can only obtain the information from -Mr. Gordon's lawyers. My lips are sealed." - -Aaron considered a moment. This opening up of the dreaded subject made -him feel as if a sword were hanging over his head, but his sense of -justice impelled him to say, "It may happen that the mother will wish -to have the box restored to her, and that the lawyers may refuse to -give her the information that it is in my possession. She may seek -elsewhere for a clew, and may be directed to you." - -"I shall not enlighten her," said Mr. Moss. - -"My desire is that you do enlighten her. It is her property, and I -have no right to retain it." - -"Very well, Cohen, if you wish it; but nothing is more unlikely than -your ever being troubled with her, or ever seeing her. She has -forgotten all about it long ago." - -"You are mistaken. A mother never forgets." - -"And now, Cohen, I have a message for you from Mrs. Moss. She is -burning to see you and cannot come to London. We are about to have an -addition to our family; that will be the sixteenth. Upon my word, I -don't know when we are going to stop. Is it too much to ask you to pay -us a visit?" - -"Not at all; it will give me great pleasure. When?" - -"It will give Mrs. Moss greater pleasure, Cohen," said Mr. Moss, -rubbing his hands joyously. "I am going back the day after to-morrow. -Will that time suit you?" - -"Yes, I will accompany you." - -The visit was paid, and lasted three days. Before he returned to -London Aaron went to Gosport. Nothing was changed in the ancient town. -The house he had occupied had been rebuilt; the streets were the same, -the names over the shops were unaltered. He saw Mr. Whimpole in his -shop attending to a customer, and saw other men and women whom he -recognized, but to whom he did not speak. He made his way to the -churchyard where his child was buried, and he stood and prayed over -the grave. - -"Forgive me, O Lord of Hosts," he said audibly, "that I should have -laid my child to rest in a Christian churchyard. It was to save my -beloved. Forgive me! Have mercy upon me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. -WHAT SHALL BE DONE TO THE MAN WHOM THE KING DELIGHTETH TO HONOR? - - -In the autumn of the year 1891 a number of influential persons wended -their way to Aaron Cohen's house to take part in a function of a -peculiarly interesting nature. They comprised representatives of -literature and the arts, of politics, science, and commerce, and among -them were delegates of the press who were deputed to report the -proceedings for their several journals. - -That the pen is mightier than the sword was, at an earlier period in -the world's history, open to dispute, but the contention exists no -longer, and although the day is far distant when the lion shall lie -down with the lamb, the press is now the pre-eminent dictator of peace -and war, and can effectually hasten or retard the conflict of nations. -It is an open question whether its invasion of the arena of private -life is a beneficial feature in the power it wields, but it is useless -to resist its march in this direction, and earnest as may be a man's -desire to hide his light under a bushel, he does not live to see it -gratified. - -When a movement was set afoot to make some sort of semi-private, -semi-public recognition of the remarkable position attained by the -hero of this story he did not receive it with any kind of pleasure, -and he made an effort to avoid it. That his effort was not successful -was not so much due to the perseverance of the leaders of the movement -as to a few simple words uttered by his wife. - -"It will give me pleasure," she said. - -He did not argue with her; he yielded immediately, and allowed himself -to be carried with the stream. Never in the course of their happy -married life had he failed to comply with her lightest wish; never had -there been the least conflict between them; to each of them the word -of the other was law, and it was love's cheerful duty to obey. - -Remarkable, indeed, was the position he had won. From the day of his -return to England there had been no break in his prosperity; every -enterprise he undertook flourished, and the old saying was applied to -him, "Everything he touches turns to gold." His reputation, however, -was not based on the fact that he was a lucky but that he was a just -and charitable man. No appeal for any good purpose was made to him in -vain; his purse was ever open, and he was ever ready to respond. Among -his co-religionists he was a power, and his advice was asked and taken -by high and low alike. His character was so well-known that the -poorest Jew, in an hour of difficulty, did not hesitate to go to him -for counsel, and only those held back whose conduct would not stand -the searching light he threw upon all worldly matters. He did not -confine his labors and charities to the Jewish community; his name was -to be found among the administrators of all their benevolent funds, -and it was also to be found on the lists of numberless Christian -charities. - -In so generous a spirit did he meet the appeals that were made to him, -and so devoid of narrowness were his benefactions, that he grew into -the esteem of all classes of society as a large-hearted, honorable, -and benevolent gentleman. Of course he was sometimes beguiled into -bestowing money upon unworthy objects or persons, but when this came -to his knowledge it did not affect him. "It is but human nature," he -would say. "Where lives the man who does not make mistakes?" - -In the wide scope of his charities he had curious experiences, and one -of these got to be known and quoted. - -A gentleman visited him and asked for a contribution to an -old-established society known all the world over. Aaron inquired the -name and objects of the society. - -"You have doubtless heard of it," replied the gentleman. "It is for -the promotion of Christianity among the Jews." - -Aaron smiled as he said, "But, my dear sir, I am myself a Jew." - -"I am aware of it," said the gentleman, "and the reason I make the -appeal is that you have been quoted to me as a man who has no narrow -prejudices, and who in no sense of the word could be called dogmatic -or prejudiced." - -"It is, then, a compliment you are paying me by asking me to -contribute to a fund which is antagonistic to my race." - -"In your view antagonistic," observed the gentleman. - -"I see. Meaning that my view is not necessarily the right view." - -The gentleman nodded courteously. He was not a collector for the -society, nor a paid officer, but a gentleman of means who, in a -smaller way than Aaron, was also noted for his benevolence. - -"I cannot but consider the matter seriously," said Aaron thoughtfully, -"for there can be no doubt of your sincerity. Still it occurs to me -that if we were both equally sincere in our advocacy of objects of a -similar nature it would be as well that we should pause and ask -ourselves this question: Instead of endeavoring to convert Jews or -Christians to a faith in which they were not born, would it not be -better to employ ourselves in making those who call themselves -Christians true Christians, and those who call themselves Jews true -Jews?" - -"There is force in your argument," said the gentleman, "but it is no -answer to my appeal for a contribution to the objects of my society." - -"Can you furnish me with particulars," Aaron then said, "of the -working of the society?" - -"I have brought the papers with me, anticipating your request." - -Aaron looked over the printed books and papers handed to him, and made -certain calculations upon paper. - -"I perceive," he said, "that you take credit to yourselves for making -a certain number of conversions during the past five years, and that -you have spent a great deal of money in these conversions. The number -of conversions is very small, the amount of money expended very large. -I have worked out the sum, and I see that each conversion has cost you -nearly eleven thousand pounds. You find these wavering Jews very -expensive?" - -"Very expensive," assented the gentleman, with a half-humorous sigh. - -"Well, my dear sir," said Aaron, "I will make a proposition to you. -You are zealous in the furtherance of an object which you believe to -be worthy, and I am zealous in the furtherance of an object which I -believe to be worthy. I will write a check in contribution to your -object on the understanding that you write a check for half the amount -in contribution to mine. Do not be afraid; it is not for the promotion -of Judaism among the Christians." - -The gentleman, who was fairly liberal-minded, laughed good-humoredly -at the proposition as he said: - -"I consent, but you are richer than I, and I must stipulate that your -check is not for a large amount." - -"It shall not be large," said Aaron, and he filled in a check for -twenty pounds. - -The gentleman, somewhat relieved, wrote his check for ten pounds, and -they exchanged documents. - -"My contribution," observed Aaron, "represents the five hundred and -fiftieth part of one transitory and probably worldly and insincere -conversion, your contribution represents the fiftieth part of a -perpetual endowment of one sick bed in a hospital. You will pardon me -for saying that I think I have the best of the transaction." - -A word as to Aaron Cohen's material position. The world gave him -credit for being exceedingly wealthy, but he was not really so. He had -money, and to spare, and his private establishment was conducted on a -liberal scale. Roughly speaking, had he retired in 1891 he might have -done so on an income of some five thousand pounds, whereas popular -rumor would have credited him with ten times as much. The reason for -this was that a considerable portion of the profits of his enterprise -was regularly given anonymously to every public movement for the good -of the people and for the relief of the suffering. Great curiosity had -been evinced for a long time past as to who was the anonymous donor of -large sums of money in response to these appeals. A colliery disaster, -a flood, an earthquake in a distant country, a case of public -destitution--to one and all of these came a large contribution from a -person who adopted the most careful means to preserve his anonymity, -and who signed himself "Mercy." - -These charitable donations were Aaron's constant appeal to the Divine -Throne for mercy and forgiveness for the one sin of his life, and thus -did he effectually guard against becoming a millionaire. - -The esteem in which he was held was to be demonstrated by two -presentations, one a portrait of himself, by a renowned English -painter, the other a picture also, the subject being withheld from his -knowledge. This second painting was no other than the picture of -Rachel sitting beneath the cherry tree, which had created excitement -in the Paris Salon more than a dozen years ago. It had been purchased -by a collector, who had lately died. After his death his collection -was brought to the hammer, and this particular picture purchased by a -London dealer, who exhibited it in his shop. - -It was originally intended that a presentation of silver should be -made with Aaron's portrait, but a friend of his happened to see the -picture in London, and was struck by the marvelous resemblance of the -principal figure to Rachel. He made some inquiries privately of Aaron -respecting his sojourn in the south of France, and learned that there -was a certain cherry tree in his garden there beneath which Rachel was -in the habit of sitting in fine weather, that he had a friend, the -curé of the village, and that one summer a French painter visited the -village and made a great many sketches of Rachel and the cherry tree. - -Aaron's friend obtained from the London dealer some information of the -history of the picture, and of the year it was exhibited, and putting -this and that together he came to the correct conclusion that Rachel -had unconsciously sat for the painter. It was an interesting -discovery, and the idea of a silver presentation was put aside, and -the picture substituted in its place. - -Mr. Moss, of course, came from Portsmouth to attend the function. - -It is sad to relate that of late years the same good fortune had not -attended him as had attended his friend Aaron. It was his own fault; -he had embarked in speculations outside the scope of his legitimate -business, and when these speculations came to grief he found himself -by no means so well off as he was at the commencement of this history. -It made no difference in Aaron's friendship for him; it may be said, -indeed, to have strengthened it. In a period of difficulty Aaron came -forward voluntarily, and afforded practical assistance to his old -friend. Another strengthening tie was also to be added to this -friendship. On a visit to Portsmouth Aaron's son Joseph fell in love -with one of Mr. Moss' daughters, Rose, a sweet girl, of whom Rachel -was very fond. Joseph was too young yet to marry, but with the consent -of his parents an engagement was entered into between the young -people, and there was joy in Mr. Moss' estimable family. - -"There never was such a man as Aaron Cohen," said Mr. Moss to his wife -and children. "He is a credit and an honor to the Jewish race." - -In which opinion there was not a Jew in England who did not agree with -him. - -It was a consequence of this family arrangement that Rose was often -invited to spend a few weeks with the Cohens in London, and she was in -their house on the day of the presentations. Her lover was absent, and -had been out of England for some months. He held a position of -responsibility with a large contractor, and had been sent to Austria -upon business of an important nature. He was expected home at the end -of the week, but was only to remain in England two days, his passage -to Australia being already taken, to look after a railway contract -which had been secured by his employer, Mr. Monmouth. He was expected -to be away eight or nine months, and upon his return home the marriage -was to take place. Neither was their other child, Ruth, a witness of -the presentations. She had invited herself to Portsmouth, to spend a -week or two with Mrs. Moss. Rachel missed her, Aaron did not. Although -he could not fix the exact day of her birth, he knew that she would -soon be twenty-one years of age, when the duty would devolve upon him -of delivering to her the iron box of which he had been made the -custodian, and he was in an agony as to how he should act. Every day -that passed deepened his trouble, and it was perhaps to this that his -growing impression may be ascribed that shadows were gathering over -his house which might wreck the happiness of his beloved wife. - -Again and again had he debated the matter with himself without being -able to arrive at any comforting conclusion. Rachel doted on her -children. She could not see what Aaron could see--that there was -something weighing also upon Ruth's mind which she was concealing from -them, and that the confidence was wanting which should exist between a -child and her parents. However, on this day he could not give himself -up to these disturbing reflections; he had consented to accept an -honor of which he deemed himself unworthy, and it was incumbent upon -him that he should not betray himself. - -There was still a little time left to him to decide upon his course of -action. He was beginning to tamper with himself. The man of upright -mind was at this period laying himself open to dangerous casuistical -temptations. Even from such pure, unselfish love as he entertained for -the wife who was deserving of love in its sweetest and purest aspects -may spring an upas tree to poison the atmosphere we breathe. - -Among the company was an old friend of ours, Dr. Spenlove, who had -attained an eminent position in London. The hundred pounds which Mr. -Gordon had left for his acceptance had proved the turning point in his -career, and he was at the top of the tree in his profession. A man as -kind-hearted as he was of necessity mixed up with many benevolent and -public movements. Aaron, whom till this day he had never met, had -subscribed to some of the charities in which he was interested, and he -gladly availed himself of the opportunity of becoming acquainted with -him. When the company were assembled in the reception room of Aaron's -house Dr. Spenlove happened to be standing next to Mr. Moss, whom he -had not seen since he left Portsmouth. Except for the mark of -years, which did not tell heavily upon him, Mr. Moss was the same -jovial-featured, bright-eyed man as ever; Dr. Spenlove had altered; -the fashion of his hair was different, the thoughtful lines in his -face had deepened, he had grown stouter. So that when the two looked -at each other the first sign of recognition came from Dr. Spenlove. - -"If I am not mistaken," he said, "we have met before." - -Mr. Moss, looking at him, was puzzled for a moment. "In Portsmouth," -added Dr. Spenlove, jogging his memory. - -"Dr. Spenlove?" - -"The same." - -They shook hands. "It is strange," said Mr. Moss, "that after the -lapse of years we should meet in this house." - -"Why is our meeting in this house strange?" inquired Dr. Spenlove. - -The question recalled Mr. Moss to himself. The one incident which -formed a link between them was that connected with a poor woman and -her babe whom they rescued from impending death on a snowy night -twenty years ago. But he had not made Dr. Spenlove acquainted with the -name of the man to whom he had intrusted the child, and upon this -point his lips were sealed. - -"I mean," he said, "that the circumstances of our meeting here and in -Portsmouth are different." - -"Widely different," observed Dr. Spenlove. "I have never forgotten -that sad night, have never forgotten your kindness." - -"Not worth mentioning." - -"But worth bearing in remembrance, as all acts of kindness are. I have -heard nothing more of the matter from that time to this. What became -of the child, Mr. Moss?" - -"She died very shortly afterward. A happy release." - -"Death is a happy release to many. It, was hardly to be expected that -the child would live long after the exposure on such a night. She was -almost buried in the snow. And the mother, Mr. Moss?" - -"I have heard nothing of her whatever." - -"Nor have I." - -The conversation ceased here. The proceedings had commenced, and a -gentleman was speaking. He was a man of discretion, which all orators -are not. He touched lightly and pertinently upon the reputation which -Mr. Aaron Cohen had earned by his unremitting acts of benevolence and -by the worthiness of his career. Such a man deserved the good fortune -which had attended him, and such a man's career could not fail to be -an incentive to worthy endeavor. Rachel, seated by her husband, and -turning her sightless eyes upon the audience, who were only -spiritually visible to her, listened to the speaker in gratitude and -delight. It was not that she had waited for this moment to learn that -she was wedded to an upright and noble man, but it was an unspeakable -happiness to her to hear from the lips of others that he was -appreciated as he deserved, that he was understood as she understood -him. - -It was natural, said the speaker, that the gentleman in whose honor -they had that day assembled should be held in the highest esteem by -his co-religionists, but it was a glory that in a Christian country a -Jew should have won from all classes of a mixed community a name which -would be enrolled upon those pages of our social history which most -fitly represent the march of true civilization and humanity. They were -not there to glorify money; they were not there to glorify worldly -prosperity; they were there to pay tribute to one whose example -Christians might follow, a man without stain, without reproach. The -influence of such a man in removing--no, not in removing, but -obliterating, the prejudices of caste was lasting and all-powerful. He -regarded it as a privilege that he had been deputed to express the -general sentiment with respect to Mr. Aaron Cohen. This sentiment, he -begged to add, was not confined to Mr. Cohen, but included his wife, -whose charities and benevolence were perhaps even more widely known -and recognized than those of the partner of her joys and sorrows. - -In the presence of this estimable couple it was difficult to speak as -freely as he would wish, but he was sure they would understand that in -wishing them long life and happiness he was wishing them much more -than he dared to express in their hearing, and that there was but one -feeling entertained toward them, a feeling not of mere respect and -esteem, but of affection and love. In the name of the subscribers he -offered for their acceptance two paintings, one a portrait of Mr. -Cohen by an artist of renown, for which he had been good enough to -sit; the other a painting which probably they would look upon now for -the first time. The latter picture was an accidental discovery, but -Mr. Cohen would tell them whether they were right in seizing the -opportunity to obtain it, and whether they were right in their belief -that his esteemed wife had unconsciously inspired the artist, who had -availed himself of a happy chance to immortalize himself. - -The pictures were then unveiled amid general acclamation, and if ever -Rachel wished for the blessing of sight to be restored to her it was -at that moment; but it was only for a moment. The dependence she -placed upon her husband, the trust she had in him, the pleasure she -derived from his eloquent and sympathetic descriptions of what was -hidden from her, were of such a nature that she sometimes said inly, -"I am thankful I can see only through the eyes of my dear husband." - -The portrait of himself, from his frequent sittings, was familiar to -Aaron Cohen, but the picture of his beloved sitting beneath the cherry -tree was a delightful surprise to him. It was an exquisitely painted -scene, and Rachel's portrait was as faithful as if she had given -months of her time toward its successful accomplishment. - -Aaron's response was happy up to a certain point. Except to pay a -deserved compliment to the artist and to express his gratitude to the -subscribers he said little about the portrait of himself. The -presentation of the second picture supplied the theme for the -principal part of his speech. He said there was no doubt that it was a -portrait of his dear wife, and he recalled the time they had passed in -the south of France, and described all the circumstances of the happy -chance that had led to the painting of the picture. He was grateful -for that chance because of the pleasure it would afford his beloved -wife, who until to-day had been as ignorant as himself that such a -painting was in existence. - -"I went to the south of France," he said, "in the hope that my wife, -who was in a delicate state of health, would be benefited by a short -stay there. My hope was more than realized; she grew strong there; my -son, whose absence from England deprives him of the pleasure of being -present on this interesting occasion, was born there, and there the -foundation of my prosperity was laid. It might be inferred from this -that I believe all the events of a man's life are ruled by chance, but -such is not my belief. There is an all-seeing Providence who shows us -the right path. He speaks through our reason and our consciences, and -except for the accident of birth, which lays a heavy burden upon many -unfortunate beings, and which should render them not fully responsible -for the evil they do, we ourselves are responsible for the -consequences of our actions. We must accept the responsibility and the -consequences." - -He paused a few moments before he continued. - -"When men of fair intelligence err they err consciously; it is useless -for them to say that they erred in ignorance of the consequences. They -must know if they write with black ink that their writing must be -black." - -He paused again. - -"But it may be that a man commits a conscious error through his -affections, and if that error inflicts injury upon no living being--if -it even confer a benefit upon one or more--there may be some -palliation of his error. In stating that you set for me a standard too -high I am stating my firm belief. No man is stainless, no man is -without reproach; the doctrine of infallibility applied to human -affairs is monstrous and wicked; it is an arrogation of divine power. -I am, as all men are, open to error; in my life, as in the lives of -all men, there have been mistakes, but I may still take the credit to -myself that if I have committed a conscious error it has harmed no -living soul, and that it has sprung from those affections which -sweeten and bless our lives. A reference has been made to my being a -Jew. I glory that I am one. The traditions and history of the race to -which I am proud to belong have been of invaluable service to me, and -to the circumstance of my being a Jew I owe the incidents of this day, -which will ever be a proud memory to me and to my family. In the name -of my dear wife and my own I thank you cordially, sincerely, and -gratefully for the honor you have paid to us--an honor not beyond my -wife's merits, but far beyond my own." - -Other speeches followed, and when the proceedings were at an end Dr. -Spenlove asked Mr. Moss to introduce him to Mr. Cohen. - -"Cohen," said Mr. Moss, "Dr. Spenlove wishes to know you." - -Aaron started. - -He never forgot a name or a face, and he recollected the mention of -Dr. Spenlove's name when Mr. Moss came to him in Gosport with the -child. - -"Without exactly knowing it, perhaps," said Dr. Spenlove, "you have -been most kind in movements in which I have taken an interest. I am -glad of the opportunity of making your acquaintance." - -Nothing more; no reference to the private matter. - -Aaron breathed more freely. - -He responded to Dr. Spenlove's advances, and the gentlemen parted -friends. - -Rose Moss was in the room during the proceedings, and her fair young -face beamed with pride; it was her lover's father who was thus -honored, and she felt that she had, through Aaron Cohen's son, a share -in that honor. - -When the gratifying but fatiguing labors of the day were at an end, -and Aaron, Rachel, and Rose were alone, Rachel said: - -"I am sorry, dear Rose, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said -about his father." - -"It would not have made him love and honor him more," said Rose. - -Rachel pressed her hand and kissed her; she had grown to love this -sweet and simple girl, who seemed to have but one thought in life, her -lover. Then the sightless woman asked them to describe the picture to -her, and she listened in an ecstasy of happiness to their words. - -"Is it not wonderful?" she said to Aaron. "A famous picture, they -said, and I the principal figure. What can the painter have seen in -me?" - -"What all men see, my life," replied Aaron, "but what no one knows as -I know." - -"It has been a happy day," sighed Rachel; she sat between them, each -holding a hand. "You did not hear from our dear Ruth this morning?" - -"No, dear mother." For thus was Rose already permitted to address -Rachel. - -"She will be home in two days, and our dear lad as well. I wish he -were back from Australia, even before he has started, and so do you, -my dear. But time soon passes. Just now it seems but yesterday that we -were in France." - -The day waned. Rachel and Rose were together; Aaron was in his study, -writing letters. A servant entered. - -"A gentleman to see you, sir." - -Aaron looked at the card, which bore the name of Mr. Richard -Dillworthy. - -"I am busy," said Aaron. "Does he wish to see me particularly? Ask him -if he can call again." - -"He said his business was pressing, sir." - -"Show him in." - -The servant ushered the visitor into the room--a slightly built, -middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair and whiskers. Aaron motioned him -to a chair, and he placed a card on the table bearing the name and -address of a firm of lawyers. - -"I am Mr. Dillworthy, of Dillworthy, Maryx & Co.," he said. - -"Yes." - -"I have come to speak to you upon a family matter----" - -"A family matter!" exclaimed Aaron, interrupting him. - -"On behalf of a client. I shall take it as a favor if you will regard -this interview as private." - -"Certainly." - -"It refers principally to your daughter, Miss Ruth Cohen." - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. -THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE. - - -For the second time on this eventful day Aaron felt as if his sin were -about to be brought home to him, as if the temple which, by long years -of honorable and upright conduct, he had built for himself were about -to crumble to dust. - -In that temple was enshrined not only his good name, but what was of -far greater value to him, his wife's happiness and peace of mind. It -was too late now to go to her frankly and say: "Ruth is not our -child." Out of Rachel's innate goodness and sweetness sprang the deep -love she bore for the young girl; the suggestion of love may come from -without, but the spirit of love is the offspring of one's own heart, -and it is made enduring and ennobling by one's own higher qualities; -and in a like manner it is one's lower passions which debase and -degrade it. - -In whatever fashion Rachel would receive her husband's confession he -knew full well that it would inflict upon her the most exquisite -suffering; the cherished ideal of her life would be shattered, and she -would sit forever afterward in sackcloth and ashes. He had sown a -harvest of woe, and his constant fervent prayer was that he might not -be compelled to reap it with his own hands. - -Agitated as he was, he did not betray himself by word or sign, but by -a courteous movement of his hand invited his visitor to proceed. - -"It is a family matter," said Mr. Dillworthy, "of a peculiarly -delicate nature, and my client thought it could best be arranged in a -private personal interview." - -"Being of such a nature," observed Aaron, "would it not have been -better that it should be arranged privately between the parties -interested instead of through an intermediary?" - -"Possibly, possibly, but my client holds strong views, and feels he -could scarcely trust himself." - -"Favor me with the name of your client." - -"Lord Storndale." - -"Lord Storndale? I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance." - -"But you are familiar with his name?" - -"Not at all. It is the first time I have heard it." - -"You surprise me. Lord Storndale is a peer." - -"I know very few peers, and have had no occasion to study the -peerage." - -"But, pardon me, Storndale is the name; it may have escaped you." - -"I repeat, the name is strange to me." - -"I do not presume to doubt you, but it introduces a new element into -the matter. Your daughter, then, has never mentioned the Honorable -Percy Storndale to you?" - -"Never; and I am at a loss to understand the association of their -names." - -The lawyer paused. In this unexpected turn of affairs a deviation -suggested itself to his legal mind which would be likely to assist -him. - -"Mr. Cohen, you have the reputation of being an earnest and sincere -Jew." - -"I follow the precepts and the obligations of my faith," said Aaron, -with a searching glance at his visitor. - -"In this backsliding and time-serving age orthodoxy--especially, I -should say, in the Jewish religion--has a hard time of it. The customs -and duties of an enlightened civilization must clash severely with the -precepts and obligations you speak of. It is because of the -difficulty--perhaps the impossibility--of following the hard and fast -laws of the Pentateuch that divisions have taken place, as with all -religions, and that you have among you men who call themselves -Reformed Jews." - -"Surely it is not part of your mission to discuss this matter with -me," said Aaron, who had no desire to enter into such questions with a -stranger. - -"No, it is not, and I do not pretend to understand it; but in a -general way the subject is interesting to me. If you will permit me, I -should like to ask you one question." - -Aaron signified assent. - -"What is your opinion of mixed marriages?" - -Aaron did not answer immediately; he had a suspicion that there was -something behind, but the subject was one regarding which both he and -Rachel held a strong view, and he felt he would be guilty of an -unworthy evasion if he refused to reply. - -"I do not approve of them," he said. - -"You set me at ease," said the lawyer, "and it will gratify Lord -Storndale to hear that you and he are in agreement upon the question. -As our interview is private I may speak freely. Unhappily Lord -Storndale is a poor peer. Since he came into the title he has had -great difficulties to contend with, and as his estates lay chiefly in -Ireland, these difficulties have been of late years increased. Happily -or unhappily, also, he has a large family, two daughters and six sons. -Of these sons the Honorable Percy Storndale is the youngest. I do not -know who is the more to be pitied, a poor peer struggling with -mortgages, decreased rents, and the expenses of a large family, or a -younger son who comes into the world with the expectation that he is -to be provided for, and whose father can allow him at the utmost two -hundred and fifty or three hundred a year. Father and son have both to -keep up appearances, and the son's allowance will scarcely pay his -tailor's and his glover's bill. There are a thousand things he wants, -and to which he believes himself entitled--flowers, horses, clubs, a -stall at the theater, and so on and so on, _ad infinitum_. The -consequence is that the young gentleman gets into debt, which grows -and grows. Perhaps he thinks of a means of paying his creditors--he -plunges on a horse, he plays for high stakes at his club. You know the -result. Into the mire deeper and deeper. A sad picture, Mr. Cohen." - -"Very sad," said Aaron, who had listened patiently and knew that the -crucial part of the lawyer's mission--that which affected himself and -Ruth--had not yet been reached. - -"Lord Storndale," continued the lawyer, "is a gentleman of exclusive -views, and is perhaps prouder in his poverty than he would be with a -rent roll of a hundred thousand a year. His son's extravagances and -debts are not hidden from his knowledge--the money lenders take care -of that. From time to time, and at a great sacrifice, he extricates -the young scapegrace from temporary difficulties, but at length he -comes to a full stop. His own means are exhausted, and willing as he -may be to keep putting his hand in his pocket, it is useless to do so, -because the pocket is empty. But he has some influence in a small way, -and he obtains for his son the offer of a post in the colonies, not -very grand certainly, but affording an opening which may lead to -something better if the young gentleman will only condescend to look -at life seriously--which, as a rule, such young fellows decline to do -until it is too late. However, a father, whether he be a peer or a -common laborer, can do no more than his duty. He informs his son of -the appointment he has obtained for him, and the scapegrace--I am -speaking quite openly, Mr. Cohen; the Honorable Percy Storndale _is_ -one--declines to accept it. 'Why?' asks the astonished father. 'I -cannot live on it,' replies the son. Then the father points out how he -can live on it by cutting down some of his extravagances, and that he -may find opportunities in the colonies which he can never meet with -here. The son remains obdurate. 'There is another reason for your -refusal,' says the father. 'There is,' the son admits. 'I prefer to -live in London; it is the only city in the world worth living in.' -'And starving in,' suggests the father. The scapegrace shrugs his -shoulders, and says something will turn up, and that he will not -submit to banishment because he happens to have been born a few years -too late--a reflection upon his brother, the eldest son, who in course -of time will inherit the family embarrassments and mortgages. The -father remonstrates, argues, entreats, but the young man will not give -way. Meanwhile the appointment is bestowed upon another and a worthier -gentleman, and the chance is lost. I trust I am not wearying you." - -"No; I am attending to all you say, and waiting to hear how my -daughter's name comes to be mixed up with the family history you are -giving me." - -"You will understand everything presently. My object is to make the -matter perfectly clear, and to have no concealment. For this reason I -wish you to be aware of the character of the young gentleman, and I am -describing it carefully at the express wish of his father. At the same -time I lay no positive charge against him; I am not saying he is a bad -man, but an undesirable man. There are thousands of young fellows who -are living just such a careless, irresponsible, reckless life, who get -into debt, who gamble, and who ultimately find themselves passing -through the bankruptcy court. Young men without balance, Mr. -Cohen, and who, in consequence, topple over. They sow trouble -wherever they go, and they are always smiling, self-possessed, and -pleasant-mannered. Women especially are caught by these externals, but -speaking myself as the father of grown-up daughters, I should be sorry -to see one of that class visiting my house as a suitor to one of my -girls." Aaron started, but did not speak. "Lord Storndale suspected -that there was another reason, which his son had not mentioned, for -his refusal of the colonial appointment, and in a short time his -suspicions were confirmed. It came to his knowledge that his son was -paying attentions to a young lady whom he was in the habit of meeting -at garden parties and tennis, and he taxed the young gentleman with -it. His son did not deny it; he said that he loved the lady, that her -father was very wealthy, and that she was in every way presentable. 'I -do not know,' said the young man, 'whether the circumstance of her -father being a commoner will prejudice you against him.' Lord -Storndale replied that he would have preferred his son had chosen from -his own rank, but that marriages between rich commoners and members of -the aristocracy were not unusual in these days, and that he would -sanction the match if the lady's father was a gentleman. To be honest -with you, Mr. Cohen, Lord Storndale has no liking for commoners who -have made fortunes in trade or by speculating, but he did not allow -these scruples to weigh with him, his hope being that the proposed -union would be the means of extricating his son from his difficulties. -The young man said that the lady's father was a gentleman widely known -for his benevolence and uprightness of character, and that he was held -in universal esteem. Up to this point the interview had been of an -amiable nature, but then arose an insurmountable difficulty. 'Who is -the gentleman?' inquired Lord Storndale. 'Mr. Aaron Cohen,' replied -the young man." Observing Aaron's agitation, the lawyer suspended his -narration and said: "Pardon me; you were about to speak." - -Aaron by a great effort controlled himself. - -"I will wait till you have quite finished, Mr. Dillworthy. Before I -commit myself it will be as well that I should be in possession of all -the facts." - -"Quite so. I have been explicit and circumstantial in order that there -shall be no mistake. When I have finished you will have few, if any, -questions to ask, because you will know everything it is in my power -to tell. Upon hearing your name his lordship remarked that it was a -Jewish name. 'Yes,' said the young man, 'he is a Jew.' Lord Storndale -was angry and distressed. I admit that it is an unreasonable -prejudice, but he has an invincible dislike to Jews, and it shocked -him to think that his son contemplated a marriage with a Jewess. I -need dwell no longer upon the interview, which now took a stormy turn, -and it ended by the son abruptly leaving the room. On no account -whatever, Mr. Cohen, will Lord Storndale or any member of the family -consent to such an alliance; if it is accomplished the young man will -be thrown upon his own resources, and his wife will not be recognized -by his kinsfolk. The trouble has already reached a climax. The young -gentleman is hot-headed--a Storndale failing--and he declined to -listen to remonstrances; the consequence is that he has been forbidden -his father's home till he comes to reason. But despite his -extravagances and the constant and perplexing involvements issuing -therefrom, his father has an affection for him, and is bent upon -saving his family from----" - -The lawyer pausing here, with an awkward cough, as though he was -choking down a word, Aaron quietly added it. - -"Disgrace?" - -"Well, yes," said Mr. Dillworthy briskly, "we will not mince matters. -It is not my word, but Lord Storndale's. He would account such an -alliance a disgrace. I will say nothing in his excuse. In all -civilized countries we have living evidences of happy unions between -members of the aristocracy and wealthy daughters of Israel, and also -living evidences of happy mixed marriages between persons neither -aristocratic nor wealthy; and these might be brought forward as -powerful arguments against the view my client entertains. But they -would have no weight with him. We must take into consideration the -pride of race." - -"Yes," said Aaron, still speaking in a quiet tone, "we must take that -into consideration. You have not quite finished, sir." - -"Not quite. As a last resource Lord Storndale consulted me, and -intrusted me with a painful task. He requested me to call upon you and -represent the matter in the plainest terms, which I have endeavored to -do, omitting or concealing no single incident of the unhappy affair. I -am deputed to ask you to take a course with your daughter similar to -that he has taken with his son--that is, to absolutely forbid the -union. The young gentleman is in a state of extreme pecuniary -embarrassment, and it is possible--I do not state it as a fact, but -merely as a presumption--that he reckons upon your aid to settle with -his creditors. When he finds that this aid will not be forthcoming, -and that he cannot depend upon your making a suitable settlement upon -your daughter, he is not unlikely, for prudential reasons, to beat a -retreat. A good end will thus be served, and much future misery -averted. You will gather from what I have said that I do not believe -the Honorable Percy Storndale possesses qualities which would make -your daughter happy." - -"You are commissioned to take my answer to Lord Storndale." - -"I am." - -"I may trust you to convey that answer as nearly as possible in my own -words?" - -"It shall be my endeavor." - -"You will tell him, then, that the mission with which he has intrusted -you is a surprise to me. Until this day I never heard his name, nor -until this day have I heard the name of his son. Never before, to my -knowledge, has my daughter concealed anything from me or from her -mother, and I need not say that what you have revealed is a grief to -me, and will be to her mother if it comes to her ears. That our -daughter must have been under the spell of some powerful influence to -induce her to keep us in ignorance of what was passing between her and -your client's son is in my judgment indisputable, and the inference is -that this influence has been exercised by the young man, who must have -bound her by a solemn promise to say nothing of the attentions he has -paid to her. I have no hesitation in declaring that no honorable man -would have acted in a manner so clandestine and secret, and you will -inform Lord Storndale that in my opinion his son is not a man of -honor. A young girl's trustfulness and innocence should be her -safeguard, but here they have been basely used by a man who, according -to your own statement, by his external accomplishments has unhappily -attracted her. It has not been concealed from us that our daughter has -mixed a little in society outside our special family circle, for in -her participation of these, as I hoped, harmless pleasures she had -generally been accompanied by her mother, who, I grieve to say, is -blind. - -"This affliction has necessarily prevented her from keeping that watch -over her daughter which is a mother's loving duty, and of this -affliction your client's son has taken a base advantage. You speak of -the pride of race as affecting Lord Storndale. We have also that -pride, and if we were so far forgetful of the obligations of our faith -as to admit your client's son into our family it is upon him and upon -Lord Storndale, not upon us, that honor would have been conferred. -Such an alliance will never, with my sanction, be entered into, and I -will endeavor to guard my daughter from the peril with which she is -threatened." - -Mr. Dillworthy, having obtained his point, wisely dropped the subject. -He briefly expressed his obligations to Aaron, and rose to take his -departure. - -Before he reached the door, however, he turned, and in a tone of -courteous deference asked if Mr. Cohen could spare him a few moments -more. - -Aaron assenting, the lawyer resumed his seat, and taking a pocketbook -from his pocket, searched in it for a letter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. -THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PAST. - - -Aaron observed him anxiously. The disclosure that had already been -made had so unnerved him that he was apprehensive of further trouble. - -"Ah, here it is," said the lawyer, opening the letter for which he had -been looking. "I was afraid I had left it behind me. Excuse me a -moment; I wish to refresh my memory." - -He ran his eye over the letter, and nodded as he went through its -points of importance. - -"Does it concern the unhappy affair we have discussed"? inquired -Aaron, unable to restrain his impatience. - -"No," replied the lawyer; "I take it that is settled, and I trust, for -the sake of both the families, that it will not be reopened." - -"I trust not." - -"This is quite a different matter, and I hardly know how to excuse -myself for troubling you with it. It is a sudden thought, for I came -here with no such intention. You must thank your own reputation for -it, Mr. Cohen; it is well known that you have never neglected an -opportunity to do an act of kindness, and though what I am about to -speak of has come to me in the way of business, the story contains -elements so romantic and peculiar that it has strangely attracted me. -The reference in the letter which induces me to think that you may be -able to help me is that you are a gentleman of influence in your -community, and have a wide acquaintance with your co-religionists. -Perhaps I had better read the words. My correspondent says: 'I know -that there are peculiar difficulties in the search I intend to make -upon my return home, but before my arrival you may be able to discover -something which will be of assistance to me. Probably if you consulted -some kind-hearted and influential member of the Jewish race you may, -through him, obtain a clew; or, failing this, you might employ a -Jewish agent to make inquiries.' It is a lady who writes to me, and -her letter comes from Australia. May I continue? Thank you. Let me -tell you the story; it will interest you, and I will be as brief as -possible. The letter is too long to read throughout." He handed it to -Aaron. "It occupies, you see, fourteen closely written pages, and it -is somewhat in the nature of a confession. If you wish I will have a -copy of it made, and will send it on to you to-morrow." - -Aaron, turning over the pages, came to the superscription: "I remain, -yours truly, Mary Gordon." - -Truly this was a day of startling surprises to him. He recollected the -name as that of the gentleman for whom, twenty years ago, Mr. Moss had -undertaken the commission which had lifted him from beggary by placing -in his hands a large sum of money, to which in strict justice he was -not entitled, but which, from fear that the deception he had practiced -might otherwise be discovered, he had been compelled to accept. He -had, as an atonement, expended in secret charities a hundred times the -sum, but this did not absolve him from the responsibility. The spirit -of the dead past rose before him, and he was overwhelmed with the -dread possibilities it brought with it. - -"I fear," said the lawyer, "that I have been inconsiderate in -introducing the matter at the present moment. I will postpone it to a -future occasion." - -"Pray continue," said Aaron, whose burning desire now was to know the -worst. "I have had an exciting day, but I will pay due attention to -what you wish to impart to me." - -"I appreciate your kindness. If you cannot yourself assist me you may -recommend me to an agent whom I will employ. I see that you referred -in the letter to the name of my correspondent, Mrs. Gordon; the -inquiry is of a delicate nature, and it may be her wish that her name -is not too freely mentioned--at all events for the present. Her story -is not an uncommon one, but it takes an extraordinary and unusual -turn. She is now, according to her own account, a lady of considerable -means; her husband has lately died and she has come into a fortune. -Some twenty odd years ago she was a young woman, and had two lovers, -one of whom wooed her with dishonorable intentions, and by him she was -betrayed. This occurred during the absence in Australia of the -gentleman who had proposed to her, and whom she had accepted. He was a -resident in Australia, and it was his intention to make his home -there. While he was on his way to England, with the intention of -making her his wife and returning with her to the colony, she -discovered that she was about to become a mother. In despair she fled -from London, where he expected to find her, and sought to hide her -shame among strangers. The place she selected was Portsmouth, and -there she went through a series of harrowing trials, and was reduced -to extreme poverty. In her letter to me she makes no effort to -disguise the misery into which she was plunged, and she is frank and -outspoken in order that I may properly understand how it was that she -was forced to abandon the child that was born in Portsmouth under the -most distressing circumstances. For it appears that when the suitor -who wooed her honorably arrived in London and learned the story of her -betrayal he was still desirous to make her his wife. He traced her to -Portsmouth, and found her there with her babe, who was then but a few -days old. This would have induced most men to forego their honorable -intentions, but Mr. Gordon, whose name she now bears, was an exception -to the rule, and, through a poor gentleman who acted as a go-between, -he made a singular proposition to her. It was to the effect that she -should consent to give up her child entirely, and during his lifetime -to make no effort to recover it. He undertook to find a respectable -and comfortable home for the babe, and to make a liberal provision for -it. This is the bare outline of this proposition, and I need not go -farther into it. So desperate was her position that she and her child -at the time were literally starving; she had not a friend except Mr. -Gordon, who was stern in his resolve not to befriend her unless she -accepted the conditions he dictated; the gentleman who acted as a -go-between was poor and could not help her. - -"In these circumstances she made the sacrifice he demanded, and parted -with her child, who from that day to this she has never seen. Mr. -Gordon honorably fulfilled the terms of the agreement; a home was -found for the child, and he married the lady and took her to -Australia, where she has resided for the last twenty years. It was -part of the agreement that she should not be informed of the name of -the people who adopted the child, and should not, directly or -indirectly, make the least endeavor to obtain any information -concerning it while her husband was alive. If he died before her she -was free to act as she pleased in the matter. This has occurred, and -the widow, who has had no children by her marriage, is bent upon -recovering her child, who, I may mention, is a girl. The task is beset -with difficulties, and may prove hopeless. Shortly stated, Mr. Cohen, -this is the case as it at present stands." - -"Is there a special reason," inquired Aaron, "for your applying to me -for assistance?" - -"Not exactly special; it is in a sense accidental, inspired by my -visit this evening on the other matter we have spoken of. There are -certain particulars in relation to Mrs. Gordon's search for her -daughter which I have omitted. The arrangements for the future -provision of the babe were carried out, I understand, by a firm of -lawyers whose names Mrs. Gordon has been unable to ascertain, but she -is acquainted with the name of the gentleman who in Portsmouth -conveyed Mr. Gordon's proposition to her. This gentleman is Dr. -Spenlove, who, leaving Portsmouth several years ago, has attained an -eminent position in London. You may probably know him." - -"He was at my house to-day." - -"Then you are on terms of intimacy with him?" - -"No. We met to-day for the first time." - -"In her letter Mrs. Gordon refers me to Dr. Spenlove, and I have seen -him on the subject. But it appears he is bound to secrecy, and he -declines, very properly perhaps, to enter into any communication with -me on the matter." - -"Still you have not explained why you apply to me. - -"The explanation is simple. It has somehow come to Mrs. Gordon's -knowledge that, after enlisting the services of Dr. Spenlove, her -husband employed another agent, who was commissioned to find a home -for her child, and that this agent was of the Jewish persuasion. The -natural conclusion is that this agent was a resident of Portsmouth, -who may or may not have been bound to secrecy in the same manner as -Dr. Spenlove. You have friends of your own persuasion everywhere and -are probably acquainted with many Portsmouth Jews, through whom this -poor lady may gain intelligence of the fate of her child. If you -assist me you will earn a mother's gratitude." - -"I will consider it," said Aaron, and his voice was troubled; "that is -all I can promise at present." - -Mr. Dillworthy gave him a kind look and said: "It is not an opportune -time to seek your aid in a cause in which you are not personally -interested, when another subject, the welfare of a dear daughter, must -naturally engross your attention. Pray forgive me, Mr. Cohen." - -Aaron bent his head, and as the lawyer closed the door behind him sank -into his chair with a heavy sigh. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. -BEFORE ALL, DUTY. - - -On this evening many pressing matters claimed his attention, and -before Mr. Dillworthy's visit he had intended to devote himself -entirely to them. - -He took an active part in the dispensing of several Jewish charities, -and his personal attendance was necessary to a wise distribution of -their funds. Some of these charities were modest in the limited extent -of their aims, but they needed care and attention, and his presence -was always anxiously looked for by both the administrators and -recipients. - -Meetings of two of the charities were to be held this evening, and -he had promised to preside at both. He must not disappoint them. -Before all, duty. That was the thought that came to him--before all, -duty, and it was only the iteration of it that brought a true sense -of its significance to his mind. Before all, duty, in these public -matters--but did it not also apply to private life? And if so, what -part in the strict adherence to the axiom did love occupy? - -What was his duty here at home in respect of his wife and the girl he -had brought up as their daughter? He endeavored to thrust the -reflection aside, and drew forth some papers which bore reference to -the charities and to another matter of great public, importance which -had occupied him for weeks past, and which he was on the point of -bringing to a successful conclusion. - -He strove now to concentrate his attention upon the papers, for he was -to attend a late night meeting at eleven o'clock at which a decision -was to be arrived at which was to affect thousands of poor families. - -There had been a great strike in the building trade, and vast numbers -of men had voluntarily thrown themselves out of employment, and had -chosen what was almost next door to starvation in their adherence to a -principle. The strike had been brought about chiefly by Aaron's great -rival contractor, a Mr. Poynter, an employer of labor on a gigantic -scale, and a man as well known as Aaron himself. - -To say that these two were rivals does not necessarily imply that they -were enemies, for that is a game that two must play at, and it was a -game in which Aaron played no part. He did not approve of Mr. -Poynter's methods--he went no farther than that. - -On the other hand, Mr. Poynter hated Aaron with a very sincere and -conscientious hate. He hated him because he had lost several -profitable contracts which Aaron had obtained, and this hatred may be -applied in a general sense because he hated every successful rival, -great or small. - -He hated him because Aaron was genuinely respected by large bodies of -workingmen, and had great influence with them; and this hatred may -also be applied in a general sense, because he hated all employers of -labor who were held by their workmen in higher respect than himself. - -He hated Aaron because he was a Jew, and this may certainly be applied -in a general sense, because he had a bitter hatred of all Jews, and -would have willingly subscribed liberally and joined in a crusade to -hunt them out of the country. - -That a Jew could be a good man, that he could be a just -man, that he could do anything without an eye to profit or -self-aggrandizement--these were monstrous propositions, and no man of -sense, certainly no true Christian, could seriously entertain them. -Mr. Poynter was a Christian, a true Christian, regular in his -attendances at church and fairly liberal also in his charities, though -his left hand always knew what his right hand did. And here he found -another cause for hating Aaron. - -He heard his name quoted as a man of large benevolence, and he went so -far as to declare that Aaron's charities were a means to an end. - -"He looks upon them as an investment," he said; "they bring him a good -return. Did you ever know a Jew part with money without an eye to the -main chance?" - -When he heard that it was generally reported that Aaron gave away in -secret much more than he gave away in public his comment was, "What is -easier than to set such a rumor afloat? Any rich man can do it by an -expenditure of ten pounds a year. If money is bestowed in secret who -is to know of it but the donor? If it becomes public who could have -spoken of it first but the donor? No one but a fool would be gulled by -so transparent a trick." - -These detractions were generally uttered to men who sympathized with -the speaker, and they were not without effect. By which it will be -seen that Aaron had enemies, as all men have. - -Mr. Poynter posed as a moral man, and it is the very essence of these -usurpers of morality that they must stand alone, and that upon their -pedestal there shall be no room for any other braggart. He was a -married man with sons and daughters and a wife, who all looked upon -the husband and father as a pattern. - -Whether his children followed the pattern or not does not concern this -history, which has to do with the head of the family alone. Whatever a -man may be in the prime of life the earlier Adam, if it differ from -the later, will very likely assert itself in the blood of his -descendants, and this may have been the case with Mr. Poynter's -children, despite the respect in which they held him. - -You come into contact with a sober-faced man, whose distinguishing -mark is one of intense respectability; you see him at home in the -bosom of his family, whom he entertains with severely respectable -platitudes; you hear his opinions on matters of current interest, a -trial, a scandal in high life, tittle-tattle of the stage, the court, -the Church, and society in general. - -What an intensely respectable gentleman, what severely respectable -views, what strict morality, what an estimable father of a family! -Ah, but draw the curtain of years aside, and we behold another -man--another man, yet still the same: a man about town, philandering, -deceiving, lying, and playing the base part to serve his selfish -pleasures. Where is the morality, where the respectability now?--and -which of the two is the true man? - -Was this the case with Mr. Poynter? The course of events may possibly -supply the answer to this question presently. Meanwhile nothing is -more certain to-day than that he is accepted as he presents himself. -But if in the past life of such a man as Aaron Cohen may be found an -episode of his own creating upon which he looks with dismay, why might -it not be so with such a man as Mr. Poynter? - -Aaron Cohen and he had been acquainted for many years, and at Aaron's -hands Mr. Poynter had received mortifications again and again. In a -country like England, where operations of magnitude are being -continually undertaken, there is room for all who occupy the higher -rungs of the ladder; it is only the lower rungs which are overcrowded, -and which need clearing by means of emigration to lands where there is -room for the toiling, suffering millions. But Mr. Poynter chose to -believe that there was not room for Aaron and himself, and he had -nursed and fostered an ardent wish to drag Aaron down. - -Perhaps it was the knowledge of his own early life that made him -think, "If I could find something in his past that would bring shame -upon him--if I could only rake up something that would show him in his -true light! It would be the commercial and social ruin of him. He -would never be able to hold up his head again." - -He would gladly have paid for some such discovery. - -At the present time he had special reasons for hate. One reason was -that the strike in the building trade was affecting him seriously. He -was engaged in large contracts in the carrying out of which some -thousands of men were needed, and it was chiefly against himself that -the strike was ordered by the unions. He was on the brink of great -losses, and Aaron had been called in as a mediator and arbitrator. - -The strike at an end he was safe, but every day that it was prolonged -meant so many hundreds of pounds out of his pocket. His fate seemed to -hang upon the final advice to the men which Aaron was to give, and his -profits would be large or small according to the nature of that -advice. - -He laid the credit of the strike at Aaron's door, for in their -enterprises he and Aaron employed different methods. Aaron had pursued -in England the course he had pursued in France. - -He paid his men liberally, gave them bonuses, even to a certain extent -acknowledged them as co-operators. In Mr. Poynter's eyes this was a -crime, for it struck at the very root of his prosperity. "He is a -socialist," Mr. Poynter said; "men of his stamp are a danger to -society." - -Another reason was that tenders had lately been called for on works of -exceptional magnitude, and he had entertained hopes of obtaining the -contract. Again he was worsted by this insidious enemy. Within the -last few hours he had heard that Aaron's tender had been accepted. He -ground his teeth with rage. He could have undertaken the works in -spite of the strike, for he had nearly completed arrangements for the -introduction of foreign workmen, whom he was determined to employ if -the English workers held out. - -There would be a row, of course, and the lower classes would cast -obloquy upon him, for which he would have to thank his rival enemy. -When he heard that he had lost the contract he said to a friend: "I -would give half I am worth to drag him down." And he meant what he -said, although he probably named a larger percentage than he would be -willing to pay. - -The last meeting of the strikers was now being held. It had been -called for seven o'clock, and it was known that the discussion would -occupy several hours. Aaron was not asked to attend this discussion, -which was to be private, even the representatives of the press not -being admitted. - -Eleven o'clock was the hour at which he was expected, and it was -understood that he would bring with him certain propositions from the -masters, which, with the workmen's views, were to be discussed, and a -decision arrived at. To-morrow morning's papers would announce whether -the strike was to be continued or was at an end. - -He studied the papers before him: the arguments and statements of -employers of labor, comparisons of wages here and in foreign -countries, the comparative rates of living here and there, documents -of every description, among which were pathetic letters from wives of -the strikers, imploring him to put an end to the strike. - -He had mastered them all, and was familiar with every detail, but he -wished to divert his attention for this night from his own private -affairs. His mind must be free; he would think of them to-morrow. He -had public duties to attend to. Before all, duty. - -The words haunted him. He could think only of his beloved wife and of -Ruth. Very well. He had half an hour to spare before he left his house -for the Jewish meetings; he would devote the time to a consideration -of his private duty. - -He gathered his papers, arranged them in order, and put them in his -pocket. He dallied with them at first, but feeling that he was -prolonging the simple task in order to shorten the time for serious -thought, he smiled pitifully at his weakness, and completed it -expeditiously. - -In admitting Ruth into his household, in adopting her as a daughter, -he had undertaken a sacred responsibility. He was fully conscious of -this twenty years ago in Gosport, and what he had done had been done -deliberately. - -It was a question then of the sacrifice of a precious life. The doctor -had set it clearly before him. - -The pregnant words they had exchanged were in his memory now, and -might have been spoken only a few moments since. - -"Her life," the doctor had said, "hangs upon the life of her child." - -"If our child lives," Aaron had asked, "there is hope that my wife -will live?" - -"A strong hope," the doctor had answered. - -"And if our child dies?" asked Aaron. - -The doctor answered: "The mother will die." - -He recalled the agony of those hours, the sufferings through which -Rachel had passed with so much sweetness and patience, his poverty -and helplessness, the dark future before him. Then came the ray of -light--Mr. Moss, with the strange commission of the deserted child. He -had not courted it, had not invited it, he had had no hand in it. He -had regarded it as a message from Heaven. - -What followed? - -The death of his own babe, the calm and peaceful death, the young soul -taken to heaven, his beloved wife in an untroubled sleep by the side -of her dead babe. It was a visitation of God. Again, could he be -accused of having had a hand in it? Heaven forbid! - -On the contrary, who could blame him for believing that it was a -divine direction of the course he was to take? And who was wronged? -Surely not the mother who had deserted her babe. Surely not the babe, -who had found a happy home. The wrong--and herein was the sting---was -to Rachel, whose life had been saved by the deceit. So far, then, was -he not justified? - -But if before the committal of a sin we could see the consequences of -the sin--if he had seen the consequences of his--would he not have -paused and said: "It rests with God. Let it be as he wills. I will be -no party to the deceit"? In that case Rachel's life would have been -sacrificed. There was no human doubt of it. Rachel would have died, -and the blessings she had shed around her, the good she had been -enabled to do, the suffering hearts she had relieved, the light she -had brought into despairing homes, would never have been. Against a -little evil so much good. Against a slight error so much that was -sweet and beautiful. - -But in these reflections he had taken into account only Rachel and -himself--only their two lives. How about Ruth herself? - -He had never disguised from himself that there was much in Ruth's -character which was not in accordance with Rachel's views or his own, -which she did not assimilate with either of their natures. Being one -of his family in the eyes of the world, he had brought her up as a -Jewess. She was born a Christian. Was this not a crime of which she -had been made the victim? He had experienced great difficulties in her -education. He wished to correct the defect which exists in ninety-nine -English Jewesses out of a hundred--he wished her to pray in the Hebrew -tongue, and to understand her prayers. - -To this end he himself had endeavored to teach her to read and -translate Hebrew. She would not learn. Even now as a woman she -understood but a very few words, and this scanty knowledge was -mechanical. A parrot might have learned as much. She had an aversion -to Jewish society. - -As a child, when she was necessarily in leading strings, she was taken -by Rachel to the synagogue on every Sabbath day, but when she began to -have intelligent ideas she rebelled; she would not go, and Rachel -walked to the house of God alone. - -It was a grief to her that Ruth would not follow in her footsteps, and -she and Aaron had frequently conversed upon the subject. - -"It was so with many Jewish women," Aaron said. "It would be wrong to -force her; she will find out her error by and by." - -But Ruth never did, and Rachel suffered in silence. - -There was another sorrow. Between their son Joseph and Ruth did not -exist that love which brother and sister should bear each other. -Joseph was ready with demonstrative affection, but Ruth did not -respond. Aaron had taken note of this, but he was powerless to remedy -it, and the lad, who was as solicitous as his father to spare the dear -mother pain, made no trouble of it. - -Ruth respected and admired her reputed father, and in the feelings she -entertained toward him there was an element of fear, because of his -strength of character, but she did not love him as a child should. He, -knowing what he knew, found excuses for her. "It is in her blood," he -said to himself. - -All this was hidden from Rachel, to whom Ruth was tender and kind. Who -could be otherwise to so sweet a woman? But Rachel did not know of -what she was deprived until Rose Moss began to make long visits to -their home. "Rose is like a daughter to me," she said, and only Aaron -was aware of the depth of meaning these simple words conveyed. - -But now he had to consider the matter, not from his or Rachel's point -of view, but from Ruth's. She was a woman in her springtime, and love -had come to her, and she had held out her arms to it. And the man she -loved was a Christian. - -It was not within his right to take into consideration that the man -she loved was a spendthrift and a scapegrace. The question had often -intruded itself, since she was grown to womanhood, whether he would -not be adding sin to sin by encouraging her to marry a Jew. She had -answered the question herself. What right had he to gainsay her? He -might, as a true and sincere friend, say to her: "This man will not -make you happy. He has vices and defects which will bring misery upon -your home. You must not marry him." But he had no right to say to her: -"You must not marry this man, because he is a Christian." It would be -a detestable argument for one in his position, and in hers, to -advance. - -Then Mr. Dillworthy might be wrong in his estimate of the young man's -character. The only objection Lord Storndale had to the union was that -Ruth was a Jewess. But she was not a Jewess, and it was in his power -to go to the young man's father and make the disclosure to him. Lord -Storndale's natural reply would be: "Let it be clearly understood. You -have done this lady a grievous wrong. You are a wealthy man. Repair -the wrong by making a suitable settlement upon her. But it must be -publicly done, and the injustice of which you have been guilty must be -publicly acknowledged." The only answer he could make would be: "It is -just. I will do as you dictate." - -What would be the effect as regarded himself? Among his -co-religionists he was held up as a pillar of the old Jewish faith. -His voice had been raised against apostasy; he had taken a decided -stand against the more liberal ideas of civilized life which prevailed -and were adopted by a large section of his race. - -Even now he was pledged to deliver a public address against the -backsliding of the modern Jew, who was disposed to adapt his life to -the altered circumstances of the times. He had written his address, -and public attention had been drawn to the coming event. His arguments -were to himself convincing, and by them he hoped to stem the tide. - -He had always been orthodox, and he hoped to prevail against the wave -of heterodoxy which was sweeping over modern Judaism. He had stepped -forward as a champion. In the light of the duty which properly -devolved upon him, how dare he, himself a transgressor, presume to -teach his brethren their religious duty? His sound judgment of things -which interested or affected him was due to his common sense, which, -he had been heard to say, was a rare quality. - -"You are always right," Mr. Moss once said to him. "How is it?" - -"If I form a correct opinion," he replied, with a smile, "it is -because I exercise my common sense. I do not judge from my own -standpoint." - -He did this now. He put himself in the place of other men. He listened -to his own confession. He passed the verdict upon himself. - -"This man has been living the life of a hypocrite. He has accepted -money for false services. Not in words, but by his acts, he has lied. -He has violated the canons of his religion. He has deceived his -wife--for money, which he pretends to despise. He has robbed a young -girl of her birthright. And he dares to preach to us of duty!" - -Who would believe if he told the true story of his hard trial--if he -described the bitter tribulation of his soul when his beloved wife was -lying at death's door? He had counseled many men in their days of -struggle and temptation to be brave and do their duty. How had he -performed his in _his_ hour of temptation? No one would believe the -only story he could plead in extenuation of his sin. He would be -condemned by all. - -And he was in the zenith of his fame. On this very day, when exposure -seemed to be approaching with swift and certain steps, he had been -honored as few men lived to be. If he felt pleasure in the position he -had won it was because it was a source of pride and pleasure to -Rachel. Was he, with his own hand, to destroy the ideal he had -created? Was this the plain duty that lay now before him? - -"The carriage is at the door, sir." - -It was a servant who interrupted his tortured musings. He had given -orders to be informed when his carriage was ready. With slow steps he -left his study. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. -A CHEERFUL DOCTOR. - - -There was an apartment in Aaron Cohen's house which was called the -cozy room, where the family were in the habit of sitting when they had -no visitors, and it was here that their real domestic happiness -reigned. Here Aaron used to smoke his old silver-mounted pipe, and -chat with his wife, and indulge in his entertaining pleasantries when -he was in the humor, and here the feeling used to steal over him that -life would hold more joy for him and those dear to him if they dwelt -in a smaller house and his doings were less under the public eye. - -"I am convinced," he would say, "that those who are in the lower -middle class are the best off. They have fewer cares, they have more -time for domestic enjoyment, they can attend without hindrance to -their own affairs. There is no happiness in riches. Why do I continue -to wish to accumulate more money?" - -"Because," Rachel would answer affectionately, "It enables you to -contribute to the happiness of others. But I should be as contented if -we were poor." - -On the occasion of Mr. Dillworthy's visit to Aaron a scene of a -different nature was being enacted in the cozy room. Rachel was -overpowered with languor, and she fell into a doze. The apartment was -large, but an arrangement of screens and the disposal of the furniture -made it look small; domestically speaking, there is no comfort in any -but a small room. - -Rose during her present visit had noticed with concern that Mrs. Cohen -appeared weak, and that her movements, which were always gentle, were -more so than usual, and that her quiet ways seemed to be the result of -physical prostration. She spoke of it to Rachel, who confessed that -she had not felt strong lately, but cautioned Rose to say nothing of -it to Aaron. - -"He is so easily alarmed about me," she said, "and he has great -anxieties upon him." - -"But you should see the doctor," urged Rose solicitously. - -"I will wait a day or two," answered Rachel, and again enjoined Rose -not to alarm her husband. - -On the evening of this exciting day she looked so pale and fatigued -that she yielded to Rose's solicitations, and without Aaron's -knowledge sent for the physician who was in the habit of attending -her. While waiting for him she fell asleep in her armchair in the cozy -room. At her request Rose played softly some of Rachel's favorite -pieces. The piano was behind a screen at one end of the room, and Rose -did not know that she had fallen asleep. While thus employed Prissy -quietly entered the room. The faithful woman looked at her mistress, -and stepped noiselessly to the screen. - -"Miss Rose," she whispered. - -The girl stopped playing immediately, and came from behind the screen. - -"Is it the doctor, Prissy?" she asked. - -"No, miss." - -Prissy pointed to her mistress, and Rose went to the armchair, and -adjusted a light shawl which was falling from the sleeping lady's -shoulder. It was a slight action, but it was done with so much -tenderness that Prissy smiled approvingly. She liked Rose much better -than Ruth, who did not hold in her affections the place the other -members of the family did. Humble as was her position in the -household, she had observed things of which she disapproved. - -Ruth was from home more frequently than she considered proper, and had -often said to her: "You need not tell my mother that I have gone out -unless she asks you." - -Prissy had not disobeyed her, and the consequence was that Ruth was -sometimes absent from the house for hours without her father or mother -being aware of it. Prissy's idea was that her young mistress would -bring trouble on the house, but she kept silence, because she would -otherwise have got into trouble herself with Ruth, and would also have -distressed her dear lady if she had made mention of her suspicions, -for which she could have offered no reasonable explanation. Prissy's -distress of mind was not lessened because Ruth, when she enjoined -secrecy upon her, gave her money, as if to purchase her silence. She -would have refused these bribes, but Ruth forced them upon her, and -she felt as if she were in a conspiracy to destroy the peace of the -family. - -"I did not know she was asleep," said Rose, coming back to Prissy. - -"I'm sure you didn't, miss. She falls off, you know." - -"Yes, I know," said Rose with affectionate solicitude. "What do you -want, Prissy?" - -"I've got a letter for you, miss." - -"I didn't hear the postman." - -"The postman didn't bring it, miss," said Prissy, giving her the -letter. "A boy. Said immejiet." - -"It must be from--no." She was thinking of her lover as she looked at -the letter, but she saw it was not his hand. She recognized the -writing--it was Ruth's. "The envelope is not very clean, Prissy." - -"So I told the boy when he brought it to the back door." - -"The back door!" exclaimed Rose, rather bewildered. - -"It's curious, isn't it, miss, that it wasn't sent by post?" - -"Yes, it is. What did the boy say?" - -"It's what I said first, miss. 'You've been and dropped it in the -gutter,' I said. But he only laughed and said it was give to him this -morning, and that he was to bring it to the servants' entrance and ask -for Prissy." - -"But why didn't he deliver it this morning?" asked Rose, her -bewilderment growing. - -"I don't know, miss. He's been playing in the streets all day, I -expect. Anyway he said I was to give it you when nobody was looking. -It's Miss Ruth's writing, miss." - -Rose made no remark upon this, but asked: "Did he say who gave it to -him?" - -"A young lady he said, miss." - -"That will do, Prissy." - -"Can I do anything for you, miss? - -"Nothing, thank you." - -Prissy gone, Rose looked at the envelope, and saw written in one -corner, "Read this when you are alone." Troubled and perplexed, she -stood with the letter in her hand, but when the door was opened again -and the doctor was announced she put it hastily into her pocket and -went forward to meet him. - -Dr. Roberts had attended Rachel for some years past, and took the -deepest interest in her. - -"Sleeping," he said, stepping to her side. He turned to Rose, and -questioning her, learned why he had been sent for. - -"She falls asleep," he said, with his fingers on Rachel's pulse. "Ah, -you are awake," as Rachel sat upright. "Now let us see what is the -matter. You are not in pain? No. That's good." - -"It is only because Rose was so anxious," said Rachel. "There is -really nothing the matter with me, doctor." - -"But you feel weak and drowsy at times. We will soon set that right." - -Dr. Roberts was one of those cheerful physicians whose bright ways -always brightened his patients. "Make the best of a case," was a -favorite saying of his, "not the worst." - -He remained with Rachel a quarter of an hour, advised her to get to -bed, gave her instructions as to food, ordered her a tonic, and took -his leave. Rose went with him into the passage. - -"There is no danger, doctor?" - -"Not the slightest, my dear," he answered in a fatherly manner. "But I -would advise perfect rest. Don't tell her anything exciting. She must -not be worried. Get a humorous story, and read it to her. Make her -laugh. Let everything be bright and cheerful about her. But I need not -say that. It always is, eh? If you have any troubles keep them to -yourself. But what troubles should a young girl like you have?" - -He met Aaron at the street door. - -"Ah, Mr. Cohen, I have been to see your wife--in a friendly way." - -"She is not ill?" asked Aaron in an anxious tone, stepping back. - -"No--a little weak, that is all. Don't go up to see her; I have just -left her, and she will think there is something the matter, when -there's nothing that cannot be set right in a few days. She wants -tone, that is all, and rest, and perfect freedom from excitement. That -is essential. Such a day as this, flattering and pleasant as it must -have been, is not good for her. Keep her mind at rest, let her hear -nothing to disturb her, speak of none but cheerful subjects to her, -and she will be herself again in a week. Follow my advice, and there -is not the least cause for anxiety." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. -RUTH'S SECRET. - - -Dr. Roberts' hearty and confident tone carried conviction with it. -Aaron's anxiety was dispelled; easier in his mind respecting Rachel's -health, he felt like a man reprieved. A few days were still left for -reflection, and he went forth to his public duties with a sense of -great relief. - -Rose, meanwhile, was busy for some time attending to Rachel, who -wished the young girl to remain with her till she was asleep. With -Ruth's letter in her pocket, which had been delivered almost -clandestinely at the house, and which she was enjoined to read when -she was alone, she was compelled to bridle her impatience. She did not -dare to speak of it to Rachel, and the course the conversation took in -the bedroom did not tend to compose her. Rachel spoke only of family -matters--of her husband and her children--in which category she -included Rose. Presently the conversation drifted entirely to the -subject of Ruth. - -"Young girls," said Rachel, "confide in each other. There is a true -affection between you, is there not, my dear?" - -"Yes," replied Rose, wondering what was coming, and dreading it. - -"It happens sometimes," continued Rachel, with a sigh, "that parents -do not entirely win their children's confidence. Joseph has not a -secret from me. He is happy. Do you think Ruth is quite happy, my -dear?" - -"I think so," said Rose. - -"I am not asking you to break a confidence she may have reposed in -you." - -Rose could not refrain from interrupting her. - -"But, dear mother, I know nothing." - -As she uttered the words a guilty feeling stole over her. What did the -letter in her pocket contain? - -Rachel drew the girl's face to hers, and caressed her. - -"Now it is you," she said, "who are speaking as if you are in trouble. -I am very inconsiderate, but love has its pains as well as its joys. -You have no trouble, Rose?" - -"None, dear mother. I am perfectly happy." - -"See how mistaken I am; and I hope I am mistaken also about Ruth. I -feared that she had a secret which she was concealing from me. Blind -people are suspicious, Rose, and breed trouble for themselves and -others." - -"Not you, dear mother," said Rose, kissing her. "Now you must go to -sleep. This is quite against the doctor's orders." - -Rachel smiled and yielded; she took pleasure in being led by those she -loved. - -In the solitude of her chamber Rose read the letter: - - -"Darling Rose: I am in great trouble, and you must help me. You are -the only friend I have in the world--but no, I must not say that; it -is not true. What I mean is, you are the only friend at home I can -trust. - -"Father and mother, and you, too, think I am in Portsmouth with your -family. Dear Rose, I am in London--I have been in London all the week. -The happiness of my life is in your hands--remember that. - -"I went down to Portsmouth, but I only stayed two days. I told your -father I had to pay a visit to other friends, and he believed me. And -now I hear he is in London and, of course, will come to the house. He -is the only person you must tell; you must beg him not to say a word -about my going from Portsmouth; you must make him promise; you don't -know what depends upon it. Speak to him quietly, and say he must not -betray me; he will do anything for you. - -"Dear, darling Rose, I have a secret that I cannot disclose yet. I -will soon, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps in a week--I cannot fix a time, -because it does not depend upon me. But remember my happiness is in -your hands. Your loving - -"Ruth." - - -The young girl was bewildered and distressed by this communication. -They had all believed that Ruth was on a visit to Rose's family, and -Rose had received letters from her with the Portsmouth postmark on -them. It was true that Ruth had asked her, as a particular favor, not -to reply to the letters, and though Rose considered it a strange -request, she had complied with it. Ruth's stronger will always -prevailed with her. But what did it all mean? If Ruth had been in -London a week where was she stopping? Rose's character could hardly as -yet be said to be formed; it was sweet, but it lacked decision, and -she looked helplessly round as if for guidance. She was glad when -Prissy knocked at her door and said that her father was downstairs. -Part of the responsibility seemed to be already lifted from her -shoulders. - -"Prissy," she said before she went down, "you haven't spoken to anyone -about the letter?" - -"No, miss." - -"Don't say anything about it, please. Mrs. Cohen is not well, and the -doctor is very particular that she shall not be bothered or worried. - -"I won't say anything, miss." - -She shook her head gravely as Rose tripped downstairs and muttered: - -"Trouble's coming--or my name aint what it is." - -"I am so glad you are here, father," said Rose; "I have something to -tell you." - -"I have something to tell you, Rose," said Mr. Moss. "Such an odd -impression! Of course I must be mistaken. But first I want to know how -Mrs. Cohen is. I thought she was not looking strong to-day." - -Rose told him of the doctor's visit and the instructions he had given, -and then handed him Ruth's letter, which he read in pain and surprise. - -"I don't like the look of it, Rose," he said. "I hate mystery, and I -cannot decide immediately whether it ought to be kept from Mr. Cohen." - -"Oh, father!" cried Rose. "Ruth will never forgive me if I betray -her." - -"I don't think it is the question of a betrayal," said Mr. Moss. "She -tells you to speak to me, and you have done so. I take the blame on -myself, whatever happens. My dear, you are not old enough to -understand such matters, and you must leave this to me. Give me the -letter, my dear; it will be better in my keeping than in yours. Just -consider, Rose; would you have behaved so?" - -"No, father; I could not." - -"There is the answer. The odd impression I spoke of was that I saw -Ruth to-night in a hansom cab. I thought I was mistaken, but now I am -convinced it was she. If I had known what I know now I should have -followed her. As for Ruth never forgiving you, what will Mr. Cohen's -feelings be toward you when he discovers that you have acted in such a -treacherous manner? Ruth is very little older than yourself and, I am -afraid, cannot discriminate between right and wrong; she must not be -allowed to drag us into a conspiracy against the peace of the family." - -Rose was dismayed; she had not looked upon it in that light. - -"Was Ruth alone?" she asked in a faltering voice. - -"No, she had a gentleman with her. It is a bad business--a bad -business. I intended to return to Portsmouth to-morrow, but now I -shall remain till the matter is cleared up." - -"Shall you do anything to-night, father?" - -"No. I shall do nothing till the morning. I must have time to consider -how to act. Mr. Cohen will not be home till past midnight, and he will -be jaded with the fatigues of the day. To think that it should turn -out so. Good-night, my dear child. Get to bed and try to sleep. It -may, after all, turn out better than I expect." - -But there was very little sleep for Rose this night, and very little, -also, for Mr. Moss or Aaron Cohen. The cloud that was gathering was -too ominous for repose. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. -THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE MAKES AN APPEAL. - - -It was not the only cloud that threatened Aaron's fortunes and -happiness. Others were ready to burst, and in the gathering storm he -saw, not too clearly, perhaps, the peril in which he stood. His fair -reputation was in danger, the honorable edifice he had built for -himself was tottering, the wealth he had amassed was jeopardized by -circumstances over which he had no control. In the course of a few -days all these things were to happen, and although on the day -following that on which so great an honor had been paid to him he did -not realize that ruin stared him in the face, he was sufficiently -conscious that more than one sword was hanging over his head. But mere -worldly misfortune was a trifle in comparison with the stings of his -conscience and with a sting as bitter which he learned from the lips -of Dr. Roberts. The physician had not been quite ingenuous in his -report of Rachel's condition; his ripe experience scented a crisis -which might or might not occur. It did not depend upon him, but upon -the patient, and a few hours would decide the extent of the danger. It -was this that caused him to call early at the house to see Rachel, and -after he had been with her for a quarter of an hour he had a private -conversation with Aaron. - -"There is no absolute danger," he said, "but I shall be better -satisfied if you will send her at once to the seaside. She will be -better out of London. I saw on the table a number of letters--begging -letters, I was informed--which Miss Rose had been reading to her. She -must be free from the emotions created by these appeals and from -anything of an agitating nature. Perfect repose and rest--that is what -she requires, with brighter sunshine and balmier air. I should -recommend Bournemouth, and if you wish I'll run down and see her -there. Meanwhile I will give you the name of a physician who will -understand her case as well as I do. Let Miss Rose go with her; your -wife is fond of her, and she is a cheerful companion, though she seems -to be rather depressed this morning. I have been lecturing the young -lady, and she tells me she has had a bad night. It will do them both -good." - -"I cannot accompany her to-day," said Aaron, "I have so many important -matters to attend to. We will go down to-morrow." - -"Send her to-day," urged the physician, "and you can follow on -to-morrow, or later. It is good weather for traveling; in a few hours -it may change. To-day, by all means. We doctors are autocrats, you -know, and will not listen to argument. To-day." - -Had the business he had to attend to been of less importance Aaron -would have put it aside, and traveled with his wife to the seaside, -but it was business which imperatively demanded his present attention, -and he had no alternative but to send her with Rose and the -ever-faithful Prissy, in whom he had every confidence. He accompanied -them as far as the railway station, and held Rachel's hand in his as -they drove to Waterloo. It was not only that they were still lovers, -but that he felt the need of the moral support which he derived from -the tender handclasp. - -"Do not be anxious about me, dear," said Rachel, "and do not come down -till Friday. Then you can stop till Monday morning, and perhaps Joseph -will be home by then, and he can come with you. He will not be able to -keep away from Rose, and he has but a short time to remain in England. -There is really nothing the matter with me except a little weakness -which I shall soon overcome. If Ruth is happy in Portsmouth let her -remain there if she wishes. We are growing old, love, you and I, and -we must not tie our children too closely to our sides. They will fly -away as the young birds do, and make nests of their own. May their -homes be as happy as ours has been--may their lives be as happy as you -have made mine." - -In such-like tender converse the minutes flew by, and as the train -steamed out of the station Rachel's face, with a bright smile upon it, -was turned toward her husband. - -On the road home Aaron telegraphed to Ruth in Portsmouth, addressing -his telegram to Mr. Moss' house; he desired her to return to London -to-day or to-morrow. He felt that he must speak to her with as little -delay as possible respecting the disclosure which Mr. Dillworthy had -made to him; it would be playing the coward's part indeed if he did -not immediately ascertain the nature of her feelings for the Honorable -Percy Storndale. Thus far the first step of his duty; what steps were -to follow he had not yet determined upon. - -Arriving at his house, he found Mr. Moss waiting to see him. Rose had -left a letter for her father acquainting him with their departure for -the seaside, and giving him their address in Bournemouth, which she -was enabled to do, because Aaron had made arrangements by telegraph -for their reception in a Jewish house there. After a few words of -explanation of the cause of Rachel and Rose leaving so suddenly, Aaron -informed his friend that he had telegraphed to Ruth to come home at -once. - -Mr. Moss started. - -"You sent the telegram to my house?" he said. - -"Certainly. I am sorry to break her visit, which she must have -enjoyed, but there is a necessity for it. As my oldest friend you -should not be kept in ignorance of this necessity, and will agree that -it is not to be spoken of outside ourselves without my consent." - -Thereupon he related the part of his interview with Mr. Dillworthy -that affected Ruth and the son of Lord Storndale. - -"There is another matter," he said, "of great importance which was -mentioned during the interview, and which we may speak of presently. -You now know my reason for sending to Ruth to come home. I must learn -the truth from her own lips." - -"Strangely enough," said Mr. Moss rather nervously, "I have come to -say something about Ruth myself." - -"Surely not in connection with this matter?" exclaimed Aaron. - -"You must be the judge of that, Cohen. Did you notice whether Rose was -looking well?" - -"She looked tired. Dr. Roberts said she had passed a bad night, and -that the change would do her good." - -"A bad night! No wonder, poor child. I scarcely slept an hour with -what is on my mind. You will be surprised at what I have to tell you. -But first--Rose said nothing about Ruth?" - -"Nothing whatever." - -"You must not blame her; she acted by my directions, and her lips are -sealed." - -"Why should I blame her? She is a dear, good child; I have implicit -faith and confidence in her. You alarm me, Mr. Moss. Speak plainly, I -beg of you." - -"Yes, I will do so; but I would have liked to break it gradually. -Cohen, Ruth is not in Portsmouth." - -"Not in Portsmouth! Where, then?" - -"If what she writes and my eyes are to be believed she is in London, -and has been here all the week. She remained with us two days, and -then left, saying she was going to pay a visit to some other friends. -We naturally thought, though we expected her to make a longer stay, -that you were aware of it, and that the plan of her visit had been -altered with your concurrence. Last night as I passed through Regent -Street I saw a lady in a hansom in the company of a gentleman, and I -could have sworn it was Ruth; but the cab was driving at a quick pace, -and I thought I must have been mistaken. I came on here to Rose, and -the poor child was in deep distress. She had received, a letter from -Ruth, which she gave me to read. I do not offer any excuse for taking -the letter from her; she is but a child, and is quite unfit for a -responsibility which, without her consent, was imposed upon her. Here -is the letter. It explains itself." - -Aaron read it in silence, and with conflicting feelings. - -His first thought was that Ruth had taken her fate into her own hands. - -He had done his duty jealously by her in the past whatever might be -his duty in the present. If, as was his fervent hope, no dishonor to -her was involved in her flight--for it was no less than flight and -desertion of the home in which she had been reared--if there had been -a secret marriage, new contingencies of the future loomed dimly before -him, contingencies in which the stern task it was his duty to perform -was not so terrible in its import. - -The past could never be condoned, but in his consideration of the -future one figure towered above all others, the figure of his wife. If -for her the suffering could be made less--if the fact of Ruth taking -her course without his prompting, even in defiance of the lessons he -had endeavored to inculcate, would mitigate the severity of her blow, -was it not something to be grateful for? - -If, he argued mentally, she and the son of Lord Storndale were married -they had little to hope for from the Storndale family. - -Their dependence, then, rested upon him, and he resolved that he would -not fail the rash couple. His hope of an honorable, though secret, -marriage was based upon his knowledge of Ruth's character. She was not -given to exaggerated sentiment, he had never known her go into -heroics, she possessed certain sterling qualities of strength and -determination. Granted that she was led away by the glamour of wedding -the son of a peer, he was convinced she would not so far forget -herself as to bring shame upon herself and her connections. She was a -Christian born, and she had the right to marry a Christian; by her own -unprompted act she had cut the Gordian knot. That the Honorable Percy -Storndale had a double motive in pursuing her was likely enough, love, -Aaron hoped, being one, the fact of her reputed father being a wealthy -man the other. Well, he would fulfill the young man's expectations; -there was nothing in the shape of worldly atonement which he was not -ready and anxious to make. - -In the midst of his musings a servant presented himself with a -telegram and a card. The card bore the name of The Hon. Percy -Storndale, the telegram was from Mrs. Moss, in Portsmouth. - -"Wait outside," Aaron said to the servant, who left the room. - -The telegram was to the effect that Ruth was not in Portsmouth, and -that Mrs. Moss, in her absence, had taken the liberty of reading the -message, under the idea that it might contain something which required -an immediate answer. "Is Ruth coming to us again?" Mrs. Moss asked. - -Aaron passed the telegram and the card to Mr. Moss. - -"Keep in the house," he said, "while I have an interview with this -gentleman. Wait in the library, and tell the servant to show Mr. -Storndale into this room." - -In a few moments the young man was ushered in, and Aaron motioned him -to a seat. - -It is a human failing to run into extremes. No man is quite so good or -bad as he is represented to be by his admirers and detractors. In his -anxiety to prejudice Aaron against Lord Storndale's son Mr. Dillworthy -had done the young man an injustice. A scapegrace he was, without -doubt, but he had been reared into his vices and extravagancies--it -may be said with truth carefully reared--and he was certainly no worse -than hundreds of other men who are brought up with no definite aim in -life, and educated without any sensible and serious effort being made -to impress them with life's responsibilities. He had, indeed, the -advantage of many, for although he considered it perfectly excusable -to get into debt with tradesmen, and to borrow from money lenders -without any expectation of being able to pay either one or the other, -he would not have descended so low as to pick a pocket or cheat at -cards. More of the pigeon than the gull, he looked always to his -family to get him out of his scrapes; he believed it to be their duty; -and it was upon him, not upon them, that injustice was inflicted when -he was thrown entirely upon his own resources, and when he was given -to understand that for the future he would have to settle his own -liabilities. - -He was fair-haired and blue-eyed, and passably good-looking; beyond -this there was nothing remarkable in his appearance; but there was -that air of good humor and careless ease about him which generally -wins favor with women who do not look beneath the surface. - -Just now he was manifestly ill at ease, for he had never before been -engaged upon a mission so awkward and embarrassing. - -That he was impressed by Aaron's dignified manner was evident; he had -expected to meet a man of a different stamp. - -Each waited for the other to speak, and Aaron was not the first to -break the silence. - -"I have taken the liberty of visiting you upon a rather delicate -matter," said the young gentleman, "and it is more difficult than I -anticipated." - -"Yes?" said Aaron, and said no more. - -The monosyllable was uttered in the form of a half question, and did -not lessen the difficulties in the young man's way. - -"Yes," he replied, and was at a loss how to continue; but again Aaron -did not assist him. - -"Upon my honor," he said at length, "I would not undertake to say -whether I would rather be in this room than out of it, or out of it -than in it." - -He gave a weak laugh here, with a half idea that he had said something -rather clever, but still he met with no encouragement from Aaron. - -"It is so difficult, you see," he added. "I do not suppose you know -me." - -"No," said Aaron. "I do not know you." - -"I thought it possible that your daughter, Miss Cohen, you know, might -have mentioned me to you." - -"She has never done so." - -"It was my fault entirely. I said, on no account; and naturally she -gave in." - -"Did she wish to mention you to me?" - -"Oh, yes, but I insisted. I don't exactly know why, but I did, and she -gave in. I dare say I was a blockhead, but I hope you will find -excuses for me." - -"At present I can find none. We shall understand each other if you -come to the point." - -"I will try to do so, but it is not easy, I assure you, Mr. Cohen, -after the way I have behaved. Upon second thoughts I do not see, upon -my honor, I do not see how you can be expected to find excuses for me. -But it does happen sometimes that a fellow meets another fellow who -helps a lame dog over the stile. I am the lame dog, you know." - -"It may assist you," said Aaron, "If I ask you one question, and if -you frankly answer it. Are you a married man?" - -"Upon my soul, sir," exclaimed the Honorable Percy Storndale, "I -cannot be sufficiently thankful to you. Yes, sir, I am a married man." - -"Long married?" - -"Four days, Mr. Cohen." - -"Can you show me proof of it?" - -"I thank you again, sir. But it wasn't my idea; it was my wife's. -'Take the marriage certificate with you,' she said. She has wonderful -ideas." - -"Let me see the certificate." - -The young man instantly produced it, and Aaron, with a deep-drawn -breath of relief, saw recorded there the marriage of Miss Ruth Cohen -and the Honorable Percy Storndale. - -"You married my--my daughter, I see," said Aaron, "in a registrar's -office." - -"I don't know how to apologize to you, sir," said the young man, as -relieved by Aaron's calm attitude as Aaron was himself at this proof -of an honorable union. "I can't conceive anything meaner, but what -could I do? Ruth--Miss Cohen, you know--being a Jewess, could not well -have been married in a church, and I, being a Christian, could not -well have been married in a synagogue. It was a very delicate point; I -am not acquainted with the law on the subject, but no fellow can deny -that it was a delicate point. Then there was another difficulty. -Bridesmaids, bridesmaids' presents, and general expenses, to say -nothing of the publicity, when the parties principally concerned -wanted to get it over quietly and quickly. Ruth said you would never -consent; I said my family would never consent; so what else was there -for it? Pray forgive me if I am expressing myself clumsily." - -"Your family did not encourage the match?" - -"Dead against it; from the first dead against it. Bullied and -threatened me. 'What!' they cried. 'Marry a Jewess!' 'As good as any -Christian,' I retorted. But did you ever know a Storndale listen to -reason, Mr. Cohen?" - -"You are a Storndale," said Aaron quietly. - -"Had me there," chuckled the young man. "Gad, sir, you had me there. -Well, sir, that is how it stands, and if you show me the door I'll not -say I don't deserve it." - -"I will not show you the door, but it is not correct to say that is -how it stands, as if there were nothing more to explain. Mr. -Storndale, if the lady you have married were a Christian would your -family have objected?" The young man laughed in a weak, awkward way. -"Answer me frankly this and other questions it is my duty to put." - -"My family would not have objected," said the Honorable Percy -Storndale, "if there had been settlements. You see, sir, we are not -exactly rolling in money, and I am a younger son. No expectations, -sir. A poor gentleman." - -"An imprudent marriage, Mr. Storndale." - -"No denying it, sir; and it has only come home to me the last day or -two. Marriage in such circumstances pulls a fellow up, you see; makes -him reflect, you know. My wife's an angel, and that makes it cut -deeper. A married fellow thinks of things. As a bachelor I never -thought of to-morrow. I give you my word on it. To-morrow! Hang -to-morrow! That was the way of it. I've only just woke up to the fact -that there is a to-morrow." - -"Was it a love match, Mr. Storndale?" - -"On both sides, sir. Without vanity--and I don't deny I've got my -share of that--I may speak for her as well as for myself." - -"From the first a love match, Mr. Storndale? Did it never occur to you -that I was a rich man?" - -"You drive me hard, sir, but I'm not going to play fast and loose with -you. 'Be prepared, Percy,' Ruth says to me. 'My father is a wise, as -well as a just and kind, man, and I don't know whether he will ever -forgive me; but you will make a sad mistake if you don't speak the -honest truth to him.' The truth it shall be, as I am a gentleman. I -did think of Ruth's father being a rich man, and seeing us through it. -But after a little while I got so over head and heels in love that I -thought only of her. I give you my word, sir, I never had the feelings -for any woman that I have for Ruth, and that, I think, is why I'm -rather scared when I think of to-morrow. If I hadn't been afraid of -losing her I might have come straight to you, but I didn't care to run -the risk. What would you do, sir, for a woman you loved?" - -"Everything, anything." - -"You would stake everything against nothing, with a certainty of -losing, rather than give her up?" - -"I would make any earthly sacrifice for her." - -"Well, sir, then you know how I feel. I don't set myself up as a good -man; I've done many foolish things, and I dare say shall do more -foolish things, but not half nor quarter as many with a clever woman -by my side to keep me straight. What some of us want, sir, is ballast; -I never had it till now, and even now perhaps it's of no use to me. -Until a week ago I had to think for one; now I have to think for two. -But thinking won't help me through, I'm afraid." - -Never before had the Honorable Percy Storndale expressed himself in so -manly a fashion; it was as though contact with Aaron were bringing out -his best qualities. - -"Was it your intention, Mr. Storndale, to come to me so soon after -your marriage?" - -"I had no settled intention when to come, sir, but I have been forced -to it sooner than I expected." - -"What has forced you to it?" - -"Writs. When needs must, you know, sir." - -"Are you heavily in debt?" - -"To the tune of three thousand, sir." - -"When a question of this kind is asked the answer is generally below -the mark." - -"True enough, sir, but I am pretty close to it this time. Ruth's an -angel, but she's a sensible woman as well. She made me put everything -down." - -"If I settle the claims against you "--the young man looked up with a -flush in his face--"you will get into debt again." - -"I'll try not to, sir." - -"Honestly, Mr. Storndale." - -"Honestly, Mr. Cohen. Ruth will keep me straight." - -"Leave me your address. I will come and see you to-night at eight -o'clock. Make out a clear and truthful list of your debts; omit -nothing. Meanwhile----" - -He wrote a check and handed it to the young man, who shook hands with -him gratefully, and with a light heart went to gladden his young wife -with the good news. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. -A DUTY PERFORMED. - - -Before Mr. Moss rejoined him Aaron had repented of his promise to call -and see the young couple in the evening. This vacillation was a proof -of the effect recent events had upon his mind; it was really -unbalanced; the prompt decision of all matters, whether great or -small, which presented themselves for consideration, seemed to have -deserted him. He felt that he could not depend upon himself in the -promised interview with Ruth, and that he might precipitate a -discovery the proper time for which he believed had not yet arrived. - -That it would have to be made eventually was certain; truth and -justice demanded it, and the claim should be met, but not to-day, not -until other plans with respect to his future were settled. For there -was growing in his mind a conviction that he was not worthy of the -position he held among his co-religionists, that it was his duty to -retire into obscurity and not presume to teach what should be done in -important issues where he himself had so signally failed. He mentally -asked, why had he not recognized this earlier? and the answer that -trod upon the heels of the question brought a pitiful smile of -self-despisal to his lips. - -He had been living deliberately in a fool's paradise, trusting to -chance to avoid detection and exposure. He could lay blame upon no -other shoulders than his own; he, and he alone, was responsible for -the consequences of his acts. Well, he would not shrink from them, he -would accept them humbly, and rest his hopes in the mercy of God. If -when the hour arrived for open confession--and arrive it must, he -knew, before many weeks were past--he could still retain the love of -his wife, if she would forgive him for the deception he had practiced, -he would be content; he might even be happy again, fallen as he would -be from his high estate. - -The first duty he had to perform was to lift Ruth and her husband from -poverty, to place them in an honorable and independent position, and -this task he would ask his friend Mr. Moss to undertake for him. - -"All is explained," he said when that gentleman re-entered the room. -"Ruth has done what cannot be undone. She and Mr. Storndale are -married." - -"Married!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. He was startled at the news, but no -less startled at the calm voice in which it was communicated to him. -"What are you going to do about it?" - -"Accept it," replied Aaron, "there is no alternative." - -"It is an outrage. He should be made to suffer for it." - -"He must not be made to suffer for it, nor must Ruth. The young man is -in difficulties, and I have resolved to clear him from them and to -provide for their future. They will expect to see me to-night, but I -cannot trust myself. I wish you to undertake the task for me, and to -carry the whole matter through. Mr. Moss, all through my life you have -been my sincere friend; you will not fail me now?" - -"No, Cohen, no; I will do whatever you wish me to do, but it is hardly -what I expected of you." - -"You are surprised that I do not show anger at this marriage--that I -do not express resentment against Mr. Storndale?" - -"I am, Cohen." - -"Before long," said Aaron, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, -"you will understand why I am so calm. I can trust you, and when I -confess that there was in my life an hour when temptation assailed me -and I fell before it, I feel that my confidence will be respected -until the time arrives when all the world will know what is hidden in -my breast--what has been hidden for the last twenty years." - -"For the last twenty years! Cohen, that takes us back to the old -Gosport days." - -"It does. But ask me no questions now, for I am not prepared to answer -them. Great changes are coming in my life, and I must arm myself to -meet them. If only Rachel will forgive!" - -He covered his eyes with his hand, and turned away. - -"Cohen," said Mr. Moss presently, "I see that you are unstrung, that -you are suffering. You are doing yourself an injustice; I am sure of -it, I am sure of it. I do not pretend to understand what it is that -distresses you, but I would like to say that you may depend upon me in -any difficulty. You may turn against yourself, but you are not going -to turn an old friend like me against you." - -Aaron pressed Mr. Moss' hand, and explained the task he wished -performed. Mr. Moss was to call upon Ruth and her husband, and obtain -from them an honest and faithful account of their position. This done -he was to pay every shilling the young man owed; after which a -settlement of a thousand pounds a year was to be made upon Ruth as a -marriage portion, the money to be absolutely at her own disposal. - -"It is not a great deal," said Aaron, "for the son of a peer to live -upon, but his family in a little while, when they learn the truth -about Ruth"--he paused, and Mr. Moss nodded gravely; a strange -suspicion was beginning to haunt him,--"may be disposed to forgive -him, and through their influence he may obtain a lucrative -appointment. From the way in which he spoke I am disposed to think -that he may turn over a new leaf, and that an honorable future may lie -before him and Ruth. Give her my love, and say that circumstances -render it impossible for me to see her for a few days, and that when -we meet I shall have something of great importance to disclose to her. -Be patient with me, Mr. Moss. My words point to a mystery which will -soon be unraveled. What you are about to do for me can scarcely be -finished before the end of the week, but I cannot rest until it is -completed. My own affairs will entirely occupy me, and I must run down -to Bournemouth to see Rachel." - -"I will not waste a moment," said Mr. Moss. "How about the money -necessary for the settlement and the payment of Mr. Storndale's -debts?" - -"It will be placed in your hands to-morrow. Do not return here -to-night. Come and breakfast with me at nine in the morning." - -Aaron sat up till long past midnight, making calculations and -arranging his affairs. He was quite resolved to retire from everything -in the shape of public life, and altogether from business; and to -effect this there was much to do. He had uncompleted contracts in hand -which he would transfer to employers of whose methods he approved, and -he had just obtained another which a dozen contractors would be eager -to take off his hands. He thought of Mr. Poynter, and shook his head. -To such a man he could not trust any of his responsibilities. Then he -devoted himself to an examination of his private financial position. - -After providing for Ruth he calculated that he could realize a sum of -about ninety thousand pounds, in addition to which there were his -house and furniture, which would realize another ten thousand. -One-third of this should be given to his son Joseph and Rose, -one-third should be divided among the Jewish charities, and one-third -should be invested for himself and Rachel. This would produce an -income amply sufficient for the maintenance of a comfortable home -either in London or the country. - -"Rachel will be content," he thought, "and the years that are left to -us shall be passed in peace, away from the turmoil and fever of life. -If she will but forgive me--if she will but forgive!" - -All depended upon that. - -He held offices of honor in the synagogue, which he would immediately -resign. There and then he wrote his letters of resignation. He drew -forth the address upon modern Judaism he had undertaken to deliver, -hoping thereby to counteract the loose views of religious obligation -which threatened to sap the foundations of the old faith. He read the -powerful arguments he had written to this end, and sighed as he read. - -"Not for me the task," he murmured. "Not for me. I am not worthy. It -is for me to learn, not to teach." - -He tore the manuscript and burned it. He had forfeited the right to -show his brethren the path of duty. - -At length he came to the end of his labors. Before he retired to rest -he prayed long and fervently, and offered up supplications for -forgiveness. - -At nine o'clock in the morning Mr. Moss presented himself, and -reported what he had done. - -"Everything is in such straight order," he said, "that the whole -business can be finished to-morrow." - -"It will be a great weight off my mind," said Aaron, "when all the -papers are signed. I have letters from Rachel and Rose." He passed the -young girl's letter to Mr. Moss. "She says there is no change in -Rachel, but that she thinks the air and change of scene are doing her -good. If you write to Rose do not hint of any impending trouble, and -do not mention Ruth's name, lest Rachel should suspect that something -was wrong. I ought to tell you, Mr. Moss, that I have resolved to -retire into private life; I shall be much happier, and I am sure -Rachel will be. It is a sudden resolution, and I dare say my friends -will be surprised, but I am fixed; nothing can make me change my -mind." - -"And your contracts, Cohen?" asked Mr. Moss, who was sufficiently -familiar with Aaron's character to know that remonstrance at present -would be thrown away. - -"I shall transfer them. My earnest wish is that I shall be forgotten, -and allowed to live in peace. I am growing old; let my place, which I -unworthily hold, be occupied by a better man." - -"That is hardly likely to come to pass," said Mr. Moss gravely. "You -are not old; you are in the prime of life, with very many years of -usefulness before you. But I will not argue with you; when you have -recovered from your depression, when Rachel is well again, you will -think better of it. We need you; no other man can fill your place. You -deliver your address on Sunday, do you not?" - -"No." - -"But, Cohen, it is expected; it is looked forward to, and the best -results are anticipated from it. You will not go from your word?" - -"I must. The address is destroyed. I must bear whatever is said of me; -I accept it as part of my punishment." - -"Of your punishment! I do not understand you." - -"You will by and by. Mr. Moss, the man who presumes to set down the -laws of right and wrong should be above reproach. Can a thief preach -honesty? Can a liar lift his voice in praise of truth?" - -"These are strange utterances, Cohen, from your lips." - -"There is a sad foundation for them. To know yourself--that is the -height of human wisdom; and I have learned too late. Pray do not -continue the subject; you stand in the dark, I in the light." - -"Well, well," said Mr. Moss, with a sigh, "we will speak of this -another time. Have you seen the papers this morning?" - -"I have not opened them." - -"They are full of your praises for putting an end to the strike; they -say it is due alone to your character and powerful influence." - -"I take no credit to myself. What I did was done with a conscientious -motive." - -"Good," said Mr. Moss with hearty emphasis. "That is the keynote of -your life. Then what have you to reproach yourself with?" - -"Let every man search his own heart," replied Aaron, and his voice was -very mournful. "He will find the answer there. And now we will waste -no more time in idle conversation. We must go to the lawyers and the -bank. Have you a list of Mr. Storndale's debts? Ah! thank you." He -looked at the total, and drew a check for the amount. "The payment of -these claims will keep you busy during the day. I will give -instructions to the lawyers to prepare the deed of settlement, and -to-morrow it can be signed. You will be a trustee; I will call upon a -gentleman who will be the other. I shall spend to-night at -Bournemouth, and will come back by an early train in the morning." - -"Will you not see Ruth before you leave?" asked Mr. Moss. - -"No, not till everything is finished. How is she?" - -"Well and happy, and overjoyed that you are not angry with her. -Between ourselves, Cohen, it is not what she expected." - -"She has all the more reason for contentment. I wish her to be happy." - -They had a busy time with lawyers, bank managers, and creditors, and -Aaron just managed to catch the two-twenty train for Bournemouth. He -passed a quiet evening with Rachel and Rose, and answered the -questions put by his wife concerning Ruth in a manner to satisfy her. -With Rose he had a private conversation upon the subject, and -cautioned her to preserve silence as to the letter she had received. -On the following morning he took an early train for London, and -arriving before noon, found everything prepared for a final settlement -of his plans for Ruth's worldly future. When the deeds were signed, -and the consols bought and deposited in the Bank of England, Aaron -breathed more freely. He had made some small atonement to Ruth for the -deception of which he had been guilty. - -"We have had no honeymoon trip," said the Honorable Percy Storndale to -him, "and I am thinking of taking Ruth to the Continent to-morrow, but -she will be unhappy if she does not see you before we go." - -"I will come with you now," said Aaron. - -They met and parted without any warm demonstration of affection. Such -a demonstration from Ruth toward one whom she believed to be her -father, but for whom she had never entertained a strong love, would -have been a new feature in her character, and grateful as she was for -his generosity, she was held back by the feeling that she had given -him a poor return for his lifelong kindness toward her and by her fear -that he was quietly angry with her; while Aaron was held back by the -consciousness of his wrongdoing. And so the young couple went forth to -commence their new life, and the secret of Ruth's birth was still -unrevealed. Aaron had not yet mustered courage to make confession, but -he knew that the hour was fast approaching when he would stand in the -full light of the sin he had committed through love. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. -THE MOTHER'S APPEAL. - - -Two weeks had passed away. Joseph had come and gone. In the company of -Rose and his parents he had spent three sad and happy days in -Bournemouth--happy because he was in the society of those he loved, -sad because he was so soon to part from them. Rachel's health was not -improved, the physician said, and those to whom she was so dear were -continually warned that she was not to be agitated by news of a -distressing nature. The shrewd doctor impressed this upon them the -more strongly for the reason that he perceived that a cloud was -hanging over their spirits which they were concealing from the -sightless lady. - -"You cannot be too careful," he said. "A sudden shock might produce -serious effects." - -They were, therefore, compelled to preserve secrecy, and to invent -excuses for Ruth's absence from the family circle. Joseph and Rose had -both been informed of Ruth's marriage, and were thus partners with -Aaron in the affectionate conspiracy. Aaron had gone no farther with -them than this. The vital secret was still in his sole possession. - -The carrying out of his intention to retire into private life, and to -entirely give up the important business transactions in which he had -been engaged for many years, necessitated his being in London the -greater part of these two weeks; he would have liked to keep his -proceedings from public knowledge, but in this he was not successful. -One cause of the publicity which was given to his actions lay in the -disposal of a portion of his fortune in charity; his benefactions were -heralded far and wide, and he was made the subject of numberless -laudatory articles in the newspapers. Another cause was his -transference of large contracts, and especially of the last one for -which he had successfully competed, to other firms. In the -transference of these contracts he had laid down stipulations with -respect to wages and hours of labor which, while they did not meet -with the full approval of employers, earned for him renewed -commendation from the working classes. Mr. Poynter had tried to obtain -some of these contracts, but Aaron found him so shifty in his methods -that he declined to have anything to do with him. For which defeat Mr. -Poynter vowed revenge, and looked about for the means of compassing -it. - -At the end of the fortnight Aaron was in London, his labors ended, and -at this time his fortune amounted to something over thirty thousand -pounds, a larger sum than he anticipated would be left to him. - -It must be mentioned that Ruth and her husband had just returned to -London, as he was informed by letter, in consequence of Ruth's -indisposition. It was she who wrote to him, and she was so earnest in -the expression of her wish that he would come and see her that he had -sent her a telegram saying that he would call at eight or nine -o'clock, by which time he expected to be free. - -At six o'clock on this evening he and Mr. Moss were together in -Aaron's house, by appointment. Aaron had resolved to reveal his secret -to his faithful friend, and he had set apart this evening as a fitting -time for the disclosure. On the following day Rachel and Rose were to -return to London, as Rachel did not wish to remain any longer in -Bournemouth, and Mr. Moss was to return to Portsmouth. - -Mr. Moss' face was flushed with excitement as he entered the room with -an evening paper in his hand. - -"Have you heard the rumor, Cohen?" he asked excitedly. - -"What rumor?" inquired Aaron, rising to meet his friend. - -"About your bank, the Equitable Alliance?" - -"No, I have heard nothing. I have not been out of the house since the -morning." - -"It came on me like a thunderclap, but it cannot be true." - -"What cannot be true, Mr. Moss?" Aaron spoke quite calmly. - -"Well, there's nothing definite, but you know there has been something -like a panic in the City." - -"I know, but it cannot affect me. I have no investments now, with the -solitary exception of my bank shares. All my affairs are settled, and -the money in the bank until I decide how to invest it." - -Mr. Moss groaned. "I wish you had it safely invested in consols. Is -all your money there?" - -"Every shilling. The only investments I have not realized are the -shares I hold in the bank." - -"That makes it all the worse. The shareholders are liable to the -depositors." - -"Yes." - -The flush had died out of Mr. Moss' face, which was now white with -apprehension. "They're calling it out in the streets--but here's the -paper." - -He pointed to a paragraph, which stated that one of the largest banks -in the City had closed its doors half an hour before its time, and -that the panic had in consequence reached an alarming height. - -"There is no name mentioned, Mr. Moss." - -"No, Cohen, no; but I passed through the City on my way here, and the -name of the bank was on everyone's lips. If the bank stops payment -to-morrow how will you stand?" - -"If it stops payment for sufficient cause," said Aaron in a steady -voice, "I shall be a ruined man!" - -"Good Heavens! and you can speak of it so calmly!" - -"Why not? To work myself into a frenzy will not help me. There are -worse misfortunes." - -"I cannot imagine them, Cohen. Ruined? Absolutely ruined?" - -"Absolutely ruined," said Aaron, with a smile. - -"And it was only yesterday that you were----" - -He could not continue, and Aaron took up his words. - -"It is only yesterday that I was on top of the tree. A dangerous -height, Mr. Moss, but I must bear the fall. If, when they climb the -ladder of fortune, men would but be careful to make the lower rungs -secure! But prosperity makes them reckless. Do not look so mournful. -Happiness is as easily found in poverty as in riches." - -"It may be, after all, a false alarm," groaned Mr. Moss. - -"Let us hope so. We will wait till to-morrow." - -"Will you not go into the City now to ascertain whether it is true or -false?" - -"No; it will only trouble me, and it will not affect the result. I -will wait till to-morrow." - -So marked was the contrast between his cheerful and Mr. Moss' -despondent mood that it really seemed as if it were his friend's -fortune that was imperiled instead of his own. He was standing by the -door, and hearing a knock, he opened it. - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said a servant, "but this gentleman is -below, and wants to see Mr. Moss." - -Aaron took the card without looking at it, and handed it to Mr. Moss, -who exclaimed: - -"Dr. Spenlove!" - -"Show him up," said Aaron to the servant. - -"Had I not better see him alone?" asked Mr. Moss. - -"If you have no objection," replied Aaron, "receive him here in my -presence." - -They both seemed to scent a coming danger, but Aaron appeared to hail -it gladly, while Mr. Moss would rather have avoided it. - -"A thousand apologies," said Dr. Spenlove to Aaron upon his entrance, -"for intruding upon you, but hearing that Mr. Moss was here I took the -liberty of following him. My errand is an urgent one." - -"I am happy to see you, Dr. Spenlove," Aaron responded; "if your -business with Mr. Moss is not quite private you can speak freely -before me." - -"I think," said Dr. Spenlove, half hesitating, "that it is quite -private." - -"I have a distinct reason," continued Aaron as though Dr. Spenlove had -not spoken, "for making the suggestion, but men sometimes receive an -inspiration for which there is no visible warranty. If it is of an -incident in the past you wish to speak, when you and Mr. Moss were -acquainted in Portsmouth----" - -"How singular that you should have guessed it!" exclaimed Dr. -Spenlove. "It is such an incident that brings me here." - -"The time was winter," pursued Aaron, "the season an inclement one. I -remember it well. For some days the snow had been falling----" - -"Yes, yes. It was a terrible season for the poor." - -"For one especially, a lady driven into misfortune and who had no -friend but a stern and honorable gentleman who would only lift her -from the depths into which she had fallen on the condition that she -submitted to a cruel sacrifice. His demand was that she should give -her infant into the care of strangers, and that only in the event of -his death should she be free to seek to know its fate. Is that the -incident, Dr. Spenlove?" - -"It is. I see you know all, and with Mr. Moss' consent I will speak -openly." - -Mr. Moss looked at Aaron, who nodded, and Dr. Spenlove continued. - -"There is no need to recall all the particulars of that bitter night -when you so kindly assisted me in the search for the unfortunate?" - -"None at all," said Mr. Moss; "they are very vivid in my memory." - -"And in mine. Your kindness has not been forgotten either by me or by -the lady whose life, and whose child's life, were saved by you. He -shakes his head in deprecation, Mr. Cohen, but what I say is true. Had -he not, out of the kindness of his heart, accompanied me these two -hapless human beings would have perished in the snow. I had a motive -to serve; he had none. On the night we parted in Portsmouth, Mr. Moss, -you were on the point of seeking a home for the poor babe, for -whom"--he turned to Aaron--"a liberal provision was made." - -"I am acquainted with every detail of the strange story," said Aaron. -"I was residing in Gosport at the time." - -Dr. Spenlove gave him a startled look. - -"It was in Gosport he hoped to find this home, with a friend of whom -he spoke in the warmest terms. The commission intrusted to me by Mr. -Gordon--I perceive you are familiar with the name--ended on that -night, and what remained to be done was in the hands of Mr. Moss and -Mr. Gordon's lawyers. The following morning I came to London, where I -have resided ever since. From that day until two or three weeks ago -Mr. Moss and I have not met. It was here in your house, Mr. Cohen, -that, seeing him for the first time after so long an interval, I made -inquiries concerning the infant intrusted to him. He informed me that -she died very shortly, as I understand, after she entered her new -home. I was not surprised to hear it; the exposure on that bitter -night was sufficiently severe to kill a child much older. In order -that my visit to Mr. Moss to-night may be properly understood I will -briefly relate in a few words the subsequent history of the mother. -She married Mr. Gordon and accompanied him to Australia, where she has -resided for twenty years. She has had no children by him, and is now a -widow, and very wealthy. Unknown to Mr. Gordon she, in her last -interview with me, intrusted to me a small iron box--it was one I gave -her, and I can identify it--in which she deposited some article of the -nature of which I am ignorant. She entreated me to take steps that -this box should be delivered to the people who received her child into -their home, and to obtain from them a promise that if the child lived -till she was twenty-one years of age it was to be handed over to her, -or in the event of her child dying, or of herself claiming the box at -any future time, to be handed over to her. I informed Mr. Moss of the -mother's desire, and he promised that it should be attended to. I have -looked through some old papers, and I find that, had the child lived, -she would be twenty-one in the course of a couple of months. But the -child is dead, and the mother has appealed to me to assist her to -obtain the box which she delivered into my charge." - -"The mother has appealed to you!" exclaimed Aaron. "In person?" - -"In person," replied Dr. Spenlove. "She has returned to England, and -is at this moment awaiting me in my carriage below. It is not the only -appeal she has made to me. She is overwhelmed at the news of her -child's death, and I have the sincerest pity for her. She desires to -know where her child is buried. Mr. Gordon's lawyers, it appears, were -so bound to secrecy by their client that they do not feel warranted in -giving her any information or assistance. She has communicated with -another firm of lawyers in London, who are unable to assist her. As a -last resource she has come to me to entreat my aid, which, in the -circumstances, I cannot refuse to give her. My errand is now fully -explained. Mr. Moss, will you see the poor lady, and give her the -information she has a right to demand?" - -"I will reply for my friend," said Aaron. "Dr. Spenlove, I was the -person to whose care the child was intrusted. The box is in this -house, and it is for me to satisfy her. Will you step down and ask her -to come up, or shall I send a servant to her?" - -"It will be best for me to go," said Dr. Spenlove. "How strangely -things turn out! It is fortunate that I came here to seek Mr. Moss." - -"I must speak to Mrs. Gordon alone, without witnesses," said Aaron. -"You and Mr. Moss will not mind waiting in the adjoining room for a -few minutes. The poet's words are true: 'There is a Providence that -shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we may.' The mother may have cause -to bless this night." - -He bent his head humbly and solemnly as Dr. Spenlove and Mr. Moss left -the room together. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. -A MOTHER'S JOY. - - -For the first time in their lives these two beings, whose fates were -so strangely linked together, faced each other--the mother who -believed her child to be dead, the father who had brought up that -child in ignorance of her birthright. It was a solemn moment, more -trying to the man who had erred than to the woman who had fallen. To -him the truth was as clear as though it were proclaimed with a tongue -of fire, to her it had yet to be revealed. How feeble was the human -act when brought into juxtaposition with destiny's decree! - -Aaron's sin had been ever before him; the handwriting had been ever on -the wall. Scarcely for one day during the last twenty years had the -voice of conscience been stilled, and it had been dart of his -punishment that the inherited instincts of the child had worked -inexorably against all his efforts; her silent resistance to the -lessons he would have inculcated had been too powerful for him; and in -the end she had turned resolutely from the path into which, with -inward reproaches, he had endeavored to lead her, and had obeyed the -promptings of her nature in mapping out her own future. - -Keen as was Aaron's sufferings, he experienced a sense of relief that -the bolt had fallen, and that the hour of retribution had arrived; the -agony of suspense was over, and he accepted with mournful resignation -the decree which ordained that he should pass judgment upon himself. - -A difficult task lay before him; the revelation he had to make must be -made with tact and delicacy, in consideration for the mother's -feelings. Joy, as well as sorrow, has its fears. - -Forgetful for the moment of his own domestic grief, a sympathetic pity -for the bereaved woman stirred Aaron's heart. Her tribulation was -expressed in her face, which was pale with woe; her eyes were suffused -with tears; her limbs trembled as she sank into the chair which he -placed for her. It was not he alone who was experiencing the tortures -of remorse. - -Mrs. Gordon was in mourning, and Aaron believed it was for her child. -Except that time had left its marks upon her countenance there was but -little change in her, and few persons who had known her in her -springtime would have failed to recognize her in her middle age. - -Her union with Mr. Gordon had not been entirely unhappy; he had -performed his duty toward her, as she had done toward him, and though -he had a suspicion that, through all the long years, she never lost -sight of her secret sorrow, he made no reference to it, and she, on -her part, did not intrude it upon him. Even on his deathbed he did not -speak of it; she understood him well enough to feel convinced that he -would answer no questions she put to him, and she sincerely desired -not to distress him, for she had grown to be grateful for his faithful -fulfillment of the promise he had made. - -And now she was free, and in the possession of great wealth. But she -was alone, without a tie in the world. All her bright dreams had -faded. She had indulged the hope that her child still lived, and as -she traveled back to England had raised up mental pictures of her -daughter which filled her with joy. The information she received from -Dr. Spenlove had killed that hope, and her yearning desire was to -visit the grave of the babe she had deserted, and to weep over it -tears of bitter repentance. - -It was not so much now to reclaim the iron box containing the clew to -a shameful episode in her youthful life as to learn where her babe was -buried, that she wished to learn into whose care her child had been -given. There was a time when she nursed a fierce desire for revenge -upon the man who had betrayed her, but this desire had burned itself -away, and she would be content that the melancholy memories of the -past should be buried in oblivion. No good result would accrue from -rekindling the smoldering ashes of an experience so sad. She had lived -down the shame; no word of reproach had been uttered against her; let -the dead past bury its dead. - -For a few moments there was silence between her and Aaron, and she was -the first to speak. - -"Dr. Spenlove has told me all," she said. - -"He has told you what he knows," said Aaron, "but you have something -more to hear. It was I who undertook the charge of your child. Mr. -Moss brought her to me in Gosport, and delivered to me also the box -which you intrusted to Dr. Spenlove. I hand you now the box in the -same condition as it was handed to me. You will oblige me by -convincing yourself that it has not been tampered with." - -She unlocked the box with a key she carried in her purse, and taking -from it the half of the letter she had deposited therein, glanced over -it with a bitter smile, then replaced it in its hiding place and -relocked the box. - -"There was nothing else in it?" asked Aaron. - -"Nothing else," she replied; "it is as I delivered it to Dr. Spenlove. -Tell me about my child. Did she live long? Was she buried in Gosport? -You will tell me the truth--you will conceal nothing from me?" - -"I will tell you the truth; I will conceal nothing from you; but what -I have to say must be said in my own way. When Mr. Moss left your -child with me there were two babes in my house of the same age, and we -were in deep poverty and distress. My wife--my beloved wife lay at the -point of death----" He covered his eyes with his hands. "Bear with me; -these recollections overcome me." Presently he resumed. "But a short -time before her confinement she had been stricken with blindness. Her -own child, whose face she had never seen, lay quiet and still in her -arms. The doctor who attended her feared the worst, and said her life -depended upon the life of her babe. If our child died on the morrow -the mother would die; if our child lived the mother would live. How -can I expect you to forgive me for what I did in the agony of my -heart?" - -Again he paused, and tears gushed from his eyes. Mrs. Gordon sank back -in her chair; there was not a vestige of color in her face. - -"My God! my God!" she murmured. "Have I not suffered enough?" - -These words recalled him to himself. He begged her to have courage, to -be strong; there was no new suffering in store for her, he said; what -he had to relate would bring joy into her life. He gave her wine, and -when she had recovered he proceeded with his story, and gradually and -tenderly revealed to her the truth. As he proceeded her face shone -with incredulous joy, her heart beat tumultuously with the prospect of -this unexpected happiness; and when his story was finished, and he sat -before her with bowed head, there was a long, long silence in the -room. He dared utter no further words; in silent dread he waited for -his condemnation. - -He felt a hand upon his knee, and looking down, he saw her kneeling at -his feet. She was transfigured; the long pent up love of a mother made -her young again; she took his hand, and kissed it again and again, -bedewing it with happy tears. He gazed at her in wonder. He had -expected revilings and she was all tenderness. - -"Is it true?" she murmured. "Oh, is it true?" - -"It is the solemn truth," he answered. - -"And my child lives?" - -"She lives." - -"God in heaven bless you! She lives--my daughter lives!" - -"And you do not blame me--you do not reproach me?" - -"I shall bless you to my dying day! Oh, my heart, my heart! It will -burst with happiness." - -He entreated her to be composed, and in a little while she was calmer. -Then for the first time he wrested himself from the environment of his -own selfish sorrows; he put himself in her place, and understood the -sacred joy which animated her. She was all impatience to see her -child, but Aaron bade her restrain her impatience; he had much more to -relate, which it was necessary she should hear. - -"But I must see her to-night!" she cried. - -"You shall see her to-night. I will take you to her." - -She was fain to be satisfied with this assurance, but she would not be -content till she saw a portrait of Ruth. - -He gave her a cabinet photograph, and she gazed at it longingly, -yearningly. - -"She is beautiful, beautiful!" - -"Yes, she is a beautiful girl," said Aaron, and then proceeded with -the story, saying nothing, however, of what he had done for the young -couple. At first she was grieved to hear that Ruth was married, but -she found some consolation in the reflection that she had married into -a peer's family. When Aaron related the particulars of the lawyer's -visit to him, commissioned by Lord Storndale because of his stern -objection to his son marrying a Jewess, she exclaimed: "But Ruth is -not a Jewess!" and was appalled by the thought that her daughter was -not born in wedlock. A child of shame! How would she be received? It -was her turn now to fear, and Aaron, whose native shrewdness had -returned to him, divined her fear; but it was not for him to moot the -subject. - -"My child," she said, with hot blushes on her face, "believes herself -to be your daughter?" - -"She does. It was my intention to undeceive her to-night." - -"You know my story?" - -"It was imparted to me," he replied, with averted head, "when I was -asked to receive your child." - -"Who knows the truth," she asked, trembling and hesitating, "about -me?" - -"I, Mr. Moss, Dr. Spenlove, and your husband's lawyers." - -"No other persons?" - -"No other persons." He took her hand. "Dear lady, from my heart I pity -and sympathize with you. If I can assist you in any way----" - -"You can--you can!" she cried. "For God's sake do not destroy the -happiness that may be mine!" - -"As Heaven is my judge, no word shall pass my lips. Be comforted, be -comforted. The lawyers' lips are sealed, as you have already learned, -and I will answer for Mr. Moss and Dr. Spenlove. Say to her and to her -husband's family what you will--it will be justified. Your secret is -safe." - -She thanked him humbly and gratefully; it was she who was abashed; it -was she who had to implore for mercy; and it was due to his wisdom -that her aching heart was eased. - -"If I can repay you--if I can repay you!" she murmured. - -"You can repay me by saying you forgive me for the sin I committed." - -"Your sin!" she cried in amazement. "You, who have brought up my child -in virtue and honor! At my door lies the sin, not at yours." - -"You forget," he groaned; "my wife, whom I love with a love dearer -than life itself, has yet to receive the confession I have made to -you. It was my love for her that led me into the error." - -"An error," said Mrs. Gordon in tender accents, "that has saved a -daughter from regarding her mother with abhorrence. Dear friend, God -sees and judges, and surely he will approve what you have done. A -grateful mother blesses you!" - -"Remain here," said Aaron. "I will speak to my friends and yours, and -then I will conduct you to your daughter." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. -A PANIC IN THE CITY. - - -On the following morning Aaron was up earlier than usual, and in the -daily papers he read the confirmation of the intelligence which Mr. -Moss had imparted to him. There was a panic in the City, and fortunes -were already being won and lost. The bank in which his money was -deposited, and in which he held a large number of shares, was -tottering, and he knew that he was ruined if it could not weather the -storm. - -Mr. Moss found him reading the news over his breakfast table. -Business, as we know, had not prospered with Mr. Moss of late years; -his investments had turned out badly, and he was in low water himself. -He had placed his dependence upon Aaron to pull him through, and the -rock he had depended upon was crumbling away. - -"You are in trouble, Mr. Moss," said Aaron as his friend made his -appearance. - -"I have the second edition of the morning papers," replied Mr. Moss -with a white face. "The Stock Exchange is in a blaze." - -"Rather early to commence business," observed Aaron calmly; "the -outlook is not improving, I suppose?" - -"Everything is going to the dogs, Cohen." - -"Have you breakfasted?" asked Aaron. - -"Had breakfast at seven o'clock. Couldn't sleep a wink all night." - -"Why?" - -"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. "What a question to ask when ruin stares a -man in the face." - -"I hope," said Aaron gravely, "that you are not deeply involved." - -"I am up to my neck. But what is my position compared with yours? -Cohen, you are a mystery." - -"Because I accept the inevitable. Can you show me how I can improve -matters?" - -"No, I can't," answered Mr. Moss, with a deep groan; "only if I had -capital I could make a fortune." - -"How?" - -"By joining the bears. Cohen, there is a chance for you. Your credit -is good. There is nothing for it but a plunge. It will set you right." - -"How if it goes the other way, Mr. Moss?" - -"You will be no worse off than a thousand men who are plunging." - -"The majority of whom, before another sun rises, will find themselves -disgraced. No, Mr. Moss, no. I have never dabbled in stocks and shares -at the risk of my good name, and I never will. There is but one way to -meet misfortune, and that is the straight way. We will go to the City, -and ascertain, if we can, exactly how matters stand. Rachel and Rose -do not return from Bournemouth till the afternoon." - -In the City they learned the worst, and Aaron realized that he was -beggared. - -"Can you save nothing from the wreck?" asked Mr. Moss. - -"Nothing," replied Aaron. "It may be that all I possess may not be -sufficient to clear me. I think you had better take Rose back with you -to Portsmouth; you have been absent from your business too long." - -"I must go this evening," said Mr. Moss, "but Rose can stay. She will -be a comfort to Mrs. Cohen." - -"No, take her with you. In this crisis Rachel, I know, would prefer to -be alone with me. Besides," he added, with a sad smile, "I have to -provide another home, and I must be careful of my shillings." - -"Another home, Cohen. What do you mean?" - -"With certain ruin staring me in the face, and with claims coming upon -me which I may not be able to meet, I must begin immediately to -retrench. Our establishment is an expensive one, and I dare not carry -it on a day longer than is necessary. Rachel and I will sleep in the -house to-night for the last time. To-morrow I will pay off the -servants, and we shall move into humbler quarters. So tumble down all -our grand castles. Well, it has happened to better men, who, after -years of toil, have to begin life over again. Rachel will not mind; we -have faced poverty before to-day, and will face it again cheerfully." - -"It drives me wild to hear you speak like that!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. -"You are looking only on the black side. If you had the money you have -got rid of the last two or three weeks----" - -"Hush! Mr. Moss, hush!" said Aaron, interrupting him. "It is a -consolation to me to know that the greater part of my legitimately -earned fortune has been so well bestowed. I am glad I did not wait to -make reparation for the great error of my life. Rachel has yet to hear -my confession. If I obtain her forgiveness I can face the future -bravely and cheerfully." - -Under the seal of confidence Aaron had made Mr. Moss and Dr. Spenlove -acquainted with the particulars of the story of the two babes and of -the deception he had practiced in his home in Gosport. Mr. Moss was -not greatly astonished, for the hints lately dropped by his friend had -prepared him for some disclosure of a strange nature. - -"Besides," he said inwardly to himself, "Ruth bears no likeness to -either Mr. or Mrs. Cohen. How blind we have all been!" - -In his weak moments Mr. Moss was rather inclined to be wise after the -event. Both he and Dr. Spenlove had pledged themselves to secrecy, but -when they proceeded to justify Aaron for the act he stopped them, -saying it was a matter between him and his conscience. Now on this -disastrous morning, as they walked from the City, Mr. Moss asked Aaron -whether he intended to tell his wife to-day. - -"Not to-day," Aaron answered. "I must bide my time. The news that we -are poor will be as much as Rachel can bear." - - - - -CHAPTER XL. -"CAN YOU FORGIVE ME?" - - -On the evening of the same day Aaron and Rachel were alone in their -house in Prince's Gate. Rose had taken her leave of them, and she and -her father were traveling to Portsmouth, Mr. Moss with a heavy heart; -he was older than Aaron, and was not so courageous in the hour of -adversity. - -"What makes you so melancholy, father?" said Rose. - -"When you reach my age, Rose," he replied, "I hope you will not -discover that life is a dream." - -The remark seemed to him rather fine and philosophical, but had he -been asked to explain its precise meaning he would have found it -difficult. - -"I hope I shall, father," said Rose as she leaned back and thought of -her lover; "a happy dream." - -"I am glad to get back to you and to our dear home," Rachel was saying -to her husband at the same moment. "You must never send me away again. -Indeed, dear Aaron, if you intend it I shall for once in my life be -rebellious, and shall refuse to go." - -She spoke tenderly and playfully, and held his hand in hers, as in the -olden days. - -"Nevertheless, my love, your short visit to the seaside has done you -good." - -"Yes, dear, I am almost well; I feel much stronger." - -"There is the justification," said Aaron. "I am not happy away from -you, but there are occasions when it is our duty to make sacrifices. -This is the longest separation there has been between us in the -twenty-six years of our married life." - -"How time has flown!" she mused. "Twenty-six years of happiness. It -has always been the same, dear husband, whether we were poor or rich, -I cannot recall a day in the past without its flower which money could -not purchase." - -"You make my task easier, Rachel," said Aaron. "I have something to -disclose to you." - -"And it is not good news, love," she said in a tone of much sweetness. - -"It is not good news, Rachel. By what means have you divined that?" - -"I see without eyes. In the early days of my blindness I used to tell -you that I was acquiring new senses. It is true. Some accent in your -voice, the touch of your hand, conveys the message to my mind, and I -wait in patience, as I am waiting now. Aaron, my dear husband, I have -known for some time past that you have a sorrow which one day you will -ask me to share. How have I known it? I cannot tell, but it is clear -to me. You have not had a joy in your life apart from me. It is my -right, is it not, to share your sorrows?" - -"It is your right, Rachel, and you shall share them. I have not been -without my errors; once in the past my footsteps strayed, but in the -straying I inflicted suffering upon no human being." - -"Of that I am sure, my love. It is human to err, but it is not in your -nature to inflict suffering or commit an injustice. I am not pressing -you to confide in me before, in your judgment, the proper time -arrives. Nothing can shake my faith and trust in you." - -He regarded her in silence a while. The turn the conversation had -taken favored the disclosure of his secret respecting Ruth, but he -feared to speak of that and of his ruin in the same hour. The latter -was the more imperative, because it demanded immediate action, and he -resolved to confine himself to it on this evening. - -"Your loving instinct, Rachel, has not misled you. I have a secret -which I have concealed from you." - -"Fearing to give me pain, dear husband." - -"Yes; and fearing that it would disturb the faith you have in me. I -place so high a value upon it that my life would be dark indeed were I -to lose it." - -"That is impossible, dear. Banish the fear from your mind. Were the -hands of all men raised against you I would stand before you as your -shield, and they would not dare to strike. So long as you are by my -side I am happy and content." - -"Dear life of my life, you inspire me with hope. But one secret which -oppresses me cannot be divulged to-night. It is of my worldly troubles -I must speak now; the rest shall follow at a more fitting time. -Rachel, for twenty years Heaven has showered prosperity upon me; all -my undertakings have succeeded, and I have heard it said, 'Everything -Aaron Cohen touches turns to gold.' It really has been so. I -accumulated a large fortune, and--with humbleness I say it--no man, -however high or low his station, was the loser by it. But a breath may -destroy what the labors of a lifetime have created. If such a reverse -has come to me, Rachel, how would you accept it?" - -"Without murmuring, love," she said, drawing him close to her, and -kissing his lips. "I should have but one regret--that I could not work -for you as you have worked for me. But that, also, is God's will, and -I have never repined. Who would presume to question his wisdom? His -name be praised forever and ever! - -"Amen! In our old home in Gosport you were happy." - -"I have never been happier, Aaron. I have sometimes felt pride in your -successes, but surely that is pardonable. Love is the most precious -gift that life can bestow. All else is nought. It is our soul life and -dies not with the body." - -"You do not value money, Rachel?" - -"For the good it may do to others, not for the good it can do to the -possessor; for the suffering it may be made the means of relieving, -for the blessings it may bring into the lives of the afflicted and -unfortunate. Then it becomes Godlike, and when so used the angels -smile approval." - -"Dear love, you lighten my burden. When I won you my life was blessed. -Listen, Rachel. This is a dark day for many men who find themselves -fallen from their high estate. Despair sits in many homes at this -hour." - -"But not in ours, Aaron, whatever has happened." - -"Thank God! It is my happy belief that this hour is not dark for us. -It was my intention, Rachel, to retire altogether from business and -public life, and to that end I took advantage of your absence from -London to settle my affairs. My resolution was prompted by the secret, -the burden of which, although I have not yet disclosed it to you, you -have made it lighter for me to bear. Brought to public knowledge, -which I fear its peculiar nature will render inevitable, it will be -immediately said that I am unfitted to retain my position as a leader -and teacher. To tarry until that judgment was pronounced would be to -aggravate the disaster, and I resolved to anticipate the verdict by -resigning the honors which have been conferred upon me. I have done -so, and I have withstood the pressure that has been put upon me to -withdraw my resignation. An examination of my worldly affairs resulted -in my finding myself in possession of nearly a hundred thousand -pounds. I divided this into three portions, one of which I intended to -retain in order that we might pass what years of life remained to us -in comfort; the second portion I devoted to charity, and it has thus -been distributed; the third portion was devoted to repairing to some -extent the error of which I had been guilty." - -He looked at Rachel after he had uttered these words, which he had -spoken with averted head. There was no change in her. Sweetness and -sympathy were expressed in her beautiful face, and it seemed as if her -soul's light dwelt thereon. - -"Do you approve, Rachel?" - -"Entirely, love. Let me hold your hand." - -He continued. "The money I intended for our private use was lodged in -a City bank, and in this bank I hold shares for which I am liable to -the depositors. Yesterday Mr. Moss brought me news of a commercial -crisis in which I discerned----" - -"Go on, dear husband, I am prepared for the worst." - -"In which I discerned my ruin. This morning I convinced myself that -the news was true." - -"And we are poor again," said Rachel in a gentle voice. - -"And we are poor again. Everything is lost. I do not know the extent -of my liabilities upon the shares I hold in the bank, but it is -certain that my property in this house and what it contains will -scarcely be sufficient to meet them. I have nothing more to tell of my -worldly trouble, Rachel." - -"Dear love," said Rachel sweetly, with her arms around him, "it is a -small trouble, and we will meet it bravely. With all my heart and soul -I will help you to meet it. We cannot remain in the house; the -expenses are too great." - -"You echo my own words, Rachel. I have already discharged the -servants, and have paid what is due to them. To-morrow they take their -departure, and we must be content to move into humbler quarters." - -"I am content," said Rachel. "I am happy. We have each other. What -does Prissy say?" - -"She will not leave us. With or without my consent, she insists upon -sharing our poverty." - -"Dear, faithful girl! Let it be as she wishes, love. I know her -constant, devoted nature. She will be a comfort to both of us." - -She paused before she spoke again, and then it was in a voice -trembling with emotion. - -"We commence a new life to-morrow. O Aaron, dear husband, my heart is -aching, not because we are poor, not for myself, but for you, love, -for you! Aaron, you have said nothing of Ruth. Let this night end your -sorrows, and let me share them now. It is the thought of Ruth that -oppresses you. I feel it, I have known it long, but did not dare to -mention it. Give me all your confidence; I am well, I am strong. There -is nothing I cannot bear for your dear sake." - -He could not resist the appeal. In a voice as tremulous as her own he -made confession of his sin, and not for one moment while he spoke -would she relinquish his hand. And when his confession was ended she -held him close in her embrace and mingled her tears with his. - -"Can you forgive me, Rachel?" - -"It is for me to bless, not to forgive," she sobbed. "For me you -strayed, for me you have suffered. Comfort his bruised heart, O God, -who sees and judges! And, Aaron, dear and honored husband, we have -still a son to bless our days!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. -A POISONED ARROW. - - -Had it not been that public attention was mainly directed to events of -greater importance, Aaron Cohen's affairs would have furnished a -tempting theme for the busy hunters of sensational and personal -journalism, but to a certain extent he was protected by the fever of -the financial panic in which men of a higher station were brought down -low, and the fortunes of famous historic houses imperiled. He would -have been grateful to slip into obscurity entirely without notice, but -this could scarcely be expected. - -He had one bitter enemy--Mr. Poynter--who rejoiced in his downfall, -and who neglected no opportunity to wing a poisoned arrow against his -old rival. When the excitement of the panic was over these arrows -became more numerous, and Aaron's name was frequently mentioned in a -slighting manner in those second- and third-class journals whose -columns are too freely open to personal spite and malice. He saw but -few of the paragraphs in which he was attacked, and they did not wound -him; some of his friends--for he was not deserted by all--urged him to -reply to them, but he shook his head and said: - -"I am content. Lives there a man without enemies?" - -His chief concern was that the slanders should not reach Rachel's -knowledge, and here her blindness aided him. Either he or the faithful -Prissy was ever by her side, and if his traducers hoped to make him -suffer through the being whose love was the most precious jewel in his -life they were doomed to disappointment. - -Perhaps Aaron had never been happier than he was during these dark -days of adversity. The weight of a secret sin was lifted from his -heart, and he had no fears of poverty. - -He had full confidence in his being able to obtain some employment -which would keep the wolf from the door; however lowly it might be, he -was ready to accept it thankfully. - -He was not immediately free to enter a situation, for much of his time -was occupied in settling his affairs. - -He had left his home in Prince's Gate, and was living in lodgings in -Brixton. Everything he had in the world was given up to the creditors -at the bank, and when he quitted the house neither he nor Rachel had -taken from it anything of the slightest value. Small personal gifts -which had been given by one to the other, articles of dress which they -might legitimately have retained, mementoes of little value endeared -to them by some affectionate association, even the old silver-mounted -pipe--all were left behind. Simply dressed, without a piece of jewelry -about them, they turned their faces toward the new home and the new -life without a murmur, and walked to their humble rooms with contented -hearts. - -Prissy, who had gone before to get the place ready, received them with -a smiling face. Grandeur was nothing to Prissy so long as she could be -with those whom she loved to serve. As happy in a cottage as in a -palace, she proved herself to be a true philosopher, accepting -fortune's rubs with equanimity, and making the best of them with a -cheerful willingness it were well for loftier folk to emulate. The -rooms were sweet and clean, there were flowers about, and blooming -flowers in pots on the window-sill. Rachel sighed with pleasure as she -entered, and her bright face was Prissy's reward. - -"Where did the flowers come from, Prissy?" asked Aaron when Rachel was -out of hearing. - -"From the flowerman, sir," she answered. "They cost next to nothing, -and they're paid for." - -"But, Prissy----" - -"Please don't, sir," she interrupted, and there were tears in her eyes -and a pleading rebellion in her voice. "I know what you're going to -say, Mr. Cohen, but please don't. You'd like me to keep good, wouldn't -you, sir?" - -"Why, of course, Prissy," said Aaron, astonished at the question. - -"I can't keep good, sir, if you blow me up now you're in misfortune; I -can't keep good if you don't let me have my way in little things. I'll -be very careful, I will, indeed, Mr. Cohen. It's the first time in my -life I've bought any flowers at all--and did you see, sir, how happy -missus looked when she came in?" - -Thus inconsequentially Prissy, mixing her arguments in the strangest -manner. - -"But, my good girl," said Aaron kindly, "you have no business to -waste your money; you must think of your future." - -"It's what I am thinking of, sir; I don't want to grow wicked, and -flowers are the only things that will prevent me. Mr. Cohen, if it -hadn't been for you I shouldn't have been no good at all. I don't -forget the first night I come to you with Victoria Regina in Gosport; -if I lived to be as old as Methusalem I couldn't never forget it. And -then when missus got me the gillard water to bathe my eyes--I should -be the ungratefullest woman that ever drew breath if I could forget -those things. Do, please, sir, let me have my way. You've paid me a -lot more wages than I was worth, and all my money is in the -Post-office Savings Bank, and it aint mine at all, it's yours----" - -"My good Prissy," said Aaron, much affected, for Prissy could not -continue, her voice was so full of tears, "do as you wish, but be very -careful, as you have promised. Perhaps fortune will turn again, and -then----" - -"And then, sir," said Prissy, taking up her words, "you shall give it -all back to me. And it will turn, sir; you see if it won't!" - -Aaron was very busy for several days after this, making a careful -inventory of his possessions in the house in Prince's Gate, which he -sent to the appointed liquidators of the bankrupt bank. Of all the -debtors he was the only one who did not wait for the law's decree to -give up his fortune, to the last farthing, and perhaps he was the only -one whose conscience was free of the intention of wrong. - -He had his gleams of sunshine. First, as ill news travel fast, his -son, Joseph, upon his arrival in Australia, was made acquainted -through the public journals of the condition of affairs, and divining -that his father was in need of money he cabled home advices which -assisted Aaron in his extreme need. The young man had saved some -money, and he placed it all at the disposal of his parents, who -derived an exquisite pleasure from this proof of affection. - -As in Gosport twenty years before, Rachel did not know the stress to -which her husband was put. He kept from her knowledge everything of a -distressing nature, and in this loving task he was silently assisted -by Prissy, whose thoughtfulness and devotion were not to be excelled. -She watched her mistress' every movement and anticipated her slightest -wish. - -"What should I do without you, Prissy?" said Rachel. - -"I hope you'll never want to do without me, ma'am," answered Prissy. - -Another gleam of sunshine came to him in the offer of a situation from -a merchant who had known him in his days of prosperity. He was not -asked to occupy a position of responsibility, and the offer was -conveyed to him in apologetic terms. - -"I cannot displace men who have been long in my employ," the merchant -said, "but a desk is vacant which you can have if you think it worthy -of you." - -Aaron accepted it gladly and expressed his thanks. - -"Fortune has not deserted us," he said to his wife. "I shall not only -be able to pay our expenses, but I shall even be able to save a -little. The hours are short, the labor is light; and in time I may -rise to something better." - -So, like a young man commencing life, he went every morning to his new -duties, and returned in the evening to a peaceful and happy home. - -During all this time he had heard no word of Ruth or Mrs. Gordon, and -the sin of which he had been guilty had not reached the public ear. -His house and furniture still remained unsold, law's process being -proverbially slow and tedious. At length, passing his house one -evening he saw bills up announcing that the mansion and its contents -were to be sold by auction in the course of a week. It was his -intention to attend the auction for the purpose of purchasing a few -small mementoes, toward which he had saved two or three pounds. The -sale was to take place on Thursday, and on Wednesday night he was -looking through the catalogue, and talking with Rachel about his -intended purchases. - -"There are dumb memorials, dear," he said, "which from long -association become almost like living friends. I shall not be quite -happy till I get back my silver-mounted pipe. Tobacco has lost its -flavor since I left it behind me, but I had no right to bring away -anything of value, and I have always looked forward to possessing it -again. Great misfortunes are easy to bear in comparison with such-like -trifles." - -Aaron seldom indulged now in those touches of humor to which Rachel in -the old days loved to listen. The Aaron of to-day and the Aaron of -yesterday were the same in everything but that; the tender gayety was -replaced by a tender sadness, and Rachel often thought with regret of -the play of fancy which used to stir her to mirth. - -On this night they expected a visit from Mr. Moss, who was coming to -London on business, and at about nine o'clock he made his appearance. -An hour afterward Rachel retired to bed, and left the friends -together. Aaron had observed that Mr. Moss looked anxious and uneasy, -and being now alone with him he inquired the reason. - -"I expected you to tell me of it," said Mr. Moss. - -"Of what?" asked Aaron. "I hope there is no fresh trouble." - -"I am the harbinger of it, it seems," groaned Mr. Moss. "I was the -first to bring you the news of the panic, and now----" - -"Yes," said Aaron gently, "and now? Speak low, or Rachel may overhear -us." - -"You do not see many papers, Cohen?" - -"Not many." - -"I hardly like to tell you," said Mr. Moss, "but you will be sure to -hear of it to-morrow. They never spare a man who is down. For God's -sake, Cohen, don't blame me; I've never opened my lips--I'd have cut -my tongue out first." - -"Let me know the worst," said Aaron. "It relates to me, I see. As for -blaming you, set your mind at ease. You have been too good a friend to -me to do anything to distress me. Come, shake hands. Whatever it is I -can bear it like a man, I hope. I have passed through the fire." - -In silence Mr. Moss took a newspaper from his pocket, and handed it to -Aaron. It was folded in a particular place, and there Aaron read an -article, headed "A Strange Revelation," in which the whole story of -his sin was circumstantially detailed. He was not referred to by name, -nor was Ruth's name, or Mrs. Gordon's, mentioned, but the name of the -place in which the incident occurred, and the year of the occurrence, -were accurately set down, and certain allusions to himself could not -be mistaken. He was spoken of as a Jew who until lately had occupied -an eminent position in society, who had posed as a friend of the -workingman, and had been instrumental in putting an end to the late -great strike in the building trade. - -"Ostensibly this may be said to have been of service to society, but -in our judgment of the man's character such an issue must be set -aside. The question of motive has to be considered; if it be worthy it -reflects credit upon him, if unworthy it passes to his dishonor." - -From this argument was drawn the conclusion that there was not a -public act performed by "the eminent Jew" that was not undertaken with -a view to self-interest. For years he had been successful in throwing -dust into the eyes of the multitude whom he had cajoled into sounding -his praises, but at length the sword had fallen, and the life of -duplicity he had led both publicly and privately was laid bare to -view. His charities were so many advertisements, and were undoubtedly -turned to profit; his religious professions, unceasingly paraded, -served as a cloak for his greed and self-seeking. - -"This man's life of hypocrisy points a moral. He was in affluence, he -is in want; he was a leader, he has become a drudge. We hold him up as -a warning." - -Then followed a promise of further revelations to be furnished by a -competent authority, and probably by the publication of the -delinquent's name for the benefit of society at large. - -As Aaron read this scandalous article the color deserted his cheeks, -his hands and mouth trembled, his heart sank within him. What could he -say in his defense? Nothing! The deductions and conclusions were -false, but the story was true. There was but one answer to the -question whether he had perpetrated a domestic fraud, and had brought -up as a Jewess a child whom he had allowed to grow up in ignorance of -her parentage and rightful faith. This answer would be fatal and would -give the impress of truth to the entire article. How could he show -himself in public after such an exposure? His intended appearance at -the sale to-morrow must be relinquished; he would be pointed at with -scorn and contempt. Not for him the open paths where he would meet his -fellow-man face to face; he must creep through the byways, close to -the wall. It seemed to him as if his life were over. His head drooped, -his arms sank listlessly down, his whole appearance was that of a man -who had received a mortal stroke. - -"It is abominable, abominable!" cried Mr. Moss. "Is there no law to -punish such a slander? Is there no protection for such a man as you?" - -"For such a man as I?" echoed Aaron sadly. "Ah, my friend, you forget. -There is no grave deep enough for sin and wrongdoing; the punishment -meted out to me is just." - -"It is not--it is not!" - -"Hush! You will disturb Rachel." - -He stepped softly into the bedroom; Rachel was slumbering with a smile -on her lips. As he stood by her side, contemplating her sweet and -beautiful face, she awoke. - -"Aaron?" - -"Yes, my life." - -"Is it late? Has Mr. Moss gone?" - -"He is still here, Rachel. It is quite early." - -She encircled his neck with her arms, and drew him to her. "I have had -such happy dreams, dear love. Some good fortune is going to happen to -us." - -"What would life be without its delusions?" he said in a sad tone. - -"Do not speak so sadly, dear. It is not because we are poor, is it?" - -"No, love, it is not that. But if your dreams should not come -true----" - -"Why, then," she answered, and her voice was like music in his ears, -"we have faced trouble before, and can face it again. It will make no -difference so long as we are together. God is all-merciful and in him -I put my trust. To the last--to the last--dear and honored husband, we -will not lose our trust in him. Do not be sad. All will come right--I -feel it will. It is as if a divine voice is whispering to me." - -When Aaron rejoined his friend the color had returned to his face, his -step was firmer, his eye brighter. - -"There is an angel by my side," he said. "Let my enemies do their -worst. I am armed against them. Does this article make any change in -our friendship?" - -"It binds me closer to you, Cohen." - -Aaron pressed Mr. Moss' hand. "Love and friendship are mine," he said -simply. "What more can I desire?" - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. -RETRIBUTION. - - -The following morning Aaron went to the office as usual, and quickly -discovered that the poisoned arrow had found its mark. He was received -with coldness, and the principals of the firm passed his desk without -speaking to him. He observed the older employees whispering together, -and looking at him furtively, avoiding his eye when he returned their -gaze. His mind was soon made up; he would not wait for the dismissal -he saw impending, and in an interview with his employers he tendered -his resignation. - -"You have saved us from a difficulty, Mr. Cohen," they said. "We -intended to speak to you before the day was over. But still, if the -story we have seen in several papers is not true--if it does not, -after all, refer to you----" - -"The story is true," he said, "and it refers to me." - -"We regret the necessity," was their reply; "the cashier will pay you -a month's salary in lieu of notice." - -"I can accept only what is due to me," said Aaron; and shortly -afterward he left the office. - -He did not return home until evening, and then he said nothing to -Rachel of his dismissal. The next day he went out and wandered -aimlessly about the streets, choosing the thoroughfares where he would -be least likely to be recognized. So the days passed, and still he had -not the courage to speak to Rachel. - -"Perhaps in another country," he thought, "I may find rest, and Rachel -and I will be allowed to pass the remainder of our life in peace." - -On Tuesday in the ensuing week he went forth, and with bowed head was -walking sadly on when, with a sudden impulse, he wheeled round in the -direction of his home. The feeling that impelled him to do this was -that he was behaving treacherously to Rachel in keeping the secret -from her. He would make her acquainted with his disgrace and -dismissal, and never again in his life would he conceal anything from -her knowledge. This resolution gave him the courage he had lacked. - -"It is as if I were losing faith in her," he murmured. "Love has made -me weak where it should have made me strong." - -He hastened his steps, and soon reached his home. As he stood for a -moment at the door of the sitting room he heard a voice within which -he recognized as that of his old rival, Mr. Poynter, and upon his -entrance he found that gentleman and his wife together. - -Rachel was standing in a dignified attitude, as though in the presence -of an enemy; her face was pale and scornful, and Mr. Poynter was -manifestly ill at ease. Hearing her husband's footsteps, she extended -her hand, and taking his, pressed it to her lips. In this position -they must be left for a brief space while an explanation is given of -another incident which was to bear directly on the scene, and to bring -into it a startling color. - -Prissy had conducted Mr. Poynter into the presence of her mistress, -and had scarcely done so when she was called down to a lady who had -come to see Mr. and Mrs. Cohen. This lady was Mrs. Gordon. - -"I bring good news to your master and mistress," she said to Prissy -after she had heard that Mrs. Cohen was engaged. "Can I wait until the -visitor is gone?" - -"You can sit in my room if you don't mind, ma'am," said Prissy, who -was greatly excited at the promise of good news. - -"Thank you," said Mrs. Gordon, and she followed the servant upstairs -to a room next to that in which Mr. Poynter and Rachel were -conversing, and where, the wall being thin, she could hear every word -that was being spoken in the adjoining apartment. - -"This gentleman," said Rachel to her husband, pointing in the -direction of Mr. Poynter, "has called to see you on business, and has -taken advantage of your absence to offer me a bribe." - -"One moment, Rachel," said Aaron; "let me first hear the nature of Mr. -Poynter's business." - -"I will explain it," said Mr. Poynter. "I have not been fortunate -enough to win Mrs. Cohen's favor, but ladies are not accustomed to -discuss business matters. You are down in the world, Mr. Cohen. It is -best to speak quite plainly." - -"It is. I am, as you say, down in the world." - -"The newspapers," continued Mr. Poynter, "have been saying -uncomplimentary things of you, and I have heard of a threat of further -revelation. I considered it my duty to make your wife acquainted with -these public disclosures." - -Rachel pressed her lips again upon Aaron's hand which she held in a -firm and loving grasp. His face brightened. - -"You have rendered me a service," he said. "Possibly I have to thank -you, also, for the statements which have been made in the papers -concerning me?" - -"Possibly," said Mr. Poynter. - -"Nay," said Aaron, "you said just now that it is best to speak quite -plainly, have I, or have I not, to thank you for the unfavorable -publicity?" - -"I have never shrunk from the truth," replied Mr. Poynter with a lofty -air, "nor from a duty, however distressing the truth or the duty might -be. I became possessed of certain information, and I considered it my -duty, in the interests of truth, not to withhold it from the public -ear." - -"I thank you. Perhaps you will now come straight to the business which -brings you here." - -"It is very simple, and will put money into your pocket, of which, it -seems to me, you stand in need." - -"I do stand in need of money." - -"Then the matter can be arranged. Some little while since you -transferred your contracts to other firms, ignoring me entirely in the -transaction." - -"For which," said Aaron, "I had good reasons, and for which you have -taken your revenge." - -"God-fearing men," said Mr. Poynter, "do not seek revenge, but -justice. To continue. The firm to which you transferred the most -important of these contracts happen, at the present time, to need some -assistance, and hearing of it I offer what they need. But it appears -that you have hampered them, and that in the deed of transference you -expressly stipulated that no part of the contracts shall be executed -by me unless I bind myself to a scale of wages and hours which you -have tabulated." - -"I considered it fair to the men," said Aaron, "and it is as you have -stated." - -"It is my belief," pursued Mr. Poynter, "that the firm will accept my -aid if I adhere to the scale, which I decline to do. I know what is -right, and I will not be dictated to. My business here is to make you -the offer of a sum of money--I will go as far as a hundred pounds--if -you will cancel this stipulation by which my friends are bound. A -hundred pounds would come in useful to you just now." - -"It would. It is likely you would increase the sum." - -"Oh, you Jews, you Jews?" exclaimed Mr. Poynter jocosely, thinking -he had gained his point. "Always on the lookout for the main -chance--always screwing out the last penny. I wouldn't mind, Mr. -Cohen. We will say a hundred and twenty." - -Aaron turned to Rachel and asked, "Is this the bribe you spoke of?" - -"It is not," she replied. "Mr. Poynter will explain it to you in his -own words." - -"I haven't the smallest objection," said Mr. Poynter. "You see, Mr. -Cohen, it is sometimes necessary to put the screw on. Who knows that -better than you? There is a material screw, and a moral screw, in this -particular case. The material screw is money; the moral screw is an -iron safe, of which, as yet, no mention has been made in the -newspapers." - -"Ah," said Aaron. - -"It is almost a waste of words to speak of it to you, who are so -familiar with the circumstances. This iron safe, it appears, was given -into your charge when you received the infant into your house in -Gosport. You were poor at the time, and from that day you prospered. -In a manner of speaking, you became suddenly rich. Well, well, the -temptation was too strong for you. You could not resist opening the -safe, and appropriating what it contained--undoubtedly treasure of -some sort in money or jewels. But, Mr. Cohen, there is an All-seeing -Eye." - -"I acknowledge it. In the event of my refusing your money you threaten -to accuse me through the columns of the press of breaking open the -safe and stealing its contents." - -"You have expressed it clearly, Mr. Cohen. The moral screw, you know." - -"Mr. Poynter," said Aaron with dignity, "I refuse your offer." - -"It is not enough?" - -"Were you to multiply it a hundred times it would not be enough." - -Through Aaron's veins ran the sweet approval conveyed in Rachel's cold -clasp upon his hand. - -"You beggar!" exclaimed Mr. Poynter. "You hypocrite! You defy me?" - -"You rich man," said Aaron, "you God-fearing man, do your worst." - -"It shall be done," cried Mr. Poynter furiously. "You are ruined: I -will ruin you still more; I will bring you to your knees; you shall -lie in the gutter, and beg for mercy! You paragon of sanctity, all the -world shall know you for what you are!" - -"You can use no harsher words," said Aaron. "Relieve me now of your -presence." - -As he said this the communicating door between the rooms opened and -Mrs. Gordon appeared on the threshold. - -"Yes, I will go," said Mr. Poynter; but fell back when Mrs. Gordon -advanced. - -"Not yet," she said; and turning to Aaron, "I have a word to say to -this gentleman. Your servant admitted me and allowed me to wait in the -adjoining apartment till you were disengaged. I have heard all that -has passed between you, and I am thankful for the chance that enabled -me to do so. Mr. Cohen, look upon that man and mark how changed he is, -from braggart to coward. It is not the infamous falsehoods he has -spoken, it is not the cowardly threats to which he has dared to give -utterance in the presence of a lady that causes him to shrink, that -blanches his face, and brings terror into his eyes. It is because he -sees me stand before him, the woman he betrayed and deserted long -years ago. He believed me dead, driven to death by his treachery and -baseness; he beholds me living, to cover him, if I wish, with shame -and ignominy. Heaven knows I had no desire to seek him, but Heaven -directed me here in a just moment to expose and baffle him. It is my -turn now to threaten, it is my turn to dictate. You unutterable -villain, you shall make some sort of retribution for the infamy of the -past!" - -"Psha!" said Mr. Poynter with white lips. "Who will believe you? You -have no proofs." - -"I have; God's justice has turned your weapon against yourself. The -safe intrusted to this noble gentleman, and which he delivered intact, -untampered with, when I came to claim it, contained no treasure in -money or jewels. When I parted with my child--and yours--I was too -poor to deposit even one silver coin in it, but in its stead I placed -there the torn half of one of your letters, retaining the other -portion in proof of its genuineness. This letter is now in my -possession. How would you stand in the eyes of the world if I -published this, you God-fearing man, with the story attaching to it? I -will do it, as Heaven is my judge, if you do not repair the injury you -have done this gentleman, whom, with all my heart and soul, I honor -and revere. It is him you have to thank that your child has been -reared in honor and virtue. Go; I never wish to look upon your face -again, but as you are a living man I will bring the good name you -falsely bear to the dust if you do not make reparation!" - -As he slunk past her, uttering no word, she held her dress so that it -should not come in contact with him. His power for evil was at an end, -and Aaron had nothing more to fear from his malice. - -Then, after Aaron had introduced her to Rachel, she poured glad -tidings into their ears. She had not sought them earlier, she said, -because she wished first to execute a plan which was in her head -respecting them, and she had also to reconcile Lord Storndale to his -son's marriage with Ruth. - -Her great wealth had enabled her, after much labor, to succeed in this -endeavor, and Ruth was recognized by her husband's family. The fortune -which Aaron had settled upon Ruth had not been used in the carrying -out of her desire; it was deposited in the bank, where only Aaron's -signature was needed to prove his right to it. - -And now she begged them to accompany her; she wished to show them -something, and her carriage was at the door. - -It conveyed them to a handsome house in a good neighborhood, and -Aaron's heart throbbed with gratitude as he saw in it all the -memorials of his old home which he and Rachel held dear. - -On the walls were the portraits of himself and Rachel which had been -presented to him on the day when all his friends had assembled to do -him honor. Happy tears ran down Rachel's face as Aaron walked with her -through the rooms and described their contents. In the study he -paused, lifted something from the table, and placed it in Rachel's -hands. - -"Your silver-mounted pipe," she exclaimed. - -"My silver-mounted pipe," he answered. "My life, with this pipe and -the dear picture of yourself sitting beneath the cherry tree, and -holding your dear hand, I could go through the world in perfect -happiness and content." - -"O Lord of the Universe," said Rachel, clasping her hands, and lifting -her lovely face, "I thank thee humbly for all thy goodness to me and -mine!" - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fair Jewess, by B. L. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/53296-8.zip b/old/53296-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index af7b2a1..0000000 --- a/old/53296-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53296-h.zip b/old/53296-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7d3c8c1..0000000 --- a/old/53296-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53296-h/53296-h.htm b/old/53296-h/53296-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 4d88d0a..0000000 --- a/old/53296-h/53296-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12512 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>A Fair Jewess</title> -<meta name="Author" content="Benjamin Leopold Farjeon"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="The F. M. Lupton Publishing Company"> -<meta name="Date" content="1894"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -p.center {text-align: center} -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fair Jewess, by B. L. Farjeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Fair Jewess - -Author: B. L. Farjeon - -Release Date: October 16, 2016 [EBook #53296] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FAIR JEWESS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Harvard University) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=emlLN6DE1I<br> -(Harvard University)<br> -<br> -2. This book was also published as "Aaron the Jew. A Novel," in<br> -London by Hutchinson & Co. in 1895.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A Fair Jewess</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>B. L. FARJEON,</h4> - -<h5><i>Author of "The Last Tenant" Etc</i>.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><span style="font-size:smaller">NEW YORK:</span><br> -THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5><span class="sc">Copyright, 1894, by</span><br> -THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.</h5> - -<h5><i>All rights reserved</i>.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="5" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"><col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><b>CONTENTS</b></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER</td> -<td></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Poor Doctor</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Dr. Spenlove's Visitor</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Dr. Spenlove Undertakes a Delicate Mission</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">"One More Unfortunate"</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">"Come! We Will End It"</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Friend in Need</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Result of Dr. Spenlove's Mission</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">What was Put in the Iron Box</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Mr. Moss Plays his Part</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Vision in the Churchyard</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Mr. Whimpole Introduces Himself</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Course of the Seasons</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Aaron Cohen Preaches a Sermon on Large Noses</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Proclamation of War</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Battle is Fought and Won</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Joy and Sorrow</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Divine Consolation</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">In the New House</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Doctor Speaks Plainly to Aaron Cohen</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Momentous Night</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Temptation</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Living and the Dead</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Plucked from the Jaws of Death</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Curtain Falls</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">After Many Years</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Foundation of Aaron's Fortune</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Farewell</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Revisits Gosport</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">What Shall be Done to the Man whom the King Delighteth to Honor?</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Honorable Percy Storndale</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Spirit of the Dead Past</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Before All, Duty</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33">XXXIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Cheerful Doctor</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34">XXXIV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Ruth's Secret</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_35" href="#div1_35">XXXV</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Honorable Percy Storndale Makes an Appeal</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_36" href="#div1_36">XXXVI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Duty Performed</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_37" href="#div1_37">XXXVII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">The Mother's Appeal</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_38" href="#div1_38">XXXVIII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Mother's Joy</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_39" href="#div1_39">XXXIX</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Panic in the City</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_40" href="#div1_40">XL</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">"Can you Forgive me?"</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_41" href="#div1_41">XLI</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">A Poisoned Arrow</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_42" href="#div1_42">XLII</a>.</td> -<td><span class="sc">Retribution</span></td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A FAIR JEWESS.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> -<h5>THE POOR DOCTOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal" style="text-align: left">On a bright, snowy night in December, some years ago, Dr. Spenlove, -having been employed all the afternoon and evening in paying farewell -visits to his patients, walked briskly toward his home through the -narrowest and most squalid thoroughfares in Portsmouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">The animation of his movements may be set down to the severity of the -weather, and not to any inward cheerfulness of spirits, for as he -passed familiar landmarks he looked at them with a certain regret -which men devoid of sentiment would have pronounced an indication of a -weak nature. In this opinion, however, they would have been wrong, for -Dr. Spenlove's intended departure early the following morning from a -field which had strong claims upon his sympathies was dictated by a -law of inexorable necessity. He was a practitioner of considerable -skill, and he had conscientiously striven to achieve a reputation in -some measure commensurate with his abilities.</p> - -<p class="normal">From a worldly point of view his efforts had been attended with -mortifying failure; he had not only been unsuccessful in earning a -bare livelihood, but he had completely exhausted the limited resources -with which he had started upon his career; he had, moreover, endured -severe privation, and an opening presenting itself in the wider field -of London he had accepted it with gladness and reluctance. With -gladness because he was an ambitious man, and had desires apart from -his profession; with reluctance because it pained him to bid farewell -to patients in whom he took a genuine interest, and whom he would have -liked to continue to befriend. He had, indeed, assisted many of them -to the full extent of his power, and in some instances had gone beyond -this limit, depriving himself of the necessaries of life to supply -them with medicines and nourishing food, and robbing his nights of -rest to minister to their woes. He bore about him distinguishing marks -of the beautiful self-sacrifice.</p> - -<p class="normal">On this last night of his residence among them his purse was empty, -and inclement as was the weather he wore, on his road home, but one -thin coat which was but a feeble protection from the freezing air -which pierced to his skin, though every button was put to its proper -use. A hacking cough, which caused him to pause occasionally, denoted -that he was running a dangerous risk in being so insufficiently clad; -but he seemed to make light of this, and smiled when the paroxysm was -over. In no profession can be found displayed a more noble humanity -and philanthropy than in that which Dr. Spenlove practiced, and needy -as he was, and narrow as had been his means from the start, his young -career already afforded a striking example of sweet and unselfish -attributes. In the divine placing of human hosts the poor doctor and -the poor priest shall be found marching in the van side by side.</p> - -<p class="normal">During the whole of the day snow had been falling, and during the -whole of the day Dr. Spenlove had had but one meal. He did not -complain; he had been accustomed to live from hand to mouth, and well -knew what it was to go to bed hungry; and there was before him the -prospect of brighter times.</p> - -<p class="normal">But cheering as was this prospect his walk home through the falling -snow was saddened by the scenes he had witnessed in the course of the -day, and one especially dwelt in his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor creature!" he mused. "What will become of her and her baby? Oh, -pitiless world! Does it not contain a single human being who will hold -out a helping hand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Before one of the poorest houses in one of the poorest streets he -paused, and, admitting himself with a private latchkey, unlocked a -door on the ground floor, and entered a room which faced the street. -There was a wire blind to the window, on which was inscribed, -"Consultations from 9 till 11 A. M." This room, with a communicating -bedroom at the back, comprised his professional and private residence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove groped in the dark for the matches, and, lighting a -candle, applied a match to a fire laid with scrupulous economy in the -matter of coals. As he was thus employed his landlady knocked at the -door and entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it you, Mrs. Radcliffe?" he asked, not turning his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir. Let me do that, please."</p> - -<p class="normal">The paper he had lit in the grate was smoldering away without kindling -the wood; the landlady knelt down, and with a skillful touch the flame -leaped up. Dr. Spenlove, unbuttoning his thin coat, spread out his -hands to the warmth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Any callers, Mrs. Radcliffe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A gentleman, sir, who seemed very anxious to see you. He did not -leave his name or card, but said he would call again this evening."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he mention the hour?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nine, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove put his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and quickly -withdrew it, with a smile of humor and self-pity. The landlady noticed -the action, and dolefully shook her head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very anxious to see me, you say, Mrs. Radcliffe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very anxious, indeed, sir. Dear, dear, you're wet through!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a bitter night," he said, coughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may well say that, sir. Bad weather for you to be out, with that -nasty cough of yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are many people worse off than I am, without either fire or -food."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We all have our trials, sir. It's a hard world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, indeed," he said, thinking of the female patient whom he had -last visited.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where's your overcoat, sir? I'll take it down to the kitchen; it'll -dry sooner there." She looked around in vain for it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind my overcoat, Mrs. Radcliffe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you had it on when you went out, sir!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did I? Don't trouble about it. It will dry quickly enough where it -is."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was now busily employed making a parcel of books and instruments -which he had taken from different parts of the room, and which were -the only articles of value belonging to himself it contained. The -landlady stood for a moment or two watching his movements, and then -she hurried down to her kitchen, and presently returned with a cup of -hot tea. As she passed through the passage with the cup in one hand -and a candle in the other she glanced at the empty umbrella stand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"His umbrella, too, as well as his overcoat," she muttered. "The man's -heart's too big for his body."</p> - -<p class="normal">She re-entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I've brought you a cup of tea, sir, if you don't mind taking it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all, Mrs. Radcliffe. It is very kind of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">He drank the tea, which warmed him through and through.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We're all sorry at your leaving us, sir," said the lady. "There's -plenty that'll miss you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry, too," he replied, "but when needs must, you know. I can -do no good to myself or others by remaining. If the gentleman calls -again ask him to wait if his business is of importance. You had better -tell him I am leaving Portsmouth to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">With his parcel under his arm he left the house, and trudging through -the snow again halted at a pawnbroker's shop, lingering a while before -he entered, as sensitive men do before putting the finishing touch to -a humiliating act. Then, shrugging his shoulders and muttering, "I -ought to be used to it by this time," he plunged into the shop, where -he obtained upon his few last treasures as much as would pay his -third-class fare to London and the two weeks' rent he owed his -landlady. Thus safeguarded for a few hours at least, he left the shop, -but instead of immediately retracing his steps to his lodgings he -lingered once more irresolutely, with the air of a man who was at war -with himself upon a momentous question. The sixteen shillings due to -his landlady was in his pocket, and undoubtedly it was simple honesty -that it should be handed over to her without hesitation. But the -hapless female patient who had occupied his thoughts during the last -hour was at this moment in the throes of a desperate human crisis, and -dark as was the present to her suffering soul the terrors which the -future held in store for her were still more agonizing. She had a -young baby at her breast; she had no food in her cupboard, not a loaf -of bread, not a cup of milk; she had not a friend in the world to whom -she could appeal for help. She, too, was in debt to her landlord, a -hard man, who was waiting for another sun to rise to thrust her and -her infant into the white and pitiless streets. It would have been -done to-day but for the intervention of Dr. Spenlove, who had pawned -his overcoat and umbrella to buy of the poor creature's landlord a -respite of twenty-four hours. The sixteen shillings due to Mrs. -Radcliffe would buy her another respite for a longer term, but when -this was expired there was still the hopeless future to face. Dr. -Spenlove thrust aside this latter consideration, and thought only of -the ineffable relief it was in his power to bring to a heart racked -with anguish and despair. He lost sight of the fact that the wretched -woman would still be without food, and that she was too weak to work -for it. Even when she was strong, and able to ply her needle -throughout the whole of the day and the greater part of the night, her -earnings had never exceeded six shillings a week; she had confessed as -much to the good doctor, but for whose timely aid the workhouse would -have been her only refuge. As he stood debating with himself the -sentiment of pity was strong within him, but he could not banish the -voice of justice which whispered that the money was not his to dispose -of. All the people with whom he was acquainted were poor, and his -landlady was as poor as the rest; he knew that she often depended upon -the payment of his rent to pay her own. It might be that just now she -could afford to wait a while for what was due to her; if so he would -dispose of the sixteen shillings as his benevolent instincts impelled -him to do; he must, however, ascertain how the land lay before he -acted. It may appear strange to many fortunate persons that issues so -grave and vital should hang upon a sum of money which to them would -not be worth a thought, but it would be a good lesson for them to -learn that opportunities are not scarce for bringing heaven's -brightest sunshine to overcharged hearts by the judicious bestowal of -a few small coins out of the wealth which yields them all the material -comforts of life.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having made up his mind upon the important matter, Dr. Spenlove turned -homeward, and as he walked he recalled the incidents in connection -with the unhappy woman in which he had played a part. She was a -stranger in the neighborhood, and had lived her lonely life in a -garret for five months. No person with whom she came in contact knew -anything of her or of her antecedents, and it was by chance that he -became acquainted with her. Attending to his poor patients in the -street in which she resided, he passed her one afternoon, and was -attracted as much by her modest and ladylike appearance as by the -evidence of extreme weakness which could hardly escape the observation -of a man so kindly hearted as himself. He perceived at once that she -was of a superior class to those among whom she moved, and he was -impressed by a peculiar expression on her face when his eyes rested on -her. It was the expression of a hunted woman, of one who dreaded being -recognized. He made inquiries about her, but no one could give him any -information concerning her, and in the press of onerous cares and -duties she passed out of his mind. Some weeks later he met her again, -and his first impressions were renewed and strengthened, and pity -stirred his heart as he observed from her garments that she was on the -downward path of poverty. It was clear that she was frightened by his -observance of her, for she hurried quickly on, but physical weakness -frustrated her desire to avoid him; she staggered and would have -fallen had he not ran forward and caught her. Weak as she was she -struggled to release herself; he kept firm hold of her, however, -animated by compassion and fortified by honest intention.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have nothing to fear from me," he said. "Allow me to assist you. -I am Dr. Spenlove."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the first time he had addressed her, but his name was familiar -to her as that of a gentleman to whom the whole neighborhood was under -a debt of gratitude for numberless acts of goodness. She glanced -timidly at his face, and a vague hope stirred her heart; she knew that -the time was approaching when she would need such a friend. But the -hope did not live long; it was crushed by a sudden fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know me, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Dr. Spenlove in a cheerful tone. "You are a stranger to -me, as I dare say I am to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir," she said; "I have heard of your kindness to many suffering -people."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush, tush!" he exclaimed. "A man deserves no credit for doing his -duty. You feel stronger now, do you not? If you have no doctor you -will allow me to come and see you. Do not hesitate; you need such -advice as I can give you, and," he added gently, "I will send in my -account when you are rich. Not till then, upon my honor; and meanwhile -I promise to ask no questions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am deeply grateful to you, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">From that day he attended her regularly, and she was strengthened and -comforted by his considerate conduct toward her. She was known as Mrs. -Turner, but it was strange if she were wife or widow that she should -wear no wedding ring. As their intimacy ripened his first impression -that she was a lady was confirmed, and although he was naturally -curious about her history, he kept his promise by not asking her any -questions which he felt it would be painful to her to answer. Even -when he discovered that she was about to become a mother he made no -inquiries concerning the father of her unborn child. On the day he -bade her farewell her baby, a girl, was two weeks old, and a dark and -terrible future lay before the hapless woman. His heart bled for her, -but he was powerless to help her further. Weak and despairing, she sat -in her chair, with her child at her wasted breast; her dark and<br> -deep-sunken eyes seemed to be contemplating this future in hopeless -terror.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am grieved to leave you so," he said, gazing sadly at her, "but it -is out of my power to do what I would wish. Unhappily I am almost as -poor as yourself. You will try to get strong, will you not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know," she murmured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember," he said, taking her hand, "you have a duty to perform. -What will you do when you are strong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," he urged, "you must not speak so despondently. Believe me, -I do not wish to force your confidence, but I have gathered from -chance words you have let drop that you lived in London. I am going -there to-morrow. Can I call upon any person who would be likely to -assist you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But surely you must have some friends or relations----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have none. When you leave me I shall be without a friend in the -world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God help you!" he sighed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The question was asked in the voice of one who had abandoned hope, who -had lost faith in human goodness and eternal justice, and who was -tasting the bitterness of death.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove remained with her an hour, striving to cheer her, to -instill hope into her heart, but his words had no effect upon her, -and, indeed, he felt at times that the platitudes to which he was -giving utterance were little better than mockery. Was not this woman -face to face with the practical issues of life and death in their most -awful aspect, and was there any other than a practical remedy for -them? She asked for bread, and he was offering her a stone. It was -then he went from her room, and learned the full truth from her -landlord, who was only waiting till he was gone to turn her into the -streets. We know by what means he bought a day's respite for her. -Finally he left her, and bore away with him the darkest picture of -human misery of which he had ever had experience.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> -<h5>DR. SPENLOVE'S VISITOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">His landlady, Mrs. Radcliffe, met him on the doorstep, and informed -him that the gentleman who had called to see him in the afternoon had -called again, and was in his room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A word, Mrs. Radcliffe," he said hurriedly. "I am going to ask a -great favor of you. I owe you two weeks' rent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">His heart sank within him; he divined immediately from her tone that -she was in need of the money.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would it inconvenience you to wait a little while for it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must, sir, if you haven't got it," she replied, "but I am -dreadfully hard pressed, and I reckoned on it. I'm behindhand myself, -sir, and my landlord's been threatening me----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Say no more, Mrs. Radcliffe. Justice must be first served. I have the -money; take it, for Heaven's sake. I must not rob the poor to help the -poor."</p> - -<p class="normal">He muttered the last words to himself as he thrust the sixteen -shillings into her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am so sorry, sir," said the distressed woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">He interrupted her with, "There, there, I am ashamed that I asked you. -I am sure no one has a kinder heart than you, and I am greatly obliged -to you for all the attention you have shown me while I have been in -your house. The gentleman is in my room, you say----"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a proof of Mrs. Radcliffe's kindness of heart that there was a -bright fire blazing in the room, made with her own coals, and that the -lamp had been replenished with her own oil. Dr. Spenlove was grateful -to her, and he inwardly acknowledged that he could not have otherwise -disposed of the few shillings which he had no right to call his own. -His visitor rose as he entered, a well-dressed man some forty years of -age, sturdily built, with touches of gray already in his hair and -beard, and with signs in his face and on his forehead indicative of a -strong will.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove?" he asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is my name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mine is Gordon. I have come to see you on a matter of great -importance."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove motioned to the chair from which his visitor had risen, -and he resumed his seat; but although he had said that he had come -upon a matter of great importance, he seemed to be either in no hurry -to open it or to be uncertain in which way to do so, for he sat for -some moments in silence, smoothing his bearded chin and studying Dr. -Spenlove's face with a stern and studious intentness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you spare me half an hour of your time?" he said at length.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Longer, if you wish," said Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be longer if you offer no opposition to the service I wish you -to render me; and perhaps it is as well to say that I am willing and -can afford to pay for the service."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove bent his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is seldom," continued Mr. Gordon, "that I make mistakes, and the -reason is not far to seek. I make inquiries, I clear the ground, I -resolve upon a course of action, and I pursue it to its end without -deviation. I will be quite frank with you, Dr. Spenlove; I am a hard, -inflexible man; thrown upon the world when I was a lad, I pushed my -way to fortune; I am self-made; I can speak fair English; I have -received little education, none at all in a classical way, but I -possess common sense, and I make it apply to my affairs. That is -better than education if a man is resolved to get along in life--as I -was resolved to do. When I was a young man I said, 'I will grow rich, -or I will know the reason why.' I have grown rich. I do not say it as -a boast--it is only fools who boast--but I am worth to-day a solid -twenty thousand a year. I make this statement merely as a proof that I -am in a position to carry out a plan in which I desire your assistance -and co-operation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear sir," said Dr. Spenlove, who could not but perceive that his -visitor was very much in earnest, "the qualities you mention are -admirable in their way but I fear you have come to the wrong man. I am -a doctor, and if you do not need my professional advice----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop a moment," interrupted Mr. Gordon; "I have come to the right -man, and I do not need professional advice. I am as sound as a bell, -and I have never had occasion to pay a doctor's fee. I know what I am -about in the mission which brings me here. I have made inquiries -concerning you, and have heard something of your career and its -results; I have heard of your kindness and of the esteem in which you -are held. You have influence with your patients; any counsel you might -give them, apart from your prescriptions, would be received with -respect and attention; and I believe I am not wrong when I say that -you are to some extent a man of the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To some slight extent only," corrected Dr. Spenlove, with a faint -smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sufficient," proceeded Mr. Gordon, "for my purpose. You are not blind -to the perils which lie before weak and helpless women--before, we -will say, a woman who has no friends, who is living where she is not -known, who is in a position of grave danger, who is entirely without -means, and who, at the best, is unable by the work of her hands to -support herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove looked sharply at his visitor. "You have such a woman in -your mind, Mr. Gordon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have such a woman in my mind, Dr. Spenlove."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A patient of mine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A patient of yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was but one who answered to this description whose future seemed -so dark and hopeless. For the first time during this interview he -began to be interested in his visitor. He motioned him to proceed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are speaking in confidence, Dr. Spenlove."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In perfect confidence, Mr. Gordon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whether my errand here is successful or not, I ask that nothing that -passes between us shall ever be divulged to a third person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I promise it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will mention the name of the woman to whom I have referred, or, at -least, the name by which she is known to you. Mrs. Turner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mean her no harm, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None. I am prepared to befriend her, to save her, if my conditions -are accepted."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove drew a deep breath of relief. He would go to his new -field of labors with a light heart if this unhappy woman was saved.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have come at a critical moment," he said, "and you have -accurately described the position in which she is placed. But how can -my mediation or the mediation of any man be necessary in such a case? -She will hail you as her savior, and the savior of her babe. Hasten to -her immediately, dear sir; or perhaps you do not know where she lives, -and wish me to take you to her. I am ready; do not let us lose a -moment, for every moment deepens her misery."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not observe the frown which passed into Mr. Gordon's face at -his mention of the child; he was so eager that his hat was already on -his head and his hand on the handle of the door. Mr. Gordon did not -rise from his chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are in too great a hurry, Dr. Spenlove. Be seated, and listen to -what I have to say. You ask how your mediation can avail. I answer, in -the event of her refusal to accept the conditions upon which I am -ready to marry her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To marry her!" exclaimed Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To marry her," repeated Mr. Gordon. "She is not a married woman, and -her real name need not be divulged. When you hear the story I am about -to relate, when you hear the conditions, the only conditions, on which -I will consent to lift her from the degrading depths into which she -has fallen, you will understand why I desire your assistance. You will -be able to make clear to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon -her destiny and the destiny of her child; you will be able to use -arguments which are in my mind, but to which I shall not give -utterance. And remember, through all, that her child is a child of -shame, and that I hold out to her the only prospect of that child -being brought up in a reputable way and of herself being raised to -respectability."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment or two before he opened fresh matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was a poor lad, Dr. Spenlove, without parents, without a home, and -when I was fourteen years of age I was working as an errand boy in -London, and keeping myself upon a wage of four shillings a week. I -lost this situation through the bankruptcy of my employer, and I was -not successful in obtaining another. One day I saw on the walls a bill -of a vessel going to Australia, and I applied at the agent's office -with a vague idea that I might obtain a passage by working aboard ship -in some capacity or other. I was a strong boy--starvation agrees with -some lads--and a willing boy, and it happened that one of my stamp was -wanted in the cook's galley. I was engaged at a shilling a month, and -I landed in Melbourne with four shillings in my pocket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How I lived till I became a man is neither here nor there, but when -gold was discovered I lived well, for I got enough to buy a share in a -cattle station, which now belongs entirely to me. In 1860, being then -on the highroad to fortune, I made the acquaintance of a man whom I -will call Mr. Charles, and of his only child, a girl of fourteen, whom -I will call Mary. I was taken with Mr. Charles, and I was taken in by -him as well, for he disappeared from the colony a couple of years -afterward in my debt to the tune of two thousand pounds. He had the -grace to write to me from London, saying he would pay me some day, and -there the matter rested for seven years more, which brings me to two -years ago.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At that time I had occasion to visit England on business, and in -London I hunted up my debtor, and we renewed our acquaintance. Mary -was then a young woman of twenty-one, and had it not been for her it -is more than likely I might have made things unpleasant for her -father, who was leading the disreputable life of a gambler on race -courses and in clubs of a low character. Dr. Spenlove, you must have -gathered from the insight I have given you into my character that I am -not a man of sentiment, and you will probably consider it all the more -strange that I should have entertained feelings toward Mary which -caused me to consider whether she would not make me a creditable wife. -Of these feelings I prefer not to speak in a warmer strain, but shall -leave you to place your own construction upon them. While I was -debating with myself as to the course I should pursue the matter was -decided for me by the death of Mr. Charles. He died in disgrace and -poverty, and Mary was left friendless and homeless.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I stepped in to her rescue, and I made a proposal of marriage to her; -at the same time I told her that I thought it advisable for her sake -and mine that a little time should elapse before this proposal was -carried into effect. I suggested that our marriage should take place -in two years; meanwhile I would return to Australia, to build a -suitable house and to prepare a home for her, and she would remain in -England to fit herself for her new sphere of duties. She accepted me, -and I arranged with a lady of refinement to receive her. To this lady -both she and I were utter strangers, and it was settled between Mary -and myself that she should enter her temporary home under an assumed -name. It was my proposal that this pardonable deceit should be -practiced; no person was wronged by it, and it would assist toward -Mary's complete severance from old associations. Our future was in our -own hands, and concerned nobody but ourselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I returned to Australia and made my preparations. We corresponded -once a month, and some few months ago I informed her of the date of my -intended arrival in England. To that letter I received no reply, and -when I landed and called at the lady's house I learned that she had -fled. I set to work to discover the truth, and I have discovered it. I -set to work to track her, and I have succeeded. Her story is a common -story of betrayal and desertion, and I am not inclined to trouble you -with it. She has not the remotest hope of assistance from the man who -betrayed her; she has not the remotest hope of assistance from a -person in the world with the exception of myself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove, notwithstanding what has occurred, I am here in -Portsmouth this night with the intention of carrying out the -engagement into which I entered with her. I am here, prepared to marry -her, on express conditions. The adoption of assumed names, the -obscurity she has courted, the absolute silence which is certain to be -observed by her, by me, by you, by the man who betrayed her, render me -safe. It is known that I have come to England to be married, and she -will be accepted as I present her when I return with her as my wife. I -will have no discussion as to my motives for taking what the world -would consider an unwise step, but you will understand that my -feelings for the woman who has played me false must be of a deep and -sincere nature, or I should not dream of taking it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It now only remains for me to state the conditions under which I am -prepared to save her from even a more shameful degradation than that -into which she has already fallen. I speak plainly; you know as well -as I the fate that is in store for her if my offer is rejected."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> -<h5>DR. SPENLOVE UNDERTAKES A DELICATE MISSION.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Gordon had spoken throughout in a cold, passionless tone, and with -no accent of emotion in his voice. If anything could have been -destructive of the idea that he loved the woman he wished to marry, it -was his measured delivery of the story he had related; and yet there -could be no question that there was some nobility in the nature of the -sacrifice he was prepared to make for her sake. The contrast between -the man and the woman struck Dr. Spenlove very forcibly; the man was -hard and cold, the woman was sensitive and sympathetic. Had their -circumstances been equal, and had Dr. Spenlove been an interested -adviser, he would have had no hesitation in saying to her, "Do not -marry this man; no touch of tenderness unites you; you can never -kindle in his heart the fire which burns within your own; wedded to -him a dull routine of years will be your portion." But he felt that he -dared not encourage himself to pursue this line of argument. Although -the most pregnant part of Mr. Gordon's errand had yet to be disclosed, -it seemed to him that he would very likely presently be the arbiter of -her destiny. "You will be able," Mr. Gordon had said, "to make clear -to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon her destiny and the -destiny of her child." Whatever the conditions, it would be his duty -to urge her to accept the offer that would be made to her; otherwise -he might be condemning her to a course of life he shuddered to -contemplate. The responsibility would be too solemn for mere -sentimental considerations. These were the thoughts that flashed -through his mind in the momentary pause before Mr. Gordon spoke again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe," his visitor then said, "that I am in possession of the -facts relating to Mrs. Turner's circumstances"--he reverted to the -name by which she was generally known--"but you will corroborate them -perhaps. She is in want."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is in the lowest depths of poverty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unless she pays the arrears of rent she will be turned into the -streets to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the landlord's determination."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She would have been turned out to-day but for your intervention."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are well informed, I see," observed Dr. Spenlove, rather nettled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have conversed with the landlord and with others concerning her. -She lives among the poor, who have troubles enough of their own to -grapple with, and are unable, even if they were inclined, to render -her the assistance of which she stands in need. She seems to have kept -herself aloof from them, for which I commend her. Now, Dr. Spenlove, I -will have no specter of shame and degradation to haunt her life and -mine. Her past must be buried, and the grave must never be opened. To -that I am resolved, and no power on earth can turn me from it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But her child," faltered Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will have no child. She must part with her, and the parting must -be final and irrevocable. The steps that I shall take to this end -shall be so effectual that if by chance in the future they should -happen to meet she shall not recognize her. I propose to have the -child placed with a family who will adopt her as a child of their own; -there will be little difficulty in finding such a family, to the head -of which a sum of one hundred pounds will be paid yearly for -maintenance. I name no limit as to time. So long as the child lives so -long will the payment be made through my lawyers. Should the child die -before she reaches the age of twenty-one the sum of five hundred -pounds will be paid to the people who undertake the charge; they will -know nothing of me or of the mother; our names will not be divulged to -them, and they will not be able to trace us. Should they evince a -disposition to be troublesome in this respect the child will be taken -from them by my lawyers, and another home provided for her. A hundred -pounds a year is a liberal sum, and there will not be the least -difficulty in carrying out the proposed arrangement. In proof that I -desire the child to have every chance of leading a happy life I will -engage to give her a marriage portion of five hundred pounds. Judge -for yourself whether a woman in Mrs. Turner's circumstances would be -acting wisely in rejecting my proposition."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have spoken in a most generous spirit," said Dr. Spenlove slowly, -"so far as money goes, but you seem not to have taken into -consideration a mother's feelings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not taken them into consideration; they are not part of my -plan. I have looked at the matter only from two points of view--the -worldly aspect of it, and my desire to carry out my personal wishes. I -decline to regard it or to argue upon it from the point of view of a -mother's feelings. I ask you to judge of it as a man of the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of which," said Dr. Spenlove, "as I have hinted to you, I am a poor -example. Do you expect me to provide for the babe such a home as that -you have described?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all. It is my business to carry out my plan if she accepts the -conditions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, then, do you wish me to do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To lay my proposition before her as nearly as possible in my own -words; to impress upon her that it is her duty to agree to it for her -own sake and for the sake of the child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why not do so yourself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not seen her. I will not see her while she holds in her arms -her burden of shame. She shall come to me free and unencumbered, or -she shall not come at all. I could not speak to her as I have spoken -to you; I should not be able to command myself. She would plead to me, -and I should answer her in bitterness and anger. Such a scene would -set me so strongly against her that I should immediately relinquish my -purpose. You can reason with her; you can show her the path in which -her duty clearly lies. I do not deny that she is called upon to make a -sacrifice, but it is a sacrifice which will lead to good, it is a -sacrifice which every right-minded man would urge her to make. -Indifferent man of the world as you proclaim yourself to be you cannot -be blind to the almost sure fate in store for her in the position in -which she is placed. Your experiences must have made you acquainted -with the stories of women who have fallen as she has fallen, and you -will know how many of them were raised from the depths, and how many -of them fell into deeper shame. Dr. Spenlove, I have entirely finished -what I came here to say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Before I undertake to do what you require of me," said Dr. Spenlove, -who by this time understood the man he had to deal with, "I must ask -you a question or two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If they relate to the present business," responded Mr. Gordon, "I -will answer them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Failing me, will you employ some other person to act as your envoy to -Mrs. Turner?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall employ no other, for the reason that there is no other whose -counsel would be likely to influence her. And for another reason--I -have disclosed to you what I will disclose to no other person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you leave her as she is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would leave her as she is. Early in the morning I should take my -departure, and she would have to face the future unaided by me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If she will not listen to me, if she will not make the sacrifice, you -will surely give her, out of your abundance, some little assistance to -help her along?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out of my abundance," replied Mr. Gordon sternly, "I will give her -nothing, not the smallest coin. Make your mind easy upon one point, -Dr. Spenlove. So far as a practical man like myself is likely to go I -will do what I can to make her happy. She will live in a respectable -atmosphere, she will be surrounded by respectable people, she will -have all the comforts that money can purchase, and I shall never utter -to her a word of reproach. Her past will be as dead to me as if it had -never been."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove rose. "It is your desire that I shall go to her<br> -to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is. The matter must be settled without delay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If she asks for time to reflect----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must have the answer to-night, yea or nay."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no more to be said. The man who had been wronged and -deceived, and who had made an offer so strange and generous and cruel, -was fixed and implacable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may be absent for some time," said Dr. Spenlove. "Where shall I see -you upon my return?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, if you will allow me to stay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are welcome. My landlady will make you a bed on the sofa."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you; I need no bed. I can employ myself while you are away."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove stepped to the door, and turned on the threshold.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One other question, Mr. Gordon. If I succeed, when will you require -her to give up her child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-morrow evening. I will have a carriage ready at the door. On the -following day Mrs. Turner and I will leave Portsmouth, and there is no -probability after that that you and I will ever meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove nodded, and left the house.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> -<h5>"ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The snow was falling more heavily, and a strong wind blew the flakes -into his face as he made his way to Mrs. Turner's garret. He walked as -quickly as he could, but his progress was impeded by the force of the -wind and by its driving the snow into his eyes. Despite these -obstacles his intuitive observance of what was passing around him and -all his mental forces were in active play, and it was a proof of his -kindly and unselfish nature that, in the light of the vital errand -upon which he was engaged, he was oblivious of the sense of physical -discomfort. Conflicting questions agitated his mind. No longer under -the influence of the cold, cruel logic which distinguished Mr. -Gordon's utterances, he once more asked himself whether he would be -right in urging Mrs. Turner to renounce her maternal duties and -obligations, and to part forever with the child of her blood. The -human and the divine law were in conflict. On one side degradation and -direst poverty from which there seemed no prospect of escape, and -driving the mother perhaps to a course of life condemned alike by God -and man; on the other side a life of material comfort and -respectability for herself and child. A fortuitous accident--a chance -for which he had prayed earlier in the night--had made him at once the -arbiter and the judge; his hand was upon the wheel to steer these two -helpless beings through the voyage upon which they were embarked, and -upon him rested the responsibility. There was no case here of plowing -through unknown waters over hidden rocks; he saw the ocean of life -before him, he saw the rocks beneath. Amid those rocks lay the forms -of lost, abandoned women who in their mortal career would surely have -been saved had an offer of rescue come such as had come to the woman -who chiefly occupied his thoughts. They would have been spared the -suffering of despairing days, the horrors of despairing death; they -would have been lifted from the gulf of shame and ignominy. New hopes, -new joys, would have arisen to comfort them. The sacrifice they would -have been called upon to make would have been hallowed by the -consciousness that they had performed their duty. It was not alone the -happiness of the mortal life that had to be considered. If the -ministrations of God's ministers on earth were not a mockery and a -snare, it was the immortal life that was equally at stake. The soul's -reward sprang from the body's suffering.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the pitiless snow fell, and the wind howled around him, and -through the white whirlwind he beheld the light of heaven and the -stars shining upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">How should he act? He imagined himself steering the vessel through an -ocean of sad waters. On the right lay a haven of rest, on the left lay -a dark and desolate shore. Which way should he turn the wheel? His -pity for her had drawn from him during their last interview the -exclamation, "God help you!" and she had asked hopelessly, "Will he?" -He had turned from her then; he had no answer to make. There is, he -said to himself now, no divine mediation in human affairs; the divine -hand is not stretched forth to give food to the hungry. In so grave an -issue as the starvation of a human being dependence upon divine aid -will not avail. Admitting this, he felt it to be almost a heresy, but -at the same time he knew that it was true.</p> - -<p class="normal">There were but few people in the white streets, and of those few a -large proportion tinged his musings with a deeper melancholy. These -were ragged, shivering children, and women recklessly or despondently -gashing the white carpet, so pure and innocent and fair in its -sentimental aspect, so hard and bitter and cruel in its material. By a -devious process of reasoning he drew a parallel between it and the -problem he was engaged in solving. It was poetic, and it freezed the -marrow; it had a soul and a body, one a sweet and smiling spirit, the -other a harsh and frowning reality. The heart of a poet without boots -would have sunk within him as he trod the snow-clad streets.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove's meditations were arrested by a sudden tumult. A number -of people approached him gesticulating and talking eagerly and -excitedly, the cause of their excitement being a couple of policemen -who bore between them the wet, limp body of a motionless woman. He was -drawn magnetically toward the crowd, and was immediately recognized.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here's Dr. Spenlove," they cried. "He knows her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yes, he knew her the moment his eyes fell upon her, the people having -made way for him. The body borne by the policemen was that of a young -girl scarcely out of her teens, an unfortunate who had walked the -streets for two or three years past.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better come with us, doctor," said one of the policemen, to -both of whom he was known. "We have just picked her out of the water."</p> - -<p class="normal">A middle-aged woman pushed herself close to Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She said she'd do it a month ago," said this woman, "if luck didn't -turn."</p> - -<p class="normal">Good God! If luck didn't turn! What direction in the unfortunate -girl's career was the lucky turn to take to prevent her from courting -death?</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will come with us, sir," said the policeman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered Dr. Spenlove mechanically.</p> - -<p class="normal">The police station was but a hundred yards away, and thither they -walked, Dr. Spenlove making a hasty examination of the body as they -proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too late, I'm afraid, sir," said the policeman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear so," said Dr. Spenlove gravely.</p> - -<p class="normal">It proved to be the case. The girl was dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">The signing of papers and other formalities detained Dr. Spenlove at -the police station for nearly an hour, and he departed with a heavy -weight at his heart. He had been acquainted with the girl whose life's -troubles were over since the commencement of his career in Portsmouth. -She was then a child of fourteen, living with her parents, who were -respectable working people. Growing into dangerous beauty, she had -fallen as others had fallen, and had fled from her home to find -herself after a time deserted by her betrayer. Meanwhile the home in -which she had been reared was broken up; the mother died, the father -left the town. Thrown upon her own resources, she drifted into the -ranks of the "unfortunates," and became a familiar figure in low -haunts, one of civilization's painted, bedizened nightbirds of the -streets. Dr. Spenlove had befriended her, counseled her, warned her, -urged her to reform, and her refrain was: "What can I do? I must -live." It was not an uncommon case; the good doctor came in contact -with many such, and could have prophesied with unerring accuracy the -fate in store for them. The handwriting is ever on the wall, and no -special gift is needed to decipher it. Drifting, drifting, drifting, -forever drifting and sinking lower and lower till the end comes. It -had come soon to this young girl--mercifully, thought Dr. Spenlove as -he plodded slowly on, for surely the snapping of life's chord in the -spring, time of her life was better than the sure descent into a -premature, haggard, and sinful old age. Recalling these reminiscences, -his doubts with respect to his duty in the mission he had undertaken -were solved. There was but one safe course for Mrs. Turner to follow.</p> - -<p class="normal">He hastened his steps. His interview with Mr. Gordon and the tragic -incident in which he had been engaged had occupied a considerable -time, and it was now close upon midnight. It was late for an ordinary -visit, but he was a medical man, and the doors of his patients were -open to him at all hours. In the poor street in which Mrs. Turner -resided many of the houses were left unlocked night and day for the -convenience of the lodgers, and her house being one of these, Dr. -Spenlove had no difficulty in obtaining admission. He shook the snow -from his clothes, and ascending the stairs, knocked at Mrs. Turner's -door; no answer coming he knocked again and again, and at length he -turned the handle and entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room was quite dark; there was no fire in the grate, no candle -light. He listened for the sound of breathing, but none reached his -ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mrs. Turner!" he cried.</p> - -<p class="normal">Receiving no response, he struck a match. The room was empty. Greatly -alarmed, he went to the landing and knocked at an adjoining door. A -woman's voice called.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who's there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is I, Dr. Spenlove."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait a moment, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard shuffling steps, and presently the tenant appeared, only -partially dressed, with a lighted candle in her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I didn't send for you, doctor," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. I want to ask you about Mrs. Turner. She is not in her room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought it was strange I didn't hear the baby crying, but I don't -know where she is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you not hear her go out?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir; I come home at ten soaked through and through, and I was -glad to get to bed. It aint a night a woman would care to keep out in -unless she couldn't help herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed it is not. Did you see anything of her before you went to -bed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I didn't see her; I heard her. I was just going off when she knocked -at my door and asked if I could give her a little milk for the baby, -but I hadn't any to give. Besides, she aint got a feeding bottle that -I know of. She's been trying to borrow one, but nobody in the house -could oblige her. She's having a hard time of it, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is, poor soul!" said Dr. Spenlove, with a sigh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's the way with all of us, sir; no one ought to know that better -than you do. There aint a lodger in the house that's earning more than -twelve shillings a week--not much to keep a family on, is it, sir? And -we've got a landlord with a heart of stone. If it hadn't been for her -baby, and that it might have got him in hot water, he'd have turned -her out weeks ago. He's bound to do it to-morrow if her rent aint -paid. He told me so this morning when he screwed the last penny out of -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know whether she succeeded in obtaining milk for the child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's hardly likely, I should say. Charity begins at home, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is natural and just that it should--but it is terrible, terrible! -Where can Mrs. Turner have gone to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven knows. One thing I do know, doctor--she's got no friends; she -wouldn't make any, kept herself to herself, gave herself airs, some -said, though I don't go as far as that; I dare say she has her -reasons, only when a woman sets herself up like that it turns people -against her. Are you sure she aint in her room?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The room is empty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's enough to be the death of a baby to take it out such a night as -this. Listen to the wind."</p> - -<p class="normal">A furious gust shook the house, and made every window rattle. To Dr. -Spenlove's agitated senses it seemed to be alive with ominous voices, -proclaiming death and destruction to every weak and helpless creature -that dared to brave it. He passed his hand across his forehead in -distress.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must find her. I suppose you cannot tell me of any place she may -have gone to for assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't, sir. There's a bare chance that, as she had no coals and no -money to buy 'em with, someone in the house has taken her in for the -night. I'll inquire if you like."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall be obliged to you if you will," said Dr. Spenlove, catching -eagerly at the suggestion, "and I pray that you may be right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You won't mind waiting in the passage, sir, till I've dressed myself. -I shan't be a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was very soon ready, and she went about the house making -inquiries; and, returning, said that none of the lodgers could give -her any information concerning Mrs. Turner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to have disturbed you," said Dr. Spenlove, and wishing her -good-night he once more faced the storm. The fear by which he was -oppressed was that the offer of succor had come too late, and that -Mrs. Turner had been driven by despair to the execution of some -desperate design to put an end to her misery. Instinctively, and with -a sinking heart, he took the direction of the sea, hurrying eagerly -after every person he saw ahead of him in the hope that it might be -the woman of whom he was in search. The snow was many inches thick on -the roads, and was falling fast; the wind tore through the now almost -deserted streets, moaning, sobbing, shrieking, with an appalling human -suggestion in its tones created by Dr. Spenlove's fears. Now and then -he met a policeman, and stopped to exchange a few words with him, the -intention of which was to ascertain if the man had seen any person -answering to the description of Mrs. Turner. He did not mention her by -name, for he had an idea--supposing his search to be happily -successful--that Mr. Gordon would withdraw his offer if any publicity -were attracted to the woman he was ready to marry. The policemen could -not assist him; they had seen no woman with a baby in her arms -tramping the streets on this wild night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Anything special, sir?" they asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he replied, "nothing special," and so went on his way.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> -<h5>"COME! WE WILL END IT."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When Dr. Spenlove left Mrs. Turner she sat for some time in a state of -dull lethargy. No tear came into her eyes, no sigh escaped from her -bosom. During the past few months she had exhausted the entire range -of remorseful and despairing emotion. The only comfort she had -received through all those dreary months sprang from the helpful -sympathy of Dr. Spenlove; apart from that she had never been buoyed up -by a ray of light, had never been cheered by the hope of a brighter -day. Her one prevailing thought, which she did not express in words, -was that she would be better dead than alive. She did not court death; -she waited for it, and silently prayed that it would come soon. It was -not from the strength of inward moral support that she had the courage -to live on, it was simply that she had schooled herself into the -belief that before or when her child was born death would release her -from the horrors of life. "If I live till my baby is born," she -thought, "I pray that it may die with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here was the case of a woman without the moral support which springs -from faith in any kind of religion. In some few mortals such faith is -intuitive, but in most instances it requires guidance and wise -direction in childhood. Often it degenerates into bigotry and -intolerance, and assumes the hateful, narrow form of condemning to -perdition all who do not subscribe to their own particular belief. -Pagans are as worthy of esteem as the bigots who arrogate to -themselves the monopoly of heavenly rewards.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Turner was neither pagan not bigot; she was a nullity. Her -religious convictions had not yet taken shape, and though, if she had -been asked, "Are you a Christian?" she would have replied, "Oh, yes, I -am a Christian," she would have been unable to demonstrate in what -way she was a Christian, or what she understood by the term. In this -respect many thousands of human beings resemble her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Faith is strength, mightier than the sword, mightier than the pen, -mightier than all the world's store of gold and precious stones, and -when this strength is displayed in the sweetness of resignation, or in -submission to the divine will which chastens human life with sorrow, -its influence upon the passions is sustaining and purifying and -sublime. If Mrs. Turner had been blessed with faith which displayed -itself in this direction she would have been the happier for it, and -hard as were her trials she would to the last have looked forward with -hope instead of despair.</p> - -<p class="normal">The story related by Mr. Gordon to Dr. Spenlove was true in every -particular. There was no distortion or exaggeration; he had done for -Mrs. Turner and her father all that he said he had done. He had not -mentioned the word "love" in connection with the woman he had asked to -be his wife. She, on her part, had no such love for him as that which -should bind a man and a woman in a lifelong tie; she held him in -respect and esteem--that was all. But she had accepted him, and had -contemplated the future with satisfaction until, until----</p> - -<p class="normal">Until a man crossed her path who wooed her in different fashion, and -who lavished upon her flatteries and endearments which made her false -to the promise she had given. For this man she had deserted the home -which Mr. Gordon had provided for her, and had deserted it in such a -fashion that she could never return to it, could never again be -received in it--and this without a word of explanation to the man she -had deceived. She was in her turn deceived, and she awoke from her -dream to find herself a lost and abandoned woman. In horror she fled -from him, and cast her lot among strangers, knowing full well that she -would meet with unbearable contumely among those to whom she was -known. Hot words had passed between her and her betrayer, and in her -anger she had written letters to him which in the eyes of the law -would have released him from any obligation it might otherwise have -imposed upon him. He was well pleased with this, and he smiled as he -put the letters into a place of safety, to be brought forward only in -case she annoyed him. She did nothing of the kind; her scorn for him -was so profound that she was content to release him unconditionally. -So she passed out of his life as he passed out of hers. Neither of -these beings, the betrayed or betrayer, reckoned with the future; -neither of them gave a thought to the probability that the skeins of -fate, which to-day separated them as surely as if they had lived at -opposite poles of the earth, might at some future time bring them -together again, and that the pages of the book which they believed was -closed forever might be reopened again for weal or woe.</p> - -<p class="normal">The child's moans aroused the mother from her lethargy. She had no -milk to give the babe; Nature's founts were dry, and she went from -door to door in the house in which she lived to beg for food. She -returned as she went, empty-handed, and the child continued to moan.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove, her only friend, had bidden her farewell. She had not a -penny in her pocket; there was not a crust of bread in the cupboard; -not an ounce of coal, not a stick of wood to kindle a fire. She was -thinly clad, and she did not possess a single article upon which she -could have obtained the smallest advance. She had taken the room -furnished, and if what it contained had been her property a broker -would have given but a few shillings for everything in it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The little hand instinctively wandered to the mother's wasted breast, -and plucked at it imploringly, ravenously. The woman looked around in -the last throes of an anguish too deep for expression except in the -appalling words to which she gave despairing utterance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come!" she cried, "we will end it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Out into the cold streets she crept, unobserved. She shivered, and a -weird smile crossed her lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush!" she murmured to her babe. "It will soon be over. Better -dead--better dead--for you and for me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She crept toward the sea, and hugged the wall when she heard -approaching footsteps. She need not have feared; the night was too -inclement for any but selfish considerations. The soft snow fell, and -enwrapt her and her child in its pitiless shroud. She paused by a lamp -post, and cast an upward look at the heavens, in which she could see -the glimmering of the stars. Then she went on, and pressed her babe -close to her breast to stifle its feeble sobs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be still, be still," she murmured. "There is no hope in life for -either of us. Better dead--better dead!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE FRIEND IN NEED.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Desperately resolved as she was to carry her fatal design into -execution, she had not reckoned with nature. Weakened by the life of -privation she had led for so many months, and also by the birth of her -child, her physical forces had reached the limit of human endurance. -She faltered and staggered, the ground slipped from beneath her weary -feet. Vain was the struggle; her vital power was spent. From her -overcharged heart a voiceless and terrible prayer went up to heaven. -"Give me strength, O God, give me but a little strength! I have not -far to go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She fought the air with her disengaged hand, and tossed her head this -way and that, but her ruthless prayer was not answered, and though she -struggled fiercely she managed to crawl only a few more steps. She had -yet hundreds of yards to go to reach the sea when some chord within -her seemed to snap; her farther progress was instantly arrested, and -she found herself incapable of moving backward or forward. Swaying to -and fro, the earth, the sky, the whirling snow, and the dim light of -the stars swam in her sight and faded from before her.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that supreme moment she saw a spiritual vision of her dishonored -life.</p> - -<p class="normal">Deprived early of a mother's counsel and companionship, she had passed -her days with a spendthrift father, whose love for her was so tainted -with selfishness that it was not only valueless but mischievous. When -she grew to woman's estate she was worse than alone; she had no guide, -no teacher, to point out the rocks and shoals of maidenhood, to -inculcate in her the principles of virtue which would have been a -safeguard against the specious wiles of men whose eyes were charmed by -her beauty, and whose only aim was to lure her to ruin. Then her -father died, and a friend came forward who offered her a home and an -honorable position in the world. Friendless and penniless, she -accepted him, and gave him her promise and accepted his money. Love -had not touched her heart; she thought it had when another man wooed -her in a more alluring fashion, and by this man she had, been beguiled -and betrayed. Then she knew what she had lost, but it was too late; -her good name was gone, and she fled to a strange part of the country -and lived among strangers, a heartbroken, despairing woman. All the -salient features in her career flashed before her. She saw the man who -had trusted her, she saw the man in whom she put her trust, she saw -herself, an abandoned creature, with a child of shame in her arms. -These ghostly figures stood clearly limned in that one last moment of -swiftly fading light, as in the moment of sunrise on a frosty morning -every distant object stands sharply outlined against the sky; then -darkness fell upon her, and with an inarticulate, despairing cry she -sank to the ground in a deathlike swoon. The wind sobbed and shrieked -and wailed around her and her child, the falling snow with treacherous -tenderness fell softly upon them; herself insensible, she had no power -to shake it off; her babe was conscious, but its feeble movements were -of small avail against the white pall which was descending upon her -and her outcast mother. Thicker and thicker it grew, and in the wild -outcry of this bitter night Fate seemed to have pronounced its -inexorable sentence of death against these unfortunate beings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ignorant of the fact that chance of a spiritual messenger was guiding -him aright, Dr. Spenlove plodded through the streets. He had no clew, -and received none from the half dozen persons or so he encountered as -he walked toward the sea. He was scarcely fit for the task he had -undertaken, but so intent was he upon his merciful mission that he -bestowed no thought upon himself. The nipping air aggravating the -cough from which he was suffering, he kept his mouth closed as a -protection, and peered anxiously before him for some signs of the -woman he was pursuing. A man walked briskly and cheerily toward him, -puffing at a large and fragrant cigar, and stamping his feet sturdily -into the snow. This man wore a demonstratively furred overcoat; his -hands were gloved in fur; his boots were thick and substantial; and in -the independent assertion that he was at peace with the world, and on -exceedingly good terms with himself, he hummed the words, in Italian, -of the jewel song in "Faust" every time he removed the cigar from his -lips. Although it was but a humming reminiscence of the famous and -beautiful number, his faint rendering of it was absolutely faultless, -and proved him to be a man of refined musicianly taste, quite out of -keeping with his demonstratively furred overcoat. Music, however, was -not his profession. The instincts of his race had welded the divine -art into his soul, and the instincts of his race had made him--a -pawnbroker. Singular conjunction of qualities--the music of the -celestial spheres and fourpence in the pound a month! A vulgar -occupation, that of a pawnbroker, which high-toned gentlemen and -mortals of aristocratic birth regard with scorn and contempt. But the -last vulgar and debasing music-hall ditty which was caroled with -delight by the majority of these gilded beings of a higher social -grade never found lodgment in the soul of Mr. Moss, which, despite -that he devoted his business hours to the lending of insignificant -sums of money upon any small articles which were submitted to his -judgment across the dark counter of his pawnbroking establishment, was -attuned to a far loftier height than theirs in the divine realms of -song. Puff, puff, puff at his cigar, the curling wreaths from which -were whirled into threads of fantastic confusion by the gusts of wind, -or hung in faint gray curls of beauty during a lull. The starry gleam -was transferred from the lips to the fur-covered hand:</p> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:15%"> -<p style="text-indent:-6pt">"E' strano poter il viso suo veder;<br> -Ah! mi posso guardar mi pospo rimirar.<br> -Di, sei tu? Margherita!<br> -Di, sei tu? Dimmi su!<br> -Dimmi su, dì su, dì su, dì su presto!"</p> -</div> -<br> -<p class="normal">From hand to lips the starry gleam, and the soul of Mr. Moss followed -the air as he puffed his weed. The pawnbroker broke into ecstasy. From -lips to hand again the starry light, and his voice grew rapturous:</p> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:15%"> -<p style="text-indent:-6pt">"Ceil! E come una man<br> -Che sul baccio mi posa!<br> -Ah! Io rido in poter<br> -Me stessa qui veder!"</p> -</div> -<br> -<p class="normal">The last trill brought him close to Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friend, friend!" cried the doctor, "a word with you, for charity's -sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss did not disregard the appeal. Slipping off his right glove, -and thereby displaying two fingers decorated with diamond rings, he -fished a couple of coppers from a capacious pocket, and thrust them -into Dr. Spenlove's outstretched palm. Dr. Spenlove caught his hand -and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, it is not for that. Will you kindly tell me----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," interrupted Mr. Moss, "it is Dr. Spenlove!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Moss," said Dr. Spenlove, with a sigh of relief, "I am glad it is -you--I am glad it is you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not gladder than I am," responded Mr. Moss jovially. "Even in weather -like this I shouldn't care to be anybody else but myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">This feeble attempt at humor was lost upon Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have come from the direction I am taking, and you may have seen a -person I am looking for--a woman with a baby in her arms--a poor -woman, Mr. Moss, whom I am most anxious to find."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I've come from the Hard, but I took no account of the people I -passed. A man has enough to do to look after himself, with the snow -making icicles in his hair, and the wind trying to bite his nose off -his face. The first law of nature, you know, doctor, is----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humanity," interrupted Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, doctor," corrected Mr. Moss; "number one's the first<br> -law--number one, number one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did not meet the woman, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not to notice her. You've a bad cough, doctor; you'll have to take -some of your own medicine." He laughed. "Standing here is enough to -freeze one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry I troubled you," said Dr. Spenlove. "Good-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was moving away when Mr. Moss detained him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But look here, doctor, you're not fit to be tramping the streets in -this storm; you ought to be snuggled up between the blankets. Come -home with me, and Mrs. Moss shall make you a hot grog."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove shook his head and passed on. Mr. Moss gazed at the -retreating figure, his thoughts commingling.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A charitable man, the good doctor, a large-hearted gentleman. 'Tardi -si fa--' And poor as a church mouse. What woman is he running after? -Mrs. Moss would give her a piece of her mind for taking out a baby on -such a night. Too bad to let him go alone, but Mrs. Moss will be -waiting up for me. She won't mind when I tell her. I've a good mind<br> -to---- Yes, I will."</p> - -<p class="normal">And after the doctor went Mr. Moss, and caught up to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doctor, can I be of any assistance to you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall be glad of your help," said Dr. Spenlove eagerly. "I'm rather -worn out--I have had a hard day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's a trying life, the life of a doctor," said Mr. Moss -sympathetically as they walked slowly on. "We were talking of it at -home only a month ago when we were discussing what we should put -Michael to--our eldest boy, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have a large family," observed Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not too large," said Mr. Moss cheerfully. "Only eleven. My mother had -twenty-five, and I've a sister with eighteen. Our youngest--what a -rogue he is, doctor--is eight months; our eldest, Michael, is -seventeen next birthday. Schooldays over, he buckles to for work. We -had a family council to decide what he should be. We discussed all the -professions, and reduced them to two--doctor, stockbroker. Michael had -a leaning to be a doctor, that's why we kept it in for discussion, and -we succeeded in arguing him out of it. Your time's not your own, you -see. Called up at all hours of the night and in all weathers; go to a -dinner party, and dragged away before it's half over; obliged to leave -the best behind you; can't enjoy a game of cards or billiards. You've -got a little bet on, perhaps, or you're playing for points, and you're -just winning when it's, 'Doctor, you must come at once; so and so's -dying.' What's the consequence? You make a miscue, or you revoke, and -you lose your money. If you're married you're worse off than if you're -single; you haven't any comfort of your life. 'No, no, Michael,' says -I, 'no doctoring. Stockbroking--that's what you'll go for.' And that's -what he is going for. Most of our people, doctor, are lucky in their -children; they don't forget to honor their father and their mother -that their days may be long in the land, and so on. There's big fish -on the Stock Exchange, and they're worth trying for. What's the use of -sprats? It takes a hundred to fill a dish. Catch one salmon and your -dish is filled. A grand fish, doctor, a grand fish! What to do with -our sons? Why, put them where they can make money. <i>We</i> know what -we're about. There's no brain in the world to compare with ours, and -that's no boast, let me tell you. Take your strikes now--a strike of -bricklayers for a rise of twopence per day in their wages. How many of -our race among the strikers? Not one. Did you ever see a Jewish -bricklayer carrying a hod up a hundred-foot ladder, and risking his -neck for bread, cheese, and beer? No, and you never will. We did our -share of that kind of work in old Egypt; we made all the bricks we -wanted to, and now we're taking a rest. A strike of bootmakers. How -many of our race among the cobblers? One in a thousand, and he's an -addlepate. We deal in boots--wholesale, but we don't make them -ourselves. Not likely. We build houses--with <i>our</i> money and <i>your</i> -bricks and mortar. When we're after birds we don't care for sparrows; -we aim at eagles, and we bring them down, we bring them down." He beat -his gloved hands together and chuckled. "What's your opinion, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are right, quite right," said Dr. Spenlove, upon whose ears his -companion's words had fallen like the buzzing of insects.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Should say I was," said Mr. Moss, and would have continued had not -Dr. Spenlove hurried forward out of hearing.</p> - -<p class="normal">During the time that Mr. Moss was expounding his views they had not -met a soul, and Dr. Spenlove had seen nothing to sustain his hope of -finding Mrs. Turner. But now his observant eyes detected a movement in -the snow-laden road which thrilled him with apprehension, and caused -him to hasten hurriedly to the spot. It was as if some living creature -was striving feebly to release itself from the fatal white shroud. Mr. -Moss hurried after him, and they reached the spot at the same moment. -In a fever of anxiety Dr. Spenlove knelt and pushed the snow aside, -and then there came into view a baby's hand and arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God!" he murmured, and gently lifted the babe from the cold bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it alive, is it alive?" cried Mr. Moss, all his nerves tingling -with excitements "Give it to me--quick; there's someone else there."</p> - -<p class="normal">He saw portions of female clothing in the snow which Dr. Spenlove was -pushing frantically away. He snatched up the babe, and opening his fur -coat, clasped the little one closely to his breast, and enveloped it -in its warm folds. To release Mrs. Turner from her perilous condition, -to raise her to her feet, to put his mouth to her mouth, his ear to -her heart, to assure himself that there was a faint pulsation in her -body--all this was the work of a few moments.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does she breathe, doctor?" asked Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She does," replied Dr. Spenlove, and added in deep distress, "but she -may die in my arms!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not if we can save her. Here, help me off with this thick coat. Easy, -easy; I have only one arm free. Now let us get her into it. That's -capitally done. Put the baby inside as well; it will hold them both -comfortably. Button it over them. There, that will keep them nice and -warm. Do you know her? Does she live far from here? Is she the woman -you are looking for?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, and her lodging is a mile away. How can we get her home?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We'll manage it. Ah, we're in luck! Here's a cab coming toward us. -Hold on to them while I speak to the driver."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was off and back again with the cab, with the driver of which he -had made a rapid bargain, in a wonderfully short space of time. The -mother and her babe were lifted tenderly in, the address was given to -the driver, the two kind-hearted men took their seats, the windows -were pulled up, and the cab crawled slowly on toward Mrs. Turner's -lodging. Dr. Spenlove's skillful hands were busy over the woman, -restoring animation to her frozen limbs, and Mr. Moss was doing the -same to the child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How are you getting along, doctor? I am progressing famously. The -child is warming up, and is beginning to breathe quite nicely." He was -handling the babe as tenderly as if it were a child of his own.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will recover, I trust," said Dr. Spenlove, "but we were only just -in time. It is fortunate that I met you, Mr. Moss; you have been the -means of saving two helpless, unfortunate beings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense," answered Mr. Moss. "I have only done what any -man would do. It is you who have saved them, doctor, not I. I am proud -to know you, and I shall be glad to hear of your getting along in the -world. You haven't done very well up to now, I fear. Go for the big -fish and the big birds, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If that were the universal law of life," asked Dr. Spenlove in a tone -of exquisite compassion, with a motion of his hands toward Mrs. Turner -and her child, "what would become of these?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, yes, yes," responded Mr. Moss gravely, "but I mean in a general -way, you know. To be sure, there are millions more little fish and -birds than there are big ones, but it's a selfish world, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not an exemplification of it," said Dr. Spenlove, his eyes -brightening. "The milk of human kindness will never be frozen, even on -such bitter nights as this, while men like you are in it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You make me ashamed of myself," cried Mr. Moss violently, but -instantly sobered down. "And now, as I see we are close to the poor -woman's house, perhaps you will tell me what more I can do."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove took from his pocket the money with which he had intended -to pay his fare to London, and held it out to Mr. Moss. "Pay the -cabman for me, and assist me to carry the woman up to her room."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss thrust the money back. "I will pay him myself; it is my cab, -not yours. I don't allow anyone to get the better of me if I can help -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">When the cab stopped he jumped out and settled with the driver, and -then he and Dr. Spenlove carried Mrs. Turner and her babe to the top -of the house. The room was dark and cold, and Mr. Moss shivered. He -struck a match, and held it while Dr. Spenlove laid the mother and -child upon their wretched bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kindly stop here a moment," said the doctor.</p> - -<p class="normal">He went into the passage, and called to the lodger on the same floor -of whom he had made inquiries earlier in the night. She soon appeared, -and after they had exchanged a few words accompanied him, but -partially dressed, to Mrs. Turner's room. She brought a lighted candle -with her, and upon Mr. Moss taking it from her devoted herself, with -Dr. Spenlove, to her fellow-lodger and the babe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear, dear, dear!" she said piteously. "Poor soul, poor soul!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss was not idle. All the finer qualities of his nature were -stirred to action by the adventures of the night. He knelt before the -grate; it was empty; not a cinder had been left; some gray ashes on -the hearth--that was all. He looked into the broken coal scuttle; it -had been scraped bare. Rising to his feet, he stepped to the cupboard; -a cracked cup and saucer were there, a chipped plate or two, a -mouthless jug, and not a vestige of food. Without a word he left the -room, and sped downstairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was absent fifteen or twenty minutes, and when he returned it was -in the company of a man who carried a hundredweight of coals upon his -shoulders. Mr. Moss himself was loaded; under his armpits two bundles -of wood; in one hand a loaf of bread, tea, and butter; in his other -hand a can of milk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless you, sir!" said the woman who was assisting Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss knelt again before the grate, and made a fire. Kettle in hand -he searched for water.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will find some in my room, sir," said the woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Turner and her babe were now in bed, the child still craving for -food, the mother still unconscious, but breathing heavily. The fire -lit, and the kettle on, Mr. Moss put on his fur overcoat, whispered a -good-night to Dr. Spenlove, received a grateful pressure of the hand -in reply, slipped out of the house, and took his way home, humming:</p> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:15%"> -<p style="text-indent:-6pt">"O del ciel angeli immortal,<br> -Deh mi guidate con voi lassù!<br> -Dio giusto, a te m'abbandono,<br> -Buon Dio m'accorda il tuo perdono!"</p> -</div> -<br> -<p class="normal">He looked at his hands, which were black from contact with the coals.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will Mrs. Moss say?" he murmured.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE RESULT OF DR. SPENLOVE'S MISSION.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">An hour after Mr. Moss' departure Mrs. Turner opened her eyes. It was -a moment for which Dr. Spenlove had anxiously waited. He had satisfied -himself that both of his patients were in a fair way of recovery, and -thus far his heart was relieved. The woman who had assisted him had -also taken her departure after having given the babe some warm milk. -Her hunger appeased, the little one was sleeping calmly and peacefully -by her mother's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room was now warm and cheerful. A bright fire was blazing, the -kettle was simmering, and a pot of hot tea was standing on the hearth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Turner gazed around in bewilderment. The one candle in the room -but dimly lighted it up, and the flickering flames of the fire threw -fantastic shadows on walls and ceiling, but so bright was the blaze -that there was nothing distressful in these shadowy phantasmagoria. At -a little distance from the bed stood Dr. Spenlove, his pale face -turned to the waking woman. She looked at him long and steadily, and -did not answer him when he smiled encouragingly at her and spoke a few -gentle words. She passed her hand over the form of her sleeping child, -and then across her forehead, in the effort to recall what had passed. -But her mind was confused; bewildering images of the stages of her -desperate resolve presented themselves--blinding snow, shrieking wind, -the sea which she had not reached, the phantoms she had conjured up -when her senses were deserting her in the white streets.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Am I alive?" she murmured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Happily, dear Mrs. Turner," said Dr. Spenlove. "You are in your own -room, and you will soon be well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who brought me here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I and a good friend I was fortunate enough to meet when I was seeking -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why did you seek me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To save you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To save me! You knew, then----" She paused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I knew nothing except that you were in trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where did you find me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the snow, you and your child. A few minutes longer and it would -have been too late. But an angel directed my steps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No angel directed you. A devil led you on. Why did you not leave me -to die? It was what I went out for. I confess it," she cried -recklessly. "It was my purpose not to live; it was my purpose not to -allow my child to live! I was justified. Is not a quick death better -than a slow, lingering torture which must end in death? Why did you -save me? Why did you not leave me to die?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would have been a crime."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would have been a mercy. You have brought me back to misery. I do -not thank you, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may live to thank me. Drink this tea; it will do you good."</p> - -<p class="normal">She shook her head rebelliously. "What is the use? You have done me an -ill turn. Had it not been for you I should have been at peace. There -would have been no more hunger, no more privation. There would have -been an end to my shame and degradation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You would have taken it with you to the Judgment Seat," said Dr. -Spenlove with solemn tenderness. "There would have been worse than -hunger and privation. What answer could you have made to the Eternal -when you presented yourself before the throne with the crime of murder -on your soul?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Murder!" she gasped.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Murder," he gently repeated. "If you went out to-night with an -intention so appalling it was not only your own life you would have -taken, it was the life of the innocent babe now slumbering by your -side. Can you have forgotten that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she answered in a tone of faint defiance, "I have not forgotten -it; I do not forget it. God would have forgiven me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He would not have forgiven you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He would. What has she to live for? What have I to live for, a lost -and abandoned woman, a mother whose association would bring -degradation upon her child? How should I meet her reproaches when she -grew to be a woman herself? I am not ungrateful for what you have done -for me"--she glanced at the fire and the tea he held in his hand--"but -it cannot continue. To-morrow will come. There is always a to-morrow -to strike terror to the hearts of such as I. Do you know what I have -suffered? Do you see the future that lies before us? What hope is -there in this world for me and my child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is hope. You brought her into the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God help me, I did!" she moaned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By what right, having given her life, would you rob her of the -happiness which may be in store for her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Happiness!" she exclaimed. "You speak to me of happiness!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, in truth and sincerity, if you are willing to make a sacrifice, -willing to perform a duty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would I not be willing to do," she cried despairingly, "what -would I not cheerfully do, to make her life innocent and happy--not -like mine, oh, not like mine! But you are mocking me with empty -words."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed I am not," said Dr. Spenlove earnestly. "Since I left you<br> -some hours ago, not expecting to see you again, something has occurred -of which I came to speak to you. I found your room deserted, and -feared--what we will not mention again. I searched and discovered you -in time to save you--and with all my heart I thank God for it. Now -drink this tea. I have much to say to you, and you need strength to -consider it. If you can eat a little bread and butter--ah, you can. -Let me fill your cup again. That is right. Now I recognize the lady it -was my pleasure to be able to assist--not to the extent I would have -wished, because of my own circumstances."</p> - -<p class="normal">His reference to her as a lady, no less than the respectful -consideration of his manner toward her, brought a flush to her cheeks -as she ate. And indeed she ate ravenously; defiant and desperate as -had been her mood, nature's demands are imperative, and no mortal is -strong enough to resist them. When she had finished he sat by her -side, and was silent a while, debating with himself how he should -approach the task which Mr. Gordon had imposed upon him. She saved him -the trouble of commencing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you acquainted with the story of my life?" she asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has been imparted to me," he replied, "by one to whom I was a -stranger till within the last few hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I know him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know him well."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment she thought of the man who had brought her to this gulf -of shame, but she dismissed the thought. It was impossible. He was too -heartless and base to send a messenger to her on an errand of -friendship, and Dr. Spenlove would have undertaken no errand of an -opposite nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is the gentleman who takes such an interest in me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Gordon."</p> - -<p class="normal">She trembled, and her face grew white. She had wronged this man--the -law might say that she had robbed him. Oh, why had her fatal design -been frustrated, why was not this torturing existence ended?</p> - -<p class="normal">"You need be under no apprehension," continued Dr. Spenlove; "he comes -as a friend." She tossed her head in scorn of herself as one unworthy -of friendship. "He has but lately arrived in England from the -colonies, and he came with the hope of taking you back with him as his -wife. It is from him I learned the sad particulars of your life. -Believe me when I say that he is desirous to befriend you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In what way? Does he offer me money? I have cost him enough already; -my father tricked him, and I have shamefully deceived him. To receive -more from him would fill me with shame, but for the sake of my child I -will submit to any sacrifice, to any humiliation--I will do anything, -anything! It would well become me to show pride when charity is -offered to me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not forget those words--'for the sake of your child you will -submit to any sacrifice.' It is your duty, for her sake, to accept any -honorable proposition, and Mr. Gordon offers nothing that is not -honorable." He sighed as he said this, for he thought of the -sacredness of a mother's love for her firstborn. "He will not give you -money apart from himself. United to him, all he has is yours. He -wishes to marry you."</p> - -<p class="normal">She stared at him in amazement. "Are you mad," she cried, "or do you -think that I am?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am speaking the sober truth. Mr. Gordon has followed you here -because he wishes to marry you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knowing me for what I am," she said, still incredulous, "knowing that -I am in the lowest depths of degradation, knowing this"--she touched -her child with a gentle hand--"he wishes to marry me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He knows all. There is not an incident in your career with which he -does not seem to be acquainted, and in the errand with which he has -charged me he is sincerely in earnest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove," she said slowly, "what is your opinion of a man who -comes forward to pluck from shame and poverty a woman, who has been -wronged as I have wronged Mr. Gordon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"His actions speak for him," replied Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must have a noble nature," she said. "I never regarded him in that -light. I took him to be a hard, conscientious, fair-dealing man, who -thought I would make him a good wife, but I never believed that he -loved me. I did him the injustice of supposing him incapable of love. -I am not worthy of him, or of any man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Set your mind not upon the past, but upon the future. Think of -yourself and of your child in the years to come, and remember the fear -and horror by which you have been oppressed in your contemplation of -them. I have something further to disclose to you. Mr. Gordon imposes -a condition from which he will not swerve, and to which I beg of you -to listen with calmness. When you have heard all do not answer -hastily. Reflect upon the consequences which hang on your decision, -and bear in mind that you have to make that decision before I leave -you. I am to take your answer to him to-night; he is waiting in my -rooms to receive it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, softening down all that was harsh in the proposal and magnifying -all its better points, Dr. Spenlove related to her what had passed -between Mr. Gordon and himself. She listened in silence, and he could -not judge from her demeanor whether he was to succeed or to fail. -Frequently she turned her face from his tenderly searching gaze, as -though more effectually to conceal her thoughts from him. When he -finished speaking she showed that she had taken to heart his counsel -not to decide hastily, for she did not speak for several minutes. Then -she said plaintively:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no appeal, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None," he answered in a decisive tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He sought you out and made you his messenger, because of his -impression that you had influence with me, and would advise me for my -good?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I have told you--in his own words as nearly as I have been able to -recall them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was right. There is no man in the world I honor more than I honor -you. I would accept what you say against my own convictions, against -my own feelings. Advise me, doctor. My mind is distracted--I cannot be -guided by it. You know what I am, you know what I have been, you -foresee the future that lies before me. Advise me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment he dreaded had arrived. The issue was with him. He felt -that this woman's fate was in his hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My advice is," he said in a low tone, "that you accept Mr. Gordon's -offer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And cast aside a mother's duty?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What did you cast aside," he asked sadly, "when you went with your -child on such a night as this toward the sea?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She shuddered. She would not look at her child; with stern resolution -she kept her eyes from wandering to the spot upon which the infant -lay. She even moved away from the little body so that she should not -come in contact with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">A long silence ensued, which Dr. Spenlove dared not break.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot blame him," she then said, her voice now and again broken by -a sob, "for making conditions. It is his respectability that is at -stake, and he is noble and generous for taking such a risk upon -himself. It would be mockery for me to say that I love my child with a -love equal to that I should have felt if she had come into the world -without the mark of shame with which I have branded her. With my love -for her was mingled a loathing of myself, a terror of the living -evidence of my fall. But I love her, doctor, I love her--and never yet -so much as now when I am asked to part with her! What I did a while -ago was done in a frenzy of despair; I had no food, you see, and she -was crying for it; and the horror and the anguish of that hour may -overpower me again if I am left as I am. I will accept Mr. Gordon's -offer, and I will be as good a wife to him as it is in my power to<br> -be--but I, also, have a condition to make. Mr. Gordon is much older -than I, and it may be that I shall outlive him. The condition I make -is--and whatever the consequences I am determined to abide by it--that -in the event of my husband's death and of there being no children of -our union, I shall be free to seek the child I am called upon to -desert. In everything else I will perform my part of the contract -faithfully. Take my decision to Mr. Gordon, and if it is possible for -you to return here to-night with his answer I implore you to do so. I -cannot close my eyes, I cannot rest, until I hear the worst. God alone -knows on which side lies the right, on which the wrong!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will return with his answer," said Dr. Spenlove, "to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is still something more," she said in an imploring tone, "and -it must be a secret sacredly kept between you and me. It may happen -that you will become acquainted with the name of the guardian of my -child. I have a small memorial which I desire she shall retain until -she is of age, say until she is twenty-one, or until, in the event of -my husband's death, I am free to seek her in years to come. If you do -not discover who the guardian is I ask you to keep this memorial for -me until I reclaim it--which may be never. Will you do this for me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you for all your goodness to me. But I have nothing to put the -memorial in. Could you add to your many kindnesses by giving me a -small box which I can lock and secure? Dear Dr. Spenlove, it is a -mother who will presently be torn from her child who implores you."</p> - -<p class="normal">He bethought him of a small iron box he had at home, which contained -some private papers of his own. He could spare this box without -inconvenience to himself, and he promised to bring it to her--and so, -with sincere words of consolation, he left her.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the course of an hour he returned. Mr. Gordon had consented to the -condition she imposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Should I be thankful or not?" she asked wistfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You should be thankful," he replied. "Your child, rest assured, will -have a comfortable and happy home. Here is the box and the key. It is -a patent lock--no other key will unlock it. I will show you how to use -it. Yes, that is the way." He paused a moment, his hand in his pocket. -"You will be ready to meet Mr. Gordon at three to-morrow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And my child?" she asked, with tears in her voice. "When will that be -taken from me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At twelve." His hand was still fumbling in his pocket, and he -suddenly shook his head, as if indignant with himself. "You may want -to purchase one or two little things in the morning. Here are a few -shillings. Pray accept them."</p> - -<p class="normal">He laid on the table the money with which he had intended to pay his -fare to London.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven reward you," said the grateful woman, "and make your life -bright and prosperous!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Her tears bedewed his hand as she kissed it humbly, and Dr. Spenlove -walked wearily home once more, penniless, but not unhappy.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> -<h5>WHAT WAS PUT IN THE IRON BOX.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The mother's vigil with her child on this last night was fraught with -conflicting emotions of agony and rebellion. Upon Dr. Spenlove's -departure she rose and dressed herself completely, all her thoughts -and feelings being so engrossed by the impending separation that she -took no heed of her damp clothes. She entertained no doubt that the -renunciation was imperative and in the interests of her babe; nor did -she doubt that the man who had dictated it was acting in simple -justice to himself and perhaps in a spirit of mercy toward her; but -she was in no mood to regard with gratitude one who in the most dread -crisis in her life had saved her from destruction. The cause of this -injustice lay in the fact that until this moment the true maternal -instinct had not been awakened within her breast. As she had -faithfully expressed it to Dr. Spenlove the birth of her babe had -filled her with terror and with a loathing of herself. Had there been -no consequences of her error apparent to the world she would have -struggled on and might have been able to preserve her good name; her -dishonor would not have been made clear to censorious eyes; but the -living evidence of her shame was by her side, and, left to her own -resources, she had conceived the idea that death was her only refuge. -Her acceptance of the better course that had been opened for her -loosened the floodgates of tenderness for the child who was soon to be -torn from her arms. Love and remorse shone in her eyes as she knelt by -the bedside and fondled the little hands and kissed the innocent lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you not wake, darling," she murmured, "and let me see your dear -eyes? Wake, darling, wake! Do you not know what is going to happen? -They are going to take you from me. We may never meet again--and if we -do you have not even a name by which I can call you! But perhaps that -will not matter. Surely you will know your mother, surely I shall know -my child, and we shall fly to each other's arms! I want to tell you -all this--I want you to hear it. Wake, sweet, sweet!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The child slept on. Presently she murmured:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is hard, it is hard! How can God permit such cruelty?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Half an hour passed in this way, and then she became more composed. -Her mind, which had been unbalanced by her misfortunes, recovered its -equilibrium, and she could reason with comparative calmness upon the -future. In sorrow and pain she mentally mapped out the years to come. -She saw her future, as she believed, a joyless life, a life of cold -duty. She would not entertain the possibility of a brighter side--the -possibility of her becoming reconciled to her fate, of her growing to -love her husband, of her having other children who would be as dear to -her as this one was. In the state of her feelings it seemed to her -monstrous to entertain such ideas, a wrong perpetrated upon the babe -she was deserting. In dogged rebellion she hugged misery to her -breast, and dwelt upon it as part of the punishment she had brought -upon herself. There was no hope of happiness for her in the future, -there was no ray of light to illumine her path. Forever would she be -thinking of the child for whom she now, for the first time since its -birth, felt a mother's love, and who was henceforth to find a home -among strangers.</p> - -<p class="normal">In this hopeless fashion did she muse for some time, and then a star -appeared in her dark sky. She might, as she had suggested to Dr. -Spenlove, survive her husband; it was more than possible--it was -probable; and though there was in the contemplation a touch of treason -toward the man who had come to her rescue, she derived satisfaction -from it. In the event of his death she must adopt some steps to prove -that the child was hers, and that she, and she alone, had the sole -right to her. No stranger should keep her darling from her, should rob -her of her reward for the sufferings she had undergone. It was for -this reason that she had asked Dr. Spenlove for the iron box.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a compact, well-made box, and very heavy for its size. Any -person receiving it as a precious deposit under the conditions she -imposed might, when it was in his possession, reasonably believe that -it contained mementoes of price, valuable jewels, perhaps, which she -wished her child to wear when she grew to womanhood. She had no such -treasure. Unlocking the box, she took from her pocket a letter, which -she read with a bitterness which displayed itself strongly in her -face, which made her quiver with passionate indignation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The villain!" she muttered. "If he stood before me I would strike him -dead at my feet!"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no lingering accent of tenderness in her voice. For the -father of her child she had only feelings of hatred and scorn. Clearly -she was a woman of strong passions, a woman who could love and hate in -no niggardly fashion.</p> - -<p class="normal">She tore the letter down in two uneven strips, and placed one strip in -the box; the other she folded carefully and returned to her pocket. -Then she locked the box, and tying the key with a piece of string, -hung it round her neck and allowed it to fall, hidden in her bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If there is justice in heaven," she muttered, "a day will come!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The portion of the letter which she had deposited in the box read as -follows:</p> -<br> -<p class="normal">"<span class="sc">My Darling</span>:</p> - -<p style="text-indent:15%">"My heart is<br> -dear girl that I do no<br> -can express my feelings<br> -would be powerless to ex<br> -will show my deep love in<br> -life shall be devoted to t<br> -of making you happy. Neve<br> -have occasion for one moment<br> -that you have consented to be<br> -I have thoroughly convinced yo<br> -marriage with Mr. Gordon would b<br> -of bringing the deepest misery up<br> -be truly a living death. With me<br> -be filled with love and sunshine. N<br> -be allowed to darken it. As your p<br> -as your devoted husband, I solemnly sw<br> -will forever shield and guard you. In<br> -hours our new and joyful life will be com<br> -Meet me to-morrow night at the appointed p<br> -and be careful not to whisper a word of you<br> -flight to a living soul. The least suspicion<br> -certainly ruin your happiness and mine. And<br> -sure that you burn this letter as you have bur<br> -With fond and everlasting love, believe me, my o<br> -be forever and ever your faithful and constant l</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Putting the iron box on the table she sat by the bedside, her eyes -fixed upon her child. Her thoughts, shaped in words, ran somewhat in -this fashion:</p> - -<p class="normal">"In a few hours she will be taken from me; in a few short hours we -shall be separated, and then, and then--ah! how can I think of it?--an -ocean of waters will divide us. She will not miss me, she does not -know me. She will receive another woman's endearments; she will never -bestow a thought upon me, her wretched mother, and I--I shall be -forever thinking of her! She is all my own now; presently I shall have -no claim upon her. Would it not be better to end it as I had<br> -intended--to end it now, this moment?" She rose to her feet, and stood -with her lips tightly pressed and her hands convulsively clenched; and -then she cried in horror: "No, no! I dare not--I dare not! It would be -murder, and he said that God would not forgive me. Oh, my darling, my -darling, it is merciful that you are a baby, and do not know what is -passing in my mind! If you do not love me now you may in the future, -when I shall be free, and then you shall feel how different is a -mother's love from the love of a strange woman. But how shall I -recognize you if you are a woman before we meet again; how shall I -prove to you, to the world, that you are truly mine? Your eyes will be -black, as mine are, and your hair, I hope, will be as dark, but there -are thousands like that. I am grateful that you resemble me, and not -your base father, whom I pray God to strike and punish. Oh, that it -were ever in my power to repay him for his treachery, to say to him, -'As you dragged me down so do I drag you down! As you ruined my life -so do I ruin yours!' But I cannot hope for that. The woman weeps, the -man laughs. Never mind, child, never mind. If in future years we are -reunited it will be happiness enough. Dark hair, black eyes, small -hands and feet--oh, darling, darling!" She covered the little hands -and feet with kisses. "And yes, yes"--with feverish eagerness she -gazed at the child's neck--"these two tiny moles, like those on my -neck--I shall know you, I shall know you, I shall be able to prove -that you are my daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a lighter heart she resumed her seat, and set to work mending the -infant's scanty clothing, which she fondled and kissed as though it -had sense and feeling. A church clock in the distance tolled five; she -had been listening for the hour, hoping it was earlier.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Five o'clock," she muttered. "I thought it was not later than three. -I am being robbed. Oh, if time would only stand still! Five o'clock. -In seven hours she will be taken from me. Seven hours--seven short -hours! I will not close my eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">But after a while her lids dropped, and she was not conscious of it. -The abnormal fatigues of the day and night, the relaxing of the -overstrung nerves, the warmth of the room, produced their effect; her -head sank upon the bed, and she fell into a dreamful sleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was merciful that her dreaming fancies were not drawn from the -past. The psychological cause of her slumbers being beguiled by bright -visions may be found in the circumstance that, despite the conflicting -passions to which she had proved she was too prone to yield, the -worldly ease which was secured to her and her child by Mr. Gordon's -offer had removed a heavy weight from her heart. In her visions she -saw her baby grow into a happy girlhood, she had glimpses of holiday -times when they were together in the fields, or by the seaside, or -walking in the glow of lovely sunsets, gathering flowers in the hush -of the woods, or winding their way through the golden corn. From -girlhood to womanhood in these fair dreams her baby passed, and happy -smiles wreathed the lips of the woe-worn woman as she lay in her poor -garments on the humble bed by the side of her child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you love me, darling?" asked the sleeping mother.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dearly, dearly," answered the dream child. "With my whole heart, -mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Call me mother again. It is like the music of the angels."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mother--mother!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will love me always, darling?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Always, mother; forever and ever and ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Say that you will never love me less, that you will never forget me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will never love you less. I will never forget you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Darling child, how beautiful you are! There is not in the world a -lovelier woman. It is for me to protect and guard you. I can do so--I -have had experience. Come--let us rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">They sat upon a mossy bank, and the mother folded her arms around her -child, who lay slumbering on her breast.</p> - -<p class="normal">There had been a few blissful days in this woman's life, during which -she had believed in man's faithfulness and God's goodness, but the -dreaming hours she was now enjoying were fraught with a heavenly -gladness. Nature and dreams are the fairies of the poor and the -afflicted.</p> - -<p class="normal">She awoke as the church clock chimed eight. Again had she to face the -stern realities of life. The sad moment of separation was fast -approaching.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> -<h5>MR. MOSS PLAYS HIS PART.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">At five o'clock on the afternoon of that day Dr. Spenlove returned to -his apartments. Having given away the money with which he had intended -to pay his fare to London, he had bethought him of a gentleman living -in Southsea of whom he thought he could borrow a sovereign or two for -a few weeks. He had walked the distance, and had met with -disappointment; the gentleman was absent on business and might be -absent several days.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my word," said the good doctor as he drearily retraced his -steps, "it is almost as bad as being shipwrecked. Worse, because there -are no railways on desert islands. What on earth am I to do? Get to -London I must, by hook or by crook, and there is absolutely nothing I -can turn into money."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he bethought himself of Mr. Moss, and in his extremity determined -to make an appeal in that quarter. Had it not been for what had -occurred last night he would not have dreamed of going to this -gentleman, of whose goodness of heart he had had no previous -experience, and upon whose kindness he had not the slightest claim. -Arriving at Mr. Moss' establishment, another disappointment attended -him; Mr. Moss was not at home, and they could not say when he would -return. So Dr. Spenlove, greatly depressed, walked slowly on, his mind -distressed with troubles and perplexities.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had seen nothing more of Mr. Gordon, who had left him in the early -morning with a simple acknowledgment in words of the services he had -rendered; nor had he seen anything further of Mrs. Turner. On his road -home he called at her lodgings, and heard from her fellow-lodger that -she had left the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We don't know where she's gone to, sir," the woman said, "but the -rent has been paid up, and a sovereign was slipped under my door. If -it wasn't that she was so hard up I should have thought it came from -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no doubt it did," Dr. Spenlove answered. "She has friends who -are well to do, and I know that one of these friends, discovering her -position, was anxious to assist her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to hear it," said the woman, "and it was more than kind of -her to remember me. I always had an idea that she was above us."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he was entering his room his landlady ran up from the kitchen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, doctor, there's a parcel and two letters for you in your room, -and Mr. Moss has been here to see you. He said he would come again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well, Mrs. Radcliffe," said Dr. Spenlove, and cheered by the -news of the promised visit he passed into his apartment. On the table -were the letters and the parcel. The latter, carefully wrapped in -thick brown paper, was the iron box he had given to Mrs. Turner. One -of the letters was in her handwriting, and it informed him that her -child had been taken away, and that she was on the point of leaving -Portsmouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not permitted," the letter ran, "to inform you where I am going, -and I am under the obligation of not writing to you personally after I -leave this place. This letter is sent without the knowledge of the -gentleman for whom you acted, and I do not consider myself bound to -tell him that I have written it. What I have promised to do I will do -faithfully, but nothing further. You who, of all men in the world, -perhaps know me best will understand what I am suffering as I pen -these lines. I send with this letter the box you were kind enough to -give me last night. It contains the memorial of which I spoke to you. -Dear Dr. Spenlove, I rely upon you to carry out my wishes with respect -to it. If you are acquainted with the guardian of my child convey it -to him, and beg him to retain it until my darling is of age, or until -I am free to seek her. It is not in your nature to refuse the petition -of a heartbroken mother; it is not in your nature to violate a -promise. For all the kindnesses you have shown me receive my grateful -and humble thanks. That you will be happy and successful, and that God -will prosper you in all your undertakings, will be my constant prayer. -Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">Laying this letter aside he opened the second, which was in a -handwriting strange to him:</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"<span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>: All my arrangements are made, and the business upon which -we spoke together is satisfactorily concluded. You will find inclosed -a practical expression of my thanks. I do not give you my address for -two reasons. First, I desire no acknowledgment of the inclosure; -second, I desire that there shall be no correspondence between us upon -any subject. Feeling perfectly satisfied that the confidence I reposed -in you will be respected, I am,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:50%">"Your obedient servant,</p> -<p style="text-indent:60%"><span class="sc">G. Gordon</span>."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The inclosure consisted of five Bank of England notes for twenty -pounds each. Dr. Spenlove was very much astonished and very much -relieved. At this juncture the money was a fortune to him; there was a -likelihood of its proving the turning point in his career; and -although it had not been earned in the exercise of his profession, he -had no scruple in accepting it. The generosity of the donor was, -moreover, in some sense an assurance that he was sincere in all the -professions he had made.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Moss, sir," said Mrs. Radcliffe, opening the door, and that -gentleman entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">As usual he was humming an operatic air, but he ceased as he closed -the door, which, after a momentary pause, he reopened to convince -himself that the landlady was not listening in the passage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't be too careful, doctor," he observed, with a wink, "when you -have something you want to keep to yourself. You have been running -after me and I have been running after you. Did you wish to see me -particularly?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To tell you the truth," replied Dr. Spenlove, "I had a special reason -for calling upon you, but," he added, with a smile, "as it no longer -exists I need not trouble you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No trouble, no trouble at all. I am at your service, doctor. Anything -I could have done, or can do now, to oblige, you may safely reckon -upon. Within limits, you know, within limits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course, but the necessity is obviated. I intended to ask you to -lend me a small sum of money--without security, Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I guessed as much. You should have had it, doctor, and no inquiries -made, though it isn't the way I usually conduct my business; but there -are men you can trust and are inclined to trust, and there are men you -wouldn't trust without binding them down hard and fast. If you still -need the money don't be afraid to ask."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should not be afraid, but I am in funds. I am not the less indebted -to you, Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All right. Now for another affair--<i>my</i> affair I suppose I must call -it till I have shifted it to other shoulders, which will soon be done. -Dr. Spenlove, that was a strange adventure last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was. A strange and sad adventure. You behaved very kindly, and I -should like to repay what you expended on behalf of the poor lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, doctor, let it rest where it is. I don't acknowledge your -right to repay what you don't owe, and perhaps I am none the worse off -for what I did. Throw your bread on the waters, you know. My present -visit has reference to the lady--as you call her one I will do the -same--we picked out of the snow last night. Did you ever notice that -things go in runs?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't quite follow you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A run of rainy weather, a run of fine weather, a run of good fortune, -a run of ill fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You meet a person to-day whom you have never seen or heard of before. -The odds are that you will meet that person to-morrow, and probably -the next day as well. You begin to have bad cards, you go on having -bad cards; you begin to make money, you go on making money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You infer that there are seasons of circumstances, as of weather. No -doubt you are right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know I am right. Making the acquaintance of your friend Mrs. Turner -last night in a very extraordinary manner, I am not at all surprised -that I have business in hand in which she is concerned. You look -astonished, but it is true. You gave her a good character, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which she deserves. It happens in life to the best of us that we -cannot avert misfortune. It is a visitor that does not knock at the -door; it enters unannounced."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have unlocked the door ourselves, perhaps," suggested Mr. Moss -sagely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It happens sometimes in a moment of trustfulness, deceived by -specious professions. The weak and confiding become the victims."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the way of the world, doctor. Hawks and pigeons, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are some who are neither," said Dr. Spenlove, who was not -disposed to hurry his visitor. His mind was easy as to his departure -from Portsmouth, and he divined from the course the conversation was -taking that Mr. Moss had news of a special nature to communicate. He -deemed it wisest to allow him to break it in his own way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are the best off," responded Mr. Moss; "brains well balanced--an -even scale, doctor--then you can steer straight, and to your own -advantage. Women are the weakest, as you say; too much heart, too much -sentiment. All very well in its proper place, but it weighs one side -of the scale down. Mrs. Moss isn't much better than other women in -that respect. She has her whims and crotchets, and doesn't always take -the business view."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Implying that you do, Mr. Moss?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course I do; should be ashamed of myself if I didn't. What do I -live for? Business. What do I live by? Business. What do I enjoy most? -Business--and plenty of it." He rubbed his hands together joyously. "I -should like to paint on my shop door, 'Mr. Moss, Business Man.' People -would know it would be no use trying to get the best of me. They don't -get it as it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are unjust to yourself. Was it business last night that made you -pay the cabman, and sent you out to buy coals and food for an -unfortunate creature you had never seen before?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That was a little luxury," said Mr. Moss, with a sly chuckle, "which -we business men engage in occasionally to sharpen up our faculties. It -is an investment, and it pays; it puts us on good terms with -ourselves. If you think I have a bit of sentiment in me you are -mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I paint your portrait for myself," protested Dr. Spenlove, "and I -shall not allow you to disfigure it. Granted that you keep, as a rule, -to the main road. Business Road we will call it, if you like----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very good, doctor, very good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You walk along driving bargains, and making money honestly----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, doctor," interposed Mr. Moss rather gravely. "There are -people who don't do us so much justice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When unexpectedly," continued Dr. Spenlove with tender gayety, "you -chance upon a little narrow path to the right or left of you, and your -eye lighting on it, you observe a stretch of woodland, a touch of -bright color, a picture of human suffering, that appeals to your -poetical instinct, to your musical tastes, or to your humanity. Down -you plunge toward it, to the confusion for the time being of Business -Road and its business attractions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," said Mr. Moss, bending his head with a dignity which did not -set ill on him, "if all men were of your mind the narrow prejudices of -creed would stand a bad chance of making themselves felt. But we are -wandering from the main road of the purpose which brought me here. I -have not said a word to Mrs. Moss of the adventure of last night; I -don't know why, because a better creature doesn't breathe, but I -gathered from you in some way that you would prefer we should keep it -to ourselves. Mrs. Moss never complains of my being out late; she -rather encourages me, and that will give you an idea of the good wife -she is. 'Enjoyed yourself, Moss?' she asked when I got home. 'Very -much,' I answered, and that was all. Now, doctor, a business man -wouldn't be worth his salt if he wasn't a thinking man as well. After -I was dressed this morning I thought a good deal of the lady and her -child, and I came to the conclusion that you took more than an -ordinary interest in them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are right," said Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Following your lead, which is a good thing to do if you've confidence -in your partner, I found myself taking more than an ordinary interest -in them, but as it wasn't a game of whist we were playing I had no -clew to the cards you held. You will see presently what I am leading -up to. While I was thinking and going over some stock which I am -compelled by law to put up to auction, I received a message that a -gentleman wished to see me on very particular private business. It was -then about half-past nine, and the gentleman remained with me about an -hour. When he went away he made an appointment with me to meet him at -a certain place at twelve o'clock. I met him there; he had a carriage -waiting. I got in, and where do you think he drove me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather you answered the question yourself," said Dr. -Spenlove, his interest in the conversation receiving an exciting -stimulus.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The carriage, doctor, stopped at the house to which we conveyed your -lady friend and her child last night. I opened my eyes, I can tell -you. Now, not to beat about the bush, I will make you acquainted with -the precise nature of the business the gentleman had with me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon me a moment," said Dr. Spenlove. "Was Mr. Gordon the -gentleman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have named him," said Mr. Moss, and perceiving that Dr. Spenlove -was about to speak again, he contented himself with answering the -question. But the doctor did not proceed; his first intention had been -to inquire whether the business was confidential, and if so to decline -to listen to the disclosure which his visitor desired to make. A -little consideration, however, inclined him to the opinion that this -might be carrying delicacy too far. He was in the confidence of both -Mr. Gordon and Mrs. Turner, and it might be prejudicial to the mother -and her child if he closed his ears to the issue of the strange -adventure. He waved his hand, thereby inviting Mr. Moss to continue.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Just so, doctor," said Mr. Moss in the tone of a man who had disposed -of an objection. "It is a singular affair, but I have been mixed up in -all kinds of queer transactions in my time, and I always give a man -the length of his rope. What induced Mr. Gordon to apply to me is his -concern, not mine. Perhaps he had heard a good report of me, and I am -much obliged to those who gave it; perhaps he thought I was a -tradesman who would take anything in pledge, from a flatiron to a -flesh and blood baby. Anyway, if I chose to regard his visit as a -compliment it is because I am not thin skinned. Mr. Gordon informed me -that he wished to find a home and to provide for a young baby whose -mother could not look after it, being imperatively called away to a -distant part of the world. Had it not been that the terms he proposed -were extraordinarily liberal, and that he gave me the names of an -eminent firm of lawyers in London, who had undertaken the financial -part of the business--and had it not been, also, that as he spoke to -me I thought of a friend whom it might be in my power to serve--I -should have shut him up at once by saying that I was not a baby -farmer, and by requesting him to take his leave. Interrupting myself, -and as it was you who first mentioned the name of Mr. Gordon, I think -I am entitled to ask if you are acquainted with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are entitled to ask the question. I am acquainted with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Since when, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Since last night only."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Before we met?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, before we met."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I inquire if you were then acting for Mr. Gordon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To some extent. Had it not been for him I should not have gone in -search of her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which case," said Mr. Moss in a grave tone, "she and her child -would have been found dead in the snow. That is coming to first -causes, doctor. I have not been setting a trap for you in putting -these questions; I have been testing Mr. Gordon's veracity. When I -asked him whether I was the only person in Portsmouth whom he had -consulted he frankly answered I was not. Upon this I insisted upon his -telling me who this other person was. After some hesitation he said, -'Dr. Spenlove.' Any scruples I may have had were instantly dispelled, -for I knew that it was impossible you could be mixed up in a business -which had not a good end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hearing your name, I thought at once of the lady and her child whom -we were instrumental in saving. Am I right in my impression that you -are in possession of the conditions and terms Mr. Gordon imposes?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I need not go into them. I take it, Dr. Spenlove, that you do -not consider the business disreputable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not disreputable. Mr. Gordon is a peculiar man, and his story -in connection with the lady in question is a singular one. He is not -the father of the child, and the action he has taken is not prompted -by a desire to rid himself of a responsibility. On the contrary, out -of regard for the lady he has taken upon himself a very heavy -responsibility, which I have little doubt--none, indeed--that he will -honorably discharge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will continue. Having heard what Mr. Gordon had to say--thinking -all the time of the friend who might be induced to adopt the child, -and that I might be able to serve him--I put the gentleman to the -test. Admitting that his terms were liberal, I said that a sum of -money ought to be paid down at once, in proof of his good faith. 'How -much?' he asked. 'Fifty pounds,' I answered. He instantly produced the -sum in banknotes. Then it occurred to me that it would make things -still safer if I had an assurance from the eminent firm of London -lawyers that the business was honorable, and met with their approval; -and if I also had a notification from them that they were prepared to -pay the money regularly. 'Send them a telegram,' suggested Mr. Gordon, -'and make it full and complete. I will write a shorter one, which you -can send at the same time. Let the answers be addressed here, and open -them both yourself when they arrive, which should be before twelve -o'clock.' The telegrams written, I took them to the office; and before -twelve came the replies, which were perfectly satisfactory. Everything -appeared to be so straightforward that I undertook the business. A -singular feature in it is that Mr. Gordon does not wish to know with -whom the child is placed. 'My lawyers will make inquiries,' he said, -'and they will be content if the people are respectable.' Dr. -Spenlove, I thought it right that you should be informed of what I -have done; you have expressed your approval, and I am satisfied. Don't -you run away with the idea that I have acted philanthropically. -Nothing of the kind, sir; I have been paid for my trouble. And now, if -you would like to ask any questions, fire away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were no conditions of secrecy imposed upon you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, but I said I was bound to confide in one person. He may have -thought I meant Mrs. Moss, but it was you I had in my mind. I promised -that it should go no farther, and I do not intend that it shall. Mrs. -Moss will be none the worse for not being let into the secret."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is the child now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the temporary care of a respectable woman who is providing -suitable clothing for it, Mr. Gordon having given me money for the -purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has not spared his purse. When do you propose taking the child to -her new home?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are good people?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The best in the world. She cannot help being happy with them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do they live in Portsmouth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, in Gosport. I think this is as much as I have the right to -disclose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I agree with you. Mr. Moss, you can render me an obligation, and you -can do a kindness to the poor child's mother. She has implored me to -endeavor to place this small iron box in the care of the guardians of -her child, to be retained by them for twenty-one years, or until the -mother claims it, which she will be free to do in the event of her -husband dying during her lifetime. I do not know what it contains, and -I understand it is to be given up to no other person than the child or -her mother. Will you do this for me or for her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For both of you, doctor," replied Mr. Moss, lifting the box from the -table. "It shall be given into their care, as the mother desires. And -now I must be off. I have a busy night before me. Do you go to London -to-morrow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A train leaves in a couple of hours; I shall travel by that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, good-night, and good luck to you. If you want to write to me -you know my address."</p> - -<p class="normal">They parted with cordiality, and each took his separate way, Dr. -Spenlove to the City of Unrest, and Mr. Moss to the peaceful town of -Gosport.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> -<h5>THE VISION IN THE CHURCHYARD.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Some twelve months before the occurrence of the events recorded in the -preceding chapters a Jew, bearing the name of Aaron Cohen, had come to -reside in the ancient town of Gosport. He was accompanied by his wife -Rachel. They had no family, and their home was a home of love.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were comparatively young, Aaron being twenty-eight and Rachel -twenty-three, and they had been married five years. Hitherto they had -lived in London, and the cause of their taking up their residence in -Gosport was that Aaron had conceived the idea that he could establish -himself there in a good way of business. One child had blessed their -union, whom they called Benjamin. There was great rejoicing at his -birth, and it would have been difficult to calculate how many -macaroons and almond and butter cakes, and cups of chocolate, and -glasses of aniseed were sacrificed upon the altar of hospitality in -the happy father's house for several days after the birth of his -firstborn. "Aaron Cohen does it in style," said the neighbors, and as -both he and Rachel were held in genuine respect by all who knew them, -the encomium was not mere empty praise. Seldom even in the locality in -which the Cohens then resided--the east end of London, where charity -and hospitality are proverbial--had such feasting been seen at the -celebration of a circumcision. "If he lived in Bayswater," said the -company, "he couldn't have treated us better." And when the father -lifted up his voice and said, "Blessed art thou, the Eternal, our God, -King of the universe, who hath sanctified us with his commandments, -and commanded us to introduce our sons into the covenant of our father -Abraham," there was more than usual sincerity in the response, "Even -as this child has now entered this covenant, so may he be initiated -into the covenant of the law, of marriage, and of good works." Perhaps -among those assembled there were some who could not have translated -into English the Hebrew prayers they read so glibly, but this reproach -did not apply to Aaron, who was an erudite as well as an orthodox Jew, -and understood every word he uttered. On this memorable day the -feasting commenced in the morning, and continued during the whole day. -"I wish you joy, Cohen, I wish you joy"--this was the formula, a -hundred and a hundred times repeated to the proud father, who really -believed that a prince had been born among Israel; while the<br> -pale-faced mother, pressing her infant tenderly to her breast, and who -in her maidenhood had never looked so beautiful as now, received in -her bedroom the congratulations of her intimate female friends. The -poorest people in the neighborhood were welcomed, and if the seed of -good wishes could have blossomed into flower a rose-strewn path of -life lay before the child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He shall be the son of my right hand," said Aaron Cohen; and Rachel, -as she kissed her child's mouth and tasted its sweet breath, believed -that Heaven had descended upon earth, and that no mother had ever been -blessed as she was blessed. This precious treasure was the crowning of -their love, and they laid schemes for baby's youth and manhood before -the child was out of long clothes--schemes destined not to be -realized.</p> - -<p class="normal">For sixteen months Benjamin filled the hearts of his parents with -ineffable joy, and then the Angel of Death entered their house and -bore the young soul away. How they mourned for the dear one who was -nevermore on earth to rejoice them with his beautiful ways need not -here be related; all parents who have lost their firstborn will -realize the bitterness of their grief.</p> - -<p class="normal">But not for long was this grief bitter. In the wise and reverent -interpretation of Aaron Cohen their loss became a source of -consolation to them. "Let us not rebel," he said to his wife, "against -the inevitable and divine will. Give praise unto the Lord, who has -ordained that we shall have a child in heaven waiting to receive us." -Fraught with tenderness and wisdom were his words, and his counsel -instilled comfort into Rachel's heart. Benjamin was waiting for them, -and would meet them at the gates. Beautiful was the thought, radiant -the hope it raised, never, never to fade, nay, to grow brighter even -to her dying hour. Their little child, dead and in his grave, brought -them nearer to God. Heaven and earth were linked by the spirit of -their beloved, who had gone before them; thus was sorrow sweetened, -and happiness chastened by faith.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sitting on their low stools during the days of mourning, they spoke, -when they were alone, of the peace and joy of the eternal life, and -thereby were drawn spiritually closer to each other. The lesson they -learned in the darkened room was more precious than jewels and gold; -it is a lesson which comes to all, high and low alike, and rich indeed -are they who learn it aright. For some time thereafter, when the -mother opened the drawer in which her most precious possessions were -kept, and kissed the little shoes her child had worn, she would murmur -amid her tears:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My darling is waiting for me--my darling is waiting for me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">God send to all sorrowing mothers a comfort so sweet!</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron Cohen had selected a curious spot in Gosport for his habitation. -The windows of the house he had taken overlooked the quaint, peaceful -churchyard of the market town. So small and pretty was this resting -place for the dead that one might almost have imagined it to be a -burial ground for children's broken toys. The headless wooden -soldiers, the battered dolls, the maimed contents of cheap Noah's -arks, the thousand and one treasures of childhood, might have been -interred there, glad to be at rest after the ruthless mutilations they -had undergone. For really, in the dawning white light of a frosty -morning, when every object for miles around sharply outlined itself in -the clear air and seemed to have lost its rotund proportions, it was -hard to realize that, in this tiny churchyard, men and women whose -breasts once throbbed with the passions and sorrows of life should be -crumbling to that dust to which we must all return. No, no; it could -be nothing but the last home of plain and painted shepherds, and<br> -bald-headed pets, and lambs devoid of fleece, and mayhap--a higher -flight which we all hope to take when the time comes for us to claim -our birthright of the grave--of a dead bullfinch or canary, carried -thither on its back, with its legs sticking heavenward, and buried -with grown-up solemnity, and very often with all the genuineness of -grief for a mortal bereavement. Have you not attended such a funeral, -and has not your overcharged heart caused you to sob in your dreams as -you lay in your cot close to mamma's bed?</p> - -<p class="normal">But these fantastic fancies will not serve. It was a real human -churchyard, and Rachel Cohen knew it to be so as she stood looking out -upon it from the window of her bedroom on the first floor. It was from -no feeling of unhappiness that her sight became dimmed as she gazed -upon the tombstones. Shadows of children rose before her, the -pattering of whose little feet was once the sweetest music that ever -fell on parent's ears, the touch of whose little hands carried with it -an influence as powerful as a heart-stirring prayer; children with -golden curls, children with laughing eyes, children with wistful -faces--but there was one, ah! there was one that shone as a star amid -the shadows, and that rose up, up, till it was lost in the solemn -clouds, sending therefrom a divine message down to the mother's heart: -"Mamma, mamma, I am waiting for thee!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Quiet as was everything around her, Rachel heard the words; in the -midst of the darkness a heavenly light was shining on her.</p> - -<p class="normal">She wiped the tears from her eyes, and stole down to the room in which -her husband was sitting.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> -<h5>MR. WHIMPOLE INTRODUCES HIMSELF.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was the front room of the house on the ground floor which Aaron -Cohen had converted into a shop. The small parlor windows had been -replaced by larger ones, a counter had been put up, behind which were -shelves fitted into the walls. These shelves at present were bare, but -Aaron hoped to see them filled. Under the counter were other shelves, -as empty as those on the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Rachel entered her husband was engaged counting out his money, -like the king in his counting house. There was a studious expression -on his face, which was instantly replaced by one of deep tenderness as -he looked up and saw traces of tears in her eyes. He gathered his -money together, banknotes, silver, gold, and coppers, and motioned her -into the room at the rear of the shop. This was their living room, but -a large iron safe in a corner denoted that it was not to be devoted -entirely to domestic affairs. In another corner was the symbol of his -business, which was to be affixed to the front of the premises, over -the shop door--the familiar device of three golden balls.</p> - -<p class="normal">Letting his money fall upon the table, he drew his wife to his side, -and passed his arm round her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The house," he said, "is almost in order."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Aaron; there is very little to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am also ready for business. I have the license, and to-morrow those -glittering balls will be put up and the name painted. They are rather -large for so small a shop, but they will attract all the more -attention." He gazed at her anxiously. "Do you think you will be -contented and happy here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Contented and happy anywhere with you," she replied in a tone of the -deepest affection.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In this town especially, Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, in this town especially. It is so peaceful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," he said, touching her eyes with his fingers, "these?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not because I am unhappy," she said, and her voice was low and sweet. -"I was looking out upon the churchyard from our bedroom window."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah!" he said, and he kissed her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">He divined the cause of her tears, and there was much tenderness in -his utterance of the monosyllable and in the kisses he gave her, Man -and wife for five years, they were still the fondest of lovers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear," said Aaron presently, "the spirit of prophecy is upon me. -We shall lead a comfortable life in this town; we shall prosper in -this house. It was a piece of real good fortune my hitting upon it. -When I heard by chance that the man who lived here owned the lease and -wished to dispose of it I hesitated before parting with so large a sum -as a hundred pounds for the purchase. It was nearly half my capital, -but I liked the look of the place, and a little bird whispered that we -should be lucky in it, so I made the venture. I am certain we shall -not regret it. There is a knock at the street door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who can it be?" asked Rachel anxiously. "We know no one in Gosport, -and it is night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which is no excuse for our not opening the door," said Aaron Cohen, -sweeping the money off the table into a small chamois leather bag, -which he tied carefully at the neck, and put into his pocket. "True we -believe we are not known here, but there may nevertheless be an old -acquaintance in Gosport who has heard of our arrival, and comes to -welcome us; or Judah Belasco may have told a friend of his we are -here; or it may be an enterprising baker or grocer who wishes to -secure our custom. No," he added as the knock was repeated, "that is -not a tradesman. Let us see who it is that expresses himself so -impatiently."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron went to the street door, and Rachel followed him into the -passage, carrying a candle. The night was dark, and Rachel stood a -little in the rear, so that Aaron could not distinguish the features -of his visitor. He was a big man, and that was all that was apparent -to the Cohens.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Cohen?" queried the visitor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Aaron Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is my name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I speak with you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly." And Aaron waited to hear what the stranger had to say.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not accustomed to be kept waiting on the doorstep. I should -prefer to speak to you in the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel, who was naturally timid, moved closer to her husband, who took -the candle from her hand, and held it up in order to see the face of -the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Step inside," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger followed Aaron and Rachel into the little parlor, and -without taking off his hat, looked at Aaron, then at Rachel, and then -into every corner of the room; the last object upon which his eyes -rested was the device of the three golden balls, and a frown gathered -on his features as he gazed. Aaron noted these movements and signs -with attention and amusement.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you detect any blemish in them?" he asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not understand you," said the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In those balls. There was an expression of disapproval on your face -as you gazed on them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I disapprove of them altogether," said the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry, but we cannot please everybody. I am not responsible for -the insignia; you will find the origin in the armorial bearings of the -Medici. That is a beautiful hat you have on your head." The stranger -stared at him. "Really," continued Aaron blandly, "a beautiful hat; a -fine protection against the hot rays of the sun; a protection, also, -against the wind and rain. But in this room, as you may observe, we -have neither wind nor rain nor sun." The stranger, reddening slightly, -removed his hat, and placed it on the table. "My wife," then said -Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger inclined his head, with the air of a man acknowledging an -introduction to one of a lower station. The manner of this -acknowledgment was not lost upon Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My wife," he repeated courteously, "Mrs. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see," said the stranger, glancing again at Rachel with -condescension. "With your permission I will take a seat."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was distinctly at variance with the hospitable instincts of Aaron -Cohen that he did not respond to this request.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have the advantage of us," he said. "I have had the pleasure of -introducing my wife to you. Afford me the pleasure of introducing you -to my wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">Somewhat stiffly the stranger handed Aaron a visiting card, upon which -was inscribed the name of Mr. Edward Whimpole, and in a corner the -word, "Churchwarden." Mr. Whimpole's movements were slow, and intended -to be dignified, but Aaron exhibited no impatience.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear, Mr. Edward Whimpole, churchwarden."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel bowed gracefully, and Aaron, with an easy motion of his hand, -invited Mr. Whimpole to a chair, in which he seated himself. Then -Aaron placed a chair for his wife, and took one himself, and prepared -to listen to what Mr. Whimpole had to say.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Whimpole was a large-framed man with a great deal of flesh on his -face; his eyes were light, and he had no eyebrows worth speaking of. -The best feature in his face was his mouth, and the most insignificant -his nose, which was really not a fair nose for a man of his build. It -was an added injury inflicted upon him by nature that it was very thin -at the end, as though it had been planed on both sides. But then, as -Aaron had occasion to remark, we don't make our own noses. A distinct -contrast presented itself in the two noses which, if the figure of -speech may be allowed, now faced each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Whimpole had not disclosed the nature of his visit, but he had -already made it clear that he was not graciously disposed toward the -Jew; the only effect this had upon Aaron was to render him exceedingly -affable. Perhaps he scented a bargain, and was aware that mental -irritation would interfere with the calm exercise of his judgment in a -matter of buying and selling.</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I inquire," he said, pointing to the word "churchwarden" on the -card, "whether this is your business or profession?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am a corn-chandler," said Mr. Whimpole.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Churchwarden, my dear," said Aaron, addressing his wife in a pleasant -tone, "<i>and</i> corn-chandler."</p> - -<p class="normal">For the life of him Mr. Whimpole could not have explained to the -satisfaction of those not directly interested why he was angry at the -reception he was meeting. That Aaron Cohen was not the kind of man he -had expected to meet would not have been accepted as a sufficient -reason.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not mistaken," said Mr. Whimpole, with a flush of resentment, -"in believing you to be a Jew?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not mistaken," replied Aaron with exceeding urbanity. "I am a -Jew. If I were not proud of the fact it would be folly to attempt to -disguise it, for at least one feature in my face would betray me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would," said Mr. Whimpole, dealing a blow which had the effect of -causing Aaron to lean back in his chair, and laugh gently to himself -for fully thirty seconds.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you have quite finished," said Mr. Whimpole coldly, "we will -proceed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Excuse me," said Aaron, drawing a deep breath of enjoyment. "I beg -you will not consider me wanting in politeness, but I have the -instincts of my race, and I never waste the smallest trifle, not even -a joke."</p> - -<p class="normal">A little tuft of hair which ran down the center of Mr. Whimpole's -head--the right and left banks of which were devoid of<br> -verdure--quivered in sympathy with the proprietor's astonishment. That -a man should make a joke out of that which was generally considered to -be a reproach and a humiliation was, indeed, matter for amazement, -nay, in this instance, for indignation, for in Aaron Cohen's laughter -he, Mr. Whimpole himself, was made to occupy a ridiculous place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are loath," continued Aaron, "to waste even the thinnest joke. We -are at once both thrifty and liberal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We!" exclaimed Mr. Whimpole in hot repudiation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We Jews, I mean. No person in the world could possibly mistake you -for one of the chosen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should hope not. The idea is too absurd."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make your mind easy, sir; you would not pass muster in a synagogue -without exciting remark. Yes, we are both thrifty and liberal, wasting -nothing, and in the free spending of our money seeing that we get good -value for it. That is not a reproach, nor is it a reproach that we -thoroughly enjoy an agreeable thing when we get it for nothing. There -are so many things in life to vex us that the opportunity of a good -laugh should never be neglected. Proceed, my dear sir, proceed; you -were saying that you believed you were not mistaken in taking me for a -Jew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it your intention," asked Mr. Whimpole, coming now straight to the -point, "to reside in Gosport?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I am permitted," replied Aaron meekly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear, Mr. Cohen, that you have purchased the lease of this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true, sir. The money has been paid and the lease is mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has twenty-seven years to run."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Twenty-seven years and three months. Who can tell where we shall be, -and how we shall be situated at the end of that time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Whimpole waved the contemplation aside. "You gave a hundred pounds -for the lease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The precise sum; your information is correct."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had some intention, Mr. Cohen, of buying it myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed. It is a case of the early bird, then."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it gratifies you to put it that way. I have, therefore, no option -but to purchase the lease of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Whimpole," said Aaron after a slight pause, "I am agreeable to -sell you the lease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought as much." And Mr. Whimpole disposed himself comfortably in -his chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel's eyes dilated in surprise. Their settlement in Gosport had not -been made in haste, and all arrangements for commencing business were -made. She could not understand her husband's willingness to give up -the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not expect you to take what you gave for it," said Mr. Whimpole; -"I am prepared to give you a profit, and," he added jocosely, "you -will not be backward in accepting it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all backward. You speak like a man of sense."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How much do you want for your bargain? How much, Mr. Cohen? Don't -open your mouth too wide.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you will permit me," said Aaron, and he proceeded to pencil down a -calculation. "It is not an undesirable house, Mr. Whimpole?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no; I don't say it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is compact and convenient?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fairly so, fairly so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will accept," said Aaron, having finished his calculation, "five -hundred pounds."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cannot be in earnest!" gasped Mr. Whimpole his breath fairly -taken away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite in earnest. Are you aware what it is you would buy of me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course I am aware; the lease of this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not that alone. You would buy my hopes for the next twenty-seven -years; for I declare to you there is not to my knowledge in all -England a spot in which I so desire to pass my days as in this -peaceful town; and there is not in all Gosport a house in which I -believe I shall be so happy as in this. You see, you propose to -purchase of me something more than a parchment lease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the--the things you mention are of no value to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not say they are. I am speaking from my point of view, as all -men are bound to do. There is no reason why we should bandy words. I -am not anxious to sell the lease; wait till it is in the market."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A most unhealthy situation," observed Mr. Whimpole.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It concerns ourselves, and we are contented."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot imagine a more unpleasant, not to say obnoxious, view."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The view of the churchyard? The spot has already acquired an -inestimable value in my eyes. God rest the souls of those who lie in -it! The contemplation of the peaceful ground will serve to remind me -of the vanity of life, and will be a constant warning to me to be fair -and straightforward in my dealings. The warning may be needed, for in -the business I intend to carry on there are--I do not deny it--many -dangerous temptations."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush, tush!" exclaimed Mr. Whimpole petulantly. "Straightforward -dealings, indeed! The vanity of life, indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron Cohen smiled.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only once before in his life had Mr. Whimpole felt so thoroughly -uncomfortable as at the present moment, and that was when he was a -little boy, and fell into a bed of nettles, from which he was unable -to extricate himself until he was covered with stings. It was just the -same now; he was smarting all over from contact with Aaron Cohen, who -was like a porcupine with sharp-pointed quills. But he would not -tamely submit to such treatment; he would show Aaron that he could -sting in return--he knew well enough where to plant his poisoned -arrow.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is due to Mr. Whimpole to state that he was not aware that the -manner in which he was conducting himself during this interview was -not commendable. Being a narrow-minded man, he could not take a wide -and generous view of abstract matters, which, by a perversion of -reasoning, he generally regarded from a personal standpoint; such men -as he, in their jealous regard for their own feelings, are apt to -overlook the feelings of others, and, indeed, to behave occasionally -as if they did not possess any. This was Mr. Whimpole's predicament, -and having met a ready-witted man, he was made to suffer for his -misconduct. He sent forth his sting in this wise:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You speak, Mr. Cohen, of being straightforward in your dealings, but -for the matter of that we all know what we may expect from a----"</p> - -<p class="normal">And having got thus far in his ungenerously prompted speech, he felt -himself unable, in the presence of Rachel, and with her reproachful -eyes raised to his face, to conclude the sentence. Aaron Cohen -finished it for him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the matter of that," he said gently, "you all know what you may -expect from a Jew. That is what you were going to say. And with this -thought in your mind you came to trade with me. Well, sir, it may be -that we both have something to learn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Cohen," said Mr. Whimpole slightly abashed, "I am sorry if I have -said anything to hurt your feelings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The offense, sir, is atoned for by the expression of your sorrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was taking high ground, and Mr. Whimpole's choler was ready to -rise again; but he mastered it and said in a conciliatory tone:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will disguise nothing from you; I was born in this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The circumstance will make it all the more valuable to us. My<br> -dear"--impressing it upon Rachel with pleasant emphasis--"Mr. Whimpole -was born in this house. A fortunate omen. Good luck will come to us, -as it has come to him. It is a low-rented house, and those who have -been born in it must have been poor men's children. When they rise in -the world, as Mr. Whimpole has done, it is better than a horseshoe -over the door. In which room were you born, Mr. Whimpole?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the room on the back of the first floor," replied Mr. Whimpole, -making a wild guess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our bedroom. There should be a record on the walls; there should, -indeed, be a record, such as is placed outside those houses in London -which have been inhabited by famous people. Failing that, it is in the -power of every man, assuredly of every rich man, to make for himself a -record that shall be imperishable--far better, my dear sir, than the -mere fixing of a plate on a cold stone wall."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Whimpole gazed at Aaron Cohen to discover if there was any trace -of mockery in his face, but Aaron was perfectly grave and serious.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A man's humility," said Mr. Whimpole, raising his eyes to the -ceiling, "his sense of humbleness, would prevent him from making this -record for himself. It has to be left to others to do it when they -have found him out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aha, my dear sir!" said Aaron softly, "when they have found him out. -True! true! but how few of us are! How few of us receive our just -reward! How few of us, when we are in our graves, receive or deserve -the tribute, 'Here lies a perfect man'! But the record I speak of will -never be lost by a rich man's humility, by his humbleness, for it can -be written unostentatiously in the hearts of the poor by the aid of -silver and gold."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand you, Mr. Cohen," said Mr. Whimpole inwardly confounding -Aaron's flow of ideas, "by means of charity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, by means of charity. There is an old legend that a man's -actions in life are marked in the air above him, in the places in -which they are performed. There, in invisible space, are inscribed the -records of his good and bad deeds, of his virtues, of his crimes; and -when he dies his soul visits those places, and views the immortal -writing which is visible to all the angels in heaven, and which covers -him with shame or glory. Gosport, doubtless, has many such records of -your charity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do my best," said Mr. Whimpole, very much confused and mystified, -"I hope I do my best. I said I would disguise nothing from you; I -will, therefore, be quite frank, with no intention of wounding you. I -am a strictly religious man, Mr. Cohen, and it hurts me that one whose -religious belief is opposed to my own should inhabit the house in -which I was born. I will give you a hundred and twenty pounds for the -lease; that will leave you a profit of twenty pounds. Come, now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not accept less for it, sir, than the sum I named."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that your last word?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is my last word."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Whimpole rose with a face of scarlet, and clapped his hat on his -head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a--a----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A Jew. Leave it at that. Can you call me anything worse?" asked Aaron -with no show of anger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I cannot. You are a Jew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I regret," said Aaron calmly, "that I cannot retort by calling you a -Christian. May our next meeting be more agreeable! Good-evening, Mr. -Whimpole."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not know the gentleman you have insulted," said Mr. Whimpole -as he walked toward the door. "You do not know my position in this -town. I am in the expectation of being made a justice of the peace. -You will live to repent this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think not," said Aaron, taking the candle to show his visitor out. -"I trust you may."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may find your residence in Gosport, where I am universally -respected, not as agreeable as you would wish it to be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall see, we shall see," said Aaron, still smiling. "I may also -make myself respected here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a prejudice against your race----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Am I not aware of it? Is not every Jew aware of it? Is it not thrown -in our teeth by the bigoted and narrow-minded upon every possible -occasion? We will live it down, sir. We have already done much; we -will yet do more. Your use of the word prejudice is appropriate, for, -as I understand its meaning, it represents a judgment formed without -proper knowledge. Yes, sir, it is not to be disputed that there exists -a prejudice against our race."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which, without putting any false meaning upon it, will make this -ancient and respectable town"--here Mr. Whimpole found himself at a -loss, and he was compelled to wind up with the vulgar figure of -speech--"too hot to hold you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This ancient town," said Aaron with a deeper seriousness in his -voice, "is known to modern men as Gosport."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A clever discovery," sneered Mr. Whimpole. "Are you going to put -another of your false constructions on it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir. I am about to tell you a plain and beautiful truth. When in -olden times a name was given to this place it was not Gosport. It was -God's Port; and what God's port is there throughout the civilized -world in which Jew and Christian alike have not an equal right to -live, despite prejudice, despite bigotry, and despite the unreasonable -anger of large corn-chandlers and respected churchwardens? I wish you, -sir, good-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">And having by this time reached the street door, Aaron Cohen opened it -for Mr. Whimpole, and bowed him politely out.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE COURSE OF THE SEASONS.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Upon Aaron's return to the little parlor he saw that Rachel was -greatly disturbed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My life!" he said, and he folded her in his arms and tenderly -embraced her. "Don't let such a little thing as this distress you; it -will all come right in the end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how you kept your temper," she said, "that is what surprised me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It gave me the advantage of him, Rachel. I was really amused." He -pinched her cheeks to bring the color back to them. "Some men must be -managed one way, some another. And now for our game of bezique. Mr. -Whimpole's visit"--he laughed at the recollection--"will make me enjoy -it all the more."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no resisting his light-heartedness, and he won a smile from -her, despite her anxiety. Rachel was not clever enough to discover -that it was only by the cunning of her husband that she won the rubber -of bezique. He was a keen judge of human nature, and he knew that this -small victory would help to soothe her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next day was Friday, and the three golden balls were put up, and -the name of Aaron Cohen painted over the shop door. A great many -people came to look, and departed to circulate the news. At one -o'clock the painting was done, and then Aaron said to his wife, "I -shall be out till the evening. Have you found anyone to attend to the -lights and the fire?" They were not rich enough to keep a regular -servant, and Aaron never touched fire on the Sabbath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard of a woman," said Rachel; "she is coming this afternoon -to see me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good," said Aaron, and, kissing Rachel, went away with a light heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the afternoon the woman, Mrs. Hawkins, called, and Rachel explained -the nature of the services she required. Mrs. Hawkins was to come to -the house every Friday night to put coals on the fire and extinguish -the lights, and four times on Saturday to perform the same duties. -Rachel proposed eightpence a week, but Mrs. Hawkins stuck out for -tenpence, and this being acceded to, she departed--leaving a strong -flavor of gin behind her. When Aaron came home the two Sabbath candles -were alight upon the snow-white tablecloth, and on the tablecloth a -supper was spread--fried fish, white bread and white butter, and in -the fender a steaming coffeepot. He washed and said his prayers, and -then they sat down to their meal in a state of perfect contentment. -Aaron, having besought the customary blessing on the bread they were -about to eat, praised the fish, praised the butter, praised the -coffee, praised his wife, and after a full meal praised the Lord in a -Song of Degrees for blessings received: "When the Eternal restored the -captivity of Zion we were as those who dream. Our mouths were then -filled with laughter, and our tongues with song." He had a rich -baritone voice, and Rachel listened in pious delight to his intoning -of the prayer.</p> - -<p class="normal">The supper things were cleared away, the white tablecloth being -allowed to remain because of the lighted candles on it, which it would -have been breaking the Sabbath to lift, and then there came a knock at -the street door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the woman I engaged," said Rachel, hurrying into the passage. -There entered, not Mrs. Hawkins, but a very small girl, carrying a -very large baby. The baby might have been eighteen months old and the -girl ten years, and of the twain the baby was the plumper.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without "with your leave," or "by your leave," the small girl pushed -past Rachel before the astonished woman could stop her, and presented -herself before the no less astonished Aaron Cohen. Her comprehensive -glance took in the lighted candles, the cheerful fire, and the master -of the house in one comprehensive flash. With some persons what is -known as making up one's mind is a slow and complicated process; with -the small girl it was electrical. She deposited the large baby in -Aaron's lap, admonishing the infant to "keep quiet, or she'd ketch -it," blew out the candles in two swift puffs, and kneeling before the -grate, proceeded to rake out the fire. So rapid were her movements -that the fender was half filled with cinders and blazing coals before -Rachel had time to reach the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In Heaven's name," cried Aaron, "what is the meaning of this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's all right, sir," said the small girl; "I've come for aunty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Put down the poker instantly," exclaimed Aaron; "your aunty, whoever -she may be, is not here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me somethink I don't know," requested the small girl. "This is -Mr. Cohen's, the Jew, aint it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," replied Aaron, with despairing gestures, for the baby was -dabbing his face with hands sticky with crumbs of sugar stuff.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, wot are yer 'ollerin for? I'm only doing wot aunty told me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who is your aunty?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mrs. 'Orkins. Pretend not to know 'er--do! She sed you'd try to do -'er out of 'er money, and want 'er to take fippence instid of -tenpence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did she? You have come here by her orders, I suppose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I 'ave--to poke out the fire and blow out the candles--and I've -done it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have," said Aaron ruefully. "And now, little girl, you will do as -I tell you. Put down that poker. Get up. Feel on the mantelshelf for a -box of matches. I beg your pardon; you are too short to reach. Here is -the box. Take out a match. Strike it. Light the candles. Thank you! -Last, but not least, relieve me of this baby with the sticky hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">The small girl snatched the baby from his arms, and stood before him -in an attitude of defiance. For the first time he had a clear view of -her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven save us!" he cried, falling back in his chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her appearance was a sufficient explanation of his astonishment. To -say that she was ragged and dirty and forlorn, and as utterly unlike a -little girl living in civilized society as any little girl could -possibly be, would be but a poor description of her. Her face -suggested that she had been lying with her head in a coal scuttle; she -wore no hat or bonnet; her hair was matted; her frock reached just -below her knees, and might have been picked out of a dust heap; she -had no stockings; on her feet were two odd boots several sizes too -large for her and quite worn out, one tied to her ankle with a piece -of gray list, the other similarly secured with a piece of knotted -twine. Her eyes glittered with preternatural sharpness; her cheek -bones stuck out; her elbows were pointed and red; she was all<br> -bone--literally all bone; there was not an ounce of flesh upon<br> -her--not any part of her body that could be pinched with a sense of -satisfaction. But the baby! What a contrast! Her head was round and -chubby, and was covered with a mass of light curls; her hands were -full of dimples; her face was puffed out with superabundant flesh; the -calves of her legs were a picture. In respect of clothes she was no -better off than Mrs. Hawkins' niece.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wot are yer staring at?" demanded the girl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At you, my child," replied Aaron with compassion in his voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let's know when yer done," retorted the girl, "and I'll tell yer wot -I charge for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And at baby," added Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That'll be hextra. Don't say I didn't warn yer."</p> - -<p class="normal">There were conflicting elements in the situation: its humor was -undeniable, but it had its pathetic side. Aaron Cohen was swayed now -by one emotion, now by another.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So you are Mrs. Hawkins' niece?" he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I am. Wot 'ave yer got to say agin it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing. Is baby also Mrs. Hawkins' niece, or nephew?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you've no objections," said the girl with excessive politeness, -"she's Mrs. Pond's little gal, and I nusses 'er."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no objection. What is your name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wot it may be, my lordship," replied the girl, her politeness -becoming Arctic, "is one thing--wot it is is another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a clever little girl," said Aaron, smiling and rubbing his -hands--"a sharp, clever little girl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank yer for nothink," said the girl.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had reached the North Pole; it was necessary to thaw her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon the mantelshelf," said Aaron, "just behind that beautiful blue -vase, are two penny pieces. Step on a chair--not that cane one, you'll -go through it; the wooden one--and see if you can find them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see 'em," said the girl, looking down upon Aaron in more senses -than one.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are yours. Put them in your pocket."</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl clutched the pennies, jumped from the chair--whereat the baby -crowed, supposing it to be a game provided for her amusement--and -having no pocket, held the money tight in her hand. Visions of sweet -stuff rose before her. The pennies getting warm, the ice at the North -Pole began to melt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now perhaps you will tell me your name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Prissy. That's the short un."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The long one is----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Priscilla."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A grand name. You ought to have a silk gown and satin shoes and a -gold comb." Prissy opened her eyes very wide. The ice was melting -quickly, and the buds were coming on the trees. "And baby's name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wictoria Rejiner. That's grander, aint it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Much grander! Victoria Regina--a little queen!" Prissy gave baby a -kiss, with pride and love in her glittering eyes. "What makes your -face so black, Prissy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Coals. Aunty deals in 'em--and cabbages and taters and oranges and -lemons. And she takes in washing."</p> - -<p class="normal">So genial was Aaron Cohen's voice that spring was coming in fast. "You -look, Prissy, as if you had very little to eat."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't 'ave much," said Prissy, with a longing sigh. "I could eat -all day and night if I 'ad the chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear," said Aaron to his wife, "there is some coffee left in the -pot. Do you like coffee, Prissy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I like corfey? Don't I like corfey! Oh, no--not me! Jest you try -me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will. Give me Victoria Regina. Poke the fire. That's right; you are -the quickest, sharpest little girl in my acquaintance. Pour some water -from the kettle into the coffeepot. Set it on the fire. Rachel, my -dear, take Prissy and baby into the kitchen and let them wash -themselves, and afterward they shall have some supper."</p> - -<p class="normal">The buds were breaking into blossom; it really was a lovely spring.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes Rachel and the children re-entered the room from the -kitchen, baby with a clean face, and Prissy with a painfully red and -shining skin. Following her husband's instructions, Rachel cut half a -dozen slices of bread, upon which she spread the butter with a liberal -hand. Prissy, hugging Victoria Regina, watched the proceedings in -silence. By this time the coffee was bubbling in the pot.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take it off the fire, Prissy," said Aaron Cohen; and in another -minute the little girl, with baby in her lap, was sitting at the table -with a cup of hot smoking coffee, well sugared and milked, which she -was so eager to drink that she scalded her throat. The bread and -butter was perhaps the sweetest that Prissy had ever ate, and the -coffee was nectar. The baby ate more than Prissy; indeed, she ate so -much and so quickly that she occasionally choked, and had to be -violently shaken and patted on the back; but she became tired out at -last, and before Prissy had finished her bounteous meal she was fast -asleep in her nurse's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron Cohen leaned back in his chair, and gazed with benevolent eyes -upon the picture before him; and as he gazed the sweetest of smiles -came to his lips and did not leave them. Rachel, stealing to the back -of his chair, put her arms round his neck, and nestled her face to -his.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a most beautiful summer, and all the trees were in flower.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> -<h5>AARON COHEN PREACHES A SERMON ON LARGE NOSES.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The fire was burning brightly, and the old cat which they had brought -with them to Gosport was stretched at full length upon the hearth rug. -The children were gone, and Prissy had received instructions to come -again at ten o'clock to extinguish the candles. It may be said of -Prissy, in respect of her first visit to the house, that she came in -like a lion and went out like a lamb.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a habit on Sabbath eve for Aaron to read to his wife something -from the general literature of the times, or from the newspapers, and -to accompany his reading with shrewd or sympathetic remarks, to which -Rachel always listened in delight. Occasionally he read from a book of -Hebrew prayers, and commented upon them, throwing a light upon poem -and allegory which made their meaning clear to Rachel's understanding. -Invariably, also, he blessed her, as Jewish fathers who have not -wandered from the paths of orthodoxy bless their children on the -Sabbath. Now, as she stood before him, he placed his hand upon her -head and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"God make thee like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah! May the Eternal -bless and preserve thee! May the Eternal cause his face to shine upon -thee, and be gracious unto thee! May the Eternal lift up his -countenance toward thee, and grant thee peace!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was something more than a blessing; it was prayer of heartfelt -love. Rachel raised her face to his, and they tenderly kissed each -other. Then he took his seat on one side of the fire, and she on the -other. A prayer book and one of Charles Dickens' stories were on the -table, but he did not open them; he had matter for thought, and he was -in the mood for conversation. He was in a light humor, which exhibited -itself in a quiet laugh, which presently deepened in volume.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am thinking of the little girl," he explained to Rachel. "It<br> -was amazing the way she puffed out the candles and poked out the<br> -fire--quick as lightning. It was the most comical thing! And her black -face--and Victoria Regina's sticky fingers! Ha, ha, ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">His merriment was contagious, and it drew forth Rachel's; the room was -filled with pleasant sound.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I saw Mr. Whimpole to-day," said Aaron, "and I made him a bow, which -he did not return. My Jewish nose offends him. How unfortunate! Yes, -my life, no one can dispute that the Jew has a big nose. It proclaims -itself; it is a mark and a sign. He himself often despises it--he -himself often looks at it in the glass with aversion, 'Why, why have I -been compelled to endure this affliction?' he murmurs, and he reflects -with envy upon the elegant nose of the Christian. Short-sighted -mortal, not to understand that he owes everything to his big nose! A -great writer--a learned man who passed the whole of his life in the -study of these matters--proclaims the nose to be the foundation or -abutment of the brain. What follows? That the larger the nose of a man -is the better off for it is the man. Listen, my dear." He took a book -from a little nest of bookshelves, and turned over the pages. -"'Whoever,' says this learned writer, 'is acquainted with the Gothic -arch will perfectly understand what I mean by this abutment; for upon -this the whole power of the arch of the forehead rests, and without it -the mouth and cheeks would be oppressed by miserable ruins.' He lays -down exact laws which govern the beautiful (and therefore large) nose. -Its length should equal the length of the forehead, the back should be -broad, its outline remarkably definite, the sides well defined, and -near the eye it must be at least half an inch in breadth. Such a nose, -this great authority declares, is of more worth than a kingdom. It -imparts solidity and unity to the whole countenance; it is the -mountain--bear in mind, my dear, the mountain--that shelters the fair -vales beneath. How proud, then, should I be of my nose, which in some -respects answers to this description! Not in all--no, not in all--I am -not so vain as to believe that my nose is worth more than a kingdom; -but when I am told that a large nose is a sign of sensibility, and of -good nature and good humor, I cannot help a glow of conceited -satisfaction stealing over me. How many great men have you known with -small noses? There are, of course, exceptions, but I speak of the -general rule. Our coreligionist, Benjamin Disraeli--look at his nose; -look at the noses of all our great Jewish musicians and composers--it -is because they are of a proper size that they have become famous. -Some time since in London I had the opportunity of looking over a -wonderful Bible--six enormous volumes published by Mr. Thomas Macklin -nearly a century ago--embellished with grand pictures by the most -eminent English artists, and there I saw the figures of Abraham and -Jacob and Aaron and Moses, and other ancestors of ours. There is not a -small nose on one of the faces of these great patriarchs and prophets; -the great painters who drew them had learned from their studies how to -delineate the biblical heroes. A big nose is a grand decoration, and I -would sooner possess it than a bit of red ribbon in my buttonhole, or -a star on my breast. Indeed, my life, I have it--the nose of my -forefathers."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron made this declaration in a tone of comic despair. "And having it -I will not part with it, except with life."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was so much playful humor in the dissertation that Rachel -laughed outright. Her laugh was the sweetest in the world, and it fell -like music on Aaron's heart. He smiled, and there was a gleam in his -eyes, and presently he spoke again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not aware whether you have ever observed the attraction a big -nose has for children. Take the most popular drama of all ages, Punch -and Judy. Where is the artist who would venture to present Punch with -any but an enormous nose? Are the children frightened at it? No, they -revel in it. Do they sympathize with Judy when she is slain? Not at -all; every whack Punch gives her is greeted with shrieks of<br> -laughter--because of his enormous nose. Introduce two strangers to a -baby, one with a very small nose, the other with a very big nose. Let -them both hold out their arms. Instinctively the baby flies to the man -with the large nose. It is Nature's silent voice that instructs the -child. He or she--the sex is not material--instinctively knows which -is the better nose of the two, which is the most promising nose, the -most suggestive of kisses and jumps in the air and cakes and songs, -and all that is dear to a child's heart. The test is infallible. -Nothing will convince me that you did not marry me because of my big -nose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, dear," said Rachel, still laughing, "I hardly think I would -have married you without it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then the fact is established. I am about to make a confession to you, -Rachel; I am going to tell you the true reasons for my choosing this -place to reside in, where I am separated by a long distance from the -friends of my youth and manhood, and where you, too, my dear<br> -child"--in his moments of tenderness he occasionally addressed her -thus--"will, I fear, be for a time without friends to whom you can -unbosom yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have you, my dear husband," said Rachel in a tone of deep -affection, drawing closer to him, and slipping her little hand into -his great hand. A fine, large, nervous hand was Aaron Cohen's; a -palmister would have seen great possibilities in it. Rachel's hand, -despite her domestic work, was the hand of a lady; she took a proper -pride in preserving its delicacy and beauty. "I have you, my dear -husband," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my life, but you used to kiss at least a dozen female friends a -day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I kissed Prissy and the baby to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When their faces were washed, I hope. Listen to my confession. Pride -and hard-heartedness drove me from the neighborhood in which we were -married. A thousand pounds did my dear father--God rest his<br> -soul--bequeath to me. It dwindled and dwindled--my own fault. I could -not say no. One came to me with a melancholy tale which led to a -little loan; another came and another and another--I did not make you -acquainted with the extent of my transgressions. My dear, I encouraged -the needy ones; I even went out of my way to lend, thinking myself a -fine fellow, and flapping my wings in praise of my stupidity. Not half -I lent came back to me. Then business began to fall off, and I saw -that I was in the wrong groove; I had grown into bad ways, and had I -remained much longer in the old neighborhood I should have been left -without a penny. I thought of our future, of the injustice I was -inflicting upon you. 'I will go,' said I, 'where I am not known, while -I still have a little to earn a living with, among strangers who, when -they borrow, will give me value in return, and where I shall not have -to say to poor friends, "Come to me no more; I am poorer than -yourselves." I have been foolish and weak; I will be wise and strong. -I will grow rich and hard-hearted.' Yes, my dear, that is what I -intend, to grow rich, and my heart will not be oppressed by the sight -of suffering it is out of my power to relieve. Rachel, I am not so -clever as I pretend to be; to speak the truth, I am afraid I am rather -given to crowing; and when it is not alone my own welfare, but the -welfare of one so dear to me as you are, that is concerned, I tremble, -I begin to doubt whether I have done right. Give me your opinion of -the step I have taken."</p> - -<p class="normal">She gazed at him with serious, loving, trustful eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a wise step, Aaron; I am sure it is. Whatever you do is right, -and I am satisfied."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ten o'clock struck, and a knock at the door announced the faithful -Prissy, come to put the fire out. She entered with the baby in her -arms, sound asleep. She was flushed and excited, and she held her hand -over the right side of her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Victoria ought to be abed," said Rachel, taking a peep at baby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She can't go," retorted Prissy, "afore 'er mother's ready to take -'er."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is her mother?" asked Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the Jolly Sailor Boy, enj'ying of 'erself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah. And where is your aunt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the Jolly Sailor Boy, too, 'aving a 'arf-quartern. There's been a -reg'lar row there about Mrs. Macrory's flannin peddicut."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What happened to it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It went wrong. Yes, it did. Yer needn't larf. Call me a story, do! I -would if I was you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, Prissy," said Aaron in a soothing tone. "How did the flannel -petticoat go wrong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobody knowed at fust. Aunty does Mrs. Macrory's washing, and a lot -more besides, and the things gits mixed sometimes. Aunty can't 'elp -that--'ow can she? So Mrs. Macrory's things was took 'ome without the -peddicut. Mrs. Macrory she meets aunty at the Jolly Sailor Boy, and -begins to kick up about it. 'Where's my peddicut?' she ses. ''Ow -should I know?' ses aunty. Then, wot d'yer think? Mrs. Macrory sees -somethink sticking out of aunty's dress be'ind, and she pulls at it. -'Why,' she ses, 'you've got it on!' That's wot the row wos about. -Aunty didn't know 'ow it come on 'er--she's ready to take 'er oath on -that. Aint it rum?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very rum. Put out the fire, Prissy. It is time for all good people to -get to bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the performance of this duty Prissy was compelled to remove her -hand from her face, and when she rose from the floor it was seen that -her right eye was sadly discolored, and that she was in pain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"O Prissy, poor child!" exclaimed Rachel; "you have been hurt!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, mum," said Prissy. "Mrs. Macrory's gal--she's twice as big as -me; you should see 'er legs! she ses, 'You're in that job,' she ses, -meaning the peddicut; and she lets fly and gives me a one-er on -account."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel ran upstairs, and brought down a bottle of gillard water, with -which she bathed the bruise, and tied one of her clean white -handkerchiefs over it. Prissy stood quite still, her lips quivering; -it may have been the gillard water that filled the girl's unbandaged -eye with tears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will make you feel easier," said Rachel. "Blow out the candles -now, and be here at half-past eight in the morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll be sure to be," said Prissy with a shake in her voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the dark Aaron Cohen heard the sound of a kiss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-night, sir," said the girl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-night, Prissy," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">The chain of the street door was put up, and the shutters securely -fastened, and then Aaron and Rachel, hand in hand, went up the dark -stairs to their room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear," said Aaron drowsily a few minutes after he and his wife -were in bed, "are you asleep?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Aaron," murmured Rachel, who was on the borderland of dreams.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I've been thinking"--he dozed off for a moment or two--"I've been -thinking----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my dear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I wouldn't give Prissy's aunt any flannel petticoats to wash."</p> - -<p class="normal">Almost before the words had passed his lips sleep claimed him for its -own.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> -<h5>A PROCLAMATION OF WAR.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On Monday morning Aaron commenced business. In the shop window was a -display of miscellaneous articles ticketed at low prices, and Aaron -took his place behind his counter, ready to dispose of them, ready to -argue and bargain, and to advance money on any other articles on which -a temporary loan was required. He did not expect a rush of customers, -being aware that pawnbroking was a tree of very small beginnings, a -seed which needed time before it put forth flourishing branches. The -security was sure, the profits accumulative. He was confident of the -result. Human necessity, even human frailty, was on his side; all he -had to do was to be fair in his dealings.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the course of the day he had a good many callers; some to make -inquiries, some to offer different things in pledge. Of these latter -the majority were children, with whom he declined to negotiate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who sent you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go home and tell her she must come herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">He would only do business with grown-up people. Setting before himself -a straight and honest rule of life, he was not the man to wander from -it for the sake of a little profit.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of the other description of callers a fair proportion entered the shop -out of idle curiosity. He had pleasant words for all, and gave change -for sixpences and shillings with as much courtesy as if each -transaction was a gain to him--as, indeed, it was, for no man or woman -who entered with an unfavorable opinion of him (influenced by certain -rumors to his discredit which had been circulated by Mr. Whimpole) -departed without having their minds disturbed by his urbanity and -genial manners. "I don't see any harm in him," was the general verdict -from personal evidence; "he's as nice a spoken man as I ever set eyes -on."</p> - -<p class="normal">On the evening of this first day he expressed his satisfaction at the -business he had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our venture will turn out well," he said to Rachel. "The flag of -fortune is waving over us."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was eight o'clock, and although he scarcely expected further -custom, he kept the gas burning in the shop window.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Light is an attraction," he observed; "it is better than an -advertisement in the papers."</p> - -<p class="normal">The evening was fine; he and Rachel were sitting in the parlor,<br> -with the intermediate door open. Aaron was smoking a handsome<br> -silver-mounted pipe and making up his accounts, while his wife was -busy with her needle. Satan could never have put anything in the shape -of mischief in the way of these two pairs of industrious hands, for -they were never idle, except during the Sabbath and the fasts and the -holidays, and then it was not idleness, but rest divinely ordained. -The silver-mounted pipe was one of Aaron's most precious possessions, -it being his beloved wife's gift to him on his last birthday; he would -not have sold it for ten times its weight in gold. At peace with the -world and with themselves, they conversed happily as they worked; but -malignant influences were at work of which they were soon to feel the -shock.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron had put his account books in the safe, and was turning the key, -when the sound of loud voices outside his shop reached their ears. The -voices were those of children, male and female, who were exercising -their lungs in bass, treble, and falsetto. Only one word did they -utter:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jew! Jew! Jew!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel started up in alarm, her hand at her heart. Her face was white, -her limbs were trembling.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jew! Jew! Jew!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron put the key of the safe in his pocket, and laid down his pipe. -His countenance was not troubled, but his brows were puckered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jew! Jew! Jew!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is wicked--it is wicked!" cried Rachel, wringing her hands. "Oh, -how can they be so cruel!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron's countenance instantly cleared; he had to think, to act, for -her as well as himself. With fond endearments he endeavored to soothe -her, but her agitation was profound, and while these cries of implied -opprobrium continued she could not school herself to calmness. Not for -herself did she fear; it was against her dear, her honored husband -that this wicked demonstration was made, and she dreaded that he would -be subjected to violence. To her perturbed mind the voices seemed to -proceed from men and women; to Aaron's clearer senses they were the -voices of children, and he divined the source of the insult. Rachel -sobbed upon his breast, and clasped him close to protect him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel, my love, my life!" he said in a tone of tender firmness, "be -calm, I entreat you. There is nothing to fear. Have you lost -confidence in your husband? Would you increase my troubles, and make -the task before me more difficult than it is? On my word as a man, on -my faith as a Jew, I will make friends of these foolish children, in -whose outcries there is no deep-seated venom--I declare it, none. They -do not know what they are doing. I will make them respect me; I will -enrich them with a memory which, when they are men and women, will -make them think of the past with shame. I will make my enemies respect -me. If you will help me by your silence and patience I will turn their -bitterness into thistledown, which I can blow away with a breath. Take -heart, my beloved, dear life of my life! Trust to me, and in the -course of a few days you shall see a wonder. There--let me kiss your -tears away. That is my own Rachel, whose little finger is more -precious to me than all the world beside. Good, good, my own dear -wife! Do you think it is a tragedy that is being enacted by those -youngsters? No, no, it is a comedy. You shall see, you shall see!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She was comforted by his words; she drew strength from his strength; -she looked at him in wonder as he began to laugh even while he was -caressing her, and her wonder increased when she saw that his eyes -fairly shone with humor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear, my heart," he said, "have not the slightest fear. I am -going to meet them--not with javelin and spear; with something still -more powerful, and with good temper for my shield."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aaron," she whispered, "are you sure there is no danger?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I were not sure," he answered merrily, "I would remain snug in -this room. I am not a man of war; I am a man of peace, and with -peaceful weapons will I scatter the enemy. For your dear sake I would -not expose myself to peril, for do I not know that if I were hurt your -pain would be greater than mine? It is my joy to know it. You will -remain quietly here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, dear husband; but you will not go into the street?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall go no farther than the street door; I shall not need to go -farther."</p> - -<p class="normal">He stopped to fill his pipe and light it, and then, with tender -kisses, and a smile on his lips, he left her.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he made his appearance at the shop door there was a sudden hush, -and a sudden scuttling away of the twenty or thirty children who had -congregated to revile him. He remained stationary at the door, smoking -his pipe and gazing benignantly at them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Their fears of chastisement dispelled by his peaceful attitude, they -stopped, looked over their shoulders, and slowly and warily came back, -keeping, however, at a safe distance from him. They found their voices -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jew? Jew! Jew!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good children! good children!" said Aaron in a clear, mellifluous -voice. Then he put his pipe to his mouth again, and continued to -smoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jew! Jew! Jew!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good little boys and girls," said Aaron. "Bravo! bravo! You deserve a -reward. Every laborer is worthy of his hire."</p> - -<p class="normal">He drew from his pocket three or four pennies, which, with smiling -nods of his head, he threw among them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Instantly came into play other passions--greed, avarice, the -determination not to be defrauded of their due. Falling upon the -money, they scrambled and fought for it. Aaron threw among them two or -three more pennies, and their ardor increased. They scratched, they -kicked, they tumbled over each other, blows were exchanged. Those who -had secured pennies scampered away with them, and with loud and -vengeful cries the penniless scampered after them. The next moment -they had all disappeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shaking with internal laughter, Aaron remained on his steps a while, -purring at his pipe; then he put up the shutters, locked the street -door, and rejoined his wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear," he said, and his voice was so gay that her heart beat with -joy, "that is the end of the first act. They will not come back to-night."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE BATTLE IS FOUGHT AND WON.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"The personal affections by which we are governed," said Aaron Cohen, -seating himself comfortably in his chair, "are, like all orders of -beings to which they come, of various degrees and qualities, and the -smaller become merged and lost in the larger, as the serpents of -Pharaoh's magicians were swallowed up by Aaron's rod. Wisdom is better -than an inheritance, and anger resteth in the bosom of fools. -Moreover, as is observed by Rabbi Chanina, 'wise men promote peace in -the world.' Such, my dear Rachel, is my aim, and so long as the means -within my reach are harmless, so long will I follow the learned -rabbi's precept. If the human heart were not full of envy and deceit -what I have done should bring joy to our persecutors, but I will not -pledge myself that it has done so in this instance. On the contrary, -on the contrary." Aaron paused here to laugh. "The opprobrious cries -ceased suddenly, did they not, Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They did, and I was very much surprised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will be more surprised when you hear that I rewarded with modern -shekels the labors of the young rascals who would make our lives a -torment to us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You gave them money!" exclaimed Rachel in amazement.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I threw among them seven penny pieces. Why not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, why, why? Had I thrown among them seven cannon balls they would -scarcely have been more effective. The truth of this will be made -manifest to our benefit before many days are gone, or Cohen is not my -name. Wife of my soul, I went forth, not with a lion's but with a -fox's skin. Have I not studied the law? Are not the Cohanim priests, -and are not priests supposed to be men of intelligence and resource? -We read in Proverbs, 'Counsel is mine and sound wisdom; I have -understanding, I have strength.' Rabbi Meyer says that the study of -the law endows a man with sovereignty, dominion, and ratiocination. He -is slow to anger, ready to forgive an injury, has a good heart, -receives chastisement with resignation, loves virtue, correction, and -admonition. This, perhaps, is going a little too far, and is endowing -a human being with qualities too transcendent, but it is true to a -certain extent, and I have instinctively profited by it. Ill fitted -should I be to engage in the battle of life if I were not able to cope -with the young rascals who made the night hideous outside our door, -and who, if I am not mistaken, will repeat their performance to-morrow -evening at the same hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will come again," cried Rachel, clasping her hands in despair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will come again, and again, and yet again, and then--well, then -we shall see what we shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You gave them money to-night," said Rachel sadly, "and they will -return for more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And they will return for more," said Aaron with complacency. "At the -present moment I should judge that they are engaged in a fierce -contest. When that look comes into your face, my dear, it is an -indication that I have said something you do not exactly understand. I -threw to them seven apples of discord, which the nimblest and the -strongest seized and fled with. But each soldier conceived he had a -right to at least one of the apples, and those who were left<br> -empty-handed labored under a sense of wrong. They had been robbed by -their comrades. After them they rushed to obtain their portion of the -spoils of war. Then ensued a grand scrimmage in which noses are -injured and eyes discolored. I am not there, but I see the scene -clearly with my mind's eye." He took a sovereign from his pocket and -regarded it contemplatively. "Ah, root of much evil and of much good, -what have you not to answer for? Rachel, my love, take heart of -courage, and when you hear those boys shouting outside to-morrow night -do not be alarmed. Trust in me; everything will come right in the -end."</p> - -<p class="normal">The scene which Aaron had drawn from his imagination was as near as -possible to the truth. There had been a battle royal between the boys -and girls for possession of the pennies; noses were put out of joint, -eyes were discolored, words of injurious import exchanged, and bad -blood engendered. The sevenpence for which they fought would not have -paid for the repairs to the clothes which were torn and rent during -the fray. The end of it was that the robbers, after being kicked and -cuffed ignominiously, were not allowed to join in a compact made by -the penniless, to the effect that they would assemble outside Aaron -Cohen's shop to-morrow night and repeat the tactics which had been so -well rewarded, and that all moneys received should be equally divided -between the warriors engaged. One, Ted Kite, was appointed commander, -to organize the expedition, and to see fair play.</p> - -<p class="normal">Accordingly, on Tuesday night, a score or so of boys and girls -presented themselves in front of the shop and commenced shouting, -"Jew! Jew! Jew!" the fugleman being Ted Kite, who proved himself well -fitted for the task.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There he is, there he is," said the youngsters eagerly as Aaron made -his appearance on the doorstep, and, inspired by their captain, they -continued to fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good children, good children," said Aaron, nodding benignantly in -approval, and continuing to smoke his silver-mounted pipe. "Very well -done, very well done indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aint he going to throw us anything?" they asked each other anxiously, -their greedy eyes watching Aaron's movements.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were kept rather long in suspense, but at length Aaron's hand -sought his pocket, and half a dozen pennies rattled on the stones. -Down they pounced, and fought and scratched for them as on the -previous night, the fortunate ones scudding away as on the first -occasion, followed by their hungry comrades. They were caught, and -compelled to disgorge; the pennies were changed into farthings, and -each soldier received one for his pay; the two or three that were left -were spent in sweet stuff.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What a game!" the children exclaimed, and appointed to meet on the -following night to continue the pastime.</p> - -<p class="normal">On this third night they were kept waiting still longer. Aaron Cohen -did not make his appearance so quickly, and several minutes elapsed -before the pennies were thrown to them. On the first night he had -disbursed seven, on the second night six, on this third only four. -There was the usual fighting for them, and the usual scampering away; -and when the sum total was placed in the hands of Ted Kite a great -deal of dissatisfaction was expressed. Only fourpence! They doubted -the correctness of the sum; they were sure that more had been thrown; -one girl said she counted eight, and others supported her statement. -Who had stolen the missing pennies? They quarreled and fought again; -they regarded each other with suspicion; doubts were thrown upon the -honesty of the captain. Off went his coat instantly; off went the -coats of other boys; the girls, having no coats to throw off, tucked -up their sleeves; and presently six or seven couples were hitting, -scratching, and kicking each other. Much personal damage was done, and -more bad blood engendered. The warfare was not by any means of a -heroic nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless they assembled on the fourth night, and were kept waiting -still longer before they were paid. Aaron did not show his liberality, -however, until he had had a conference with the captain. His keen eyes -had singled out Ted Kite, and he beckoned to him. Ted hesitated; he -was only a small boy; Aaron Cohen was a big man, and in a personal -contest could have disposed of him comfortably.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yah, you coward!" cried the rank and file to their captain. "What are -you frightened at? What did we make you captain for?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus taunted, Ted Kite ventured to approach the smiling foe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come a little nearer," said Aaron; "I am not going to hurt you. I -wish you to do me a favor."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ted, with a sidelong look over his shoulder at his army, as if -appealing to it to rush to his rescue in case he was seized, shuffled -forward. Aaron Cohen held out his hand; Ted Kite timidly responded, -and was surprised at the friendly grip he received.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are the leader," said Aaron in his most genial voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Mr. Cohen," replied Ted, growing bold; "I'm the captain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Clever lad, clever captain! Here's a penny for you. Don't let them -see you take it. It is for you alone. They will do as you tell them, -of course."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll let 'em know it if they don't."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's right you should. I think it is very kind of you to come here as -you do, but I want you to oblige me and not come to-morrow night. It -is Friday, and the shop will be closed, so you would be wasting your -time. That would be foolish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, it would," said Ted, somewhat bewildered. "Shall we come on -Saturday night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, if you think proper. Then you will not be here to-morrow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We won't, as you'd rather not, Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you; I am really obliged to you. Now go and join your army."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ted Kite turned away, walked a step or two, and returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I say, Mr. Cohen----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my lad?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you like it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I like it?" echoed Aaron, with a sly chuckle. "Should I speak to -you as I am doing if I didn't? It is as good as a play. I think it is -very nice of you--very nice, very nice indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh," said Ted in a crestfallen tone. As Aaron took pleasure in the -persecution it was not half such good fun as it had been. "He says he -likes it," he said to his comrades when he was among them. "He says -it's as good as a play."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How much did he give you?" they inquired, feeling as he did in -respect of the fun of their proceedings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He didn't give me nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We saw him hold out his hand to you," they protested.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You saw us shake hands, that's what you saw. Let's get on with the -game; we don't want to be kept waiting here all night."</p> - -<p class="normal">They went on with the game, calling "Jew! Jew! Jew!" half-heartedly. -Putting the pecuniary reward out of the question, it was a game that -was becoming rather monotonous. They had to call for quite a quarter -of an hour before Aaron paid them; and this time he paid them with two -pennies only. The children fell on the ground, and scraped the stones -for more, but found none, and they retired grumbling, discontented, -and suspicious of each other's honesty.</p> - -<p class="normal">On Friday night, the Sabbath eve, Aaron and Rachel had peace; and on -Saturday night the children made their appearance again and gave forth -their chorus. Aaron came to the door and stood there smoking his pipe -and smiling at them. But he did not throw any money to them. They did -not know what to make of it. Their voices grew weaker and weaker, they -wandered about discontentedly, they declared it was not fair on Mr. -Cohen's part. "We'll try him again on Monday night," they said.</p> - -<p class="normal">They tried him again on Monday night, and he stood on his steps, -commending them, but he gave them no more money. There was no heart -whatever now in their invectives. They were not philosophers, and did -not know that the course Aaron had pursued had taken the sting out of -their tails. "He likes it," they said to each other as they strolled -off moodily, "and he wants us to come here and scream our throats dry -without being paid for it. Well, we aint going to do it. We won't call -him Jew any more if he wants us ever so much. It aint likely, now, is -it? What does he mean by treating us so shabby?" These young -rapscallions thought the world was out of joint.</p> - -<p class="normal">In this way it was that Aaron Cohen fought the battle and gained a -bloodless victory. He laughed in his sleeve as he thought of it, and -laughed aloud in his cozy little parlor when he related the whole -affair to Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One shilling and eightpence has it cost me, my love," he said, "and I -do not begrudge the money. Show me the battle that has been won for -less."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel was greatly relieved, but her dominant feeling was admiration -for her husband's wisdom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not believe any other man in the world would have thought of -it," she said; and though Aaron shook his head in modest deprecation, -he was justified in inwardly congratulating himself upon his astute -tactics.</p> - -<p class="normal">The story got about, and the townspeople were much amused by it. "Mr. -Cohen's a clever fellow," they said. He grew to be respected by them, -and as the weeks passed by and it was seen that he was not only a -fair-dealing but a kindly-hearted man the innuendos which Mr. Whimpole -continued to circulate about him produced a very small effect. Mr. -Whimpole was not pleased; where is the man who would have been in his -position? Talking one night with Rachel over the animosity the<br> -corn-chandler bore toward the Jews, Aaron said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no doubt, my dear, that he is quite conscientious, and that he -considers his prejudices to be the outcome of a just conviction. -Doubtless his parents had the same conviction, and he imbibed it from -them. There are thousands of people who agree with him, and there are -worse persecutions than that to which we have been subjected. Look at -that infamously governed country Russia, which in the maps ought to be -stamped blood red, with a heavy mourning border around it. The -wretches who inflict incredible sufferings upon countless innocent -beings call themselves Christians. They are not Christians, they are -fiends, and judgment will fall upon them. Spain, once the greatest of -nations, fell into decay when the Jew deserted it. So will it be with -other nations that oppress the Jew. Let Germany look to it. It is easy -to arouse the evil passions of uneducated human beings, but a brand of -fire shall fall upon the heads of those who are employed in work so -vile."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> -<h5>JOY AND SORROW.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps, however, to Rachel may chiefly be ascribed the general -respect the Cohens earned among the townsfolk. Charitable, kind, and -gentle by nature, she was instinctively drawn to those poor people who -had fallen into misfortune. Upon her sympathetic ears no tale of -distress could fall without bearing fruit. She won friends everywhere, -and her sweet face was like a ray of sunshine in the homes of the -poor. It was not at all uncommon to hear that her timely assistance -had been the means of restoring to health those who had been stricken -down. She walked through life as an angel of mercy might have done, -and flowers grew about her feet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of all the friends who sounded her praises none were more enthusiastic -than little Prissy, who came now regularly to the house to do domestic -work.</p> - -<p class="normal">Anxious to increase his trade, Aaron had stocked his shop with such -articles of wear and adornment as were most in request. He had not the -means to pay ready money for the stock, but through a friend in -Portsmouth, Mr. Moss, with whom the readers of this story have already -become acquainted, he obtained credit from wholesale dealers who would -have been chary to trust him without a sufficient recommendation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Apart from the pleasures which his modest success in business afforded -him, there was a happiness in store for him to which he looked forward -with a sense of profound gratitude. Rachel was about to become a -mother. To this fond couple, who seemed to live only for each other, -there could be no greater joy than this. They had lost their -firstborn, and God was sending another child to bless their days. They -never closed their eyes at night, they never rose in the morning, -without offering a prayer of thanks to the Most High for his goodness -to them. They saw no cloud gathering to darken their happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was an ordinary event, for which Aaron could hardly have been -prepared.</p> - -<p class="normal">They had been eleven months in Gosport when one morning Aaron, rising -first, and going down to his shop, found that burglars had been at -work. They had effected an entrance at the back of the house, and had -carried away the most valuable articles in the window. The loss, Aaron -calculated, would not be less than a hundred pounds.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, to him, a serious loss; he had commenced with a very small -capital, and his earnings during the year had left only a small margin -over his household and trade expenses. His business was growing, it is -true, but for the first six months he had barely paid his way; it was -to the future he looked to firmly establish himself, and now in one -night all his profits were swept away. More than this; if he were -called upon to pay his debts he would have but a few pounds left. -Rachel, whose health the last week or two had been delicate, her -confinement being so near, was in bed by his directions; he had -forbidden her to rise till ten o'clock. It was a matter to be thankful -for; he could keep the shock of the loss from her; in her condition -bad news might have a serious effect upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">He set everything in order, spoke no word of what had occurred to his -wife, rearranged the shop window, and took down the shutters. In the -course of the day he told Rachel that he intended to close a couple of -hours earlier than usual; he had to go to Portsmouth upon business in -the evening, and should be absent probably till near midnight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will not mind being alone, my love?" he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no," she answered, with a tender smile; "I have plenty to occupy -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">She had been for some time busy with her needle preparing for her -unborn child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you must go to bed at ten," said Aaron. "I shall lock the shop, -and take the key of the back door with me, so that I can let myself -in."</p> - -<p class="normal">She promised to do as he bade her, and in the evening he left her to -transact his business. He had no fear that she would be intruded upon; -it was not likely that the house would be broken into two nights in -succession; besides, with the exception of some pledges of small<br> -value which he kept in the safe, there was little now to tempt<br> -thieves to repeat their knavish doings. So with fond kisses he bade -her good-night.</p> - -<p class="normal">They stood facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. Rachel's -eyes were of a tender gray, with a light so sweet in them that he -never looked into them unmoved. He kissed them now with a strange -yearning at his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope baby's eyes will be like yours, dear love," he said; "the soul -of sweetness and goodness shines in them."</p> - -<p class="normal">She smiled happily, and pressed him fondly to her. Ah, if he had -known!</p> - -<p class="normal">His first business was with the police. He went to the station, and -telling the inspector of his loss, said that he wished it to be kept -private, because of his fear that it might reach his wife's ears. The -inspector replied that it would be advisable under any circumstances. -Leaving in the officer's hands a list of the articles that had been -stolen, he proceeded to Portsmouth to consult his friend Mr. Moss. -That goodhearted gentleman was deeply concerned at the news.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a serious thing, Cohen," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A very serious thing," replied Aaron gravely, "but I shall overcome -it. Only I require time. I promised to pay some bills to-morrow, and I -shall require a little stock to replace what I have lost; it would -cramp me to do so now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He mentioned the name of the tradesmen to whom he had given the -promise, and asked Mr. Moss to call upon them in the morning and -explain the matter to them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will not lose their money," he said; "it will not take me very -long to make everything right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will see them," said Mr. Moss, "and I am sure they will give you -time. Aaron Cohen's name is a sufficient guarantee."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope it will always be," replied Aaron. "It is very unfortunate -just now, because I have extra expenses coming on. The nurse, the -doctor----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, I know. How is Mrs. Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fairly well, I am glad to say. She knows nothing of what has -occurred."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course not, of course not. How could you tell her while she is -like that? When Mrs. Moss is in the same way I am always singing and -laughing and saying cheerful things to her. Between you and me we -expect an addition ourselves in about four months."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed. That will make----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fourteen," said Mr. Moss, rubbing his hands briskly together. -"Increase and multiply. It's our bounden duty, eh, Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Aaron rather absently. "And now I must go; it will be late -before I reach home, and for all Rachel's promises I expect she will -keep awake for me. Good-night, and thank you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing to thank me for. Good-night, and good luck."</p> - -<p class="normal">When Aaron returned to Gosport it was midnight. Winter was coming on -and it was cold and dark; buttoning his coat close up to his neck, he -hastened his steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not despondent; misfortune had fallen upon him, but he had -confidence in himself, and despite the practical common sense which -showed itself in all his actions there was in his nature an underlying -current of spiritual belief in divine assistance toward the successful -accomplishment of just and worthy endeavor. That it was man's duty to -do right, to work, to pray, to be considerate to his neighbors, to -make his home cheerful, to be as charitable as his means will<br> -allow--this was his creed; and it was strengthened by his conviction -that God made himself manifest even upon earth in matters of right and -wrong. He did not relegate the expiation of transgression to the -future; he did not believe that a man could wipe out the sins of the -past year by fasting and praying and beating his breast on the Day of -Atonement. Wrongdoing was not to be set aside and forgotten until a -convenient hour for repentance arrived. Hourly, daily, a man must keep -watch over himself and his actions. This had been his rule of life, -and it contributed to his happiness and to the happiness of those -around him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was within a quarter of a mile of his residence when he was -conscious of an unseen disturbance in the air. A distant glare in the -sky, the faint echoes of loud voices, stole upon his senses. Agitated -as he had been by what had transpired during this long unfortunate -day, he could not at first be certain whether these signs were real or -spiritual, but presently he discovered that they did not spring from -his imagination. The glare in the sky became plainly visible, the loud -voices reached his ears. There was a fire in the town, and he was -proceeding toward it. Instantly his thoughts, his fears, centered upon -Rachel. He ran forward quickly, and found himself struggling through -an excited crowd. Flames shot upward; the air was filled with floating -sparks of fire. Great God! It was his own house that was being -destroyed by the devouring element. He did not heed that; the -destruction of his worldly goods did not affect him. "My wife!" he -screamed. "Where is my wife?" By main force they held him back, for he -was rushing into the flames.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me go!" he screamed. "Where is my wife?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is all right, Mr. Cohen," a number of voices replied. "She is -saved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God, oh, thank God!" he cried. "Take me to her. Where is she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He cared not for the ruin that had overtaken him; like cool water to a -parched throat came the joyful news that she was saved.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take me to her. In the name of Heaven, tell me where she is!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She was in a house at a safe distance from the fire, and thither he -was led. Rachel was lying on a couch in her night dress; sympathizing -people were about her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel, Rachel!" he cried, and fell upon his knees by her side.</p> - -<p class="normal">She did not answer him; she was insensible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not agitate yourself, Mr. Cohen," said a voice; it was that of the -physician who had been attending to her. "Be thankful that she lives."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O Lord, I thank thee," murmured the stricken man. "My Rachel lives!"</p> - -<p class="normal">What mattered all the rest? What mattered worldly ruin and -destruction? The beloved of his heart was spared to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a sensible man, Mr. Cohen," said the physician, "and you must -be calm for her sake. In her condition there will be danger if she -witnesses your agitation when she recovers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will be calm, sir," said Aaron humbly. "She is all I have in the -world."</p> - -<p class="normal">He made no inquiries as to the cause of the fire; he did not stir from -Rachel's side, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her pallid face. The -physician remained with them an hour, and then took his departure, -saying he would return early in the morning, and leaving instructions -to Aaron what to do.</p> - -<p class="normal">At sunrise Rachel awoke. Passing one hand over her eyes, she held out -the other in a groping, uncertain way. Aaron took it in his, and held -it fondly; the pallor left her cheeks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is you, my dear?" she murmured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, it is I, my life!" he said in a low and gentle tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are well--you are safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am well--I am safe," he replied. "And you, Rachel--how do you -feel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a slight headache. It will soon pass away. Oh, my dear -husband, how thankful I am! When did you return?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not till you were taken from the house. Do not talk now. Rest, rest, -my beloved!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The endearing words brought a glad smile to her lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will sleep presently, Aaron. Is the doctor here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, but he will come soon. Shall I go for him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can wait, dear; when he comes I should like to speak to him alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are hurt!" he said, alarmed. "Tell me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not hurt, dear; it is only that my head aches a little. He will -give me something to relieve me. Have no fear for me, Aaron; I am in -no danger; indeed, indeed, I am not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God be praised!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She drew his head to her breast, and they lay in silence a while, -fondly embracing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me tell you, dear, and then I will go to sleep again. I went to -bed at ten, as you bade me, and though I had it in my mind to keep -awake for you, I could not do so. I do not know how long I slept, but -I awoke in confusion, and there was a strong glare in my eyes. I -hardly remember what followed. I heard voices calling to me--Prissy's -voice was the loudest, I think--and then I felt that strong arms were -around me, and I was being carried from the house. That is all, my -dear, till I heard your voice, here. Where am I?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He informed her, and then, holding him close to her, she fell asleep -again. As the clock struck nine the physician entered the room, and -Aaron told him what had passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can spare half an hour," said the physician. "Go and see after your -affairs. I will not leave her till you return."</p> - -<p class="normal">Kissing Rachel tenderly, and smoothing the hair from her forehead, -Aaron left the house, and went to his own. Before he departed he -learned from the kind neighbors who had given Rachel shelter that they -were not in a position to keep her and Aaron with them, and he said -that he would make arrangements to remove her in the course of the -day, if the doctor thought it would be safe to do so. His own house, -he found, was completely destroyed, but he heard of another at no -great distance which was to be let furnished for a few weeks, and this -he took at once, and installed Prissy therein, to light fires and get -the rooms warm. The arrangement completed, he hastened back to Rachel, -between whom and the physician a long consultation had taken place -during his absence. At the conclusion of their conversation she had -asked him one question:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall I be so all my life, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear so," was the reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My poor husband!" she murmured. "My poor, dear husband! Say nothing -to him, doctor, I implore you. Let him hear the truth from my lips."</p> - -<p class="normal">He consented, not sorry to be spared a painful duty. "She is -surprisingly well," he said to Aaron, "and in a few days will be able -to get about a little, though you must not expect her to be quite -strong till her child is born."</p> - -<p class="normal">The news was so much better than Aaron expected that he drew a deep -breath of exquisite relief.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can she be removed to-day with safety?" he asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think so. She will be happier with you alone. Give me your new -address; I will call and see her there this evening."</p> - -<p class="normal">At noon she was taken in a cab to her new abode, and Aaron carried her -in and laid her on the sofa before a bright fire. In the evening the -physician called according to his promise. "She is progressing -famously," he said to Aaron. "Get her to bed early, and it may be -advisable that she should keep there a few days. But I shall speak -more definitely about this later on. Mr. Cohen, you have my best -wishes. You are blessed with a noble wife." Tears shone in Aaron's -eyes. "Let me impress upon you," continued the doctor, "to be strong -as she is strong; but at present, with the birth of her child so near, -it is scarcely physical power that sustains her. She is supported by a -spiritual strength drawn from her love for you and her unborn babe."</p> - -<p class="normal">With these words the physician left them together. Prissy was gone, -and Aaron and Rachel were alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">They exchanged but few words. Rachel still occupied the couch before -the fire, and as she seemed to be dozing Aaron would not disturb her. -Thus an hour passed by, and then Rachel said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The doctor advises me to go to bed early. Will you help me up, dear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She stood on her feet before him, and as his eyes rested on her face a -strange fear entered his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, my life," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A moment, dear husband," she said. "I have something to tell you, -something that will grieve you. I do not know how it happened, nor -does the good doctor know. He has heard of only one such case before. -I am not in pain; I do not suffer. It is much to be grateful for, and -I am humbly, humbly grateful. It might have been so much worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel, my beloved," said Aaron, placing his hands on her shoulders.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep your arms about me, my honored husband. Let me feel your dear -hands, your dear face. Kiss me, Aaron. May I tell you now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me now, my beloved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look into my eyes, dear. I cannot look into yours. Dear husband, I am -blind!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> -<h5>DIVINE CONSOLATION.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The shock of this revelation was so overwhelming that for a few -moments Aaron was unable to speak. In the words of the prophet, "His -tongue clave to the roof of his mouth." His soul was plunged in -darkness, and a feeling of passionate rebellion racked his heart. That -upon his sweet and innocent wife should have fallen an infliction so -awful seemed to blot all brightness out of the world. Nay, more--it -seemed to blot out the principle of justice, to render it a mockery -and a snare. The sentiment which animated him was one of horror and -indignation, and he yielded to it unresistingly. What had Rachel done -to deserve the cruel blow? Not with a crown of sorrow but with a crown -of glory should she have been crowned. And was it not natural that he -should rebel against it? He was her champion, her protector, her -defender; she had no one else. Should he stand tamely by and show no -sense of the injustice which had been inflicted upon her!</p> - -<p class="normal">Very, very rarely had Aaron been dominated by so stubborn a mood; -very, very rarely had he allowed it to take possession of him; and -never in a single instance on his own account. Mere worldly -misfortune, however disastrous in its effect, he had invariably met -with philosophic calm and fortitude. Many reverses had attended him, -and he had borne them bravely, as a man should, as it is a man's duty -to do. With a courage which may be said to be heroic had he accepted -each successive stroke, and had immediately applied himself to the -task of repairing the breach. No faint-hearted soldier he, sitting -down and weeping by the roadside when he received a wound. To be up -and doing--that was his creed. These were but ordinary checks which a -man must be prepared to encounter in his course through life; weak, -indeed, would he prove himself to be who did not at once set to work -manfully and energetically to make the best instead of the worst of -each rebuff. Aaron's keen gift of humor and his talent for justifiable -device were of immense assistance to him in these encounters, and in -his conversations with Rachel he was in the habit of throwing so droll -a light upon the difficulties with which he was contending that he -lifted from her heart and from his own a weight which otherwise would -have remained there and impeded his efforts. He treated every personal -ailment which visited him, and every little incident he met with, in -the same spirit, laughing away Rachel's distress and bearing his pain -without the least symptom of querulousness. "You seem almost to like -pain, my dear," she had said. "There is pleasure in pain," he had -answered; "think of the relief." Thus did he make the pack upon his -shoulders easy to carry, and thus did he contribute to Rachel's -enjoyment of life.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over and above these lesser features in his character reigned the -great factors truth and justice. He took no credit to himself that he -was never guilty of a meanness; it was simply that it was not in his -nature to fall so low, and that he walked instinctively in the right -path. He had frequently conversed with Rachel upon the doctrine of -responsibility, arguing that children born of vicious parents should -not be made accountable for their evil acts to the fullest extent. "It -is an inheritance," he argued, "and it is not they who are wholly -guilty. My parents gave me an inheritance of cheerfulness and good -temper, and I am more grateful for it than I should be if they had -left me a bag of gold." Upon questions of right and wrong his good -sense and his rectitude led him unerringly to the just side, and when -his own interests were involved in a decision he was called upon to -make in such and such an issue he never for a moment hesitated. To -have benefited himself at the expense of justice would have been in -his eyes a sin which was not to be forgiven. A sin of unconscious -omission could be expiated, but a sin of deliberate commission would -have weighed forever on his soul. Could such a man as this, a devout -and conscientious Jew, faithful every day of his life in the -observances of his religion, with a firm belief in the mercy and -goodness of the Eternal God, and with the principles of truth and -justice shining ever before him, be guilty of such a sin? It will be -presently seen.</p> - -<p class="normal">So far himself, considered as an entity. Had he been alone in life, -with no other life so welded into his own as to be inseparable from -it, it is scarcely possible that he could have been guilty of a -conscious wrong, for his soul would have risen in revolt against the -suggestion. Had he been alone misfortunes might have fallen upon him -unceasingly, poverty might have been his lot through all his days, -disease might have racked his bones--he would have borne all with -tranquillity and resignation, and would have lifted up his voice in -praise of the Most High to his last hour. Of such stuff are martyrs -made; from such elements springs the lofty ideal into which, once in a -generation, is breathed the breath of life, the self-sacrificing hero -who sheds his blood and dies with a glad light on his face in the -battle of right against might, in the battle of weak innocence against -the ruthless hand of power. But Aaron was not alone; Rachel was by his -side, leaning upon his heart, looking to him for joy, for peace, for -happiness. And when he suffered it was through her he suffered; and -when he was oppressed with sorrow it was through her he sorrowed. So -keen was his sympathy with her, so intense was his love for her, that -if only her finger ached he was in pain. We are but human after all, -and no man can go beyond a man's strength. Legends are handed down to -us of divine inspiration falling upon a man who, thus inspired, -becomes a leader, a hero, a prophet; but in that man's heartstrings -are not entwined the tender fingers of wife and children. As blades of -grass which we can rub into nothingness between our fingers force -their upward way to air and sunshine through adamantine stones, as -rocks are worn away by the trickling of drops of water, so may a man's -sublimest qualities, so may a man's heart and soul be pierced and reft -by human love.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was this absorbing sentiment that agitated Aaron when Rachel -revealed to him that she was blind; it was this that struck him dumb.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meekly and patiently she stood before him--he had fallen back a<br> -step--and waited for him to speak. He did not utter a word.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently her sweet voice stole upon his senses.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aaron, my beloved, why are you silent? Why do you not speak to me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He lifted his head and groaned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, do not groan, dear husband," she continued. "It is for me you -suffer, but I am not suffering--did I not tell you so? It is, indeed, -the truth. Look into my face; you will see no pain there. I need you -more than ever now. Next to God you are my rock, my salvation. He has -cast this affliction upon me out of his goodness and wisdom. Let us -lift our voices in his praise."</p> - -<p class="normal">And from her lips flowed in the ancient tongue the sublime prayer:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear, O Israel, the Eternal, our God! the Eternal is One. And thou -shalt love the Eternal, thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy -soul, and with all thy might. And these words which I command thee -this day shall be in thine heart. And thou shalt teach them diligently -unto thy children, and shall speak of them when thou sittest in thine -house, and when thou walkest by the way; when thou liest down, and -when thou risest up."</p> - -<p class="normal">An angel's voice could not have been more melodious and sweet, and the -beauty of the prayer acquired truly a divine strength through Rachel's -intoning of the pious words. But it was not only her voice that -resounded in the room. The moment she commenced to pray rebellion -against fate's decree melted out of Aaron's heart, and pity took its -place; he was restored to his better self. Holding her hand, he joined -her in prayer, but not in so loud a voice as usual; he followed her, -as it were, and was led by her, and when the prayer was ended her head -sank upon his breast, and her arms entwined themselves around his -neck.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are resigned, my dear?" she whispered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I bow my head," he answered; "the Lord's will be done!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could not keep it from you any longer. I was blind when I opened my -eyes in the house of the good people who gave me shelter; I was blind -when you sat by my side there; but I feared to tell you; I wished to -speak to the doctor first. It was so strange, so sudden, that I hoped -it would not last. I awoke with the cry of fire in my ears, and as I -leaped from bed the bright glare of the flames seemed to strike sight -out of my eyes. I fainted, and remember nothing more; only that when I -opened my eyes again I could not see. It was merciful that there was -no pain. Oh, my dear husband, I am so sorry for you, so sorry, so -sorry!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel, dear Rachel, dear life of my life, it is not for me you -should grieve--it is for yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, dear love, I do not grieve for myself. Should I not rather -rejoice? Because I know, I know"--she put his hand to her lips and -kissed it, then held it to her heart--"that you will bear with me, -that I shall not be a trouble to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A trouble to me, Rachel! You are dearer to me than ever--more -precious to me than ever. Oh, my dear, I never loved you as I love you -now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How sweet, how sweet!" she murmured. "How beautiful is life! No woman -was ever blessed as I am blessed! And soon, dear love, we shall have -with us another evidence of the Lord's great mercy. Our child, our -darling, will be here. Ah, what happiness!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Was there already in her heart the shadow of an abiding sorrow -springing from the knowledge that she would never see the face of her -unborn child, that she would never be able to look into the beautiful -eyes which in a short time would open upon the world? Aaron had hoped -that baby's eyes would be like hers, but she would never know from -personal evidence whether they were or not. If such a sorrow was -making itself felt she kept it to herself and guarded it jealously, -lest Aaron should participate in it. Her face was radiant as they -continued to converse, and by her loving words she succeeded in -thoroughly banishing from Aaron's soul the rebellious promptings by -which he had first been agitated. Thus did Rachel, to whom the light -of the universe was henceforth as night, become the divine consoler in -the home.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am tired, dear. Will you lead me to our room?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He took her in his arms and carried her up, as he would have carried a -child, and this new office of love, and indeed everything he did for -her, drew them spiritually closer to each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she was in bed she asked him to tell her about the fire, and if -he would be a great loser by it. He softened the loss, said that he -was well insured, that they had a good friend in Mr. Moss, and that it -would not be long before he was on his feet again. Content and -happiness were expressed on her face as she listened.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be a comfort to you to know," he said, "that no one will lose -anything by me; every demand will be met; every penny will be paid. In -my mansion"--his study of the law and his devotion to his faith led -him occasionally into a biblical phrase--"are three stars: First, the -Eternal God; next, you, my beloved; next, our good name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is safe in your keeping, dear," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And will ever be, so far as human endeavor can aid me. You will be -glad to hear, too, that the townspeople sympathize with us in our -trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am very glad; it could hardly have been otherwise. Who that lives -to know you does not learn to honor you?" She held his hand in a -tender clasp and kissed it repeatedly. "I will tell you something. I -am beginning already to acquire a new sense. When you look at me I -feel it--you are looking at me now. When your eyes are not on my face -I know it. I shall learn a good deal very soon, very soon! I do not -intend to be a burden to you." This was said with tender gayety.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can never be that." He touched her eyes. "Henceforth I am your -eyes. It is a poor return, for you, Rachel, are my very life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear husband! Dear love! Kiss me. I want to fall asleep with those -words in my ears. You will not stop up long?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go down and put out the lights, and see that all is safe. Then -I will come up at once. Sleep, my life, sleep!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He passed his fingers caressingly across her forehead, and she fell -asleep with a smile on her lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">He stole softly from the room in his stocking feet, and went down and -made the house safe; then he returned to the bedroom.</p> - -<p class="normal">The smile had left Rachel's lips; her face was paler, and there was a -worn look on it. A terrible fear entered his heart. "O God, if she -should die! O God, if I should lose her!" He took his silk taleth from -its bag, and wrapping it around him put on his hat, and stood and -prayed, with his face to the east.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How precious is thy mercy, O God! The children of men take refuge -under the shadow of thy wing. They are satisfied with the richness of -thy house, and thou causeth them to drink of the stream of thy -delight. For with thee is the fountain of life, by thy light only do -we see light. Oh, continue thy mercy unto them who know thee and thy -righteousness to the upright of heart!"</p> - -<p class="normal">One line in the prayer he repeated again and again: "For with thee is -the fountain of life, and by thy light only do we see light." And so -he prayed till midnight, and the one supplication into which all else -was merged was sent forth with touching pathos from his very heart of -hearts: "O Lord of the Universe, Giver of all good, humbly I beseech -thee to spare my beloved! Take her not from me! Let her live, let her -live to bless my days! Let not darkness overwhelm me! It is thy hand -that directs the fountain of life."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Rachel slept on, and dreamed of the child whose face she was never -to see upon earth.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>IN THE NEW HOUSE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Three weeks of great anxiety followed. Despite the courage with which -Rachel had borne the sudden visitation of blindness her physical -strength did not hold out, and, by the doctor's orders, she kept her -bed. During these weeks Aaron had enough to do to put his affairs in -order, and he had the additional trouble that matters turned out worse -than he had anticipated. For security's sake, and to set the borrowers -at ease, he transferred all the pledges that had been saved to another -pawnbroker; those that were destroyed he considered himself bound in -honor and common honesty to make good; he made no demur to the claims -that were brought against them, but settled them promptly, and settled -also all his trade debts. What with all this harassing business and -his domestic sorrows he was occupied day and night, but he was careful -that Rachel should not suspect how things were with him. The doctor -came daily, and Rachel's time was very near. At every visit Aaron -watched his face for hopeful news of Rachel's condition, but the -doctor volunteered no information, and only gave instructions to do -this or that. This reticence was torture to Aaron, and one day he -begged the doctor to conceal nothing from him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is nothing to conceal," said the doctor. "Her state is -critical, but what else could be expected? Consider what she has -passed through."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think of nothing else, of nothing else," said Aaron, his fingers -working convulsively, for a question was trembling on his lips which -he felt he must ask, but to which he could scarcely give utterance. -"Doctor, will she live?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The doctor bit his lip as he gazed upon Aaron's misery. "We will do -our best; but remember, we are all in God's hands." And with these -words, and a look of compassion, he departed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron stood motionless a while. We are all in God's hands! How often -has that been said, and how terrible is its import! Human science and -skill have done all it is in their power to do--the rest is with God. -Aaron reasoned the true meaning away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are all in God's hands," he murmured, "old and young, rich and -poor, the strong and the feeble alike. It is so with one and all. I -thank God he did not tell me to prepare for the worst!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He drew comfort not from what was said, but from what was not said. He -continued to commune with himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can she be otherwise than weak? And doctors sometimes think it -their duty not to look on the brightest side. My Rachel will be spared -to me. God will not take her away."</p> - -<p class="normal">He went up to her; a nurse he had engaged was in the room; she could -come for only a week, her services at the end of that time being -required elsewhere. She put her fingers to her lips as he entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she asleep?" he asked in a whisper.</p> - -<p class="normal">She nodded in reply, but when he approached the bed Rachel held out -her hand to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nurse thought you were asleep, dear," he said, bending down to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may have been," she answered. "I fall off into a doze a dozen times -an hour, it seems, but I always know when you are near me." She put -her hand to her head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you in pain, my life?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no. I am rather weak, but I shall get strong soon. Whenever I -doze I see our dear one. Aaron, dear love, do not be anxious for me; I -shall soon hold our darling in my arms."</p> - -<p class="normal">The nurse gave him a warning look not to encourage her to talk, and -understanding the silent monition, he kissed Rachel tenderly and went -down to muse and pray.</p> - -<p class="normal">The settlement of all his debts had left him almost a beggar. He owed -not a shilling, except to the doctor, who had said nothing about his -account; the week's money for the nurse was carefully put away; he -could not have afforded to engage her for a longer term, for all the -money he had left in the world amounted to barely two pounds. What was -he to do when that was spent? Commence business again upon borrowed -capital? But who would lend it to him? It was no small sum that would -be required, and all his friends, with the exception of Mr. Moss, were -poor. Mr. Moss was comparatively a new friend, and he could not expect -him to render such substantial assistance. It would be unreasonable to -ask for so large a loan, say, as fifty pounds, for that was the least -that he could begin again with; besides, he would be sure to be met -with a refusal. But what was he to do?</p> - -<p class="normal">He thrust these worldly contemplations aside, and, indeed, it was -impossible for him to dwell upon them with a heavier sorrow at his -door. He trusted in God--yes; but he knew that a man must work for his -livelihood. Well, he would work; he was willing and ready for any -honest occupation; but he must wait--for what? He stepped into the -passage, and softly ascending the stairs, listened at Rachel's door. -As he stood there the nurse came out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go for the doctor," she whispered.</p> - -<p class="normal">He flew. There was no thought in his mind now of his worldly troubles; -he thought only of his beloved wife and unborn child. The doctor was -not in, but was expected in a quarter of an hour, and would be sure to -come round at once. Leaving an urgent entreaty not to delay a moment, -Aaron hastened back to his house, and on the road found himself -intercepted by Prissy, who had grown taller but no stouter since the -night upon which she introduced herself to him. By reason of her -increased height she looked thinner and scraggier than ever; as usual -Victoria Regina, who had grown plumper and rounder, was in the girl's -arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Cohen, Mr. Cohen!" cried Prissy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't stop now," he replied, passing her quickly.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Prissy's long legs were as active as his, and though Victoria -Regina was a heavy weight to carry, she kept pace with him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"D'yer know wot everybody's saying about yer, Mr. Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind, never mind, my good girl; I have no time to listen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They're saying, everybody is," continued Prissy, "that yer as good as -ruined, and that you 'aven't got a shilling left to pay yer way with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What does it matter what people say, Prissy? Never listen to<br> -tittle-tattle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Ow's it to be 'elped, Mr. Cohen, when they ding it in yer ears? Mr. -Whimpole, he ses he sor wot was coming all along, and when I ups and -gives 'im a bit o' my mind he slaps my face, he does, and pushes me -into the gutter. I don't mind that, but no one's going to speak agin -yer when I'm by. It aint likely after all yer've done for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a good girl, but take no notice of what Mr. Whimpole says. -There are many here who still have a good word for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Plenty, sir, and that's wot makes Mr. Whimpole mad; he can't make 'em -think as he wants 'em to. You look ill, Mr. Cohen. I 'ope missis is no -wus, I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is still weak and ill, Prissy; but she will get well soon--eh, -Prissy?--she will get well soon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He cast a swift, anxious look upon her; even from the lips of this -poor girl he sought the comfort of a consoling word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, she's sure to. Don't you worry yerself, Mr. Cohen. Gawd -won't let nothink wrong 'appen to 'er. Wot did she say 'erself to me -more nor once? 'Be a good gal,' she ses, 'and tell the truth, and be -as kind as yer can to everybody, and Gawd 'll look after yer.' And -aint she good, sir? and does she ever say anythink but the truth? and -aint she as kind as kind can be to everybody about 'er? Why, it's in -everybody's mouth, 'xcept Mr. Whimpole's. She's sure to get well, Mr. -Cohen, and then yer'll let me see 'er, sir, won't yer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Prissy, yes," said Aaron, laying his hand for a moment on -Prissy's tangled hair; he had reached the door of his house, and was -unlocking the door. "She will get well, please God, and you shall see -her. Thank you, thank you, my good girl, and now run away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm off, Mr. Cohen," said Prissy; "this is going to bring yer luck, -it is," and slipping a large paper parcel into his hand, she scuttled -away.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not know what it was he held until he reached his room, and -then he examined it. When he removed the paper he saw a horseshoe and -two penny pieces, which had been rubbed bright with sand, so that they -shone like gold. Something shone in Aaron's eyes as he gazed at the -humble offering; he smiled wistfully, and muttering, "It is an omen of -good fortune; God bless you, little Prissy!" put the shoe and the -pennies carefully aside. Then he stepped softly upstairs, and softly -tapped at the bedroom door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is she, nurse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bearing up wonderfully, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God! The doctor will be here presently. I will wait for him at -the street door."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had not long to wait; in a very short time he saw the welcome form -turning the corner, and the doctor, with a friendly, smiling nod, -passed into the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron paced to and fro in the room below, and waited for the word that -was to bring joy or sorrow to his soul. He had put his slippers on, in -order that his footsteps should not be heard. In such times of -tribulation his thoughts were invariably directed to the divine -footstool; as with all devout Jews prayer was part of his life, and -never, since the day of his birth, had he prayed so earnestly and -fervently as now. Every few moments he paused in the supplications he -was sending forth, and stepped softly into the passage, and listened. -He heard no sound, not a sob, not a cry; then he returned to his room, -and resumed his prayers. His heart was with Rachel, and he knew that -she was thinking of him. In the light of the perfect love that existed -between them, in the anxious expectancy of these lagging minutes, what -mattered poverty or riches, what mattered mere worldly misfortune? A -stout spirit, a strong shoulder to the wheel, and all would be well; -thus much could a man do with a cheerful heart. But here and now he -was helpless, impotent; here and now was impending a graver issue -which he was powerless to influence. A life--the life of his<br> -beloved--was hanging in the balance; and all that he could do was to -wait and hope and pray.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hush! What was that? An infant's wail--the cry of a newborn child! -With his heart in his ears he stood in the passage, then sank upon the -stairs, with his face in his hands. His child lived--but Rachel! how -was it with her?</p> - -<p class="normal">The bedroom door opened and closed, and the doctor came down. The -passage was dark, for it was now evening, and Aaron could not see the -doctor's face. Taking Aaron's arm, which shook in his grasp like a -leaf in a strong wind, the doctor led Aaron into the sitting room and -lit the gas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doctor!" implored Aaron, with clasped hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have a little girl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And Rachel--my wife!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be comforted. She is in no immediate danger. She is a brave and noble -woman. I will return in a couple of hours. The nurse will tell you -when you can go up and see her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron laid his head upon the table and wept.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE DOCTOR SPEAKS PLAINLY TO AARON COHEN.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Aaron!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My beloved!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is our darling beautiful?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very beautiful--like you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You spoil me, dear; you think too much of me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not possible, Rachel. Loving you as I do, with my whole heart, -there is still some wisdom in my love. Rachel, without you my life -would not be perfect; without you I should be a broken man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she said, clasping his hand tight. "It is out -of my power to repay you for all your goodness to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You repay me every moment of your life. Not for a throne would I -exchange my place by your side; not for a palace would I exchange my -humble home with you to hallow it." Their lips met, and there was -silence in the room a while.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear husband, you are not disappointed that our child is a girl?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am rejoiced that we have with us a daughter in Israel. What greater -happiness could I desire? When you are strong, when I hear your -footsteps about the house again, all will be well."</p> - -<p class="normal">A holy joy dwelt in her face. "My darling, my darling!" she murmured -as she held the sleeping babe to her breast. "I had a fear, but it is -gone--a fear that our precious one would be born blind, as I am. Thank -God, I did not bring that misfortune upon her. What happiness entered -my heart when the doctor told me that her eyes were bright and -beautiful. If only the gracious Lord will not take her--if only he -will spare her to live to an honored old age!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will, he will, my beloved! We must not talk any more. Sleep and -grow strong."</p> - -<p class="normal">He sat by her bedside in silence, gazing upon her face, which was as -the face of an angel, and then he stole softly downstairs. He had much -to occupy his thoughts; Rachel's danger happily passed, as he hoped, -he could turn his attention to his worldly affairs, which indeed, -being at a desperate pass, would have forced themselves to the front -under any circumstances. By the doctor's orders he had been compelled -to make certain purchases which had not only emptied his purse, but -had driven him to the necessity of parting with the few articles of -jewelry which he and Rachel possessed. These proceeds gone he was an -absolute beggar.</p> - -<p class="normal">Never in his life had he been placed in so serious a position. -Difficulties had been encountered and confronted with courage and -success, times of embarrassment had been tided over, losses had been -made good, and he had fought his way cheerfully; but now his heart -sank within him at the prospect that was opening out. Rachel needed -not only care and unremitting attention, but delicacies in the shape -of food to keep up her strength. Nourishing soups, a glass of port -wine, a chicken--these were no trifles to a man in Aaron's position; -and unable to afford the regular services of a servant, he had to look -after these matters himself, to perform domestic work, to cook, and to -keep the whole house in order. The nurse's attention was devoted -solely to the sick room, and he could not therefore look to assistance -from her; Prissy made her appearance daily, but Aaron dismissed her -quickly, feeling the injustice of accepting services for which he -could not pay. It was no easy matter to get rid of Prissy, who was not -only willing but anxious to remain, and she feebly protested against -being turned away so unceremoniously; her protests would have been -more vigorous had she not entertained a certain awe of Aaron's -strength of character, before which she, as it were, was compelled to -prostrate herself. Thus Aaron, from force of circumstance and from his -inherent sense of justice, was thrown entirely upon his own resources.</p> - -<p class="normal">Counting the money in his purse, he calculated that it was sufficient -to last for nine or ten days. In four days the nurse would take her -departure, and then he and Rachel and their babe would be left alone -in the house. At the expiration of less than a week after that he must -be prepared to face the most serious difficulties. He had friends in -London, to whom he had already written, and had received replies of -regret that they were unable to assist him. Mr. Moss had been so good -a friend that he hardly dared appeal again to him, and he resolved to -leave it to the last moment. With a troubled heart, and hardly having -the strength to hope against hope, he went about the house and -attended to his duties. The four days passed, the nurse, having taken -her leave of Rachel, came down to Aaron to receive her wages and bid -him good-by. He paid her with a sad smile, and thanked her for her -services. The "good-day" exchanged, she lingered a moment. With quick -apprehension he divined why she delayed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have something to say to me, nurse, about my wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Mr. Cohen, I have," she replied, "and I am glad you have -mentioned it, as I did not know how to bring it out." She paused -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, nurse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think you ought to know, Mr. Cohen, that your wife is not so well -as you suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nurse!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She keeps it from you, sir, and has begged me not to alarm you, but -it is my duty. No, sir, she is far from well, and is not getting on as -she ought. She grows weaker and weaker--and baby, too, is not -thriving. It is that which keeps Mrs. Cohen back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What can be done, nurse?" asked Aaron, the agony of his feelings -depicted on his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It isn't for me to say, Mr. Cohen. If I were you I would ask the -doctor to tell me plainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, I will. Nurse, does she suffer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She's just the one to suffer, sir, and to say nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">It would be a dreadful thing for you, sir, if----" But here the woman -stopped suddenly and bit her lip. She had said more than she intended. -"Good-day, sir, and I hope we may all be wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">He caught her arm. "No, no, nurse. I will ask the doctor to speak -plainly to me, but he will not be here till to-morrow, and I cannot go -to him and leave my wife and child alone in the house. Finish what you -were about to say. 'It would be a dreadful thing if----'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, sir, it is best to face the truth. If your poor lady was to -die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Great God! There is danger, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid there is, sir. Don't take on so, sir, don't! I am sorry I -spoke."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have done what is right," Aaron groaned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must all of us be prepared, sir; trouble comes to all of us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, it is a human heritage! But you do not know what this means to -me--you do not know what it means to me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps I have made things out worse than they are; I hope so, I am -sure. But you ask the doctor, sir, and don't give way. I shall think -of your lady a good deal when I am gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">With that, and with a sympathetic look at him, the woman departed.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, at length, the truth had been spoken; at length, at length, -he knew the worst. It was as if a sentence of death had been -pronounced. His Rachel, his beloved wife, the tenderest, the truest -that man had ever been blessed with, was to be taken from him. His -child, also, perhaps; but that was a lesser grief, upon which he had -no heart to brood. His one overwhelming anxiety was for Rachel, who, -as it now seemed to him, was lying at death's door in the room above.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had some soup ready, and he took a basin up to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you drink this, dear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will try."</p> - -<p class="normal">He assisted her to rise, and put a pillow at her back. As he fed her -he watched her face, and he saw that it had grown wan and thin. It was -well for both of them that she could not see him; the sight of his -agony would have deepened her sufferings and added to his own. With -wonderful control he spoke to her with some semblance of cheerfulness, -and his voice and words brought a smile to her lips. So through the -day he ministered to her, and every time he left her room his fears -grew stronger. He did not expect the doctor till the following day, -and was surprised when he made his appearance at nightfall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I happened to be passing," he said to Aaron, "and I thought I would -drop in to see how you are getting along."</p> - -<p class="normal">When they came down from the sick-room Aaron observed a graver -expression on his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is unfortunate that you have no nurse, Mr. Cohen," he said; "your -wife needs constant care and watchfulness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will have it, doctor. Is she any better, sir? How is she -progressing?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is still the same, still the same; no better and no worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not in her favor, doctor, that she remains the same?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I cannot conscientiously say it is. At this stage a little -additional strength would be of great assistance to her. Nature's -forces require rallying--but we will hope for the best, Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will, doctor, but will hope avail?"</p> - -<p class="normal">His sad voice struck significantly upon the doctor's ears. "Perhaps -not, but it is a consolation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are human griefs, sir, for which there is no consolation. I -cannot wrest my thoughts from the selfish view. There are sorrows that -come so close home as to take complete possession of us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is human, Mr. Cohen, it is natural; but we must not shut out -resignation, fortitude, submission."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doctor, will you speak plainly to me? It will be merciful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it you wish to know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me exactly how my wife and child are, so that I may be -prepared"--his voice faltered--"for the worst."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not know, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear--but I do not know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We doctors have frequently hard duties to perform, Mr. Cohen--duties -which to others appear cruel. I will speak plainly; it will be best. -It is due to your wife's gentle and loving nature that I have not done -so before, and I yielded to her imploring solicitations, deeming it -likely that you would discover the state of the case from your own -powers of observation. Mr. Cohen, I have rarely had so sad and -affecting an experience as I find here. It would be wrong for me to -say that your wife is not in danger; she has been in danger for some -days past, and it is only an inward moral strength that has supported -her through the crisis. She has still a vital power which, under -certain conditions, will be of immense assistance to her, which will -enable her--so far as it is in human power to judge--to pull through. -You will gather from my words that her safety, nay, her life, depends -not so much upon herself as upon others--upon you to some extent, but -to a much greater extent upon her babe. It is her deep love for you -both that has sustained her, that still sustains her. Were anything to -happen to either of you I should fear the gravest results. It would -react upon her, and in her delicate state there would be no hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am physically strong and well, doctor; nothing is likely to happen -to me. Her danger, then, lies in our child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have clearly expressed it. Her life hangs upon the life of her -child. So fine and delicate are her susceptibilities, so profound is -her love for those who are dear to her, that I, a doctor, who is -supposed to be nothing if he is not scientific, am compelled to -confess that here my learned theories are at fault. I will no longer -disguise from you that her life hangs upon the balance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And our child, doctor, how is it with her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can answer you with less certainty. Something of the delicate -susceptibilities of the mother has in the course of nature entered her -child's being. The baby is not strong, but she may grow into strength; -it is as yet a problem to be solved, and a physician's skill is almost -powerless to help to a happy issue. Hope, Mr. Cohen, hope; and in -bidding you hope, and in explaining matters to you, I have not said -all that it is necessary for me to say. There remains something more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One question first, doctor," said Aaron in a hushed voice; "if our -child lives there is hope that my wife will live."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A strong hope; I speak with confidence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if our child dies?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The mother will die. Forgive me for my cruel frankness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the best kindness you can show me. You have something more to -tell me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something almost as cruel, but it must be spoken. Mr. Cohen, your -wife has been severely tried; the shock of the fire, the shock of her -sudden blindness, coming so close upon her expected confinement, have -left their effects upon her. If things take a favorable turn with her -it will be imperative, in the course of the next three or four<br> -weeks--earlier if possible, and if she can be removed with safety--<br> -that you take her to a softer climate, where she can be nursed into -permanent strength. We are going to have a severe winter, and I will -not answer for its effects upon her. From three or four weeks hence -till the spring in a warmer atmosphere, where there are no fogs or -east winds, will be of invaluable service to her, will set her up -probably for many years to come. You must recognize this yourself, and -if by any possibility or sacrifice you can manage it you must do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is vitally necessary, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is, I have no hesitation in saying, vitally necessary. And now -good-night, Mr. Cohen. I leave my best wishes behind me."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> -<h5>A MOMENTOUS NIGHT.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Each day, each hour, Aaron became more anxious and troubled. In the -doctor's plain speaking there was no reading between the lines, and no -possible mistaking of his meaning. Aaron saw clearly what was before -him, but he could not see a way out of his difficulties, nor to doing -what he was told it was imperative upon him that he should do, in the -happy event of Rachel's coming safely through her present crisis. -There was no apparent change in her; she lay weak and powerless in her -bed, receiving Aaron always with sweet and patient words, and nursing -her child as well as her feeble state would allow her. The condition -of the babe pained and troubled him. There was no indication of -suffering, no querulousness in the child; it was simply that she lay -supine, as though life were flowing quietly out of her. Every time -Aaron crept up to the bedside and found the babe asleep he leaned -anxiously over her to catch the sound of her breathing; and so faint -and soft was her respiration that again and again he was smitten with -a fear that she had passed away. Acutely sensitive and sensible now of -every sign in his wife, it became with him an absolute conviction that -the doctor spoke the truth when he declared that her life and the life -of her babe were inseparable--that if one lived the other would live, -that if one died the other would die. During this torturing time -strange thoughts oppressed him, and oppressed him more powerfully -because he scarcely understood them. The tenor of these thoughts -resolved itself into the one burning desire to do something to keep -his wife with him even if she should lose her babe, but toward the -accomplishment of this he felt that he could do nothing. He was but an -instrument; if he were to be successful in steering his beloved to a -haven of peace and health it must be through outside influences which -up to the present were not visible to him. "Show me the way, oh, -gracious Lord, show me the way!" This was his constant prayer, and -although in less agitated times he would have blamed himself for -praying for a seeming impossibility, he encouraged himself in it now, -in the dim and despairing hope that some miracle would occur to -further his agonizing desire.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile his funds had run completely out, and with spiritual sight -he saw the wolf approaching the door. He had not the means to pay for -the necessaries of the next twenty-four hours. Then it was that he -resolved to make his appeal to Mr. Moss. He would tell him everything, -he would reveal his hapless position in the plainest terms, and he -would beg for an immediate temporary loan of money which he would -promise to faithfully repay when the cloud was lifted from his house.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was evening, a cold and bitter evening. The snow had been falling -heavily, a fierce wind was raging. He thought of Rachel, homeless and -hungry, and his heart was torn with woe. It seemed as if her life -depended upon him; he was her shield; could he not keep desolation and -despair from her--could he not keep death from her? He did not know -that the angel was already in his house.</p> - -<p class="normal">The doctor had paid a visit earlier in the day, and had spoken even -more gravely of Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Much depends," he said, "upon the next day or two. For some days past -she has been silently suffering, and I have succeeded in piercing the -veil of sorrow which hangs upon her soul. She fears that her child -will not live, and if unhappily her fears are confirmed----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not finish the sentence; there was no need for further words to -convey his meaning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This harrowing thought," he continued, "keeps her from rest, prevents -her sleeping. There are periods of sickness when sleep means life; I -will send round a sleeping draught, which you will give her at eight -o'clock to-night; it will insure her oblivion for a good twelve hours, -and if when she wakes all is well with the child all will be well with -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you tell me, doctor, why this fear has grown stronger within her -these last few days?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The babe lies quietly in her arms; she does not hear its voice, and -only by its soft breathing can she convince herself that it lives. -Tender accents from the child she has brought into the world would -fall as a blessing upon her sorrowing heart. At any moment the child -may find its voice; let us hope that it will very soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sleeping draught was sent to Aaron, and it was now on the table. -The hour was six; in a couple of hours he would give it to her; and -while he waited he sat down to write his letter to Mr. Moss. It was a -long letter, for he had much to say, and he was but halfway through -when a postman's knock summoned him to the street door. He hurried -there quickly, so that the knock should not be repeated, and to his -surprise received a telegram. It was from Mr. Moss, and it informed -him that that gentleman was coming to see him upon a very important -matter, and that he was to be sure not to leave home that night. Aaron -wondered what this important matter could be, and there was a joyful -feeling in his heart that the telegram might be the presage of good -fortune; he knew enough of Mr. Moss' kindly nature to be convinced -that he would not be the herald of bad news.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a rift in the clouds," he murmured as he pondered over the -message; "I see the light, I see the light!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Would Mr. Moss' errand open up the means of giving Rachel the benefit -of soft air and sunshine in a more genial clime? He prayed that it -might, and he had never prayed more fervently. But the night was -inclement, and Mr. Moss might not be able in consequence to pay the -promised visit. Time pressed; the necessity was imminent, and would -brook no delay; therefore he determined to finish his letter, and to -post it this night in the event of Mr. Moss not making his appearance.</p> - -<p class="normal">It wanted a few minutes to eight when his task was completed. He read -the letter over and addressed an envelope, but did not stamp it; he -had but one stamp, and every penny was of importance. He looked at the -clock; eight o'clock. With gentle steps he went up to Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is time for the draught, my love," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take it, dear."</p> - -<p class="normal">He poured it into a glass, and she drank it reclining in his arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If our dear one lives, Aaron," said Rachel, "we will call her Ruth, -after your mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be so, love," answered Aaron, laying her head upon the -pillow. "God will vouchsafe the mercy to us. She will live, Rachel, -she will live." Desirous that she should not talk now that she had -taken the sleeping draught he kissed her tenderly and would have left -her, but she held him by the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has the doctor told you that I am in sorrow, Aaron?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have the gift of divinity, love. Yes, he has told me, and he said -that to-morrow perhaps, please God, you will hear our darling's -voice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he say so? Heaven bless him. She is sleeping?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, beloved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I pray that the good doctor may be right. I shall dream of it.<br> -To-morrow--perhaps to-morrow! Ah, what happiness! It needs but that, -dear husband, it needs but that! How tired you must be with all that -you are doing for me! Kiss me again. God guard you."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so she fell asleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">The small fire in the room required attention, and Aaron arranged each -piece of coal and cinder with scrupulous care; never had there been so -much need for thrift as now. In all his movements there was not the -least sound; so softly did he step that his feet might have been shod -with velvet pile. One of Rachel's arms was lying exposed on the -counterpane, he gently shifted it beneath the warm coverings; then he -quitted the apartment and closed the door upon his wife and child--and -upon the angel of death, who was standing by the bedside to receive a -departing soul.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron did not return to his room below; he stood by the open street -door, looking anxiously up and down for Mr. Moss, and thinking with -sadness that if that gentleman delayed his visit he would be compelled -in the morning to part for a time with his silver-mounted pipe, which -was the only article of any value that was left to him. Of all his -personal belongings he cherished this pipe the most; it was Rachel's -gift, and she had often filled it for him. It was not between his lips -at the present moment; he had no heart to smoke. For nearly an hour he -stood upon the watch, interrupting it only for the purpose of creeping -upstairs to see if Rachel were still sleeping. At nine o'clock Mr. -Moss made his welcome appearance in the street; even as he turned the -corner at a distance of many yards Aaron recognized him. He was -enveloped in his great fur coat, which was pulled up close to his -ears; a lighted cigar was between his lips, and he was humming an -operatic air as he puffed at it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Cohen," said Mr. Moss in a hearty tone, "what are you standing -at the door for on such a cold night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been expecting you," Aaron answered, "and I did not wish you -to knock. Rachel has taken a sleeping draught, and must not be -disturbed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes, I understand," said Mr. Moss, accompanying his friend into -the house. "How is she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not well, not at all well, I am grieved to say. Mr. Moss, my heart is -almost broken." He turned aside with a little sob.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, no!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. "That will never do, Cohen. Look on -the best side. Things will right themselves; they will, mark my words. -I am here to set them right. What is this? An envelope addressed to -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was writing you a letter when your telegram arrived."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And then you did not stop to finish it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did finish it, Mr. Moss, in case you did not come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I read it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes; it will explain matters; you will learn from it what it would -pain me to tell you in any other way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Smoke a cigar while I read."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron took the cigar and laid it aside, and then Mr. Moss, who had -taken off his thick coat, sat down and perused the letter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have come in the nick of time, Cohen," he said--"in the nick of -time. There is a silver lining to every cloud. I have brought it with -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I felt," said Aaron, his hopes rising, "that you could not be the -bearer of bad news."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not likely, friend Cohen--not likely. I am the bearer of good news, -of the best of news. Don't be led away; it isn't a legacy--no, no, it -isn't a legacy, but something almost as good, and I hope you will not -throw away the chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it is anything that will relieve me from my terrible -embarrassments it is not likely that I shall throw it away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will do that for a certainty, and there is money attaching to it -which I have in my pocket, and which you can have this very night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I thank you--how can I thank you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't try to, and don't be surprised at what you hear. It is a -strange piece of business, and I should have refused to undertake it -if I had not said to myself, 'This will suit my friend Cohen; it will -lift him out of his trouble.' But, upon my word, now that I'm here I -don't know how to commence. I never met with anything like it in all -my life, and if you were well off you would be the last man in the -world I should have dreamed of coming to. But you are not well off, -Cohen; you have lost everything; Rachel is ill, and the doctor says -she must be taken out of this cold and dismal climate to a place where -she can see the sun, and where the air is mild and warm. I dare say -you're thinking, 'Moss is speaking in a strange way'; and so I am; but -it's nothing to what I've got to tell you. Cohen, what will happen if -you can't afford to do as the doctor advises you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not ask me," groaned Aaron. "I dare not think of it--I dare not, I -dare not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't say it unkindly, Cohen, but it seems to be a matter of life -and death." Aaron clasped his forehead. "Very well, then; and don't -forget that it is in your own hands. Before I commence I must say a -word about myself. I can't do all you ask me in this letter; as I'm a -living man I should be glad to assist you, but I have entered into a -large speculation which has taken all my spare cash, and the most I -could afford would be eight or ten pounds. How long would that last -you? In two or three weeks it would be gone, and you would be no -better off than you were before; and as to taking Rachel to the south -of France, that would be quite out of the question."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you held out hope to me," said the trembling Aaron; "you said you -were the bearer of good news."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I said what is true, Cohen, but it is not my money that I have to -deal with. I have brought fifty pounds with me, another man's money, -intrusted to me for special purposes, and which you can have at once -if you will undertake a certain task and accept a certain -responsibility. It is only out of my friendship for you; it is only -because I know you to be so badly off that you hardly know which way -to turn; it is only because Rachel is ill, and requires what you can't -afford to pay for, that it entered my mind to offer you the chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fifty pounds would be the saving of me, Mr. Moss," said Aaron in an -agony of suspense. "It would restore my Rachel to health, it would -bring happiness into my life. Surely Heaven has directed you to come -to my assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall judge for yourself. Listen patiently to what I am going to -tell you; it will startle you, but don't decide hastily or rashly. And -bear in mind that what passes between us is not to be disclosed to -another person on earth."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE TEMPTATION.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss then proceeded to unfold the nature of the mission he had -undertaken for Mr. Gordon, with the particulars of which the reader -has been made acquainted through the earlier chapters of this story. -Aaron listened with attention and surprise, with attention because of -his anxiety to ascertain whether the proposal was likely to extricate -him from his cruel position, with surprise because the wildest stretch -of his imagination would not have enabled him to guess the purport of -the singular disclosure. When Mr. Moss ceased speaking the afflicted -man rose and paced the room in distress and disappointment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I told you I should startle you," said Mr. Moss with a shrewd -observance of his friend's demeanor, and for the good of that friend -preparing for a battle. "What do you say to it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is impossible--impossible!" muttered Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I told you also," continued Mr. Moss calmly, "not to decide hastily -or rashly. In the way of ordinary business I should not, as I have -said, have dreamed of coming to you, and I should not have undertaken -the mission. But the position in which you are placed is not ordinary, -and you are bound to consider the matter, not upon its merits alone, -but in relation to your circumstances. I need not say that I shall -make nothing out of it myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, you need not," said Aaron, pressing Mr. Moss' hand. "Pure -friendship has brought you here--I know, I know; but surely you must -see that it is impossible for me to undertake the responsibility."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see nothing of the kind. Honestly and truly, Cohen, I look upon it -as a windfall, and if you turn your back upon it you will repent it -all your life. What is it I urge you to do? A crime?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, I do not say that. Heaven forbid!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are naturally startled and agitated. Cohen, you are a man of -intelligence and discernment. My wife has often said, 'If Mr. Cohen -was a rich man he would be one of the heads of our people.' She is -right; she always is. But there are times when a man cannot exercise -his judgment, when he is so upset that his mind gets off the balance. -It has happened to me, and I have said afterward, 'Moss, you are a -fool'; it happens to all of us. Let me put the matter clearly before -you. Have you ever been in such trouble as you are in now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never in my life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Misfortune after misfortune has fallen upon you. All your money is -gone; everything is gone; you can't get through this week without -assistance. You have tried all your friends, and they cannot help you; -you have tried me, and I can only offer you what will meet the -necessities of the next few days. It is known that you are badly off, -and you cannot get credit; if you could it would cut you to the soul, -because you know you would be owing people money that there was no -expectation of your being able to pay. You would be ashamed to look -people in the face; you would lose your sense of self-respect, and -every fresh step you took would be a step down instead of up. Poor -Rachel is lying sick almost to death; she has a stronger claim than -ever upon your love, upon your wisdom. The doctor has told you what -she requires, and of the possible consequences if you are unable to -carry out his directions. Cohen, not one of these things must be lost -sight of in the answer you give to what I propose."</p> - -<p class="normal">Great beads of perspiration were on Aaron's forehead as he murmured, -"I do not lose sight of them. They are like daggers in my heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strangely and unexpectedly," pursued Mr. Moss, "a chance offers -itself that will extricate you out of all your difficulties. You will -not only receive immediately a large sum of money, but you will be in -receipt of a hundred a year, sufficient to keep your family in a -moderate way. What are you asked to do in return for this good -fortune? To take care of an innocent child who has no one to look -after her, who will never be claimed, and about whom you will never be -troubled. You can engage a servant to attend to her, and when you -explain everything to Rachel she will approve of what you have done. -Before I came to you I consulted a gentleman--Dr. Spenlove--who has a -kind heart and correct principles, and agreed with me that the -transaction was perfectly honorable. I have no doubt of it myself, or -I should not be here. Be persuaded, Cohen; it will be a benevolent as -well as a wise act, and all your difficulties will be at an end. What -is it Shakspere says? 'There is a tide in the affairs of men which, -taken at the flood,'--you know the rest. Why, there are thousands who -would jump at the opportunity. Come, now, for Rachel's sake?" Mr. Moss -was genuinely sincere in his advice, and he spoke with earnestness and -feeling.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The child is a girl, Mr. Moss?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A dear little girl, of the same age as your own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! You forget. This little stranger is born of Christian parents."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is no crime, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I say it is? But we are Jews. The stipulation is that she should -be brought up as one of our family, and indeed it could scarcely be -otherwise. She would live her life in a Jewish household. It is that I -am thinking of Mr. Moss, I am at war with my conscience."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will be none the worse off for living with you and Rachel. Your -character is well known, and Rachel is the soul of kindness. You would -be committing no sin, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not so sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then who is to know? You and Rachel are alone, and when she is able -to be moved you will take her for a time to another place. You need -not return here. Rachel's health restored, you should go to London or -Liverpool or Manchester, where your talents would have a larger field. -I always thought it wrong for you to bury yourself in so small a town -as this. There is no scope for you in it; you would never make your -fortune here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I go from this place I shall not return to it. You ask who is to -know, Mr. Moss. God would know; Rachel and I would know. How can I -reconcile it with my conscience to bring up a child in a faith in -which she is not born? It would weigh heavily upon me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is because your views are so strict. I do not see why it should -weigh heavily upon you. If it were a boy I should not press it upon -you; but girls are different. There is very little for them to learn. -To pray--there is only one God. To be good and virtuous--there is only -one code of morality. You know that well enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do know it, but still I cannot reconcile it with my conscience."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In your position," continued Mr. Moss, perceiving that Aaron was -wavering, "I should not hesitate; I should thank God that such a -chance fell in my way. Even as it is, if I did not have eleven -children, and expecting the twelfth, I would take this lamb into my -fold--I would, indeed, Cohen. But my hands are full. Cohen, let me -imagine a case. It is a cold and bitter night, and the world is filled -with poor struggling creatures, with little children who are being -brought up the wrong way. Rachel is asleep upstairs. You are here -alone. Suddenly you hear a cry in the street, the cry of a babe. You -go to the door, and upon the step you see an infant lying, -unsheltered, without a protector. What would you do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should bring it into my house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With pity in your heart, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope so. With pity in my heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor as you are, you would share what you have with the deserted -babe; you would nourish it, you would cherish it. You would say to -Rachel, 'I heard a cry outside the house on this bitter night, and -upon the doorstep I discovered this poor babe; I brought it in, and -gave it shelter.' What would Rachel answer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is a tender-hearted woman; she would answer that I did what was -right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look upon it in that light, and I will continue the case. In the -child's clothes you find a fifty-pound note, and a letter, unsigned, -to the effect that the little one has no protector, is alone in the -world, and beseeching you to take charge of it and save it from -destitution and degradation. No scruples as to the child being a -Christian would disturb you then; you would act as humanity dictated. -In the case I have imagined you would not be at war with your -conscience; why should you be at war with it now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still I must reflect; and I have a question or two to ask. The name -of the mother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not to be divulged."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The name of the father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same answer. Indeed, I do not know it myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is the child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the Salutation Hotel, in the charge of a woman I brought with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My decision must be made to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Supposing it to be in the affirmative, what position do you occupy in -the matter in the future?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None whatever. The task undertook executed, I retire, and have -nothing further to do with it. Anything you choose to communicate with -me would be entirely at your discretion. Voluntarily I should never -make reference to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has passed between us, you informed me, is not to be disclosed -to any other person?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To no other person whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Am I to understand that it has been disclosed to no other?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are. Only Dr. Spenlove and the gentleman who intrusted me with -the commission have any knowledge of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How about the woman who is now taking care of the child at the -Salutation Hotel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is in entire ignorance of the whole proceeding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she not aware that you have come to my house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is not. In the event of your deciding to undertake the charge I -myself will bring the child here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the mother to be made acquainted with my name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is an express stipulation that she is to be kept in ignorance of -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And to this she consented willingly?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Willingly, for her child's good and her own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is Dr. Spenlove to be made acquainted with it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the gentleman whose commission you are executing?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither is he to know. It is his own wish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The liberal allowance for the rearing of the child: by whom will it -be paid?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By a firm of eminent London lawyers whose name and address I will -give you, and to whom I shall communicate by telegram to-night. All -the future business will be solely between you and them without -interference from any living being."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Moss, I thank you; you have performed the office of a friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was my desire, Cohen. Then you consent?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. I must have time for reflection. In an hour from now you shall -have my answer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't throw away the chance," said Mr. Moss very earnestly. -"Remember, it is for Rachel's sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will remember it; but I must commune with myself. If before one -hour has passed you do not see me at the Salutation Hotel you will -understand that I refuse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will you do then, Cohen? How will you manage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God knows. Perhaps he will direct me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss considered a moment, then took ten five pound banknotes from -his pocket, and laid them on the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will leave this money with you," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" cried Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why not? It will do no harm. You are to be trusted, Cohen. In case -you refuse I will take it back. If you do not come for me I will come -for you, so I will not wish you good-night. Don't trouble to come to -the door; I can find my way out."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron was alone, fully conscious that this hour was, perhaps, the most -momentous in his life. The money was before him, and he could not keep -his eyes from it. It meant so much! It seemed to speak to him, to say, -"Life or death to your beloved wife. Reject me, and you know what will -follow." All his efforts to bring himself to a calm reflection of the -position were unavailing. He could not reason, he could not argue with -himself. The question to be answered was not whether it would be right -to take a child born of Christian parents into his house, to bring her -up as one of a Jewish family, but whether his dear wife was to live or -die. And he was the judge, and if he bade his friend take the money -back he would be the executioner. Of what value then would life be to -him? Devout and full of faith as he was, he still, in this dread -crisis, was of the earth earthy. His heart was torn with love's agony.</p> - -<p class="normal">The means of redemption were within his reach. Why should he not avail -himself of them?</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel enjoyed life for the pleasure it gave her; stricken with -blindness as she was, he knew that she would still enjoy it, and that -she would shed comfort and happiness upon all who came in contact with -her. Was it for him to snap the cord, to say, "You shall no longer -enjoy; you shall no longer bestow happiness upon others; you shall no -longer live to lighten the trouble of many suffering mortals, to shed -light and sweetness in many homes"? Was this the way to prove his love -for her? No, he would not shut the door of earthly salvation which had -been so providentially opened to him; he would not pronounce a -sentence of death against the dear woman he had sworn to love and -cherish.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron was not aware that in the view he was taking he was calling to -his aid only these personal and sympathetic affections which bound him -and Rachel together and that out of a common, human selfishness he was -thrusting from the scale the purely moral and religious obligations -which usually played so large a part in his conduct of life. In this -dark hour love was supreme and held him in its thrall; in this dark -hour he was intensely and completely human; in this dark hour the soft -breathing of a feeble woman was more potent than the sound of angels' -trumpets from the Throne of Grace, the sight of a white, worn face -more powerful than that of a flaming sword of justice in the skies.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had arrived at a decision; he would receive the child of strangers -into his home.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before going to the Salutation Hotel to make the announcement to Mr. -Moss he would see that his wife was sleeping, and not likely to awake -during his brief absence from the house. The doctor had assured him -that she would sleep for twelve hours, and he had full confidence in -the assurance; but he must look upon her face once more before he left -her even for a few minutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood at her bedside; she was sleeping peacefully and soundly; her -countenance was now calm and untroubled, and Aaron believed that he -saw in it an indication of returning health. Certainly the rest she -was enjoying was doing her good. He stooped and kissed her, and she -did not stir; her sweet breath fanned his cheeks. Then he turned his -eyes upon his child. And as he gazed upon the infant in its white -dress a terror for which there is no name stole into his heart. Why -was the babe so still and white? Like a marble statue she lay, bereft -of life and motion. He put his ear to her lips--not a breath escaped -them; he laid his hand upon her heart--not the faintest flutter of a -pulse was there. With feverish haste he lifted the little hand, the -head, the body, and for all the response he received he might have -been handling an image of stone. Gradually the truth forced itself -upon him. The young soul had gone to its Maker. His child was dead!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE LIVING AND THE DEAD.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"If our child lives there is hope that my wife will live?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A strong hope; I speak with confidence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if our child dies?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The mother will die."</p> - -<p class="normal">No voice was speaking in the chamber of death, but Aaron heard again -these words which had passed between the doctor and himself. If the -child lived the mother would live; if the child died the mother would -die.</p> - -<p class="normal">A black darkness fell upon his soul. His mind, his soul, every -principle of his being, was engulfed in the one despairing thought -that Rachel was doomed, that although she was sleeping peacefully -before his eyes, death would be her portion when she awoke to the fact -that her babe had been taken from her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If when she wakes all is well with the child all will be well with -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">The spiritual echo of the doctor's words, uttered but a few hours ago. -He heard them as clearly as he had heard the others.</p> - -<p class="normal">How to avert the threatened doom? How to save his Rachel's life? -Prayer would not avail, or he would have flown to it instinctively. It -was not that he asked himself the question, or that in his agony he -doubted or believed in the efficacy of prayer. It may be, indeed, that -he evaded it, for already a strange and terrible temptation was -invading the fortress of his soul. To save the life of his beloved was -he ready to commit a sin? What was the true interpretation of sin? A -perpetrated act which would benefit one human being to the injury of -another. Then if an act were perpetrated which would insure the -happiness and well-doing not of one human creature but of three, and -would inflict injury upon no living soul, that act was not a sin. -Unmistakably not a sin. But if this were really so, wherefore the -necessity for impressing it upon himself? The conviction that he was -acting justly in this hour of woe--that the contemplated act was not -open to doubt in a moral or religious sense--was in itself sufficient. -Wherefore, then, the iteration that it was not a sin?</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not think the matter out in the presence of Rachel and of his -dead child. He stole down to his room, and gave himself up to -reflection. He turned down the gas almost to vanishing point, and -stood in the dark, now thinking in silence, now uttering his thoughts -aloud.</p> - -<p class="normal">A friend had come to him and begged him to receive into his household -a babe, a girl, of the same age as his own babe lying dead in the room -above. She was deserted, friendless, alone. All natural claims had -been abandoned, and the infant was thrown upon the world, without -parents, without kith or kin. Even while he believed his own child to -be alive he had decided to accept the trust. Why should he hesitate -now that his child was dead? It was almost like a miraculous -interposition, or so he chose to present it to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even as we spoke together," he said aloud, "my child had passed away. -Even as I hesitated the messenger was urging me to accept the trust. -It was as if an angel had presented himself, and said, 'The life of -your beloved hangs upon the life of a babe, and the Eternal has called -her child to him. Here is another to take her place. The mother will -not know; she is blind, and has never seen the face of her babe, has -scarcely heard its voice. To-morrow she lives or dies--it is the -critical day in her existence--and whether she lives or dies rests -with you, and with you alone. Science is powerless to help her in the -hour of her trial; love alone will lift her into life, into joy, into -happiness; and upon you lies the responsibility. It is for you to -pronounce the sentence--life or death for your beloved, life or death -for a good woman who, if you do not harden your heart, will shed peace -and blessings upon all around her. Embrace the gift that God has -offered you. Allow no small scruples to drive you from the duty of -love.' Yes," cried Aaron in a louder tone, "it was as if an angel -spoke. Rachel shall live."</p> - -<p class="normal">If there was sophistry in this reasoning he did not see it; but the -still, small voice whispered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a deception you are about to practice. You are about to place -in your wife's arms a child that is not of her blood or yours. You are -about to take a Christian babe to your heart, to rear and instruct her -as if she were born in the old and sacred faith that has survived long -centuries of suffering and oppression. Can you justify it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Love justifies it," he answered. "The good that will spring from it -justifies it. A sweet and ennobling life will be saved. My own life -will be made the better for it, for without my beloved I should be -lost, I should be lost!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the voice: "It is of yourself you are thinking."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if I am?" he answered. "If our lives are so interwoven that one -would be useless and broken without the other, where is the sin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the voice: "Ah, the sin! You have pronounced the word. Remember, -it is a sin of commission."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it," he said, "and I can justify it--and if need arise I can -atone for it in the future. The child will be reared in a virtuous -home, and will have a good woman for a mother. With such an example -before her she cannot fail to grow into a bright and useful womanhood. -I pluck her from the doubtful possibilities which might otherwise -attend her; no word of reproach will ever reach her ears; she will -live in ignorance of the sad circumstances of her birth. Is all this -nothing? Will it not weigh in the balance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the voice: "It is much, and the child is fortunate to fall into -the hands of such protectors. But, I repeat, in using these arguments -you are not thinking of the child; you think only of yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not so," he said; "not alone of myself am I thinking. I am the -arbiter of my wife's earthly destiny. Having the opportunity of -rescuing her from death, what would my future life be if I stand idly -by and see her die before my eyes? Do you ask of me that I shall be -her executioner? The heart of the Eternal is filled with love; he -bestows upon us the gift of love as our divinest consolation. He has -bestowed it upon me in its sweetest form. Shall I lightly throw away -the gift and do a double wrong--to the child that needs a home, to the -woman whose fate is in my hands? Afflict me no longer; I am resolved, -and am doing what I believe to be right in the sight of the Most -High."</p> - -<p class="normal">The voice was silent and spake no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron turned up the gas, gathered the money which Mr. Moss had left -upon the table, and quietly left the house. As he approached the -Salutation Hotel, which was situated at but a short distance, he saw -the light of Mr. Moss' cigar in the street. That gentleman was walking -to and fro, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are here, Cohen," he cried, "and the hour has barely passed! In -order that absolute secrecy should be preserved I thought it best to -wait outside for you. You have decided?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have decided," said Aaron; "I will receive the child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good, good, good," said Mr. Moss, his eyes beaming with satisfaction. -"You are acting like a sensible man, and you have lifted yourself out -of your difficulties. I cannot tell you how glad you make me, for I -take a real interest in you, a real interest. Remain here; I will -bring the babe, and we will walk together to your house. It is well -wrapped up, and we will walk quickly, to protect it from the night -air. I shall not be a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">He darted into the hotel, and soon returned, with the babe in his -arms. Upon Aaron's offering to take the child from him he said gayly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, Cohen; I am more used to carrying babies than you. When you -have a dozen of them, like me, I will admit that we are equal; but not -till then, not till then."</p> - -<p class="normal">Although his joyous tones jarred upon Aaron, he made no remark, and -they proceeded to Aaron's house, Mr. Moss being the loquacious one on -the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The woman I brought with me does not know, does not suspect, where -the child is going to, so we are safe. She goes back to Portsmouth<br> -to-night; I shall remain till the morning. The baby is fast asleep. -What would the world be without children? Did you ever think of that, -Cohen? It would not be worth living in. A home without children--I -cannot imagine it. When I see a childless woman I pity her from my -heart. They try to make up for it with a cat or a dog, but it's a poor -substitute, a poor substitute. If I had no children I would adopt one -or two--yes, indeed. There is a happy future before this child; if she -but knew, if she could speak, her voice would ring out a song of -praise."</p> - -<p class="normal">When they arrived at the house Aaron left Mr. Moss in the room below, -and ran up to ascertain if Rachel had been disturbed. She had not -moved since he last quitted the room, and an expression of profound -peace was settling on her face. His own child lay white and still; a -heavy sigh escaped him as he gazed upon the inanimate tiny form. He -closed the door softly, and rejoined his friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not stay with you, Cohen," said Mr. Moss; "you will have -enough to do. To-morrow you must get a woman to assist in the house. -You have the fifty pounds safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron nodded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have some more money to give you, twenty-five pounds, three months' -payment in advance of the allowance to be made to you for the rearing -of the child. Here it is, and here, also, is the address of the London -lawyers, who will remit to you regularly at the commencement of every -quarter. I shall not leave Gosport till eleven in the morning, and if -you have anything to say to me I shall be at the Salutation till that -hour. Good-night, Cohen; I wish you happiness and good fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">Alone with the babe, who lay on the sofa, which had been drawn up to -the fire, Aaron stood face to face with the solemn responsibility he -had taken upon himself, and with the still more solemn deception to -which he was pledged. For a while he hardly dared to uncover the face -of the sleeping child, but time was precious, and he nerved himself to -the necessity. He sat on the sofa, and gently removed the wrappings -which had protected the child from the cold night, but had not impeded -its powers of respiration.</p> - -<p class="normal">A feeling of awe stole upon him; the child he was gazing on might have -been his own dead child, so startling was the resemblance between -them. There was a little hair upon the pretty head, as there was upon -the head of his dead babe; it was dark, as hers was; there was a -singular resemblance in the features of the children; the limbs, the -feet, the little baby hands, the pouting mouth, might have been cast -in the same mold. The subtle instinct of a mother's love would have -enabled her to know instinctively which of the two was her own babe, -but it would be necessary for that mother to be blessed with sight -before she could arrive at her unerring conclusion. A father could be -easily deceived, and the tender age of the children would have been an -important--perhaps the chief--factor in doubt. "Surely," Aaron thought -as he contemplated the sleeping babe, "this is a sign that I am acting -rightly." Men less devout than he might have regarded it as a divine -interposition.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next hour was occupied in necessary details which had not hitherto -occurred to him. The clothing of the children had to be exchanged. It -was done; the dead was arrayed as the living, the living as the dead. -Mere words are powerless to express Aaron's feelings as he performed -this task, and when he placed the living, breathing babe in the bed in -which Rachel lay, and took his own dead child to an adjoining room and -laid it in his own bed, scalding tears ran down his cheeks. "God -forgive me, God forgive me!" he murmured again and again. He knelt by -Rachel's bed and buried his face in his hands. He had committed -himself to the deception; there was no retreat now. For weal or woe -the deed was done.</p> - -<p class="normal">And there was so much yet to do--so much that he had not thought of! -Each false step he was taking was leading to another as false as that -which preceded it. But if the end justified the means--if he did not -betray himself--if Rachel, awaking, suspected nothing, and heard the -voice of the babe by her side, without suspecting that it was not her -own, why, then, all would be well! And all through his life, to his -last hour, he would endeavor to make atonement for his sin. He -inwardly acknowledged it now, without attempting to gloss it over. It -was a sin; though good would spring from it, though a blessing might -attend it, the act was sinful.</p> - -<p class="normal">His painful musings were arrested by a knock at the street door. With -a guilty start he rose to his feet and gazed around with fear in his -eyes. What did the knock portend? Was it in some dread way connected -with his doings? The thought was harrowing. But presently he -straightened himself, set his lips firmly, and went downstairs to -attend to the summons.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> -<h5>PLUCKED FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss stood at the street door, bearing in his arms the little iron -safe which Dr. Spenlove, at the intercession of the mother who had -consented to part with her child, had intrusted to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In my excitement, Cohen," he commenced before Aaron could speak, -"something slipped my memory when we were talking together. I rapped -softly at first, fearing to disturb Rachel, but no one answering, I -had to use the knocker. I hope I have not disturbed her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is sleeping peacefully," replied Aaron, "and is taking a turn for -the better, I am thankful to say. To-morrow, I trust, all danger will -be over. Come in."</p> - -<p class="normal">He closed the door gently, and they entered the parlor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have come back about this little safe," said Mr. Moss, depositing -it on the table; "it belongs to the task I undertook. The mother of -the babe made it a stipulation that whoever had the care of the child -should receive the safe, and hold it in trust for her until she -claimed it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I understood," said Aaron in apprehension, "that the mother had -no intention of claiming her child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In a certain sense that is a fact. Don't look worried; there is no -fear of any trouble in the future; only she made it a condition that -the safe should go with the child, and that, when the girl was<br> -twenty-one years of age, it should be given to her in case the mother -did not make her appearance and claim the property. It stands this -way, Cohen: The mother took into consideration the chance that the -gentleman she is marrying may die before her, in which event she -stipulated that she should be free to seek her child. That is -reasonable, is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite reasonable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And natural?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite natural. But I should have been informed of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It escaped me--it really escaped me, Cohen; and what difference can -it make? It is only a mother's fancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, only a mother's fancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll lay a thousand to one you never hear anything more about it. Put -the box away, and don't give it another thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron lifted it from the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is heavy, Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, it is heavy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know what it contains?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I haven't the slightest idea."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be something that the mother sets store on--jewels, perhaps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing more unlikely. The poor woman didn't have a shilling to bless -herself with. I shouldn't trouble about it if I were you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have gone too far," said Aaron, sighing; "I cannot retreat."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be madness to dream of such a thing. Remember what depends -upon it. Cohen, in case anything occurs I think I ought to tell you -what has been passing in my mind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In case anything occurs!" repeated Aaron in a hollow tone, and with a -startled look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The poor child," continued Mr. Moss, "has had a hard time of it. We -almost dug her out of the snow last night; the exposure was enough to -kill an infant of tender years, and there's no saying what effect it -may have upon her. If it had been a child of my own I should be -alarmed for the consequences, and I should scarcely expect her to live -through it." Aaron gasped. "The idea distresses you, but we must -always take the human view. Should she not survive no one can be -blamed for it. How is your own dear little girl?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is well," replied Aaron mechanically. He passed his hand across -his eyes despairingly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-night again," said Mr. Moss. "I have sent my telegram to the -London lawyers. Don't forget that I shall be at the Salutation till -eleven in the morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not only the incident of the iron safe that Mr. Moss in the -first instance had omitted to impart to Aaron. In the agreement -formulated by Mr. Gordon there was an undertaking that in the event of -the child's death, or of her marriage if she grew to womanhood, the -lawyers were to pay the sum of five hundred pounds to the person into -whose home the child was received. Mr. Moss had not mentioned this, -and Aaron was in consequence ignorant of the fact. Had he been aware -of it, is it likely that he would have shrunk from carrying out the -scheme inspired by his agony? It is hard to say. During these pregnant -and eventful hours he was dominated by the one overpowering passionate -desire to save the life of his beloved; during these hours all that -was highest and noblest in his nature was deadened by human love.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no rest for him on this night; he did not dare to undress -and seek repose. The moments were too precious; some action had to be -taken, and to be taken soon, and, his mind torn with agony and -remorse, he devoted himself to the consideration of it. In the course -of this mental debate he was plunged at times into the lowest depths -of self-abasement, but the strength of his character and the serious -issues at stake lifted him out of these depths. Ever and anon he crept -into Rachel's room, and derived consolation from the calm sleep she -was enjoying. The doctor's prognostications of returning health seemed -to be on the point of realization; when she awoke in the morning and -clasped her child to her bosom, and heard its sweet voice, all would -be well with her. What need, then, for further justification?</p> - -<p class="normal">But his further action must be decided upon and carried out before -Rachel awoke. And it was imperative that she should be kept in -ignorance of what had taken place. On no account must it be revealed -to her that he had taken a strange child into the house, and that it -had died there within a few hours. In her delicate state the news -might be fatal.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gradually all that it was necessary for him to do unfolded itself, and -was mentally arranged in consecutive order. He waited till three -o'clock, and then he went from his house to the Salutation Hotel. The -night porter, half asleep, was in attendance, and after some demur he -conducted Aaron to Mr. Moss' sleeping apartment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is there?" cried Mr. Moss, aroused by the knocking at his door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is I," replied Aaron. "I must speak to you at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss jumped from bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it all right, sir?" asked the night porter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course it is all right," said Mr. Moss, opening the door, and -admitting his visitor.</p> - -<p class="normal">The night porter returned to his duties, and fell into a doze.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What brings you here at this time of night?" exclaimed Mr. Moss, and -then, seeing the distress in Aaron's face, "Good God! It is not about -Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, it is not about Rachel; it is bad enough, but not so bad as that. -How shall I tell you--how shall I tell you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop a moment," said Mr. Moss. "I ordered half a bottle of port -before I went out, and there is a glass or two left. Drink this."</p> - -<p class="normal">The wine gave Aaron courage to proceed with his task.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have dreadful news to tell you," he said, putting down the glass.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I guess it," interrupted Mr. Moss. "The child!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered Aaron, with averted eyes, "the child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she very ill?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Moss, the child is dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heavens!" cried Mr. Moss, slipping into his clothes as fast as he -could. "What a calamity! But at the same time, Cohen, what a release! -Tell me all about it. Does Rachel know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel does not know. She is still sleeping, and she must not know. -It would kill her--it would kill her!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see the necessity, Cohen; it must be kept from her, and I think I -see how it can be managed. It is a fortunate thing that the woman who -accompanied me here with the poor child has not returned to -Portsmouth, as I bade her. She met with some friends in Gosport, who -persuaded her to stop the night, and she was going back with me in the -morning. I promised to call for her, but she will have to remain here -now till the child is buried. She will not mind, because it will be -something in her pocket. A sad ending, Cohen, a sad ending, but I -feared it. Did I not prophesy it? What else was to be expected after -last night's adventure? But you have not told me how it occurred."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was very simple," said Aaron in a low tone. "I laid the child in -my own bed, intending to call in a woman as soon after daylight as -possible to attend it till Rachel was well and able to get about. She -seemed to be asleep, and was in no pain. I determined not to go to -bed, but to keep up all night, to attend to the little one, and to -Rachel and my own child. Bear with me, Mr. Moss, I am unstrung."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No wonder. Take time, Cohen, take time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now and again I went to look at the child, and observed nothing to -alarm me. An hour ago I closed my eyes, and must have slept; I was -tired out. When I awoke I went upstairs, and was startled by a strange -stillness in the child. I lifted her in my arms. Mr. Moss, she was -dead. I came to you at once to advise me what to do. You must help me, -Mr. Moss; my dear Rachel's life hangs upon it. You know how sensitive -she is; and the doctor has warned me that a sudden shock might be -fatal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will help you, Cohen, of course I will help you; it is my duty, -because it is I who have brought this trouble upon you. But I did it -with the best intentions. I see a way out of the difficulty. The woman -I employed--how fortunate, how fortunate that she is still here!--is a -godsend to us. She is a kind-hearted creature, and she will be sorry -to hear of the child's death, but at the same time she is poor and -will be glad to earn a sovereign. A doctor must see the child, to -testify that she died a natural death. She must have passed away in -her sleep."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She did. Is it necessary that the doctor should visit my house in -order to see the child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all. I have everything planned in my mind. Now I am ready to -go out. First, to the telegraph office--it is open all night here--to -dispatch a telegram to the London lawyers to send a representative -down immediately, who, when he comes, will take the affair out of our -hands, I expect. Afterward to the house of the woman's friends; she -must accompany us to your house, and we will take the child away -before daylight. Then we will call in a doctor, and nothing need reach -Rachel's ears. Don't take it to heart, Cohen; you have troubles enough -of your own. The news you give me of Rachel is the best of news. Joy -and sorrow, Cohen--how close they are together!"</p> - -<p class="normal">In the telegraph office Mr. Moss wrote a long message to Mr. Gordon's -lawyers, impressing upon them the necessity of sending a -representative without delay to take charge of the body, and to attend -to the funeral arrangements.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Between ourselves, Cohen," he said as they walked to the house of the -woman's friends, "the lawyers will be rather glad of the news than -otherwise; and so will Mr. Gordon when it reaches him. It clears the -way for him, in a manner of speaking. I am not sure whether I made the -matter clear to you, but there is no doubt whatever that, so far as -Mr. Gordon is concerned, the child was an encumbrance--to say nothing -of the expense, which perhaps he would not have minded, being almost a -millionaire. But still, as it has turned out, he has got rid of a -difficulty, and he will not be sorry when he hears of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the mother," said Aaron--"how will she take it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is another matter, and I will not pretend to say. There are -mothers and mothers, and fathers and fathers. We know, Cohen, what we -think of our own children, but there are people in the world with -different ideas from ours. The mother of this little one will feel -grieved at first, no doubt, but she will soon get over it. Then, -perhaps, her husband will not tell her. Here we are at the woman's -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">They halted before a small cottage, evidently inhabited by people in -humble circumstances. Before he aroused the inmates Mr. Moss said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall keep your name out of the affair, Cohen, but to a certain -extent the woman must be taken into our confidence. Secrecy will be -imposed upon her, and she will be paid for it. Remain in the -background; I will speak to her alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman herself came to the door, and when she was dressed Mr. Moss -had a conversation with her, the result of which was that she and the -two men walked to Aaron's house, where she took charge of the dead -child, and carried it to the cottage. Then she went for a doctor--to -Aaron's relief not the doctor who attended his wife--and as there was -no doubt that the child had died a natural death, a certificate to -that effect was given. At six in the morning Aaron returned to Rachel, -and sitting by her bedside, waited for her awakening. The potion she -had taken was to insure sleep for twelve hours; in two hours he would -hear her voice; in two hours she would be caressing a babe to which -she had not given birth.</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed to Aaron as though months had passed since Mr. Moss had -presented himself at his house last night, and for a while it almost -seemed as though, in that brief time, it was not himself who had -played the principal part in this strange human drama, but another -being who had acted for him, and who had made him responsible for an -act which was to color all his future life. But he did not permit -himself to indulge long in this view of what had transpired; he knew -and felt that he, and he alone, was responsible, and that to his dying -day he would be accountable for it. Well, he would bear the burden, -and would, by every means within his power, endeavor to atone for it. -He would keep strict watch over himself; he would never give way to -temptation; he would act justly and honorably; he would check the -hasty word; he would make no enemies; he would be kind and considerate -to all around him. He did not lay the flattering unction to his soul -that in thus sketching his future rule of life he was merely -committing himself to that which he had always followed in the past. -This one act seemed to cast a shadow over all that had gone before; he -had to commence anew.</p> - -<p class="normal">At eight o'clock Rachel stirred; she raised her arm and put her hand -to her eyes, blind to all the world, blind to his sin, blind to -everything but love. Then instinctively she drew the babe nearer to -her. A faint cooing issued from the infant's lips, and an expression -of joy overspread the mother's features. This joy found its reflex in -Aaron's heart, but the anxiety under which he labored was not yet -dispelled. Was there some suitable instinct in a mother's love which -would convey to Rachel's sense the agonizing truth that the child she -held in her arms was not her own.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no indication of it. She fondled the child, she suckled it, -the light of heaven shone in her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aaron!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My beloved!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you hear our child, our dear one? Ah, what happiness!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!" said Aaron inly. "Oh, God be thanked!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it early or late, dear love?" asked Rachel. "It is morning, I -know, for I see the light; I feel it here"--with her hand pressing the -infant's head to her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is eight o'clock, beloved," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have had a long and beautiful sleep. I do not think I have dreamed, -but I have been so happy--so happy! My strength seems to be returning. -I have not felt so well since the night of the fire. Our darling seems -stronger too; it is because I am so much better. I must think of that; -it is a mother's duty to keep well for her child's sake, and, dear -husband, for your sake also. I do not love you less because I love our -child so dearly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sure of that, beloved. Should I be jealous of our child? That -would be as foolish as it would be unwise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You speak more cheerfully, Aaron. Is that because of me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is because of you, beloved. We both draw life and happiness from -you. Therefore get strong soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall--I feel I shall. My mind is clear; there is no weight on my -heart. Before many days have passed I shall be out of bed, learning my -new duties. Aaron, our child will live!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will live to bless and comfort us, beloved."</p> - -<p class="normal">She passed her hand over his face. "You are crying, Aaron."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are tears of joy, Rachel, at seeing you so much better. A -terrible fear has weighed me down; it is removed, thanks be to the -Eternal! The world was dark till now; I dared not think of the future. -Now all is well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Am I, indeed, so much to you, dear husband?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are my life. As the sun is to the earth so are you to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The wife, the husband, and the child lay in each other's embrace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God is good," murmured Rachel. "I did so want to live, for you and -for our child! But I feared, I feared; strength seemed to be departing -from me. What will they do, I thought, when I am gone? But God has -laid his hand upon us and blessed us. Praised be his name forever and -ever!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Amen, amen! I have not yet said my morning prayers. It is time."</p> - -<p class="normal">She sank back in bed, and he put on his taleth and phylacteries, and -prayed fervently. He did not confine himself to his usual morning -devotions, but sought his book for propitiatory supplications for -forgiveness for transgression. "Forgive us, oh, our Father! for we -have sinned; pardon us, oh, our King! for we have transgressed; for -thou art ever ready to pardon and forgive. Blessed art thou, the -Eternal, who is gracious and doth abundantly pardon." And while he -supplicated forgiveness Rachel lay and sang a song of love.</p> - -<p class="normal">His prayers ended, Aaron folded his taleth and wound up his -phylacteries, and resumed his seat by Rachel's bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"While you slept last night, dear love," he said, "a piece of good -fortune fell to my share, through our friend, Mr. Moss. I shall be -able to take a servant in the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How glad I am!" she answered. "It distressed me greatly to know that -you had everything to attend to yourself. A woman, or a girl, is so -necessary!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is altogether a brighter outlook for us, Rachel. Do you think -Prissy would do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is very handy, and very willing. If you could manage until I can -get up I could soon teach her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go, then, and see if she is able to come. You must not mind -being alone a little while."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall not be alone, dear," said Rachel, with a bright smile at the -child.</p> - -<p class="normal">He prepared breakfast for her before he left, and she partook of it -with a keen appetite. Then he went on his mission, and met Mr. Moss -coming to the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have had a telegram," said that gentleman, "in reply to mine. A -gentleman will arrive from London this afternoon to attend to matters. -You look brighter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel is much better," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are in luck all round, Cohen. There are men who always fall on -their feet. I'm one of them; you're another. This time yesterday you -were in despair; now you're in clover. Upon my word, I am as glad as -if it had happened to myself. You know one of our sayings: 'Next to me -my wife; next to my wife my child; next to my child my friend.' My -good old father told me it was one of the wise sayings of Rabbi ben--I -forgot who he was the son of. A friend of ours who used to come to our -house said to my father that there was no wisdom and no goodness in -the saying, because the rabbi put himself first, as being of more -consequence than wife and child and friend. My father answered, 'You -are wrong; there is wisdom, there is goodness, there is sense in it. -Self is the greatest of earthly kings. Put yourself in one scale, and -pile up all the world in the other, and you will weigh it down.' He -was right. What comes so close home to us as our own troubles and -sorrows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing," said Aaron rather sadly; "they outweigh all the rest. We -are all human, and being human, fallible. Can you imagine an instance, -Mr. Moss, where love may lead to crime?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can, and what is more, I would undertake to justify it. Who is this -little girl?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The diversion in the conversation was caused by Prissy, who had run to -Aaron, and was plucking at his coat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good girl who attends to our Sabbath lights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Ow's missis, please, sir?" inquired Prissy anxiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Much better this morning, thank you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the babby, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also better and stronger, Prissy." Prissy jumped up and down in -delight. "I was coming to see you. Do you think your aunt would let -you come to us as a regular servant, to live and eat and sleep in the -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">This vision of happiness almost took Prissy's breath away, but she -managed to reply, "If yer'd make it worth 'er while she would, Mr. -Cohen. She's allus telling me I'm taking the bread out of 'er mouth, -and aint worth my salt. Oh, Mr. Cohen, <i>will</i> yer take me, <i>will</i> yer? -I don't care where I sleep, I don't care wot yer give me to eat, I'll -work for yer day and night, I will! Aunty makes my life a misery, she -does, and I've lost Wictoria Rejiner, sir. She's got another nuss, and -I aint got nobody to care for now. Aunty sed this morning I was a -reg'lar pest, and she wished she could sell me at so much a pound."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You don't weigh a great deal," said Aaron, gazing at Prissy in pity, -and then, with a touch of his old humor, "How much a pound do you -think she would take?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come and arks 'er, Mr. Cohen, come and arks 'er," cried Prissy, -running before Aaron, and looking back imploringly at him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He and Mr. Moss followed the girl into the presence of Prissy's aunt, -and although he did not buy Prissy by the pound weight, he made a -bargain with the woman, and by the outlay of five shillings secured -the girl's permanent services, it being understood that she was not to -take her niece away without Prissy's consent. As they walked back to -Aaron's house he spoke to Prissy about wages, but the girl, who felt -as if heaven's gates had opened for her to enter, interrupted him by -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't talk about wages, sir, please don't. I don't want no wages. -Give me a frock and a bone, and I'll work the skin off my fingers for -yer, I will!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Extravagant as were her professions, never was a poor girl more in -earnest than Prissy.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE CURTAIN FALLS.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss and Aaron spent the greater part of the day together, -awaiting the arrival of Mr. Gordon's legal representative. The doctor -who attended Rachel called only once, and gave a good report of her -condition.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The crisis is over," he said to Aaron. "Your wife and child will -live. In a few days Mrs. Cohen will be strong enough to be removed, -and I advise that you take her away without delay to the south of -France, where, before spring, her health will be completely<br> -re-established."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not until the doctor had departed that the question presented -itself to Aaron whether he had any right to the fifty pounds he had -received from Mr. Moss. He was clear as to the second sum of<br> -twenty-five pounds; that must be returned. He wished Mr. Moss to take -it back, but that gentleman would have nothing to do with it; and as -to Aaron's right to retain the fifty pounds he entertained no doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is undisputably yours," he said; "it was handed to me by Mr. -Gordon himself for a specific purpose, and I look upon it as a -retaining fee. No lawyer returns such a fee when the case breaks down. -Understand, please, Cohen, that I am no longer acting in the affair. -It rests now between you and the lawyers."</p> - -<p class="normal">Late in the afternoon Mr. Moss went to the railway station to meet the -lawyer, and the two proceeded together to the house where the dead -child lay. Arrangements for the funeral were made, and then Mr. Moss -conducted the lawyer, whose name was Chesterman, to Aaron's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Chesterman has something to say to you, Cohen," he said; "I will -leave you together." He took Aaron aside. "It is something of great -importance, a wonderful stroke of fortune. Don't throw it away. It -will be the making of you--and remember Rachel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Moss," commenced Mr. Chesterman when he and Aaron were alone, -"has related to me all that has occurred. In a general sense the death -of the child is to be regretted, as would be the death of any person, -old or young, but there are peculiar circumstances in this case which -render this visitation of God a relief to certain parties. It removes -all difficulties from the future, and there is now no likelihood of -our client's plans being hampered or interfered with. You are aware -that he is a gentleman of fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been so informed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may not be aware, however, that he is a gentleman of very decided -views, and that he is not to be turned from any resolution he may have -formed. We lawyers have to deal with clients of very different -temperaments, and when a case is submitted to us by a strong-minded -gentleman we may advise, but we may not waste time in arguing. I -understand from Mr. Moss that you have some scruples with respect to -the money you have received from him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish to know whether I may consider the first sum of fifty pounds -mine; I have my doubts about it. As to the second sum of twenty-five -pounds paid in advance for the rearing of the child I have no doubt -whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have nothing to do with either of those sums; they do not come -from us, but independently from our client to Mr. Moss, and from Mr. -Moss to you. Without being consulted professionally, I agree with Mr. -Moss that the fifty pounds are yours. I offer no opinion upon the -second sum."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you will give me your client's address I will communicate with -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We cannot disclose it to you; it is confided to us professionally, -and our instructions are to keep it secret."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can give him my name and address."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. His stipulation is that it is not to be made known to him. If at -any time he asks us voluntarily for it that is another matter, and I -will make a note of it. The special purpose of my visit is to complete -and carry out to the last letter our client's instructions. The -conditions to which he bound himself were very liberal. With a -generous desire for the child's welfare in the event of her living and -marrying, he placed in our hands the sum of five hundred pounds as a -marriage dowry, to be paid over to her on her wedding day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A noble-minded gentleman," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Chesterman smiled. "Different people, different temperaments. In -the event of the child's death this five hundred pounds was to be paid -over to the party or parties who undertook the charge of her. The -child is dead; the five hundred pounds is to be paid over to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, sir," said Aaron in astonishment, "do you not understand that I -cannot accept this money?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not for us to understand; it is for us to carry out -instructions. I have brought the sum with me, and all I have to do is -to hand it over to you, and to take your receipt for it. Mr. Moss -hinted to me that you might raise objections; my reply was, Nonsense. -The money belongs to you by legal and moral right, and I decline to -listen to objections. If it is any satisfaction to you I may tell you -that our client can well afford to pay it, and that by its early -payment he is a considerable gainer, for he is no longer under the -obligation to pay a hundred a year for the child's maintenance. Here -is the receipt legally drawn out; oblige me by signing it."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in vain for Aaron to protest; the lawyer insisted, and at -length, fearing the consequences of a decided refusal, Aaron put his -name to the paper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our business being concluded," said Mr. Chesterman, rising, "I have -the pleasure of wishing you good-day. Should in the future any -necessity for the statement arise I shall not hesitate to declare that -the child was placed in the care of an honorable gentleman who would -have faithfully performed his duty toward her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God forgive me," said Aaron when his visitor was gone, "for the sin I -have committed! God help me to atone for it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But he would have been less than human had he not felt grateful that -the means were placed in his hands to restore his beloved wife to -health and strength. Before a week had passed he and Rachel and the -child, accompanied by Prissy, were travelers to a milder clime.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4> -<h5>AFTER MANY YEARS.</h5> - -<p class="normal">A man upon whose face all that is noble and steadfast seems to have -set its seal, to give the world assurance that here was one who, had -his lot been so cast, would have ruled over men with justice, truth, -and honor. He is of a goodly height, and his features are large and -clearly defined. A sensitive, resolute mouth, calm, well-proportioned -lips, which close without restraint and are eloquent even when the -tongue is silent, a nose gently arched, with curved, indented -nostrils, a massive forehead, almost oval at the top, and with -projecting lower arches, the eyebrows near to the large brown<br> -eyes, the chin and cheeks clothed in a handsome beard, in which<br> -gray hairs are making themselves manifest. Powerful, benignant, and -self-possessed as is his appearance, there is an underlying sadness in -his eyes which could be variously construed--as born of a large -experience of human ways, and of the errors into which mortals are -prone to fall, or, maybe, of an ever-abiding remembrance of one moment -in his own life when he also was tempted and fell. But no such thought -as the latter ever entered the minds of those who knew him personally -and those who judged him by the repute he bore, which could only have -been earned by a man who walked unflinchingly and unerringly in the -straight path, and was just and merciful to all who came in contact -with him. This is Aaron Cohen, now close upon his fiftieth year.</p> - -<p class="normal">A woman whose tranquil eyes never see the light of day, but in which, -nevertheless, there is no sign of repining or regret. Purity and -sweetness dwell in her face, and as she stands motionless, in a -listening attitude, her white hand resting on the table, no more -exquisite representation of peace and universal love and sympathy -could be found in living form or marble statue. She is fair almost to -whiteness, and although her figure is slight and there is no color in -her cheeks, she is in perfect health--only that sometimes during the -day she closes her eyes and sleeps in her armchair for a few minutes. -In those intervals of unconsciousness, and when she seeks her couch, -she sees fairer pictures, perhaps, than if the wonders of the visible -world were an open book to her. Her dreams are inspired by a soul of -goodness, and her husband's heart, as he gazes upon her in her -unconscious hours, is always stirred to prayer and thankfulness that -she is by his side to bless his days. Not only in the house is her -influence felt. She is indefatigable in her efforts to seek out -deserving cases of distress and to relieve them; and she does not -confine her charity to those of her faith. In this regard Jew and -Christian are alike to her, and not a week passes that she does not -plant in some poor home a seed which grows into a flower to gladden -and cheer the hearts of the unfortunate and suffering. Grateful eyes -follow her movements, and a blessing is shed upon her as she departs. -A ministering angel is she, whose words are balm, whose presence -brings sweet life into dark spaces. So might an invisible herald of -the Lord walk the earth, healing the sick, lifting up the fallen, -laying his hand upon the wounded breast, and whispering to all: "Be -comforted. God has heard your prayers, and has sent me to relieve -you." This is Rachel Cohen, Aaron's wife, in her forty-fourth year.</p> - -<p class="normal">A younger woman, in her springtime, with life's fairest pages spread -before her. Darker than Rachel is she, with darker hair and eyes and -complexion, slim, graceful, and beautiful. It is impossible that she -should not have felt the influence of the home in which she has been -reared, and that she should not be the better for it, for it is a home -in which the domestic affections unceasingly display themselves in -their tenderest aspect, in which the purest and most ennobling lessons -of life are inculcated by precept and practice; but a profound student -of human nature, whose keen insight would enable him to plumb the -depths of passion, to detect what lay beneath the surface, to trace -the probable course of the psychological inheritance which all parents -transmit to their children, would have come to the conclusion that in -this fair young creature were instincts and promptings which were -likely one day to give forth a discordant note in this abode of peace -and love, and to break into rebellion. There is no outward indication -of such possible rebellion. To the friends and acquaintances of the -household she is a lovely and gracious Jewish maiden, who shall in -time become a mother in Judah. This is Ruth Cohen, in the eyes of all -the world the daughter of Aaron and Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">A young man, Ruth's junior by a year, with his father's strength of -character and his mother's sweetness of disposition. He is, as yet, -too young for the full development of this rare combination of -qualities, the outcome of which is to be made manifest in the future, -but he is not too young to win love and respect. His love for his -parents is ardent, his faith in them indelible. To him his mother is a -saint, his father a man without blemish. Were he asked to express his -most earnest wishes he would answer, "When I am my father's age may I -be honored as he is; when I marry may my wife be as my mother is." -This is Joseph Cohen, the one other child of Aaron and Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">A tall ungainly woman of thirty, working like a willing slave from -morning to night, taking pride and pleasure in the home, and -metaphorically prostrating herself before everyone who lives beneath -its roof. Esteemed and valued by her master and mistress, for whom she -is ready to sacrifice herself, and to undergo any privation; -especially watchful of her mistress, and tender toward her; jealous of -the good name of those whom she serves with devotion. This is Prissy, -the ever true, the ever faithful.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE FOUNDATION OF AARON'S FORTUNE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Eventful indeed to Aaron Cohen had been the twenty years since he left -Gosport. In the south of France, where they remained for a much longer -time than he intended, Rachel was restored to health, and Aaron had -the joy of seeing her move happily about the house and garden, and of -hearing her sing to her baby the songs and lullabys which, from a -mother's lips, are so fraught with melodious and tender meaning. It -almost seemed as if she had inward cause for thankfulness that -blindness had fallen upon her, for Aaron had never known her to be so -blithe and lighthearted as during those weeks of returning health. -Prissy was invaluable to them, and proved to be a veritable treasure. -The short time it took her to learn her duties, the swiftness and -eagerness with which they were performed, the delight she took in the -babe, who soon replaced Victoria Regina in her affections, and the -care and skill with which she guided her mistress' movements, amazed -Aaron. He had divined from the first that she was a shrewd, clever -girl, and he had the satisfaction of discovering that she was much -cleverer than he would have ventured to give her credit for. She was -tidier in her dress, too, and never presented herself unless she was -clean and neat. She became, in a sense, her mistress' teacher, and -Rachel was so apt a pupil that Aaron's apprehensions that she would -meet with an accident if she moved too freely about were soon -dispelled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it not wonderful, love?" she said. "I think I must have eyes at -the tips of my fingers. But it is Prissy I have to thank for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">She repaid the girl, be sure. Gradually Prissy's mode of expressing -herself underwent improvement; she did not use so many negatives, she -dropped fewer h's, she learned to distinguish between g's and k's, and -Aaron himself laid the first stone in her education by teaching her -the A B C. One thing Prissy would not learn; she obstinately refused -to have anything to do with the French language. She did make a -commencement, but when she was told that <i>chou</i> (she scornfully turned -her back on <i>du</i>) was cabbage it was the last straw. "In course we -choo," she said; "wot do we put things in our mouth for?" She had -previously shied at <i>pain</i>, declaring that bread was pleasure. English -was good enough for her, she declared, and to the English tongue she -nailed her colors. Fond as she was of babies, she would not -countenance French babies, and said it was a shame to dress them so. -"I'm a troo bloo, sir," she said to Aaron; "please don't force me." -And with a hearty laugh he desisted.</p> - -<p class="normal">He himself spoke French fluently, and to this may be ascribed the -first change in his fortunes. Easy in his mind respecting Rachel, easy -respecting money, he found himself at leisure to look about him and -observe. He made friends, and among them a poor French engineer of -great skill. In conversation one day this engineer mentioned that -tenders were invited for the construction of a local bridge. It was -not a very important matter; the lake it was to span was of no great -dimensions, and the bridge required was by no means formidable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are only two contractors who will tender for it," said the -engineer, "and they are in each other's confidence. They will settle -privately the amount of their separate tenders, and the lowest will -obtain the contract. They will divide the profits between them. If I -had a little money to commence with I would tender for the work, and -my tender would be at least ten thousand francs below theirs. Then it -would be I who would construct the bridge, and public money would be -saved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would be your profit?" asked Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Twenty thousand francs," was the reply, "perhaps more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the amount of your tender?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Eighty thousand francs. I have the plans and specifications, and -every detail of expense for material and labor, in my house. Will you -come and look over them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron examined them, and submitting them to the test of inquiry<br> -as to the cost of labor and material, found them to be correct. A -simple-minded man might have been taken in by a schemer who had -prepared complicated figures for the purpose of trading with another -person's money, and standing the chance of losing or winning; but -Aaron was not simple-minded, the poor engineer was not a schemer, and -the figures were honestly set down.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would not need a great amount of money," said the engineer. "If a -certain sum were deposited in the bank a further sum could be raised -upon the signed contract being given as security, and moreover, as the -work proceeds, specified payments will be made by the local -authorities."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How much would be required to commence operations, and to make -everything safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ten thousand francs."</p> - -<p class="normal">Roughly, that was four hundred pounds. The five hundred pounds he had -received from the lawyers were as yet untouched, for they lived very -economically, and they were in a part of the world where thrift was -part of the people's education. Aaron believed the project to be safe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I advance it?" he asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We would make it a partnership affair," replied the poor engineer -eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon that understanding the bridge was tendered for, and the tender -accepted. In four months the work was executed and passed by the -inspectors; they received the balance due to them, and a division of -the profits was made. After paying all his expenses Aaron was the -richer by two hundred pounds. He gave fifty pounds to the poor, which -raised him in the estimation of the people among whom he was -temporarily sojourning. He had not been idle during the four months -occupied by the building of the bridge; under the guidance of his -partner he had superintended the workmen and undertaken the -correspondence and management of the accounts; and new as these duties -were to him he had shown great intelligence and aptitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We met on a fortunate day," said the engineer.</p> - -<p class="normal">At about this time a new engineering project presented itself. It was -on a larger scale than the first, and the two men, emboldened by their -success, tendered for it. Again did fortune favor them; everybody, -with the exception of rival contractors, was on their side. In the -carrying out of their first contract there had not been a hitch; they -had paid their workmen better wages, they had behaved honestly and -liberally all around, and they had already achieved a reputation. -Moreover, people were talking of Rachel's kindness and of Aaron's -benevolence. Hats were lifted to them, women and children left flowers -at their door; rich was the harvest they gathered for their charity.</p> - -<p class="normal">When it was known they had obtained another contract the best workmen -came to them for employment, and they learned what all employers of -labor may learn, that it is wise policy to pay generously for bone and -muscle. The hateful political economy of Ricardo, which would grind -labor down to starvation pittance, could never find lodgment in the -mind of such a man as Aaron Cohen. The new venture was entirely -successful, and being of greater magnitude than the first, the profits -were larger. Aaron was the possessor of two thousand pounds. He gave -two hundred pounds to the poor. He did more than this. The doctor who -had attended Rachel in Gosport had declined to accept a fee, and Aaron -now wrote him a grateful letter, inclosing in it a draught for a -hundred pounds, which he asked the doctor to distribute among the -local charities. That the receipt of this money afforded gratification -to the doctor was evidenced in his reply. "Everyone here," he said, -"has kind words for you and your estimable wife, and the general -feeling is that if you had continued to reside in Gosport it would -have been a source of pleasure to all of us. When I speak of your good -fortune all the townsfolk say, 'We are glad to hear it.'" Thus did -good spring out of evil.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron felt that his foot was on the ladder. He entered into a three -years' partnership with his friend the engineer, and they executed -many public works, and never had a failure. The justness of their -trading, their consideration for the toilers who were helping to build -up a fortune for them, the honest wages they paid, earned for them an -exceptional reputation for rectitude and fair dealing. In these -matters, and in this direction, Aaron was the guiding spirit. He left -to his partner the technical working out of their operations, and took -himself the control of wages and finance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Occasionally there were arguments between him and his partner, the -latter hinting, perhaps, that there was a cheaper market, and that so -much money could be saved by employing such and such middlemen, who -offered to supply labor and material at prices that were not equitable -from the point of view of the toilers and producers. Aaron would not -entertain propositions of this kind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are doing well," he said, "we are making money, we are harvesting. -Be satisfied."</p> - -<p class="normal">His partner gave way; Aaron's character was too strong for resistance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Clean and comfortable homes," said Aaron, "a good education for their -children, a modest enjoyment of the world's pleasures--these are the -laborers' due."</p> - -<p class="normal">Hearing of this, some large employers called him quixotic and said he -was ruining trade, but he pursued the just and even tenor of his way, -satisfied that he was a savior and not a spoiler.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon the conclusion of each transaction, when the accounts were -balanced, he devoted a portion of his profits to benevolent purposes, -and he became renowned as a public benefactor. The thanks that were -showered upon him did not please him, but tended rather to humiliate -and humble him; he would not listen to expressions of gratitude; and -it will be presently seen that when he returned to England he took -steps to avoid the publicity which was distasteful to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile Rachel throve. She walked with an elastic spring in her -feet, as though in response to nature's greeting, and joy and -happiness accompanied her everywhere. She was profoundly and devoutly -grateful for her husband's better fortune, and daily rendered up -thanks for it to the Giver of all good. She took pleasure in -everything; blind as she was, she enjoyed nature's gifts to the full. -In winter it was extraordinary to hear her describe the aspect of -woods and fields in their white feathery mantle; with deep-drawn -breath she inhaled the fresh cold air, and a glory rested on her face -as she trod the snow-clad paths.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she visited the poor on those cold days Prissy accompanied her, -carrying a well-filled basket on her arm. Her sympathy with the sick -and suffering was divine, and in the bleakest hours, when the sky was -overcast and the light was hidden from shivering mortals, she was the -herald of sunshine. A priest met her on one of these journeys, and -gave her good-day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-day, father," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know me!" he exclaimed, surprised.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard your voice a fortnight ago," she replied, "in the cottage I -am going to now, and I never forget a voice. After you were gone the -poor woman told me you were her priest. I heard so much of you that -was beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">She put forth her hand; he hesitated a moment, then took it and -pressed it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a Jewess?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me come and talk to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, father, come and talk to me of your poor, to whom you are so -good. You do so much; I, being blind, can do so little. If you will -allow me"--she offered him some gold pieces, and he accepted them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Holy Mother have you in her keeping," he said: and went his way.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dogs and horses were her friends, and looked wistfully for recognition -when she was near them. She scattered food for the birds, and they -grew to know her; some would even pick crumbs from her hands. "I do -not think," she said, "they would trust me so if I were not blind. -They know I cannot see, and cannot harm them." Aaron thought -differently; not a creature that drew breath could fail to trust and -love this sweet woman whom God had spared to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whom God had spared to him! When the thought thus expressed itself he -raised his eyes to heaven in supplication.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was the first to taste the sweet breath of spring.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Spring is coming," she said; "the birds are trilling the joyful news. -How busy they are over their nests! In a little while we shall see the -flowers."</p> - -<p class="normal">She invariably spoke of things as if she could see them, as doubtless -she did with spiritual sight, investing them with a beauty which was -not of this world. It was her delight in summer to sit beneath the -branches of a favorite cherry tree, and to follow with her ears the -gambols of her children. For she had two now.</p> - -<p class="normal">A year after they left Gosport another child was born to them, Joseph, -to whom Aaron clave with intense and passionate love. It was not that -he was cold to Ruth, that he was not unremitting in showing her -affection, but in his love for his son there was a finer quality of -which no one but himself was conscious. He had prayed for another -child, and the blessing was bestowed upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the first flush of his happiness he was tempted to regard this gift -of God as a token that his sin was forgiven, but he soon thrust this -reflection aside, refusing to accept his own interpretation of his sin -as an atonement for its committal. It was presumptuous in man to set -lines and boundaries to the judgment of the Eternal. It was to Rachel -that this blessing was vouchsafed, for a time might come when she -would find in it a consolation for a revelation that would embitter -the sweet waters of life. Both the children were pretty and engaging, -and had winning and endearing ways, which in the mother's sightless -eyes were magnified a thousandfold.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the following year a picture by a famous painter was exhibited by -the Paris Salon; it was entitled "A Jewish Mother," and represented a -woman sitting beneath a cherry tree in flower, with two young children -gamboling on the turf at her feet. In the background were two men,<br> -the curé of the village and a Jew, the latter being the woman's -husband, and looking like a modern Moses. The faces of the men--one -full-flushed, with massive features and a grand beard, the other<br> -spare and lean, with thin, clear-cut features and a close-shaven<br> -face--formed a fine contrast. But although the points of this contrast -were brought out in masterly fashion, and although the rustic scene -was full of beauty, the supreme attraction of the picture lay in the -woman's face. It dwelt in the minds of all who beheld it, and it is -not too much to say that it carried with it an influence for good.</p> - -<p class="normal">So is it also with a pure poem and story; the impression they leave is -an incentive to kindly act and tolerant judgment; they soften, they -ameliorate, they bring into play the higher attributes of human -nature, and in their practical results a benefit is conferred equally -upon the sufferer by the wayside and the Samaritan who pours oil upon -his wounds.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is the woman?" asked the critics, and no one could answer the -question except the painter, and he held his tongue.</p> - -<p class="normal">The secret was this: The famous painter, passing through the village -with the subject of his next great picture in his mind, saw Rachel, -and was spellbound by the purity and grace of her face and figure. -Traveling under an assumed name, in order that he should not be -disturbed by the trumpet blasts of fame--a proof (clear to few men) -that there is pleasure in obscurity--he cast aside the subject he had -intended to paint, and determined to take Rachel in its stead. He made -himself acquainted with her story, was introduced to Aaron, and -contrived to make himself welcome in their home--no difficult matter, -for Aaron was ever ready to appreciate intellect.</p> - -<p class="normal">Many an evening did this painter pass with them, sometimes in company -with the curé, and many a friendly argument did they have. He did not -ask Rachel and Aaron to be his models, but he made innumerable -sketches of them, and remained in the village long enough to -accumulate all the principal points and accessories for his picture. -Then he departed and painted his masterpiece elsewhere.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some time afterward he revisited the village with the intention of -making acknowledgment for the inspiration, but Aaron and his family -had departed, and the painter's secret was undivulged.</p> - -<p class="normal">As it was with Rachel in winter and spring so was it in summer and -autumn. The flowers, the butterflies, the fragrant perfumes of garden -and hedgerow, all appealed powerfully to her, and all were in kinship -with her. The village children would follow her in the gloaming, -singing their simple songs; brawlers, ashamed, would cease contending -when she came in sight; women would stand at their cottage doors, and -gaze reverently upon her as she passed. Not a harsh thought was -harbored against her or hers; her gentle spirit was an incentive to -gentleness; she was a living tender embodiment of peace on earth and -good will to all. The whisper of the corn in the autumn, when the -golden stalks bowed their heads to the passing breeze, conveyed a -divine message to her soul; and indeed she said seriously to Aaron -that she sometimes fancied she heard voices in the air, and that they -were a pleasure to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The three years having expired, the partnership came to an end. The -engineer was invited to Russia to undertake some great work for the -government, and Aaron would not accompany him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the first place," he said, "I will not expose my wife and children -to the rigors of such a climate. In the second place, I will not go -because I am a Jew, and because, being one, I should meet with no -justice in that land. In the annals of history no greater infamy can -be found than the persecution to which my brethren are subjected in -that horrible country. In former ages, when the masses lived and died -ignorant and unlettered, like the beasts of the field, one can -understand how it was that the iron hand ruled and crushed common -human rights out of existence; but in these days, when light is -spreading all over the world except in such a den of hideous -corruption and monstrous tyranny as Russia, it is almost incredible -that these cruelties are allowed to be practiced."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How would you put a stop to them?" asked the engineer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will suppose a case," Aaron answered. "You are a married man, with -wife and children, and you have for your neighbor another married man -with wife and children. You bring up your family decently, you treat -them kindly, you have an affection for them. All round you other men -with wives are doing the same; but there is one exception--your brutal -neighbor. Daily and nightly shrieks of agony are heard proceeding from -his house, terrible cries of suffering, imploring appeals for help and -mercy. He has a numerous family of children, all of whom have been -born in the house of which he is a ruler, all of whom recognize him as -their king and are ready and anxious to pay him respect, all of whom -have a natural claim upon him for protection, all of whom work for him -and contribute toward the expenses of his household. Some of these -children he loves, some he hates, and it is those he hates whom he -oppresses. From them proceed these shrieks of agony, these cries of -suffering, these appeals for help. You see them issue from his house -torn and bleeding, their faces convulsed with anguish, their hearts -racked with woe; you see them return to it--inexorable necessity -drives them there; they have no other home, and there is no escape for -them--trembling with fear, for the lash awaits them, and torture -chambers are there to drive them to the last stage of despair. And -their shrieks and supplications eternally pierce the air you breathe, -while the oppressed ones stretch forth their hands to the monster who -makes their lives a hell upon earth. What do they ask? That they -should be allowed to live in peace. But this reasonable and natural -request infuriates the tyrant. He flings them to the ground and grinds -his iron heel into their bleeding flesh, he spits in their faces, and -orders his torturers to draw the cords tighter around them. It is not -for a day, it is not for a week, it is not for a year, it is forever. -They die, and leave children behind them who are treated in the same -fashion, and for them, as it was with their fathers, there is no hope. -No attempt is made to hide these infamies, these cruelties, which -would disgrace the lowest order of beasts; they are perpetrated in the -light of day, and the monster who is responsible for them sneers at -you, and says, 'If you were in their place I would treat you the -same.' He laughs at your remonstrances, and draws the cords still -tighter, and tortures the quivering flesh still more mercilessly, and -cries, 'It is my house--they are my children, and I will do as I -please with them. Their bodies are mine, they have no souls!' Talk to -him of humanity, and he derides and defies you. You burn with -indignation--but what action do you take?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a strong illustration," said the engineer, "but it is not with -nations as with families."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," said Aaron with passionate fervor. "There is no distinction -in the eyes of God. We are all members of one family, and the world is -our heritage. The world is divided into nations, nations into cities, -towns, and villages, and these are subdivided into houses, each having -its separate ruler; and though physically and geographically wide -apart, all are linked by the one common tie of our common humanity. -The same emotions, the same passions, the same aspirations, run -through all alike. Does it make an innocent babe a malefactor because -he is born in Russia instead of France or England? But it is so -considered, and his life is made a misery to him by monsters who, when -they give bloody work to their armies to do, blasphemously call upon -the Lord of Hosts to bless their infamous banners."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was seldom that Aaron expressed himself so passionately, and as the -engineer made no reply they did not pursue the discussion.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE FAREWELL.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When it became known that Aaron was about to leave the quiet resting -place in which the last few years had been passed, and in which he had -enjoyed peace and prosperity, a general feeling of regret was -expressed, and efforts were made to induce him to change his -resolution. The well-to-do and the poor alike deplored the impending -loss, but their appeals were unsuccessful. There was in Aaron a latent -ambition, of which he himself was scarcely aware, to move in a larger -sphere, and to play his part in life among his own people. His -intention had been at first to remain in the pretty French village -only long enough to benefit Rachel's health, and had it not been for -the chance that threw him and the engineer together, and which opened -up enterprises which had led to such fortunate results, he would have -fulfilled this intention and have selected some populous center in -England to pursue his career.</p> - -<p class="normal">One venture had led to another, and the success which had attended -them was a sufficient inducement to tarry. But now that the -partnership was at an end the incentive was gone, and he was not sorry -that he was in a certain sense compelled to return to his native land. -One thing in his life in the village had weighed heavily upon him. He -was the only Jewish man in the place; there was no synagogue in which -he and his family could worship, and it was in his own home that he -carried out all the ceremonials of his religion. Not one of these did -he omit; he strictly observed the Sabbaths and holidays and fasts, and -under no consideration would he perform any kind of work on those -occasions.</p> - -<p class="normal">He obtained his Passover cakes and his meat (killed according to the -Jewish law) from neighboring towns, and he did not excite the ire of -the local butcher, because he spent more money with him in providing -for the wants of the poor than he could have done in his own -establishment had it been twice as large as it was. Every year he -erected in his garden a tent in which to celebrate the Feast of -Tabernacles, and in all these observances Rachel took a devout and -heartfelt pleasure.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the great painter who had painted her portrait as she sat beneath -the cherry tree had been a witness of the scene when the family were -assembled in the prettily decorated tent, and Aaron, with the palm -branch in his hand, intoned in his rich musical voice, "When I wave -the branches do Thou pour down the blessings of thy heavenly influence -on Thine habitation, the bridal canopy, the dwelling place of our -God," while Rachel, with her young children, stood meekly before him, -he would have been inspired to produce another picture which would -have rivaled the first in popularity. But much as Aaron had reason to -be grateful for, he yearned to follow the practices of his religion -among his co-religionists, he yearned to have the honor of taking the -sacred scroll from the ark, to hear the chazan's voice from the pulpit -and the melodious chant, of the choir, followed by the deep responses -of the congregation. There was another consideration.</p> - -<p class="normal">He wished his son, Joseph, to grow up amid such surroundings, so that -he might be fixed firmly in the faith of his forefathers. There was no -Jewish school in the village in which the lad could be educated, there -was no Jewish society in which he could mix. He looked forward to the -future. Joseph would become a man, and in this village there would be -no Jewish maiden to attract his heart. He discussed these matters with -Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she said, "let us go. But I shall never forget the happy years -we have passed here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor I," said Aaron. "Peace and good fortune have attended us. May a -blessing rest upon the village and all the dwellers therein!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Rachel spoke of her poor and of her regret at leaving them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will bear them in remembrance," said Aaron, "and before we bid -them farewell something can be done to place them in comfort."</p> - -<p class="normal">Much was done by Rachel and himself. For some time past he had -bestowed a great part of his benefactions in such a manner that those -whom he befriended were ignorant of the source from which the good -flowed. In order that this should be carried out as he wished he had -to seek an agent, and, after consideration, he asked the curé of the -village to be his almoner, explaining that he did not wish it to be -known that the money came from him. The curé, much surprised, accepted -the office; Aaron was grievously disturbing his opinion of the -heretic.</p> - -<p class="normal">After his meeting with Rachel, which has been described in the -previous chapter, he had visited her home with the laudable desire of -converting the family to the true faith, and had found himself -confronted with peculiar difficulties. He strove to draw them into -argument, but in a theological sense they slipped through his fingers. -Aaron's course in this respect was premeditated, Rachel's was -unconsciously pursued. She listened to all he said, and smilingly -acquiesced in his declaration that there was only one road open to -heaven's gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the road of right-doing, father," she said, "the road of -kindness, of doing unto others as you would they should do unto you, -of dispensing out of your store, whether it be abundant or not, what -you can do to relieve the unfortunate. You are right, father; there is -only one road."</p> - -<p class="normal">By her sweetness and charity, by her practical sympathy with the -suffering, she cut the ground from under his feet. He spoke of the -saints, and she said they were good men and women, and were receiving -their reward. In a word, she took the strength and subtlety out of -him, and he yielded with sighs of regret and admiration. With Aaron he -was more trenchant, and quite as unsuccessful.</p> - -<p class="normal">Many of Aaron's humorous observations made the good priest laugh in -spite of himself, and the pearls of wisdom which fell from the Jew's -lips crumbled his arguments to dust. There was no scoffing or -irreverence on Aaron's part; he simply parried the thrusts with a -wisdom and humanity deeper and truer than those of which his -antagonist could boast.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My son," said the curé, "would you not make me a Jew if it were in -your power?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Aaron, "we do not proselytize, and even if we did you -are too good a Christian for me to wish to make you a Jew."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was one of the puzzling remarks which caused the curé to ponder -and which dwelt long in his mind; sometimes he thought that Aaron was -a man of deep subtlety, sometimes that he was a man of great -simplicity, but whether subtle or simple he felt it impossible to -withhold a full measure of respect from one whose eternal lot he -sighed to think was perdition and everlasting torment.</p> - -<p class="normal">That sincerity was the true test of faith, as Aaron declared, he would -not admit; there could be no sincerity in a faith that was false, -there could be no sincerity if you did not believe as he believed. -Nevertheless he had an uncomfortable impression that he was being -continually worsted in the peaceful war of words in which they -invariably engaged when they came together.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Aaron was not to be turned from his resolution to leave the country -the villagers took steps to show their respect for him. Public -meetings were held, which were attended by many persons from -surrounding districts, and there was a banquet, of which Aaron did not -partake, the food not being cooked after the Jewish mode. He contented -himself with fruit and bread, and made a good and sufficient meal. -Speeches were made in his honor, and he was held up as an example to -old and young alike.</p> - -<p class="normal">His response was in admirable taste. He said that the years he had -spent among them were the happiest in his life, and that it was with -true regret he found himself compelled to leave the village. He spoke -of his first coming among them with a beloved wife in a delicate state -of health, who had grown well and strong in the beautiful spot. It was -not alone the sweet air, he said, which had brought the blessing of -health to her; the bond of sympathy which had been established between -her and her neighbors had been as a spiritual medicine to her, which -had given life a value of which it would otherwise have been deprived.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not so much the material reward of our labors that conferred -happiness upon us as the feeling that we were passing our days among -friends who always had a smile and a pleasant greeting for us. Riches -were perishable, kindly remembrances immortal.</p> - -<p class="normal">The best lessons of life were to be learned from the performance of -simple acts of duty, for he regarded it a duty to so conduct ourselves -as to make our presence welcome and agreeable to those with whom we -were in daily association. As for the kind things that had been said -of him, he felt that he was scarcely worthy of them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," he said, "a leaven of human selfishness in all that we do, -and the little I have, with the blessing of God, been enabled to do -has conferred upon me a much greater pleasure than it could possibly -have conferred upon others. To you and to my residence among you I owe -my dear wife's restoration to health, and it would be ingratitude -indeed did I not endeavor to make some return for the good you have -showered upon me. I shall never forget you, nor will my wife forget -you; in our native land we shall constantly recall the happy years we -spent among you, and we shall constantly pray that peace and -prosperity may never desert you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The earnestness and feeling with which these sentiments were uttered -were unmistakable and convincing, and when Aaron resumed his seat the -eyes of all who had assembled to do him honor were turned upon him -approvingly and sympathizingly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah," groaned the good curé, "were he not a Jew he would be a perfect -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">The flowers which graced the banqueting table were sent by special -messenger to Rachel, and the following day she pressed a few and kept -them ever afterward among her precious relics. Aaron did not come home -till late in the night, and he found Rachel waiting up for him. He -delighted her by describing the incidents and speeches of the -memorable evening. Aaron was a great smoker, and while they talked he -smoked the silver-mounted pipe which he had grown to regard with an -affection which was really spiritual. There are in the possession of -many men and women dumb memorials of insignificant value which they -would not part with for untold gold, and this silver-mounted pipe of -Aaron's--Rachel's gift to him in the early years of their married -life--was one of these. A special case had been made for it, and he -handled it almost with the care and affection he bestowed upon his -children.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your health was proposed," said Aaron, "and the health of our little -ones. What was said about you, my life, gave me much more pleasure -than what was said about myself. It abashes one to have to sit and -listen to extravagant praises far beyond one's merits, but it is the -habit of men to run into extravagance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They could say nothing, dear husband, that you do not deserve."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You, too!" exclaimed Aaron gayly. "It is well for me that you were -not there, for you might have been called upon to give your -testimony."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should not have had courage." She fondly pressed his hand. "I am -glad they spoke of me kindly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They spoke of you truly, and my heart leaped up within me at what the -good curé said of you, for it was he who proposed the toast. I -appreciated it more from him than I should have done from anyone else, -and he was quite sincere at the moment in all the sentiments he -expressed, whatever he may have thought of himself afterward for -asking his flock to drink the health of a Jewess. Well, well, it takes -all sorts to make a world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How much we have to be grateful for!" said Rachel, with a happy sigh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, indeed--for boundless gratitude. Think of what we passed -through in Gosport." He paused suddenly. The one experience which -weighed upon his conscience brought a dark and troubled shadow into -his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you pause, dear? Has not my blindness proved a blessing to us? -Do I miss my sight? Nay, I think it has made life sweeter. But for -that we should not have come to this place, but for that we should not -have had the means to do something toward the relief of a few -suffering and deserving people. What good has sprung from it! Our Lord -God be praised!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron recovered himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was Mr. Whimpole's visit to us before I commenced business; -there were those stupid boys who distressed you so with their -revilings, which I managed to turn against themselves. It was this -pipe of yours, my life, that gave me the inspiration how to disarm -them. It sharpens my faculties, it brings out my best points; it is -really to me a friend and counselor. And now I have smoked enough, and -it is time to go to bed. I will join you presently."</p> - -<p class="normal">In solitude the one troubled memory of the past forced itself -painfully upon him. Did he deserve what had been said in his honor on -this night? He valued men's good opinion, and of all the men he knew -he valued most the good opinion of the curé. What would this<br> -single-minded, conscientious priest think of him if he were acquainted -with the sin of which he had been guilty, the sin of bringing up an -alien child in a religion in which she had not been born? He would -look upon him with horror.</p> - -<p class="normal">And it was a bitter punishment that he was compelled to keep this -secret locked up in his own breast, that he dared not reveal it to a -single human creature, that he dared not say openly, "I have sinned, I -have sinned. Have mercy upon me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">To his own beloved wife, dearer to him than life itself, he had -behaved treacherously; even in her he dared not confide. It was not -with Rachel as it was with him; there was no difference in the love -she bore her children; they were both equally precious to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">To fall upon his knees before her and make confession would be like -striking a dagger into her heart; it almost drove him mad to think of -the shock such a revelation would be to her. No, he must guard his -secret and his sin jealously to the last hour of his life. So far as -human discovery went he believed that he was safe; the betrayal, if it -ever came, lay with himself. True, he had in his possession testimony -which might damn him were it to fall into other hands--the little iron -safe which Mr. Moss had received from Dr. Spenlove, and at the -mother's request had conveyed to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">In his reflections upon the matter lately the question had intruded -itself, "What did this little box contain?" It was impossible for him -to say, but he felt instinctively that it contained evidence which -would bring his sin home to him. He allowed his thoughts now to dwell -upon the mother. From the day on which he received the five hundred -pounds from Mr. Gordon's lawyer he had heard nothing from them, -nothing from Mr. Moss or from anybody, relating to the matter. Between -himself and Mr. Moss there had been a regular, though not very -frequent, correspondence, but his friend had never written one word -concerning it, and Aaron, of course, had not referred to it. Thus far, -therefore, it was buried in a deep grave.</p> - -<p class="normal">But would this grave never be opened? If other hands were not -responsible for the act would it not be his duty to open the grave? -The mother had stipulated that, in the event of her husband's death, -she should be free to seek her child, should be free to claim the box. -Upon this contingency seemed to hang his fate; but there were -arguments in his favor.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Gordon might live, and the mother could do nothing. Arguing that -the man died, it was more than probable that his wife had borne other -children who had a claim upon her love which she acknowledged. To seek -then her child of shame would be the means of bringing disgrace upon -these children of her marriage. Would she deliberately do this? He -answered the question immediately, No. In the consideration of these -phases of the matter he bore in mind that, although the false news of -the child's death must of necessity have been communicated to Mr. -Gordon by his lawyers, it was likely that it had been kept from the -knowledge of the mother. Aaron had been made to understand that Mr. -Gordon was a man of inflexible resolution, and that he had pledged -himself never, under any circumstances, to make mention of the child -to the woman he had married. Even setting this aside, even going to -the length of arguing that, hearing of the child's death, Mr. Gordon -departed from the strict letter of the resolution, and said to his -wife, "Your child is dead," was it not likely that she would reply, "I -do not believe it; you tell me so only to deceive me"? In that case, -her husband dead and herself childless, would she not search the world -over for her offspring?</p> - -<p class="normal">Setting all this aside, however, the <i>onus</i> still devolved upon him to -open the grave. One of the stipulations attached to his receipt of the -box was that when Ruth was twenty-one years of age it should be handed -over to her. Would he dare to violate this condition? Would he so far -tamper with his conscience as to neglect an obligation which might be -deemed sacred? The question tortured him; he could not answer it.</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard Rachel moving in the room above, and with a troubled heart he -went up to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus this night, the events of which were intended to shed honor and -glory upon him, ended in sadness, and thus was it proved that a deceit -when first practiced may be as a feather weight to the solemn and -heavy consequences which follow in its train.</p> - -<p class="normal">Everything was ready for the departure of the Cohens, which was to -take place at the end of the week. Before the day arrived they -received other tokens in proof of the appreciation in which they were -held. A deputation of workingmen waited on Aaron, and presented him -with an address. The employers of labor themselves--secretly glad, -perhaps, that he was going from among them--paid him a special honor. -Rachel's heart throbbed with gratitude and with pride in her husband. -But her greatest pleasure--in which were mingled touches of deep -sorrow--was derived from the affecting testimony of the poor she had -befriended. Old men and women witnessed their departure, and bidding -farewell to Rachel, prayed God's blessing upon her. Children gave her -flowers, and their childish voices were full of affection. The tears -ran from her eyes; she could hardly tear herself away. At length it -was over; they were gone; but it was long before her sweet face faded -from their memory.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>REVISITS GOSPORT.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The years that followed until Ruth was grown to womanhood and Joseph -was a young man were eventful years for Aaron Cohen and his family. He -returned to England the possessor of a moderate fortune, but he had no -idea of retiring from the active duties of life. To such a man -idleness would have been little less than a living death, and taking -up his residence in London, he embarked very soon in enterprises of -magnitude. The knowledge he had gained during his partnership in -France was of immense value to him, and in conjunction with other men -of technical resource he contracted for public works in various parts -of the country. His fortune grew, and he gradually became wealthy. He -moved from one house to another, and each move was a step up the -ladder. A house in Prince's Gate came into the market, and Aaron -purchased it, and furnished it with taste and elegance. There he -entertained liberally, but not lavishly, for his judgment led him -always to the happy mean, and the house became the resort of men and -women of intellect and culture. Mr. Moss, who was wedded to -Portsmouth, and continued to flourish there, paid periodical visits to -London, and was always welcome in the home. He was as musically -inclined as ever, and opportunities were afforded him of hearing the -finest singers and players at Prince's Gate. On two or three occasions -Aaron readily consented to give an introduction through a concert held -in his house to a young aspirant in whom Mr. Moss took an interest, -and to other budding talent in the same direction Aaron's rooms were -always open. The only conversation between Mr. Moss and Aaron in -relation to their intimacy in Gosport occurred some three years after -the latter had taken up his residence in London. Aaron had just -completed a successful contract, and business had called Mr. Moss to -the metropolis.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard to-day," said Mr. Moss, "that you had cleared six or seven -thousand pounds by the contract."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The balance on the right side," replied Aaron, "is a little over -seven thousand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I congratulate you. The gentleman I spoke with said that if he had -had the contract he would have made a profit of three times as much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is likely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then why didn't you do it, Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron smiled and shook his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us speak of another subject."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I want to get at the bottom of this. I should like you to know -what the gentleman said about it. His view is that you are ruining the -labor market."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In what way?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By high wages and short hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is a new view."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do pay high wages, Cohen, according to what everybody says."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! it's everybody now as well as your gentleman friend. I pay good -wages, and I don't consider them high."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the hours are not as long as they might be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are reasonably long enough. If I am satisfied and my workmen are -satisfied I give offense to no man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are wrong, Cohen; you give offense to the capitalist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I regret to hear it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The idea is that you are ruining the capitalist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I am ruining the capitalist now. But if that is the case he is no -longer a capitalist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know what I mean. I don't pretend to understand these things as -you do, because I have not studied political economy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have, and believe me it is a horse that has been ridden too hard. -Mischief will come of it. Apply your common sense. In what way would -your friend have made twenty-one thousand pounds out of the contract -instead of seven thousand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By getting his labor cheaper and by making his own men work longer -hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exactly. And the difference of fourteen thousand pounds would have -gone into his pocket instead of the pockets of his workmen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, of course."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ask yourself if that is fair. The wages I pay my men are sufficient -to enable them to maintain a home decently, to bring up their families -decently, and perhaps, if they are wise and thrifty--only, mind you, -if they are wise and thrifty--to make a small provision for old age, -when they are no longer able to work. Their hours are long enough to -give them just a little leisure, which they can employ partly in -reasonable amusement and partly in intellectual improvement. I have -gone thoroughly into these matters, and know what I am talking<br> -about. Men who do their work honestly--and I employ and will keep no -others--have a right to fair wages and a little leisure, and I decline -to grind my men down after the fashion of the extreme political -economist. The contract I have just completed was tendered for in an -open market. My tender was the lowest and was accepted. I make a -considerable sum of money out of it, and each of my men contributes a -mickle toward it. They believe I have treated them fairly, and I am -certain they have treated me fairly. Upon those lines I intend to make -my way. Your sweater is a political economist. I am not a sweater. It -is the course I pursued in France, and by it I laid the foundation of -what may prove to be a great fortune. I am tendering now for other -contracts, and I shall obtain my share, and shall pursue precisely the -same course. Mr. Moss, you and I are Jews. At a great disadvantage -because of the nature of your business, which I myself once intended -to follow, you have made yourself respected in the town in which you -reside. I, on my part, wish to make myself respected here. Surely -there is no race in the world to which it is greater honor, and should -be a greater pride, to belong than the Jewish race; and by my conduct -through life I trust I shall do nothing to tarnish that honor or lower -that pride. It may or may not be for that reason that I decline to -follow the political economist to the depths into which he has -fallen."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss' eyes gleamed; Aaron had touched a sympathetic chord; the men -shook hands and smiled cordially at each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you were in Gosport," said Mr. Moss, "I ought to have asked you -to go into partnership with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you had made me the offer," responded Aaron, "I'm afraid I should -have accepted it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lucky for you that I missed my opportunity. It is a fortunate thing -that you went to France when you did."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very fortunate. It opened up a new career for me; it restored my dear -wife to health; my son was born there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"About the poor child I brought to you in Gosport, Cohen; we have -never spoken of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did the lawyers ever write to you again?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I have heard nothing. The iron box I gave you--you have it still, -I suppose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have it still."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have often wondered what it contains, and whether the mother will -ever call for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If she does it shall be handed to her in the same condition as you -handed it to me. But she does not know in whose possession it is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, she does not know, and she can only obtain the information from -Mr. Gordon's lawyers. My lips are sealed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron considered a moment. This opening up of the dreaded subject made -him feel as if a sword were hanging over his head, but his sense of -justice impelled him to say, "It may happen that the mother will wish -to have the box restored to her, and that the lawyers may refuse to -give her the information that it is in my possession. She may seek -elsewhere for a clew, and may be directed to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall not enlighten her," said Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My desire is that you do enlighten her. It is her property, and I -have no right to retain it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well, Cohen, if you wish it; but nothing is more unlikely than -your ever being troubled with her, or ever seeing her. She has -forgotten all about it long ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are mistaken. A mother never forgets."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, Cohen, I have a message for you from Mrs. Moss. She is -burning to see you and cannot come to London. We are about to have an -addition to our family; that will be the sixteenth. Upon my word, I -don't know when we are going to stop. Is it too much to ask you to pay -us a visit?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all; it will give me great pleasure. When?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will give Mrs. Moss greater pleasure, Cohen," said Mr. Moss, -rubbing his hands joyously. "I am going back the day after to-morrow. -Will that time suit you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I will accompany you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The visit was paid, and lasted three days. Before he returned to -London Aaron went to Gosport. Nothing was changed in the ancient town. -The house he had occupied had been rebuilt; the streets were the same, -the names over the shops were unaltered. He saw Mr. Whimpole in his -shop attending to a customer, and saw other men and women whom he -recognized, but to whom he did not speak. He made his way to the -churchyard where his child was buried, and he stood and prayed over -the grave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive me, O Lord of Hosts," he said audibly, "that I should have -laid my child to rest in a Christian churchyard. It was to save my -beloved. Forgive me! Have mercy upon me!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> -<h5>WHAT SHALL BE DONE TO THE MAN WHOM THE KING DELIGHTETH TO HONOR?</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In the autumn of the year 1891 a number of influential persons wended -their way to Aaron Cohen's house to take part in a function of a -peculiarly interesting nature. They comprised representatives of -literature and the arts, of politics, science, and commerce, and among -them were delegates of the press who were deputed to report the -proceedings for their several journals.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the pen is mightier than the sword was, at an earlier period in -the world's history, open to dispute, but the contention exists no -longer, and although the day is far distant when the lion shall lie -down with the lamb, the press is now the pre-eminent dictator of peace -and war, and can effectually hasten or retard the conflict of nations. -It is an open question whether its invasion of the arena of private -life is a beneficial feature in the power it wields, but it is useless -to resist its march in this direction, and earnest as may be a man's -desire to hide his light under a bushel, he does not live to see it -gratified.</p> - -<p class="normal">When a movement was set afoot to make some sort of semi-private,<br> -semi-public recognition of the remarkable position attained by the -hero of this story he did not receive it with any kind of pleasure, -and he made an effort to avoid it. That his effort was not successful -was not so much due to the perseverance of the leaders of the movement -as to a few simple words uttered by his wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will give me pleasure," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not argue with her; he yielded immediately, and allowed himself -to be carried with the stream. Never in the course of their happy -married life had he failed to comply with her lightest wish; never had -there been the least conflict between them; to each of them the word -of the other was law, and it was love's cheerful duty to obey.</p> - -<p class="normal">Remarkable, indeed, was the position he had won. From the day of his -return to England there had been no break in his prosperity; every -enterprise he undertook flourished, and the old saying was applied to -him, "Everything he touches turns to gold." His reputation, however, -was not based on the fact that he was a lucky but that he was a just -and charitable man. No appeal for any good purpose was made to him in -vain; his purse was ever open, and he was ever ready to respond. Among -his co-religionists he was a power, and his advice was asked and taken -by high and low alike. His character was so well-known that the -poorest Jew, in an hour of difficulty, did not hesitate to go to him -for counsel, and only those held back whose conduct would not stand -the searching light he threw upon all worldly matters. He did not -confine his labors and charities to the Jewish community; his name was -to be found among the administrators of all their benevolent funds, -and it was also to be found on the lists of numberless Christian -charities.</p> - -<p class="normal">In so generous a spirit did he meet the appeals that were made to him, -and so devoid of narrowness were his benefactions, that he grew into -the esteem of all classes of society as a large-hearted, honorable, -and benevolent gentleman. Of course he was sometimes beguiled into -bestowing money upon unworthy objects or persons, but when this came -to his knowledge it did not affect him. "It is but human nature," he -would say. "Where lives the man who does not make mistakes?"</p> - -<p class="normal">In the wide scope of his charities he had curious experiences, and one -of these got to be known and quoted.</p> - -<p class="normal">A gentleman visited him and asked for a contribution to an<br> -old-established society known all the world over. Aaron inquired the -name and objects of the society.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have doubtless heard of it," replied the gentleman. "It is for -the promotion of Christianity among the Jews."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron smiled as he said, "But, my dear sir, I am myself a Jew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am aware of it," said the gentleman, "and the reason I make the -appeal is that you have been quoted to me as a man who has no narrow -prejudices, and who in no sense of the word could be called dogmatic -or prejudiced."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is, then, a compliment you are paying me by asking me to -contribute to a fund which is antagonistic to my race."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In your view antagonistic," observed the gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see. Meaning that my view is not necessarily the right view."</p> - -<p class="normal">The gentleman nodded courteously. He was not a collector for the -society, nor a paid officer, but a gentleman of means who, in a -smaller way than Aaron, was also noted for his benevolence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot but consider the matter seriously," said Aaron thoughtfully, -"for there can be no doubt of your sincerity. Still it occurs to me -that if we were both equally sincere in our advocacy of objects of a -similar nature it would be as well that we should pause and ask -ourselves this question: Instead of endeavoring to convert Jews or -Christians to a faith in which they were not born, would it not be -better to employ ourselves in making those who call themselves -Christians true Christians, and those who call themselves Jews true -Jews?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is force in your argument," said the gentleman, "but it is no -answer to my appeal for a contribution to the objects of my society."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you furnish me with particulars," Aaron then said, "of the -working of the society?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have brought the papers with me, anticipating your request."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron looked over the printed books and papers handed to him, and made -certain calculations upon paper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I perceive," he said, "that you take credit to yourselves for making -a certain number of conversions during the past five years, and that -you have spent a great deal of money in these conversions. The number -of conversions is very small, the amount of money expended very large. -I have worked out the sum, and I see that each conversion has cost you -nearly eleven thousand pounds. You find these wavering Jews very -expensive?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very expensive," assented the gentleman, with a half-humorous sigh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my dear sir," said Aaron, "I will make a proposition to you. -You are zealous in the furtherance of an object which you believe to -be worthy, and I am zealous in the furtherance of an object which I -believe to be worthy. I will write a check in contribution to your -object on the understanding that you write a check for half the amount -in contribution to mine. Do not be afraid; it is not for the promotion -of Judaism among the Christians."</p> - -<p class="normal">The gentleman, who was fairly liberal-minded, laughed good-humoredly -at the proposition as he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I consent, but you are richer than I, and I must stipulate that your -check is not for a large amount."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall not be large," said Aaron, and he filled in a check for -twenty pounds.</p> - -<p class="normal">The gentleman, somewhat relieved, wrote his check for ten pounds, and -they exchanged documents.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My contribution," observed Aaron, "represents the five hundred and -fiftieth part of one transitory and probably worldly and insincere -conversion, your contribution represents the fiftieth part of a -perpetual endowment of one sick bed in a hospital. You will pardon me -for saying that I think I have the best of the transaction."</p> - -<p class="normal">A word as to Aaron Cohen's material position. The world gave him -credit for being exceedingly wealthy, but he was not really so. He had -money, and to spare, and his private establishment was conducted on a -liberal scale. Roughly speaking, had he retired in 1891 he might have -done so on an income of some five thousand pounds, whereas popular -rumor would have credited him with ten times as much. The reason for -this was that a considerable portion of the profits of his enterprise -was regularly given anonymously to every public movement for the good -of the people and for the relief of the suffering. Great curiosity had -been evinced for a long time past as to who was the anonymous donor of -large sums of money in response to these appeals. A colliery disaster, -a flood, an earthquake in a distant country, a case of public -destitution--to one and all of these came a large contribution from a -person who adopted the most careful means to preserve his anonymity, -and who signed himself "Mercy."</p> - -<p class="normal">These charitable donations were Aaron's constant appeal to the Divine -Throne for mercy and forgiveness for the one sin of his life, and thus -did he effectually guard against becoming a millionaire.</p> - -<p class="normal">The esteem in which he was held was to be demonstrated by two -presentations, one a portrait of himself, by a renowned English -painter, the other a picture also, the subject being withheld from his -knowledge. This second painting was no other than the picture of -Rachel sitting beneath the cherry tree, which had created excitement -in the Paris Salon more than a dozen years ago. It had been purchased -by a collector, who had lately died. After his death his collection -was brought to the hammer, and this particular picture purchased by a -London dealer, who exhibited it in his shop.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was originally intended that a presentation of silver should be -made with Aaron's portrait, but a friend of his happened to see the -picture in London, and was struck by the marvelous resemblance of the -principal figure to Rachel. He made some inquiries privately of Aaron -respecting his sojourn in the south of France, and learned that there -was a certain cherry tree in his garden there beneath which Rachel was -in the habit of sitting in fine weather, that he had a friend, the -curé of the village, and that one summer a French painter visited the -village and made a great many sketches of Rachel and the cherry tree.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron's friend obtained from the London dealer some information of the -history of the picture, and of the year it was exhibited, and putting -this and that together he came to the correct conclusion that Rachel -had unconsciously sat for the painter. It was an interesting -discovery, and the idea of a silver presentation was put aside, and -the picture substituted in its place.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss, of course, came from Portsmouth to attend the function.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is sad to relate that of late years the same good fortune had not -attended him as had attended his friend Aaron. It was his own fault; -he had embarked in speculations outside the scope of his legitimate -business, and when these speculations came to grief he found himself -by no means so well off as he was at the commencement of this history. -It made no difference in Aaron's friendship for him; it may be said, -indeed, to have strengthened it. In a period of difficulty Aaron came -forward voluntarily, and afforded practical assistance to his old -friend. Another strengthening tie was also to be added to this -friendship. On a visit to Portsmouth Aaron's son Joseph fell in love -with one of Mr. Moss' daughters, Rose, a sweet girl, of whom Rachel -was very fond. Joseph was too young yet to marry, but with the consent -of his parents an engagement was entered into between the young -people, and there was joy in Mr. Moss' estimable family.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There never was such a man as Aaron Cohen," said Mr. Moss to his wife -and children. "He is a credit and an honor to the Jewish race."</p> - -<p class="normal">In which opinion there was not a Jew in England who did not agree with -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a consequence of this family arrangement that Rose was often -invited to spend a few weeks with the Cohens in London, and she was in -their house on the day of the presentations. Her lover was absent, and -had been out of England for some months. He held a position of -responsibility with a large contractor, and had been sent to Austria -upon business of an important nature. He was expected home at the end -of the week, but was only to remain in England two days, his passage -to Australia being already taken, to look after a railway contract -which had been secured by his employer, Mr. Monmouth. He was expected -to be away eight or nine months, and upon his return home the marriage -was to take place. Neither was their other child, Ruth, a witness of -the presentations. She had invited herself to Portsmouth, to spend a -week or two with Mrs. Moss. Rachel missed her, Aaron did not. Although -he could not fix the exact day of her birth, he knew that she would -soon be twenty-one years of age, when the duty would devolve upon him -of delivering to her the iron box of which he had been made the -custodian, and he was in an agony as to how he should act. Every day -that passed deepened his trouble, and it was perhaps to this that his -growing impression may be ascribed that shadows were gathering over -his house which might wreck the happiness of his beloved wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">Again and again had he debated the matter with himself without being -able to arrive at any comforting conclusion. Rachel doted on her -children. She could not see what Aaron could see--that there was -something weighing also upon Ruth's mind which she was concealing from -them, and that the confidence was wanting which should exist between a -child and her parents. However, on this day he could not give himself -up to these disturbing reflections; he had consented to accept an -honor of which he deemed himself unworthy, and it was incumbent upon -him that he should not betray himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was still a little time left to him to decide upon his course of -action. He was beginning to tamper with himself. The man of upright -mind was at this period laying himself open to dangerous casuistical -temptations. Even from such pure, unselfish love as he entertained for -the wife who was deserving of love in its sweetest and purest aspects -may spring an upas tree to poison the atmosphere we breathe.</p> - -<p class="normal">Among the company was an old friend of ours, Dr. Spenlove, who had -attained an eminent position in London. The hundred pounds which Mr. -Gordon had left for his acceptance had proved the turning point in his -career, and he was at the top of the tree in his profession. A man as -kind-hearted as he was of necessity mixed up with many benevolent and -public movements. Aaron, whom till this day he had never met, had -subscribed to some of the charities in which he was interested, and he -gladly availed himself of the opportunity of becoming acquainted with -him. When the company were assembled in the reception room of Aaron's -house Dr. Spenlove happened to be standing next to Mr. Moss, whom he -had not seen since he left Portsmouth. Except for the mark of<br> -years, which did not tell heavily upon him, Mr. Moss was the same -jovial-featured, bright-eyed man as ever; Dr. Spenlove had altered; -the fashion of his hair was different, the thoughtful lines in his -face had deepened, he had grown stouter. So that when the two looked -at each other the first sign of recognition came from Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I am not mistaken," he said, "we have met before."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss, looking at him, was puzzled for a moment. "In Portsmouth," -added Dr. Spenlove, jogging his memory.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same."</p> - -<p class="normal">They shook hands. "It is strange," said Mr. Moss, "that after the -lapse of years we should meet in this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why is our meeting in this house strange?" inquired Dr. Spenlove.</p> - -<p class="normal">The question recalled Mr. Moss to himself. The one incident which -formed a link between them was that connected with a poor woman and -her babe whom they rescued from impending death on a snowy night -twenty years ago. But he had not made Dr. Spenlove acquainted with the -name of the man to whom he had intrusted the child, and upon this -point his lips were sealed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean," he said, "that the circumstances of our meeting here and in -Portsmouth are different."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Widely different," observed Dr. Spenlove. "I have never forgotten -that sad night, have never forgotten your kindness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not worth mentioning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But worth bearing in remembrance, as all acts of kindness are. I have -heard nothing more of the matter from that time to this. What became -of the child, Mr. Moss?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She died very shortly afterward. A happy release."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Death is a happy release to many. It, was hardly to be expected that -the child would live long after the exposure on such a night. She was -almost buried in the snow. And the mother, Mr. Moss?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard nothing of her whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor have I."</p> - -<p class="normal">The conversation ceased here. The proceedings had commenced, and a -gentleman was speaking. He was a man of discretion, which all orators -are not. He touched lightly and pertinently upon the reputation which -Mr. Aaron Cohen had earned by his unremitting acts of benevolence and -by the worthiness of his career. Such a man deserved the good fortune -which had attended him, and such a man's career could not fail to be -an incentive to worthy endeavor. Rachel, seated by her husband, and -turning her sightless eyes upon the audience, who were only -spiritually visible to her, listened to the speaker in gratitude and -delight. It was not that she had waited for this moment to learn that -she was wedded to an upright and noble man, but it was an unspeakable -happiness to her to hear from the lips of others that he was -appreciated as he deserved, that he was understood as she understood -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was natural, said the speaker, that the gentleman in whose honor -they had that day assembled should be held in the highest esteem by -his co-religionists, but it was a glory that in a Christian country a -Jew should have won from all classes of a mixed community a name which -would be enrolled upon those pages of our social history which most -fitly represent the march of true civilization and humanity. They were -not there to glorify money; they were not there to glorify worldly -prosperity; they were there to pay tribute to one whose example -Christians might follow, a man without stain, without reproach. The -influence of such a man in removing--no, not in removing, but -obliterating, the prejudices of caste was lasting and all-powerful. He -regarded it as a privilege that he had been deputed to express the -general sentiment with respect to Mr. Aaron Cohen. This sentiment, he -begged to add, was not confined to Mr. Cohen, but included his wife, -whose charities and benevolence were perhaps even more widely known -and recognized than those of the partner of her joys and sorrows.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the presence of this estimable couple it was difficult to speak as -freely as he would wish, but he was sure they would understand that in -wishing them long life and happiness he was wishing them much more -than he dared to express in their hearing, and that there was but one -feeling entertained toward them, a feeling not of mere respect and -esteem, but of affection and love. In the name of the subscribers he -offered for their acceptance two paintings, one a portrait of Mr. -Cohen by an artist of renown, for which he had been good enough to -sit; the other a painting which probably they would look upon now for -the first time. The latter picture was an accidental discovery, but -Mr. Cohen would tell them whether they were right in seizing the -opportunity to obtain it, and whether they were right in their belief -that his esteemed wife had unconsciously inspired the artist, who had -availed himself of a happy chance to immortalize himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The pictures were then unveiled amid general acclamation, and if ever -Rachel wished for the blessing of sight to be restored to her it was -at that moment; but it was only for a moment. The dependence she -placed upon her husband, the trust she had in him, the pleasure she -derived from his eloquent and sympathetic descriptions of what was -hidden from her, were of such a nature that she sometimes said inly, -"I am thankful I can see only through the eyes of my dear husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">The portrait of himself, from his frequent sittings, was familiar to -Aaron Cohen, but the picture of his beloved sitting beneath the cherry -tree was a delightful surprise to him. It was an exquisitely painted -scene, and Rachel's portrait was as faithful as if she had given -months of her time toward its successful accomplishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron's response was happy up to a certain point. Except to pay a -deserved compliment to the artist and to express his gratitude to the -subscribers he said little about the portrait of himself. The -presentation of the second picture supplied the theme for the -principal part of his speech. He said there was no doubt that it was a -portrait of his dear wife, and he recalled the time they had passed in -the south of France, and described all the circumstances of the happy -chance that had led to the painting of the picture. He was grateful -for that chance because of the pleasure it would afford his beloved -wife, who until to-day had been as ignorant as himself that such a -painting was in existence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went to the south of France," he said, "in the hope that my wife, -who was in a delicate state of health, would be benefited by a short -stay there. My hope was more than realized; she grew strong there; my -son, whose absence from England deprives him of the pleasure of being -present on this interesting occasion, was born there, and there the -foundation of my prosperity was laid. It might be inferred from this -that I believe all the events of a man's life are ruled by chance, but -such is not my belief. There is an all-seeing Providence who shows us -the right path. He speaks through our reason and our consciences, and -except for the accident of birth, which lays a heavy burden upon many -unfortunate beings, and which should render them not fully responsible -for the evil they do, we ourselves are responsible for the -consequences of our actions. We must accept the responsibility and the -consequences."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a few moments before he continued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When men of fair intelligence err they err consciously; it is useless -for them to say that they erred in ignorance of the consequences. They -must know if they write with black ink that their writing must be -black."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But it may be that a man commits a conscious error through his -affections, and if that error inflicts injury upon no living being--if -it even confer a benefit upon one or more--there may be some -palliation of his error. In stating that you set for me a standard too -high I am stating my firm belief. No man is stainless, no man is -without reproach; the doctrine of infallibility applied to human -affairs is monstrous and wicked; it is an arrogation of divine power. -I am, as all men are, open to error; in my life, as in the lives of -all men, there have been mistakes, but I may still take the credit to -myself that if I have committed a conscious error it has harmed no -living soul, and that it has sprung from those affections which -sweeten and bless our lives. A reference has been made to my being a -Jew. I glory that I am one. The traditions and history of the race to -which I am proud to belong have been of invaluable service to me, and -to the circumstance of my being a Jew I owe the incidents of this day, -which will ever be a proud memory to me and to my family. In the name -of my dear wife and my own I thank you cordially, sincerely, and -gratefully for the honor you have paid to us--an honor not beyond my -wife's merits, but far beyond my own."</p> - -<p class="normal">Other speeches followed, and when the proceedings were at an end Dr. -Spenlove asked Mr. Moss to introduce him to Mr. Cohen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cohen," said Mr. Moss, "Dr. Spenlove wishes to know you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron started.</p> - -<p class="normal">He never forgot a name or a face, and he recollected the mention of -Dr. Spenlove's name when Mr. Moss came to him in Gosport with the -child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without exactly knowing it, perhaps," said Dr. Spenlove, "you have -been most kind in movements in which I have taken an interest. I am -glad of the opportunity of making your acquaintance."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nothing more; no reference to the private matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron breathed more freely.</p> - -<p class="normal">He responded to Dr. Spenlove's advances, and the gentlemen parted -friends.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose Moss was in the room during the proceedings, and her fair young -face beamed with pride; it was her lover's father who was thus -honored, and she felt that she had, through Aaron Cohen's son, a share -in that honor.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the gratifying but fatiguing labors of the day were at an end, -and Aaron, Rachel, and Rose were alone, Rachel said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry, dear Rose, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said -about his father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would not have made him love and honor him more," said Rose.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel pressed her hand and kissed her; she had grown to love this -sweet and simple girl, who seemed to have but one thought in life, her -lover. Then the sightless woman asked them to describe the picture to -her, and she listened in an ecstasy of happiness to their words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it not wonderful?" she said to Aaron. "A famous picture, they -said, and I the principal figure. What can the painter have seen in -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What all men see, my life," replied Aaron, "but what no one knows as -I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has been a happy day," sighed Rachel; she sat between them, each -holding a hand. "You did not hear from our dear Ruth this morning?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, dear mother." For thus was Rose already permitted to address -Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will be home in two days, and our dear lad as well. I wish he -were back from Australia, even before he has started, and so do you, -my dear. But time soon passes. Just now it seems but yesterday that we -were in France."</p> - -<p class="normal">The day waned. Rachel and Rose were together; Aaron was in his study, -writing letters. A servant entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A gentleman to see you, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron looked at the card, which bore the name of Mr. Richard -Dillworthy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am busy," said Aaron. "Does he wish to see me particularly? Ask him -if he can call again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said his business was pressing, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Show him in."</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant ushered the visitor into the room--a slightly built, -middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair and whiskers. Aaron motioned him -to a chair, and he placed a card on the table bearing the name and -address of a firm of lawyers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am Mr. Dillworthy, of Dillworthy, Maryx & Co.," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have come to speak to you upon a family matter----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A family matter!" exclaimed Aaron, interrupting him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"On behalf of a client. I shall take it as a favor if you will regard -this interview as private."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It refers principally to your daughter, Miss Ruth Cohen."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">For the second time on this eventful day Aaron felt as if his sin were -about to be brought home to him, as if the temple which, by long years -of honorable and upright conduct, he had built for himself were about -to crumble to dust.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that temple was enshrined not only his good name, but what was of -far greater value to him, his wife's happiness and peace of mind. It -was too late now to go to her frankly and say: "Ruth is not our -child." Out of Rachel's innate goodness and sweetness sprang the deep -love she bore for the young girl; the suggestion of love may come from -without, but the spirit of love is the offspring of one's own heart, -and it is made enduring and ennobling by one's own higher qualities; -and in a like manner it is one's lower passions which debase and -degrade it.</p> - -<p class="normal">In whatever fashion Rachel would receive her husband's confession he -knew full well that it would inflict upon her the most exquisite -suffering; the cherished ideal of her life would be shattered, and she -would sit forever afterward in sackcloth and ashes. He had sown a -harvest of woe, and his constant fervent prayer was that he might not -be compelled to reap it with his own hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agitated as he was, he did not betray himself by word or sign, but by -a courteous movement of his hand invited his visitor to proceed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a family matter," said Mr. Dillworthy, "of a peculiarly -delicate nature, and my client thought it could best be arranged in a -private personal interview."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Being of such a nature," observed Aaron, "would it not have been -better that it should be arranged privately between the parties -interested instead of through an intermediary?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly, possibly, but my client holds strong views, and feels he -could scarcely trust himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Favor me with the name of your client."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Storndale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Storndale? I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you are familiar with his name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all. It is the first time I have heard it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You surprise me. Lord Storndale is a peer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know very few peers, and have had no occasion to study the -peerage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, pardon me, Storndale is the name; it may have escaped you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I repeat, the name is strange to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not presume to doubt you, but it introduces a new element into -the matter. Your daughter, then, has never mentioned the Honorable -Percy Storndale to you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never; and I am at a loss to understand the association of their -names."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lawyer paused. In this unexpected turn of affairs a deviation -suggested itself to his legal mind which would be likely to assist -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Cohen, you have the reputation of being an earnest and sincere -Jew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I follow the precepts and the obligations of my faith," said Aaron, -with a searching glance at his visitor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In this backsliding and time-serving age orthodoxy--especially, I -should say, in the Jewish religion--has a hard time of it. The customs -and duties of an enlightened civilization must clash severely with the -precepts and obligations you speak of. It is because of the -difficulty--perhaps the impossibility--of following the hard and fast -laws of the Pentateuch that divisions have taken place, as with all -religions, and that you have among you men who call themselves -Reformed Jews."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely it is not part of your mission to discuss this matter with -me," said Aaron, who had no desire to enter into such questions with a -stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, it is not, and I do not pretend to understand it; but in a -general way the subject is interesting to me. If you will permit me, I -should like to ask you one question."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron signified assent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is your opinion of mixed marriages?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron did not answer immediately; he had a suspicion that there was -something behind, but the subject was one regarding which both he and -Rachel held a strong view, and he felt he would be guilty of an -unworthy evasion if he refused to reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not approve of them," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You set me at ease," said the lawyer, "and it will gratify Lord -Storndale to hear that you and he are in agreement upon the question. -As our interview is private I may speak freely. Unhappily Lord -Storndale is a poor peer. Since he came into the title he has had -great difficulties to contend with, and as his estates lay chiefly in -Ireland, these difficulties have been of late years increased. Happily -or unhappily, also, he has a large family, two daughters and six sons. -Of these sons the Honorable Percy Storndale is the youngest. I do not -know who is the more to be pitied, a poor peer struggling with -mortgages, decreased rents, and the expenses of a large family, or a -younger son who comes into the world with the expectation that he is -to be provided for, and whose father can allow him at the utmost two -hundred and fifty or three hundred a year. Father and son have both to -keep up appearances, and the son's allowance will scarcely pay his -tailor's and his glover's bill. There are a thousand things he wants, -and to which he believes himself entitled--flowers, horses, clubs, a -stall at the theater, and so on and so on, <i>ad infinitum</i>. The -consequence is that the young gentleman gets into debt, which grows -and grows. Perhaps he thinks of a means of paying his creditors--he -plunges on a horse, he plays for high stakes at his club. You know the -result. Into the mire deeper and deeper. A sad picture, Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very sad," said Aaron, who had listened patiently and knew that the -crucial part of the lawyer's mission--that which affected himself and -Ruth--had not yet been reached.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Storndale," continued the lawyer, "is a gentleman of exclusive -views, and is perhaps prouder in his poverty than he would be with a -rent roll of a hundred thousand a year. His son's extravagances and -debts are not hidden from his knowledge--the money lenders take care -of that. From time to time, and at a great sacrifice, he extricates -the young scapegrace from temporary difficulties, but at length he -comes to a full stop. His own means are exhausted, and willing as he -may be to keep putting his hand in his pocket, it is useless to do so, -because the pocket is empty. But he has some influence in a small way, -and he obtains for his son the offer of a post in the colonies, not -very grand certainly, but affording an opening which may lead to -something better if the young gentleman will only condescend to look -at life seriously--which, as a rule, such young fellows decline to do -until it is too late. However, a father, whether he be a peer or a -common laborer, can do no more than his duty. He informs his son of -the appointment he has obtained for him, and the scapegrace--I am -speaking quite openly, Mr. Cohen; the Honorable Percy Storndale <i>is</i> -one--declines to accept it. 'Why?' asks the astonished father. 'I -cannot live on it,' replies the son. Then the father points out how he -can live on it by cutting down some of his extravagances, and that he -may find opportunities in the colonies which he can never meet with -here. The son remains obdurate. 'There is another reason for your -refusal,' says the father. 'There is,' the son admits. 'I prefer to -live in London; it is the only city in the world worth living in.' -'And starving in,' suggests the father. The scapegrace shrugs his -shoulders, and says something will turn up, and that he will not -submit to banishment because he happens to have been born a few years -too late--a reflection upon his brother, the eldest son, who in course -of time will inherit the family embarrassments and mortgages. The -father remonstrates, argues, entreats, but the young man will not give -way. Meanwhile the appointment is bestowed upon another and a worthier -gentleman, and the chance is lost. I trust I am not wearying you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; I am attending to all you say, and waiting to hear how my -daughter's name comes to be mixed up with the family history you are -giving me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will understand everything presently. My object is to make the -matter perfectly clear, and to have no concealment. For this reason I -wish you to be aware of the character of the young gentleman, and I am -describing it carefully at the express wish of his father. At the same -time I lay no positive charge against him; I am not saying he is a bad -man, but an undesirable man. There are thousands of young fellows who -are living just such a careless, irresponsible, reckless life, who get -into debt, who gamble, and who ultimately find themselves passing -through the bankruptcy court. Young men without balance, Mr.<br> -Cohen, and who, in consequence, topple over. They sow trouble<br> -wherever they go, and they are always smiling, self-possessed, and -pleasant-mannered. Women especially are caught by these externals, but -speaking myself as the father of grown-up daughters, I should be sorry -to see one of that class visiting my house as a suitor to one of my -girls." Aaron started, but did not speak. "Lord Storndale suspected -that there was another reason, which his son had not mentioned, for -his refusal of the colonial appointment, and in a short time his -suspicions were confirmed. It came to his knowledge that his son was -paying attentions to a young lady whom he was in the habit of meeting -at garden parties and tennis, and he taxed the young gentleman with -it. His son did not deny it; he said that he loved the lady, that her -father was very wealthy, and that she was in every way presentable. 'I -do not know,' said the young man, 'whether the circumstance of her -father being a commoner will prejudice you against him.' Lord -Storndale replied that he would have preferred his son had chosen from -his own rank, but that marriages between rich commoners and members of -the aristocracy were not unusual in these days, and that he would -sanction the match if the lady's father was a gentleman. To be honest -with you, Mr. Cohen, Lord Storndale has no liking for commoners who -have made fortunes in trade or by speculating, but he did not allow -these scruples to weigh with him, his hope being that the proposed -union would be the means of extricating his son from his difficulties. -The young man said that the lady's father was a gentleman widely known -for his benevolence and uprightness of character, and that he was held -in universal esteem. Up to this point the interview had been of an -amiable nature, but then arose an insurmountable difficulty. 'Who is -the gentleman?' inquired Lord Storndale. 'Mr. Aaron Cohen,' replied -the young man." Observing Aaron's agitation, the lawyer suspended his -narration and said: "Pardon me; you were about to speak."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron by a great effort controlled himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will wait till you have quite finished, Mr. Dillworthy. Before I -commit myself it will be as well that I should be in possession of all -the facts."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite so. I have been explicit and circumstantial in order that there -shall be no mistake. When I have finished you will have few, if any, -questions to ask, because you will know everything it is in my power -to tell. Upon hearing your name his lordship remarked that it was a -Jewish name. 'Yes,' said the young man, 'he is a Jew.' Lord Storndale -was angry and distressed. I admit that it is an unreasonable -prejudice, but he has an invincible dislike to Jews, and it shocked -him to think that his son contemplated a marriage with a Jewess. I -need dwell no longer upon the interview, which now took a stormy turn, -and it ended by the son abruptly leaving the room. On no account -whatever, Mr. Cohen, will Lord Storndale or any member of the family -consent to such an alliance; if it is accomplished the young man will -be thrown upon his own resources, and his wife will not be recognized -by his kinsfolk. The trouble has already reached a climax. The young -gentleman is hot-headed--a Storndale failing--and he declined to -listen to remonstrances; the consequence is that he has been forbidden -his father's home till he comes to reason. But despite his -extravagances and the constant and perplexing involvements issuing -therefrom, his father has an affection for him, and is bent upon -saving his family from----"</p> - -<p class="normal">The lawyer pausing here, with an awkward cough, as though he was -choking down a word, Aaron quietly added it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Disgrace?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, yes," said Mr. Dillworthy briskly, "we will not mince matters. -It is not my word, but Lord Storndale's. He would account such an -alliance a disgrace. I will say nothing in his excuse. In all -civilized countries we have living evidences of happy unions between -members of the aristocracy and wealthy daughters of Israel, and also -living evidences of happy mixed marriages between persons neither -aristocratic nor wealthy; and these might be brought forward as -powerful arguments against the view my client entertains. But they -would have no weight with him. We must take into consideration the -pride of race."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Aaron, still speaking in a quiet tone, "we must take that -into consideration. You have not quite finished, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not quite. As a last resource Lord Storndale consulted me, and -intrusted me with a painful task. He requested me to call upon you and -represent the matter in the plainest terms, which I have endeavored to -do, omitting or concealing no single incident of the unhappy affair. I -am deputed to ask you to take a course with your daughter similar to -that he has taken with his son--that is, to absolutely forbid the -union. The young gentleman is in a state of extreme pecuniary -embarrassment, and it is possible--I do not state it as a fact, but -merely as a presumption--that he reckons upon your aid to settle with -his creditors. When he finds that this aid will not be forthcoming, -and that he cannot depend upon your making a suitable settlement upon -your daughter, he is not unlikely, for prudential reasons, to beat a -retreat. A good end will thus be served, and much future misery -averted. You will gather from what I have said that I do not believe -the Honorable Percy Storndale possesses qualities which would make -your daughter happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are commissioned to take my answer to Lord Storndale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may trust you to convey that answer as nearly as possible in my own -words?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be my endeavor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will tell him, then, that the mission with which he has intrusted -you is a surprise to me. Until this day I never heard his name, nor -until this day have I heard the name of his son. Never before, to my -knowledge, has my daughter concealed anything from me or from her -mother, and I need not say that what you have revealed is a grief to -me, and will be to her mother if it comes to her ears. That our -daughter must have been under the spell of some powerful influence to -induce her to keep us in ignorance of what was passing between her and -your client's son is in my judgment indisputable, and the inference is -that this influence has been exercised by the young man, who must have -bound her by a solemn promise to say nothing of the attentions he has -paid to her. I have no hesitation in declaring that no honorable man -would have acted in a manner so clandestine and secret, and you will -inform Lord Storndale that in my opinion his son is not a man of -honor. A young girl's trustfulness and innocence should be her -safeguard, but here they have been basely used by a man who, according -to your own statement, by his external accomplishments has unhappily -attracted her. It has not been concealed from us that our daughter has -mixed a little in society outside our special family circle, for in -her participation of these, as I hoped, harmless pleasures she had -generally been accompanied by her mother, who, I grieve to say, is -blind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This affliction has necessarily prevented her from keeping that watch -over her daughter which is a mother's loving duty, and of this -affliction your client's son has taken a base advantage. You speak of -the pride of race as affecting Lord Storndale. We have also that -pride, and if we were so far forgetful of the obligations of our faith -as to admit your client's son into our family it is upon him and upon -Lord Storndale, not upon us, that honor would have been conferred. -Such an alliance will never, with my sanction, be entered into, and I -will endeavor to guard my daughter from the peril with which she is -threatened."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dillworthy, having obtained his point, wisely dropped the subject. -He briefly expressed his obligations to Aaron, and rose to take his -departure.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before he reached the door, however, he turned, and in a tone of -courteous deference asked if Mr. Cohen could spare him a few moments -more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron assenting, the lawyer resumed his seat, and taking a pocketbook -from his pocket, searched in it for a letter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PAST.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Aaron observed him anxiously. The disclosure that had already been -made had so unnerved him that he was apprehensive of further trouble.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, here it is," said the lawyer, opening the letter for which he had -been looking. "I was afraid I had left it behind me. Excuse me a -moment; I wish to refresh my memory."</p> - -<p class="normal">He ran his eye over the letter, and nodded as he went through its -points of importance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does it concern the unhappy affair we have discussed"? inquired -Aaron, unable to restrain his impatience.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied the lawyer; "I take it that is settled, and I trust, for -the sake of both the families, that it will not be reopened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is quite a different matter, and I hardly know how to excuse -myself for troubling you with it. It is a sudden thought, for I came -here with no such intention. You must thank your own reputation for -it, Mr. Cohen; it is well known that you have never neglected an -opportunity to do an act of kindness, and though what I am about to -speak of has come to me in the way of business, the story contains -elements so romantic and peculiar that it has strangely attracted me. -The reference in the letter which induces me to think that you may be -able to help me is that you are a gentleman of influence in your -community, and have a wide acquaintance with your co-religionists. -Perhaps I had better read the words. My correspondent says: 'I know -that there are peculiar difficulties in the search I intend to make -upon my return home, but before my arrival you may be able to discover -something which will be of assistance to me. Probably if you consulted -some kind-hearted and influential member of the Jewish race you may, -through him, obtain a clew; or, failing this, you might employ a -Jewish agent to make inquiries.' It is a lady who writes to me, and -her letter comes from Australia. May I continue? Thank you. Let me -tell you the story; it will interest you, and I will be as brief as -possible. The letter is too long to read throughout." He handed it to -Aaron. "It occupies, you see, fourteen closely written pages, and it -is somewhat in the nature of a confession. If you wish I will have a -copy of it made, and will send it on to you to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron, turning over the pages, came to the superscription: "I remain, -yours truly, Mary Gordon."</p> - -<p class="normal">Truly this was a day of startling surprises to him. He recollected the -name as that of the gentleman for whom, twenty years ago, Mr. Moss had -undertaken the commission which had lifted him from beggary by placing -in his hands a large sum of money, to which in strict justice he was -not entitled, but which, from fear that the deception he had practiced -might otherwise be discovered, he had been compelled to accept. He -had, as an atonement, expended in secret charities a hundred times the -sum, but this did not absolve him from the responsibility. The spirit -of the dead past rose before him, and he was overwhelmed with the -dread possibilities it brought with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear," said the lawyer, "that I have been inconsiderate in -introducing the matter at the present moment. I will postpone it to a -future occasion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray continue," said Aaron, whose burning desire now was to know the -worst. "I have had an exciting day, but I will pay due attention to -what you wish to impart to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I appreciate your kindness. If you cannot yourself assist me you may -recommend me to an agent whom I will employ. I see that you referred -in the letter to the name of my correspondent, Mrs. Gordon; the -inquiry is of a delicate nature, and it may be her wish that her name -is not too freely mentioned--at all events for the present. Her story -is not an uncommon one, but it takes an extraordinary and unusual -turn. She is now, according to her own account, a lady of considerable -means; her husband has lately died and she has come into a fortune. -Some twenty odd years ago she was a young woman, and had two lovers, -one of whom wooed her with dishonorable intentions, and by him she was -betrayed. This occurred during the absence in Australia of the -gentleman who had proposed to her, and whom she had accepted. He was a -resident in Australia, and it was his intention to make his home -there. While he was on his way to England, with the intention of -making her his wife and returning with her to the colony, she -discovered that she was about to become a mother. In despair she fled -from London, where he expected to find her, and sought to hide her -shame among strangers. The place she selected was Portsmouth, and -there she went through a series of harrowing trials, and was reduced -to extreme poverty. In her letter to me she makes no effort to -disguise the misery into which she was plunged, and she is frank and -outspoken in order that I may properly understand how it was that she -was forced to abandon the child that was born in Portsmouth under the -most distressing circumstances. For it appears that when the suitor -who wooed her honorably arrived in London and learned the story of her -betrayal he was still desirous to make her his wife. He traced her to -Portsmouth, and found her there with her babe, who was then but a few -days old. This would have induced most men to forego their honorable -intentions, but Mr. Gordon, whose name she now bears, was an exception -to the rule, and, through a poor gentleman who acted as a go-between, -he made a singular proposition to her. It was to the effect that she -should consent to give up her child entirely, and during his lifetime -to make no effort to recover it. He undertook to find a respectable -and comfortable home for the babe, and to make a liberal provision for -it. This is the bare outline of this proposition, and I need not go -farther into it. So desperate was her position that she and her child -at the time were literally starving; she had not a friend except Mr. -Gordon, who was stern in his resolve not to befriend her unless she -accepted the conditions he dictated; the gentleman who acted as a -go-between was poor and could not help her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In these circumstances she made the sacrifice he demanded, and parted -with her child, who from that day to this she has never seen. Mr. -Gordon honorably fulfilled the terms of the agreement; a home was -found for the child, and he married the lady and took her to -Australia, where she has resided for the last twenty years. It was -part of the agreement that she should not be informed of the name of -the people who adopted the child, and should not, directly or -indirectly, make the least endeavor to obtain any information -concerning it while her husband was alive. If he died before her she -was free to act as she pleased in the matter. This has occurred, and -the widow, who has had no children by her marriage, is bent upon -recovering her child, who, I may mention, is a girl. The task is beset -with difficulties, and may prove hopeless. Shortly stated, Mr. Cohen, -this is the case as it at present stands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there a special reason," inquired Aaron, "for your applying to me -for assistance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not exactly special; it is in a sense accidental, inspired by my -visit this evening on the other matter we have spoken of. There are -certain particulars in relation to Mrs. Gordon's search for her -daughter which I have omitted. The arrangements for the future -provision of the babe were carried out, I understand, by a firm of -lawyers whose names Mrs. Gordon has been unable to ascertain, but she -is acquainted with the name of the gentleman who in Portsmouth -conveyed Mr. Gordon's proposition to her. This gentleman is Dr. -Spenlove, who, leaving Portsmouth several years ago, has attained an -eminent position in London. You may probably know him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was at my house to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you are on terms of intimacy with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. We met to-day for the first time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In her letter Mrs. Gordon refers me to Dr. Spenlove, and I have seen -him on the subject. But it appears he is bound to secrecy, and he -declines, very properly perhaps, to enter into any communication with -me on the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still you have not explained why you apply to me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The explanation is simple. It has somehow come to Mrs. Gordon's -knowledge that, after enlisting the services of Dr. Spenlove, her -husband employed another agent, who was commissioned to find a home -for her child, and that this agent was of the Jewish persuasion. The -natural conclusion is that this agent was a resident of Portsmouth, -who may or may not have been bound to secrecy in the same manner as -Dr. Spenlove. You have friends of your own persuasion everywhere and -are probably acquainted with many Portsmouth Jews, through whom this -poor lady may gain intelligence of the fate of her child. If you -assist me you will earn a mother's gratitude."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will consider it," said Aaron, and his voice was troubled; "that is -all I can promise at present."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dillworthy gave him a kind look and said: "It is not an opportune -time to seek your aid in a cause in which you are not personally -interested, when another subject, the welfare of a dear daughter, must -naturally engross your attention. Pray forgive me, Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron bent his head, and as the lawyer closed the door behind him sank -into his chair with a heavy sigh.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4> -<h5>BEFORE ALL, DUTY.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On this evening many pressing matters claimed his attention, and -before Mr. Dillworthy's visit he had intended to devote himself -entirely to them.</p> - -<p class="normal">He took an active part in the dispensing of several Jewish charities, -and his personal attendance was necessary to a wise distribution of -their funds. Some of these charities were modest in the limited extent -of their aims, but they needed care and attention, and his presence -was always anxiously looked for by both the administrators and -recipients.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meetings of two of the charities were to be held this evening, and<br> -he had promised to preside at both. He must not disappoint them. -Before all, duty. That was the thought that came to him--before all, -duty, and it was only the iteration of it that brought a true sense<br> -of its significance to his mind. Before all, duty, in these public -matters--but did it not also apply to private life? And if so, what -part in the strict adherence to the axiom did love occupy?</p> - -<p class="normal">What was his duty here at home in respect of his wife and the girl he -had brought up as their daughter? He endeavored to thrust the -reflection aside, and drew forth some papers which bore reference to -the charities and to another matter of great public, importance which -had occupied him for weeks past, and which he was on the point of -bringing to a successful conclusion.</p> - -<p class="normal">He strove now to concentrate his attention upon the papers, for he was -to attend a late night meeting at eleven o'clock at which a decision -was to be arrived at which was to affect thousands of poor families.</p> - -<p class="normal">There had been a great strike in the building trade, and vast numbers -of men had voluntarily thrown themselves out of employment, and had -chosen what was almost next door to starvation in their adherence to a -principle. The strike had been brought about chiefly by Aaron's great -rival contractor, a Mr. Poynter, an employer of labor on a gigantic -scale, and a man as well known as Aaron himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">To say that these two were rivals does not necessarily imply that they -were enemies, for that is a game that two must play at, and it was a -game in which Aaron played no part. He did not approve of Mr. -Poynter's methods--he went no farther than that.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the other hand, Mr. Poynter hated Aaron with a very sincere and -conscientious hate. He hated him because he had lost several -profitable contracts which Aaron had obtained, and this hatred may be -applied in a general sense because he hated every successful rival, -great or small.</p> - -<p class="normal">He hated him because Aaron was genuinely respected by large bodies of -workingmen, and had great influence with them; and this hatred may -also be applied in a general sense, because he hated all employers of -labor who were held by their workmen in higher respect than himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">He hated Aaron because he was a Jew, and this may certainly be applied -in a general sense, because he had a bitter hatred of all Jews, and -would have willingly subscribed liberally and joined in a crusade to -hunt them out of the country.</p> - -<p class="normal">That a Jew could be a good man, that he could be a just<br> -man, that he could do anything without an eye to profit or<br> -self-aggrandizement--these were monstrous propositions, and no man of -sense, certainly no true Christian, could seriously entertain them. -Mr. Poynter was a Christian, a true Christian, regular in his -attendances at church and fairly liberal also in his charities, though -his left hand always knew what his right hand did. And here he found -another cause for hating Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard his name quoted as a man of large benevolence, and he went so -far as to declare that Aaron's charities were a means to an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He looks upon them as an investment," he said; "they bring him a good -return. Did you ever know a Jew part with money without an eye to the -main chance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">When he heard that it was generally reported that Aaron gave away in -secret much more than he gave away in public his comment was, "What is -easier than to set such a rumor afloat? Any rich man can do it by an -expenditure of ten pounds a year. If money is bestowed in secret who -is to know of it but the donor? If it becomes public who could have -spoken of it first but the donor? No one but a fool would be gulled by -so transparent a trick."</p> - -<p class="normal">These detractions were generally uttered to men who sympathized with -the speaker, and they were not without effect. By which it will be -seen that Aaron had enemies, as all men have.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Poynter posed as a moral man, and it is the very essence of these -usurpers of morality that they must stand alone, and that upon their -pedestal there shall be no room for any other braggart. He was a -married man with sons and daughters and a wife, who all looked upon -the husband and father as a pattern.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether his children followed the pattern or not does not concern this -history, which has to do with the head of the family alone. Whatever a -man may be in the prime of life the earlier Adam, if it differ from -the later, will very likely assert itself in the blood of his -descendants, and this may have been the case with Mr. Poynter's -children, despite the respect in which they held him.</p> - -<p class="normal">You come into contact with a sober-faced man, whose distinguishing -mark is one of intense respectability; you see him at home in the -bosom of his family, whom he entertains with severely respectable -platitudes; you hear his opinions on matters of current interest, a -trial, a scandal in high life, tittle-tattle of the stage, the court, -the Church, and society in general.</p> - -<p class="normal">What an intensely respectable gentleman, what severely respectable -views, what strict morality, what an estimable father of a family!<br> -Ah, but draw the curtain of years aside, and we behold another<br> -man--another man, yet still the same: a man about town, philandering, -deceiving, lying, and playing the base part to serve his selfish -pleasures. Where is the morality, where the respectability now?--and -which of the two is the true man?</p> - -<p class="normal">Was this the case with Mr. Poynter? The course of events may possibly -supply the answer to this question presently. Meanwhile nothing is -more certain to-day than that he is accepted as he presents himself. -But if in the past life of such a man as Aaron Cohen may be found an -episode of his own creating upon which he looks with dismay, why might -it not be so with such a man as Mr. Poynter?</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron Cohen and he had been acquainted for many years, and at Aaron's -hands Mr. Poynter had received mortifications again and again. In a -country like England, where operations of magnitude are being -continually undertaken, there is room for all who occupy the higher -rungs of the ladder; it is only the lower rungs which are overcrowded, -and which need clearing by means of emigration to lands where there is -room for the toiling, suffering millions. But Mr. Poynter chose to -believe that there was not room for Aaron and himself, and he had -nursed and fostered an ardent wish to drag Aaron down.</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps it was the knowledge of his own early life that made him -think, "If I could find something in his past that would bring shame -upon him--if I could only rake up something that would show him in his -true light! It would be the commercial and social ruin of him. He -would never be able to hold up his head again."</p> - -<p class="normal">He would gladly have paid for some such discovery.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the present time he had special reasons for hate. One reason was -that the strike in the building trade was affecting him seriously. He -was engaged in large contracts in the carrying out of which some -thousands of men were needed, and it was chiefly against himself that -the strike was ordered by the unions. He was on the brink of great -losses, and Aaron had been called in as a mediator and arbitrator.</p> - -<p class="normal">The strike at an end he was safe, but every day that it was prolonged -meant so many hundreds of pounds out of his pocket. His fate seemed to -hang upon the final advice to the men which Aaron was to give, and his -profits would be large or small according to the nature of that -advice.</p> - -<p class="normal">He laid the credit of the strike at Aaron's door, for in their -enterprises he and Aaron employed different methods. Aaron had pursued -in England the course he had pursued in France.</p> - -<p class="normal">He paid his men liberally, gave them bonuses, even to a certain extent -acknowledged them as co-operators. In Mr. Poynter's eyes this was a -crime, for it struck at the very root of his prosperity. "He is a -socialist," Mr. Poynter said; "men of his stamp are a danger to -society."</p> - -<p class="normal">Another reason was that tenders had lately been called for on works of -exceptional magnitude, and he had entertained hopes of obtaining the -contract. Again he was worsted by this insidious enemy. Within the -last few hours he had heard that Aaron's tender had been accepted. He -ground his teeth with rage. He could have undertaken the works in -spite of the strike, for he had nearly completed arrangements for the -introduction of foreign workmen, whom he was determined to employ if -the English workers held out.</p> - -<p class="normal">There would be a row, of course, and the lower classes would cast -obloquy upon him, for which he would have to thank his rival enemy. -When he heard that he had lost the contract he said to a friend: "I -would give half I am worth to drag him down." And he meant what he -said, although he probably named a larger percentage than he would be -willing to pay.</p> - -<p class="normal">The last meeting of the strikers was now being held. It had been -called for seven o'clock, and it was known that the discussion would -occupy several hours. Aaron was not asked to attend this discussion, -which was to be private, even the representatives of the press not -being admitted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Eleven o'clock was the hour at which he was expected, and it was -understood that he would bring with him certain propositions from the -masters, which, with the workmen's views, were to be discussed, and a -decision arrived at. To-morrow morning's papers would announce whether -the strike was to be continued or was at an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">He studied the papers before him: the arguments and statements of -employers of labor, comparisons of wages here and in foreign -countries, the comparative rates of living here and there, documents -of every description, among which were pathetic letters from wives of -the strikers, imploring him to put an end to the strike.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had mastered them all, and was familiar with every detail, but he -wished to divert his attention for this night from his own private -affairs. His mind must be free; he would think of them to-morrow. He -had public duties to attend to. Before all, duty.</p> - -<p class="normal">The words haunted him. He could think only of his beloved wife and of -Ruth. Very well. He had half an hour to spare before he left his house -for the Jewish meetings; he would devote the time to a consideration -of his private duty.</p> - -<p class="normal">He gathered his papers, arranged them in order, and put them in his -pocket. He dallied with them at first, but feeling that he was -prolonging the simple task in order to shorten the time for serious -thought, he smiled pitifully at his weakness, and completed it -expeditiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">In admitting Ruth into his household, in adopting her as a daughter, -he had undertaken a sacred responsibility. He was fully conscious of -this twenty years ago in Gosport, and what he had done had been done -deliberately.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a question then of the sacrifice of a precious life. The doctor -had set it clearly before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The pregnant words they had exchanged were in his memory now, and -might have been spoken only a few moments since.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her life," the doctor had said, "hangs upon the life of her child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If our child lives," Aaron had asked, "there is hope that my wife -will live?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A strong hope," the doctor had answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if our child dies?" asked Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">The doctor answered: "The mother will die."</p> - -<p class="normal">He recalled the agony of those hours, the sufferings through which -Rachel had passed with so much sweetness and patience, his poverty<br> -and helplessness, the dark future before him. Then came the ray of -light--Mr. Moss, with the strange commission of the deserted child. He -had not courted it, had not invited it, he had had no hand in it. He -had regarded it as a message from Heaven.</p> - -<p class="normal">What followed?</p> - -<p class="normal">The death of his own babe, the calm and peaceful death, the young soul -taken to heaven, his beloved wife in an untroubled sleep by the side -of her dead babe. It was a visitation of God. Again, could he be -accused of having had a hand in it? Heaven forbid!</p> - -<p class="normal">On the contrary, who could blame him for believing that it was a -divine direction of the course he was to take? And who was wronged? -Surely not the mother who had deserted her babe. Surely not the babe, -who had found a happy home. The wrong--and herein was the sting---was -to Rachel, whose life had been saved by the deceit. So far, then, was -he not justified?</p> - -<p class="normal">But if before the committal of a sin we could see the consequences of -the sin--if he had seen the consequences of his--would he not have -paused and said: "It rests with God. Let it be as he wills. I will be -no party to the deceit"? In that case Rachel's life would have been -sacrificed. There was no human doubt of it. Rachel would have died, -and the blessings she had shed around her, the good she had been -enabled to do, the suffering hearts she had relieved, the light she -had brought into despairing homes, would never have been. Against a -little evil so much good. Against a slight error so much that was -sweet and beautiful.</p> - -<p class="normal">But in these reflections he had taken into account only Rachel and -himself--only their two lives. How about Ruth herself?</p> - -<p class="normal">He had never disguised from himself that there was much in Ruth's -character which was not in accordance with Rachel's views or his own, -which she did not assimilate with either of their natures. Being one -of his family in the eyes of the world, he had brought her up as a -Jewess. She was born a Christian. Was this not a crime of which she -had been made the victim? He had experienced great difficulties in her -education. He wished to correct the defect which exists in ninety-nine -English Jewesses out of a hundred--he wished her to pray in the Hebrew -tongue, and to understand her prayers.</p> - -<p class="normal">To this end he himself had endeavored to teach her to read and -translate Hebrew. She would not learn. Even now as a woman she -understood but a very few words, and this scanty knowledge was -mechanical. A parrot might have learned as much. She had an aversion -to Jewish society.</p> - -<p class="normal">As a child, when she was necessarily in leading strings, she was taken -by Rachel to the synagogue on every Sabbath day, but when she began to -have intelligent ideas she rebelled; she would not go, and Rachel -walked to the house of God alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a grief to her that Ruth would not follow in her footsteps, and -she and Aaron had frequently conversed upon the subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was so with many Jewish women," Aaron said. "It would be wrong to -force her; she will find out her error by and by."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Ruth never did, and Rachel suffered in silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was another sorrow. Between their son Joseph and Ruth did not -exist that love which brother and sister should bear each other. -Joseph was ready with demonstrative affection, but Ruth did not -respond. Aaron had taken note of this, but he was powerless to remedy -it, and the lad, who was as solicitous as his father to spare the dear -mother pain, made no trouble of it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ruth respected and admired her reputed father, and in the feelings she -entertained toward him there was an element of fear, because of his -strength of character, but she did not love him as a child should. He, -knowing what he knew, found excuses for her. "It is in her blood," he -said to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this was hidden from Rachel, to whom Ruth was tender and kind. Who -could be otherwise to so sweet a woman? But Rachel did not know of -what she was deprived until Rose Moss began to make long visits to -their home. "Rose is like a daughter to me," she said, and only Aaron -was aware of the depth of meaning these simple words conveyed.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now he had to consider the matter, not from his or Rachel's point -of view, but from Ruth's. She was a woman in her springtime, and love -had come to her, and she had held out her arms to it. And the man she -loved was a Christian.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not within his right to take into consideration that the man -she loved was a spendthrift and a scapegrace. The question had often -intruded itself, since she was grown to womanhood, whether he would -not be adding sin to sin by encouraging her to marry a Jew. She had -answered the question herself. What right had he to gainsay her? He -might, as a true and sincere friend, say to her: "This man will not -make you happy. He has vices and defects which will bring misery upon -your home. You must not marry him." But he had no right to say to her: -"You must not marry this man, because he is a Christian." It would be -a detestable argument for one in his position, and in hers, to -advance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Mr. Dillworthy might be wrong in his estimate of the young man's -character. The only objection Lord Storndale had to the union was that -Ruth was a Jewess. But she was not a Jewess, and it was in his power -to go to the young man's father and make the disclosure to him. Lord -Storndale's natural reply would be: "Let it be clearly understood. You -have done this lady a grievous wrong. You are a wealthy man. Repair -the wrong by making a suitable settlement upon her. But it must be -publicly done, and the injustice of which you have been guilty must be -publicly acknowledged." The only answer he could make would be: "It is -just. I will do as you dictate."</p> - -<p class="normal">What would be the effect as regarded himself? Among his<br> -co-religionists he was held up as a pillar of the old Jewish faith. -His voice had been raised against apostasy; he had taken a decided -stand against the more liberal ideas of civilized life which prevailed -and were adopted by a large section of his race.</p> - -<p class="normal">Even now he was pledged to deliver a public address against the -backsliding of the modern Jew, who was disposed to adapt his life to -the altered circumstances of the times. He had written his address, -and public attention had been drawn to the coming event. His arguments -were to himself convincing, and by them he hoped to stem the tide.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had always been orthodox, and he hoped to prevail against the wave -of heterodoxy which was sweeping over modern Judaism. He had stepped -forward as a champion. In the light of the duty which properly -devolved upon him, how dare he, himself a transgressor, presume to -teach his brethren their religious duty? His sound judgment of things -which interested or affected him was due to his common sense, which, -he had been heard to say, was a rare quality.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are always right," Mr. Moss once said to him. "How is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I form a correct opinion," he replied, with a smile, "it is -because I exercise my common sense. I do not judge from my own -standpoint."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did this now. He put himself in the place of other men. He listened -to his own confession. He passed the verdict upon himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This man has been living the life of a hypocrite. He has accepted -money for false services. Not in words, but by his acts, he has lied. -He has violated the canons of his religion. He has deceived his<br> -wife--for money, which he pretends to despise. He has robbed a young -girl of her birthright. And he dares to preach to us of duty!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Who would believe if he told the true story of his hard trial--if he -described the bitter tribulation of his soul when his beloved wife was -lying at death's door? He had counseled many men in their days of -struggle and temptation to be brave and do their duty. How had he -performed his in <i>his</i> hour of temptation? No one would believe the -only story he could plead in extenuation of his sin. He would be -condemned by all.</p> - -<p class="normal">And he was in the zenith of his fame. On this very day, when exposure -seemed to be approaching with swift and certain steps, he had been -honored as few men lived to be. If he felt pleasure in the position he -had won it was because it was a source of pride and pleasure to -Rachel. Was he, with his own hand, to destroy the ideal he had -created? Was this the plain duty that lay now before him?</p> - -<p class="normal">"The carriage is at the door, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a servant who interrupted his tortured musings. He had given -orders to be informed when his carriage was ready. With slow steps he -left his study.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h4> -<h5>A CHEERFUL DOCTOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There was an apartment in Aaron Cohen's house which was called the -cozy room, where the family were in the habit of sitting when they had -no visitors, and it was here that their real domestic happiness -reigned. Here Aaron used to smoke his old silver-mounted pipe, and -chat with his wife, and indulge in his entertaining pleasantries when -he was in the humor, and here the feeling used to steal over him that -life would hold more joy for him and those dear to him if they dwelt -in a smaller house and his doings were less under the public eye.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am convinced," he would say, "that those who are in the lower -middle class are the best off. They have fewer cares, they have more -time for domestic enjoyment, they can attend without hindrance to -their own affairs. There is no happiness in riches. Why do I continue -to wish to accumulate more money?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because," Rachel would answer affectionately, "It enables you to -contribute to the happiness of others. But I should be as contented if -we were poor."</p> - -<p class="normal">On the occasion of Mr. Dillworthy's visit to Aaron a scene of a -different nature was being enacted in the cozy room. Rachel was -overpowered with languor, and she fell into a doze. The apartment was -large, but an arrangement of screens and the disposal of the furniture -made it look small; domestically speaking, there is no comfort in any -but a small room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose during her present visit had noticed with concern that Mrs. Cohen -appeared weak, and that her movements, which were always gentle, were -more so than usual, and that her quiet ways seemed to be the result of -physical prostration. She spoke of it to Rachel, who confessed that -she had not felt strong lately, but cautioned Rose to say nothing of -it to Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is so easily alarmed about me," she said, "and he has great -anxieties upon him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you should see the doctor," urged Rose solicitously.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will wait a day or two," answered Rachel, and again enjoined Rose -not to alarm her husband.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the evening of this exciting day she looked so pale and fatigued -that she yielded to Rose's solicitations, and without Aaron's -knowledge sent for the physician who was in the habit of attending -her. While waiting for him she fell asleep in her armchair in the cozy -room. At her request Rose played softly some of Rachel's favorite -pieces. The piano was behind a screen at one end of the room, and Rose -did not know that she had fallen asleep. While thus employed Prissy -quietly entered the room. The faithful woman looked at her mistress, -and stepped noiselessly to the screen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Miss Rose," she whispered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl stopped playing immediately, and came from behind the screen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it the doctor, Prissy?" she asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">Prissy pointed to her mistress, and Rose went to the armchair, and -adjusted a light shawl which was falling from the sleeping lady's -shoulder. It was a slight action, but it was done with so much -tenderness that Prissy smiled approvingly. She liked Rose much better -than Ruth, who did not hold in her affections the place the other -members of the family did. Humble as was her position in the -household, she had observed things of which she disapproved.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ruth was from home more frequently than she considered proper, and had -often said to her: "You need not tell my mother that I have gone out -unless she asks you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Prissy had not disobeyed her, and the consequence was that Ruth was -sometimes absent from the house for hours without her father or mother -being aware of it. Prissy's idea was that her young mistress would -bring trouble on the house, but she kept silence, because she would -otherwise have got into trouble herself with Ruth, and would also have -distressed her dear lady if she had made mention of her suspicions, -for which she could have offered no reasonable explanation. Prissy's -distress of mind was not lessened because Ruth, when she enjoined -secrecy upon her, gave her money, as if to purchase her silence. She -would have refused these bribes, but Ruth forced them upon her, and -she felt as if she were in a conspiracy to destroy the peace of the -family.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not know she was asleep," said Rose, coming back to Prissy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm sure you didn't, miss. She falls off, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I know," said Rose with affectionate solicitude. "What do you -want, Prissy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I've got a letter for you, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I didn't hear the postman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The postman didn't bring it, miss," said Prissy, giving her the -letter. "A boy. Said immejiet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be from--no." She was thinking of her lover as she looked at -the letter, but she saw it was not his hand. She recognized the -writing--it was Ruth's. "The envelope is not very clean, Prissy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I told the boy when he brought it to the back door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The back door!" exclaimed Rose, rather bewildered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's curious, isn't it, miss, that it wasn't sent by post?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, it is. What did the boy say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's what I said first, miss. 'You've been and dropped it in the -gutter,' I said. But he only laughed and said it was give to him this -morning, and that he was to bring it to the servants' entrance and ask -for Prissy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why didn't he deliver it this morning?" asked Rose, her -bewilderment growing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, miss. He's been playing in the streets all day, I -expect. Anyway he said I was to give it you when nobody was looking. -It's Miss Ruth's writing, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose made no remark upon this, but asked: "Did he say who gave it to -him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A young lady he said, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will do, Prissy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I do anything for you, miss?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, thank you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Prissy gone, Rose looked at the envelope, and saw written in one -corner, "Read this when you are alone." Troubled and perplexed, she -stood with the letter in her hand, but when the door was opened again -and the doctor was announced she put it hastily into her pocket and -went forward to meet him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Roberts had attended Rachel for some years past, and took the -deepest interest in her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sleeping," he said, stepping to her side. He turned to Rose, and -questioning her, learned why he had been sent for.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She falls asleep," he said, with his fingers on Rachel's pulse. "Ah, -you are awake," as Rachel sat upright. "Now let us see what is the -matter. You are not in pain? No. That's good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is only because Rose was so anxious," said Rachel. "There is -really nothing the matter with me, doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you feel weak and drowsy at times. We will soon set that right."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Roberts was one of those cheerful physicians whose bright ways -always brightened his patients. "Make the best of a case," was a -favorite saying of his, "not the worst."</p> - -<p class="normal">He remained with Rachel a quarter of an hour, advised her to get to -bed, gave her instructions as to food, ordered her a tonic, and took -his leave. Rose went with him into the passage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no danger, doctor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not the slightest, my dear," he answered in a fatherly manner. "But I -would advise perfect rest. Don't tell her anything exciting. She must -not be worried. Get a humorous story, and read it to her. Make her -laugh. Let everything be bright and cheerful about her. But I need not -say that. It always is, eh? If you have any troubles keep them to -yourself. But what troubles should a young girl like you have?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He met Aaron at the street door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Mr. Cohen, I have been to see your wife--in a friendly way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is not ill?" asked Aaron in an anxious tone, stepping back.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No--a little weak, that is all. Don't go up to see her; I have just -left her, and she will think there is something the matter, when -there's nothing that cannot be set right in a few days. She wants -tone, that is all, and rest, and perfect freedom from excitement. That -is essential. Such a day as this, flattering and pleasant as it must -have been, is not good for her. Keep her mind at rest, let her hear -nothing to disturb her, speak of none but cheerful subjects to her, -and she will be herself again in a week. Follow my advice, and there -is not the least cause for anxiety."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h4> -<h5>RUTH'S SECRET.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Roberts' hearty and confident tone carried conviction with it. -Aaron's anxiety was dispelled; easier in his mind respecting Rachel's -health, he felt like a man reprieved. A few days were still left for -reflection, and he went forth to his public duties with a sense of -great relief.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose, meanwhile, was busy for some time attending to Rachel, who -wished the young girl to remain with her till she was asleep. With -Ruth's letter in her pocket, which had been delivered almost -clandestinely at the house, and which she was enjoined to read when -she was alone, she was compelled to bridle her impatience. She did not -dare to speak of it to Rachel, and the course the conversation took in -the bedroom did not tend to compose her. Rachel spoke only of family -matters--of her husband and her children--in which category she -included Rose. Presently the conversation drifted entirely to the -subject of Ruth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Young girls," said Rachel, "confide in each other. There is a true -affection between you, is there not, my dear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied Rose, wondering what was coming, and dreading it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It happens sometimes," continued Rachel, with a sigh, "that parents -do not entirely win their children's confidence. Joseph has not a -secret from me. He is happy. Do you think Ruth is quite happy, my -dear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think so," said Rose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not asking you to break a confidence she may have reposed in -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose could not refrain from interrupting her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, dear mother, I know nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she uttered the words a guilty feeling stole over her. What did the -letter in her pocket contain?</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel drew the girl's face to hers, and caressed her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now it is you," she said, "who are speaking as if you are in trouble. -I am very inconsiderate, but love has its pains as well as its joys. -You have no trouble, Rose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None, dear mother. I am perfectly happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"See how mistaken I am; and I hope I am mistaken also about Ruth. I -feared that she had a secret which she was concealing from me. Blind -people are suspicious, Rose, and breed trouble for themselves and -others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not you, dear mother," said Rose, kissing her. "Now you must go to -sleep. This is quite against the doctor's orders."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel smiled and yielded; she took pleasure in being led by those she -loved.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the solitude of her chamber Rose read the letter:</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal"> -"<span class="sc">Darling Rose</span>: I am in great trouble, and you must help me. You are -the only friend I have in the world--but no, I must not say that; it -is not true. What I mean is, you are the only friend at home I can -trust.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father and mother, and you, too, think I am in Portsmouth with your -family. Dear Rose, I am in London--I have been in London all the week. -The happiness of my life is in your hands--remember that.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went down to Portsmouth, but I only stayed two days. I told your -father I had to pay a visit to other friends, and he believed me. And -now I hear he is in London and, of course, will come to the house. He -is the only person you must tell; you must beg him not to say a word -about my going from Portsmouth; you must make him promise; you don't -know what depends upon it. Speak to him quietly, and say he must not -betray me; he will do anything for you.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear, darling Rose, I have a secret that I cannot disclose yet. I -will soon, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps in a week--I cannot fix a time, -because it does not depend upon me. But remember my happiness is in -your hands. Your loving</p> - -<p style="text-indent:60%"> -"<span class="sc">Ruth</span>."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The young girl was bewildered and distressed by this communication. -They had all believed that Ruth was on a visit to Rose's family, and -Rose had received letters from her with the Portsmouth postmark on -them. It was true that Ruth had asked her, as a particular favor, not -to reply to the letters, and though Rose considered it a strange -request, she had complied with it. Ruth's stronger will always -prevailed with her. But what did it all mean? If Ruth had been in -London a week where was she stopping? Rose's character could hardly as -yet be said to be formed; it was sweet, but it lacked decision, and -she looked helplessly round as if for guidance. She was glad when -Prissy knocked at her door and said that her father was downstairs. -Part of the responsibility seemed to be already lifted from her -shoulders.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Prissy," she said before she went down, "you haven't spoken to anyone -about the letter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't say anything about it, please. Mrs. Cohen is not well, and the -doctor is very particular that she shall not be bothered or worried.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I won't say anything, miss."</p> - -<p class="normal">She shook her head gravely as Rose tripped downstairs and muttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Trouble's coming--or my name aint what it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am so glad you are here, father," said Rose; "I have something to -tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have something to tell you, Rose," said Mr. Moss. "Such an odd -impression! Of course I must be mistaken. But first I want to know how -Mrs. Cohen is. I thought she was not looking strong to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose told him of the doctor's visit and the instructions he had given, -and then handed him Ruth's letter, which he read in pain and surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't like the look of it, Rose," he said. "I hate mystery, and I -cannot decide immediately whether it ought to be kept from Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, father!" cried Rose. "Ruth will never forgive me if I betray -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't think it is the question of a betrayal," said Mr. Moss. "She -tells you to speak to me, and you have done so. I take the blame on -myself, whatever happens. My dear, you are not old enough to -understand such matters, and you must leave this to me. Give me the -letter, my dear; it will be better in my keeping than in yours. Just -consider, Rose; would you have behaved so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, father; I could not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the answer. The odd impression I spoke of was that I saw -Ruth to-night in a hansom cab. I thought I was mistaken, but now I am -convinced it was she. If I had known what I know now I should have -followed her. As for Ruth never forgiving you, what will Mr. Cohen's -feelings be toward you when he discovers that you have acted in such a -treacherous manner? Ruth is very little older than yourself and, I am -afraid, cannot discriminate between right and wrong; she must not be -allowed to drag us into a conspiracy against the peace of the family."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rose was dismayed; she had not looked upon it in that light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was Ruth alone?" she asked in a faltering voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, she had a gentleman with her. It is a bad business--a bad -business. I intended to return to Portsmouth to-morrow, but now I -shall remain till the matter is cleared up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall you do anything to-night, father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. I shall do nothing till the morning. I must have time to consider -how to act. Mr. Cohen will not be home till past midnight, and he will -be jaded with the fatigues of the day. To think that it should turn -out so. Good-night, my dear child. Get to bed and try to sleep. It -may, after all, turn out better than I expect."</p> - -<p class="normal">But there was very little sleep for Rose this night, and very little, -also, for Mr. Moss or Aaron Cohen. The cloud that was gathering was -too ominous for repose.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_35" href="#div1Ref_35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE MAKES AN APPEAL.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was not the only cloud that threatened Aaron's fortunes and -happiness. Others were ready to burst, and in the gathering storm he -saw, not too clearly, perhaps, the peril in which he stood. His fair -reputation was in danger, the honorable edifice he had built for -himself was tottering, the wealth he had amassed was jeopardized by -circumstances over which he had no control. In the course of a few -days all these things were to happen, and although on the day -following that on which so great an honor had been paid to him he did -not realize that ruin stared him in the face, he was sufficiently -conscious that more than one sword was hanging over his head. But mere -worldly misfortune was a trifle in comparison with the stings of his -conscience and with a sting as bitter which he learned from the lips -of Dr. Roberts. The physician had not been quite ingenuous in his -report of Rachel's condition; his ripe experience scented a crisis -which might or might not occur. It did not depend upon him, but upon -the patient, and a few hours would decide the extent of the danger. It -was this that caused him to call early at the house to see Rachel, and -after he had been with her for a quarter of an hour he had a private -conversation with Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no absolute danger," he said, "but I shall be better -satisfied if you will send her at once to the seaside. She will be -better out of London. I saw on the table a number of letters--begging -letters, I was informed--which Miss Rose had been reading to her. She -must be free from the emotions created by these appeals and from -anything of an agitating nature. Perfect repose and rest--that is what -she requires, with brighter sunshine and balmier air. I should -recommend Bournemouth, and if you wish I'll run down and see her -there. Meanwhile I will give you the name of a physician who will -understand her case as well as I do. Let Miss Rose go with her; your -wife is fond of her, and she is a cheerful companion, though she seems -to be rather depressed this morning. I have been lecturing the young -lady, and she tells me she has had a bad night. It will do them both -good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot accompany her to-day," said Aaron, "I have so many important -matters to attend to. We will go down to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send her to-day," urged the physician, "and you can follow on<br> -to-morrow, or later. It is good weather for traveling; in a few hours -it may change. To-day, by all means. We doctors are autocrats, you -know, and will not listen to argument. To-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">Had the business he had to attend to been of less importance Aaron -would have put it aside, and traveled with his wife to the seaside, -but it was business which imperatively demanded his present attention, -and he had no alternative but to send her with Rose and the<br> -ever-faithful Prissy, in whom he had every confidence. He accompanied -them as far as the railway station, and held Rachel's hand in his as -they drove to Waterloo. It was not only that they were still lovers, -but that he felt the need of the moral support which he derived from -the tender handclasp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not be anxious about me, dear," said Rachel, "and do not come down -till Friday. Then you can stop till Monday morning, and perhaps Joseph -will be home by then, and he can come with you. He will not be able to -keep away from Rose, and he has but a short time to remain in England. -There is really nothing the matter with me except a little weakness -which I shall soon overcome. If Ruth is happy in Portsmouth let her -remain there if she wishes. We are growing old, love, you and I, and -we must not tie our children too closely to our sides. They will fly -away as the young birds do, and make nests of their own. May their -homes be as happy as ours has been--may their lives be as happy as you -have made mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">In such-like tender converse the minutes flew by, and as the train -steamed out of the station Rachel's face, with a bright smile upon it, -was turned toward her husband.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the road home Aaron telegraphed to Ruth in Portsmouth, addressing -his telegram to Mr. Moss' house; he desired her to return to London -to-day or to-morrow. He felt that he must speak to her with as little -delay as possible respecting the disclosure which Mr. Dillworthy had -made to him; it would be playing the coward's part indeed if he did -not immediately ascertain the nature of her feelings for the Honorable -Percy Storndale. Thus far the first step of his duty; what steps were -to follow he had not yet determined upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arriving at his house, he found Mr. Moss waiting to see him. Rose had -left a letter for her father acquainting him with their departure for -the seaside, and giving him their address in Bournemouth, which she -was enabled to do, because Aaron had made arrangements by telegraph -for their reception in a Jewish house there. After a few words of -explanation of the cause of Rachel and Rose leaving so suddenly, Aaron -informed his friend that he had telegraphed to Ruth to come home at -once.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss started.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You sent the telegram to my house?" he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly. I am sorry to break her visit, which she must have -enjoyed, but there is a necessity for it. As my oldest friend you -should not be kept in ignorance of this necessity, and will agree that -it is not to be spoken of outside ourselves without my consent."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thereupon he related the part of his interview with Mr. Dillworthy -that affected Ruth and the son of Lord Storndale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is another matter," he said, "of great importance which was -mentioned during the interview, and which we may speak of presently. -You now know my reason for sending to Ruth to come home. I must learn -the truth from her own lips."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strangely enough," said Mr. Moss rather nervously, "I have come to -say something about Ruth myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely not in connection with this matter?" exclaimed Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must be the judge of that, Cohen. Did you notice whether Rose was -looking well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She looked tired. Dr. Roberts said she had passed a bad night, and -that the change would do her good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A bad night! No wonder, poor child. I scarcely slept an hour with -what is on my mind. You will be surprised at what I have to tell you. -But first--Rose said nothing about Ruth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must not blame her; she acted by my directions, and her lips are -sealed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why should I blame her? She is a dear, good child; I have implicit -faith and confidence in her. You alarm me, Mr. Moss. Speak plainly, I -beg of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I will do so; but I would have liked to break it gradually. -Cohen, Ruth is not in Portsmouth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in Portsmouth! Where, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If what she writes and my eyes are to be believed she is in London, -and has been here all the week. She remained with us two days, and -then left, saying she was going to pay a visit to some other friends. -We naturally thought, though we expected her to make a longer stay, -that you were aware of it, and that the plan of her visit had been -altered with your concurrence. Last night as I passed through Regent -Street I saw a lady in a hansom in the company of a gentleman, and I -could have sworn it was Ruth; but the cab was driving at a quick pace, -and I thought I must have been mistaken. I came on here to Rose, and -the poor child was in deep distress. She had received, a letter from -Ruth, which she gave me to read. I do not offer any excuse for taking -the letter from her; she is but a child, and is quite unfit for a -responsibility which, without her consent, was imposed upon her. Here -is the letter. It explains itself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron read it in silence, and with conflicting feelings.</p> - -<p class="normal">His first thought was that Ruth had taken her fate into her own hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had done his duty jealously by her in the past whatever might be -his duty in the present. If, as was his fervent hope, no dishonor to -her was involved in her flight--for it was no less than flight and -desertion of the home in which she had been reared--if there had been -a secret marriage, new contingencies of the future loomed dimly before -him, contingencies in which the stern task it was his duty to perform -was not so terrible in its import.</p> - -<p class="normal">The past could never be condoned, but in his consideration of the -future one figure towered above all others, the figure of his wife. If -for her the suffering could be made less--if the fact of Ruth taking -her course without his prompting, even in defiance of the lessons he -had endeavored to inculcate, would mitigate the severity of her blow, -was it not something to be grateful for?</p> - -<p class="normal">If, he argued mentally, she and the son of Lord Storndale were married -they had little to hope for from the Storndale family.</p> - -<p class="normal">Their dependence, then, rested upon him, and he resolved that he would -not fail the rash couple. His hope of an honorable, though secret, -marriage was based upon his knowledge of Ruth's character. She was not -given to exaggerated sentiment, he had never known her go into -heroics, she possessed certain sterling qualities of strength and -determination. Granted that she was led away by the glamour of wedding -the son of a peer, he was convinced she would not so far forget -herself as to bring shame upon herself and her connections. She was a -Christian born, and she had the right to marry a Christian; by her own -unprompted act she had cut the Gordian knot. That the Honorable Percy -Storndale had a double motive in pursuing her was likely enough, love, -Aaron hoped, being one, the fact of her reputed father being a wealthy -man the other. Well, he would fulfill the young man's expectations; -there was nothing in the shape of worldly atonement which he was not -ready and anxious to make.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the midst of his musings a servant presented himself with a -telegram and a card. The card bore the name of The Hon. Percy -Storndale, the telegram was from Mrs. Moss, in Portsmouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait outside," Aaron said to the servant, who left the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">The telegram was to the effect that Ruth was not in Portsmouth, and -that Mrs. Moss, in her absence, had taken the liberty of reading the -message, under the idea that it might contain something which required -an immediate answer. "Is Ruth coming to us again?" Mrs. Moss asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron passed the telegram and the card to Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep in the house," he said, "while I have an interview with this -gentleman. Wait in the library, and tell the servant to show Mr. -Storndale into this room."</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few moments the young man was ushered in, and Aaron motioned him -to a seat.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a human failing to run into extremes. No man is quite so good or -bad as he is represented to be by his admirers and detractors. In his -anxiety to prejudice Aaron against Lord Storndale's son Mr. Dillworthy -had done the young man an injustice. A scapegrace he was, without -doubt, but he had been reared into his vices and extravagancies--it -may be said with truth carefully reared--and he was certainly no worse -than hundreds of other men who are brought up with no definite aim in -life, and educated without any sensible and serious effort being made -to impress them with life's responsibilities. He had, indeed, the -advantage of many, for although he considered it perfectly excusable -to get into debt with tradesmen, and to borrow from money lenders -without any expectation of being able to pay either one or the other, -he would not have descended so low as to pick a pocket or cheat at -cards. More of the pigeon than the gull, he looked always to his -family to get him out of his scrapes; he believed it to be their duty; -and it was upon him, not upon them, that injustice was inflicted when -he was thrown entirely upon his own resources, and when he was given -to understand that for the future he would have to settle his own -liabilities.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was fair-haired and blue-eyed, and passably good-looking; beyond -this there was nothing remarkable in his appearance; but there was -that air of good humor and careless ease about him which generally -wins favor with women who do not look beneath the surface.</p> - -<p class="normal">Just now he was manifestly ill at ease, for he had never before been -engaged upon a mission so awkward and embarrassing.</p> - -<p class="normal">That he was impressed by Aaron's dignified manner was evident; he had -expected to meet a man of a different stamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">Each waited for the other to speak, and Aaron was not the first to -break the silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have taken the liberty of visiting you upon a rather delicate -matter," said the young gentleman, "and it is more difficult than I -anticipated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes?" said Aaron, and said no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">The monosyllable was uttered in the form of a half question, and did -not lessen the difficulties in the young man's way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he replied, and was at a loss how to continue; but again Aaron -did not assist him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my honor," he said at length, "I would not undertake to say -whether I would rather be in this room than out of it, or out of it -than in it."</p> - -<p class="normal">He gave a weak laugh here, with a half idea that he had said something -rather clever, but still he met with no encouragement from Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is so difficult, you see," he added. "I do not suppose you know -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Aaron. "I do not know you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought it possible that your daughter, Miss Cohen, you know, might -have mentioned me to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has never done so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was my fault entirely. I said, on no account; and naturally she -gave in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did she wish to mention you to me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, but I insisted. I don't exactly know why, but I did, and she -gave in. I dare say I was a blockhead, but I hope you will find -excuses for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At present I can find none. We shall understand each other if you -come to the point."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will try to do so, but it is not easy, I assure you, Mr. Cohen, -after the way I have behaved. Upon second thoughts I do not see, upon -my honor, I do not see how you can be expected to find excuses for me. -But it does happen sometimes that a fellow meets another fellow who -helps a lame dog over the stile. I am the lame dog, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may assist you," said Aaron, "If I ask you one question, and if -you frankly answer it. Are you a married man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my soul, sir," exclaimed the Honorable Percy Storndale, "I -cannot be sufficiently thankful to you. Yes, sir, I am a married man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Long married?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Four days, Mr. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you show me proof of it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank you again, sir. But it wasn't my idea; it was my wife's. -'Take the marriage certificate with you,' she said. She has wonderful -ideas."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me see the certificate."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man instantly produced it, and Aaron, with a deep-drawn -breath of relief, saw recorded there the marriage of Miss Ruth Cohen -and the Honorable Percy Storndale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You married my--my daughter, I see," said Aaron, "in a registrar's -office."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know how to apologize to you, sir," said the young man, as -relieved by Aaron's calm attitude as Aaron was himself at this proof -of an honorable union. "I can't conceive anything meaner, but what -could I do? Ruth--Miss Cohen, you know--being a Jewess, could not well -have been married in a church, and I, being a Christian, could not -well have been married in a synagogue. It was a very delicate point; I -am not acquainted with the law on the subject, but no fellow can deny -that it was a delicate point. Then there was another difficulty. -Bridesmaids, bridesmaids' presents, and general expenses, to say -nothing of the publicity, when the parties principally concerned -wanted to get it over quietly and quickly. Ruth said you would never -consent; I said my family would never consent; so what else was there -for it? Pray forgive me if I am expressing myself clumsily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your family did not encourage the match?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dead against it; from the first dead against it. Bullied and -threatened me. 'What!' they cried. 'Marry a Jewess!' 'As good as any -Christian,' I retorted. But did you ever know a Storndale listen to -reason, Mr. Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a Storndale," said Aaron quietly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had me there," chuckled the young man. "Gad, sir, you had me there. -Well, sir, that is how it stands, and if you show me the door I'll not -say I don't deserve it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not show you the door, but it is not correct to say that is -how it stands, as if there were nothing more to explain. Mr. -Storndale, if the lady you have married were a Christian would your -family have objected?" The young man laughed in a weak, awkward way. -"Answer me frankly this and other questions it is my duty to put."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My family would not have objected," said the Honorable Percy -Storndale, "if there had been settlements. You see, sir, we are not -exactly rolling in money, and I am a younger son. No expectations, -sir. A poor gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An imprudent marriage, Mr. Storndale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No denying it, sir; and it has only come home to me the last day or -two. Marriage in such circumstances pulls a fellow up, you see; makes -him reflect, you know. My wife's an angel, and that makes it cut -deeper. A married fellow thinks of things. As a bachelor I never -thought of to-morrow. I give you my word on it. To-morrow! Hang<br> -to-morrow! That was the way of it. I've only just woke up to the fact -that there is a to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it a love match, Mr. Storndale?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On both sides, sir. Without vanity--and I don't deny I've got my -share of that--I may speak for her as well as for myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"From the first a love match, Mr. Storndale? Did it never occur to you -that I was a rich man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You drive me hard, sir, but I'm not going to play fast and loose with -you. 'Be prepared, Percy,' Ruth says to me. 'My father is a wise, as -well as a just and kind, man, and I don't know whether he will ever -forgive me; but you will make a sad mistake if you don't speak the -honest truth to him.' The truth it shall be, as I am a gentleman. I -did think of Ruth's father being a rich man, and seeing us through it. -But after a little while I got so over head and heels in love that I -thought only of her. I give you my word, sir, I never had the feelings -for any woman that I have for Ruth, and that, I think, is why I'm -rather scared when I think of to-morrow. If I hadn't been afraid of -losing her I might have come straight to you, but I didn't care to run -the risk. What would you do, sir, for a woman you loved?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everything, anything."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You would stake everything against nothing, with a certainty of -losing, rather than give her up?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would make any earthly sacrifice for her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, sir, then you know how I feel. I don't set myself up as a good -man; I've done many foolish things, and I dare say shall do more -foolish things, but not half nor quarter as many with a clever woman -by my side to keep me straight. What some of us want, sir, is ballast; -I never had it till now, and even now perhaps it's of no use to me. -Until a week ago I had to think for one; now I have to think for two. -But thinking won't help me through, I'm afraid."</p> - -<p class="normal">Never before had the Honorable Percy Storndale expressed himself in so -manly a fashion; it was as though contact with Aaron were bringing out -his best qualities.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it your intention, Mr. Storndale, to come to me so soon after -your marriage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had no settled intention when to come, sir, but I have been forced -to it sooner than I expected."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has forced you to it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Writs. When needs must, you know, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you heavily in debt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the tune of three thousand, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When a question of this kind is asked the answer is generally below -the mark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True enough, sir, but I am pretty close to it this time. Ruth's an -angel, but she's a sensible woman as well. She made me put everything -down."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I settle the claims against you "--the young man looked up with a -flush in his face--"you will get into debt again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll try not to, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Honestly, Mr. Storndale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Honestly, Mr. Cohen. Ruth will keep me straight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave me your address. I will come and see you to-night at eight -o'clock. Make out a clear and truthful list of your debts; omit -nothing. Meanwhile----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He wrote a check and handed it to the young man, who shook hands with -him gratefully, and with a light heart went to gladden his young wife -with the good news.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_36" href="#div1Ref_36">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h4> -<h5>A DUTY PERFORMED.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Before Mr. Moss rejoined him Aaron had repented of his promise to call -and see the young couple in the evening. This vacillation was a proof -of the effect recent events had upon his mind; it was really -unbalanced; the prompt decision of all matters, whether great or -small, which presented themselves for consideration, seemed to have -deserted him. He felt that he could not depend upon himself in the -promised interview with Ruth, and that he might precipitate a -discovery the proper time for which he believed had not yet arrived.</p> - -<p class="normal">That it would have to be made eventually was certain; truth and -justice demanded it, and the claim should be met, but not to-day, not -until other plans with respect to his future were settled. For there -was growing in his mind a conviction that he was not worthy of the -position he held among his co-religionists, that it was his duty to -retire into obscurity and not presume to teach what should be done in -important issues where he himself had so signally failed. He mentally -asked, why had he not recognized this earlier? and the answer that -trod upon the heels of the question brought a pitiful smile of<br> -self-despisal to his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had been living deliberately in a fool's paradise, trusting to -chance to avoid detection and exposure. He could lay blame upon no -other shoulders than his own; he, and he alone, was responsible for -the consequences of his acts. Well, he would not shrink from them, he -would accept them humbly, and rest his hopes in the mercy of God. If -when the hour arrived for open confession--and arrive it must, he -knew, before many weeks were past--he could still retain the love of -his wife, if she would forgive him for the deception he had practiced, -he would be content; he might even be happy again, fallen as he would -be from his high estate.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first duty he had to perform was to lift Ruth and her husband from -poverty, to place them in an honorable and independent position, and -this task he would ask his friend Mr. Moss to undertake for him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All is explained," he said when that gentleman re-entered the room. -"Ruth has done what cannot be undone. She and Mr. Storndale are -married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Married!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. He was startled at the news, but no -less startled at the calm voice in which it was communicated to him. -"What are you going to do about it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Accept it," replied Aaron, "there is no alternative."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is an outrage. He should be made to suffer for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must not be made to suffer for it, nor must Ruth. The young man is -in difficulties, and I have resolved to clear him from them and to -provide for their future. They will expect to see me to-night, but I -cannot trust myself. I wish you to undertake the task for me, and to -carry the whole matter through. Mr. Moss, all through my life you have -been my sincere friend; you will not fail me now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Cohen, no; I will do whatever you wish me to do, but it is hardly -what I expected of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are surprised that I do not show anger at this marriage--that I -do not express resentment against Mr. Storndale?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Before long," said Aaron, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, -"you will understand why I am so calm. I can trust you, and when I -confess that there was in my life an hour when temptation assailed me -and I fell before it, I feel that my confidence will be respected -until the time arrives when all the world will know what is hidden in -my breast--what has been hidden for the last twenty years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the last twenty years! Cohen, that takes us back to the old -Gosport days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It does. But ask me no questions now, for I am not prepared to answer -them. Great changes are coming in my life, and I must arm myself to -meet them. If only Rachel will forgive!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He covered his eyes with his hand, and turned away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cohen," said Mr. Moss presently, "I see that you are unstrung, that -you are suffering. You are doing yourself an injustice; I am sure of -it, I am sure of it. I do not pretend to understand what it is that -distresses you, but I would like to say that you may depend upon me in -any difficulty. You may turn against yourself, but you are not going -to turn an old friend like me against you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron pressed Mr. Moss' hand, and explained the task he wished -performed. Mr. Moss was to call upon Ruth and her husband, and obtain -from them an honest and faithful account of their position. This done -he was to pay every shilling the young man owed; after which a -settlement of a thousand pounds a year was to be made upon Ruth as a -marriage portion, the money to be absolutely at her own disposal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not a great deal," said Aaron, "for the son of a peer to live -upon, but his family in a little while, when they learn the truth -about Ruth"--he paused, and Mr. Moss nodded gravely; a strange -suspicion was beginning to haunt him,--"may be disposed to forgive -him, and through their influence he may obtain a lucrative -appointment. From the way in which he spoke I am disposed to think -that he may turn over a new leaf, and that an honorable future may lie -before him and Ruth. Give her my love, and say that circumstances -render it impossible for me to see her for a few days, and that when -we meet I shall have something of great importance to disclose to her. -Be patient with me, Mr. Moss. My words point to a mystery which will -soon be unraveled. What you are about to do for me can scarcely be -finished before the end of the week, but I cannot rest until it is -completed. My own affairs will entirely occupy me, and I must run down -to Bournemouth to see Rachel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not waste a moment," said Mr. Moss. "How about the money -necessary for the settlement and the payment of Mr. Storndale's -debts?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be placed in your hands to-morrow. Do not return here<br> -to-night. Come and breakfast with me at nine in the morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron sat up till long past midnight, making calculations and -arranging his affairs. He was quite resolved to retire from everything -in the shape of public life, and altogether from business; and to -effect this there was much to do. He had uncompleted contracts in hand -which he would transfer to employers of whose methods he approved, and -he had just obtained another which a dozen contractors would be eager -to take off his hands. He thought of Mr. Poynter, and shook his head. -To such a man he could not trust any of his responsibilities. Then he -devoted himself to an examination of his private financial position.</p> - -<p class="normal">After providing for Ruth he calculated that he could realize a sum of -about ninety thousand pounds, in addition to which there were his -house and furniture, which would realize another ten thousand.<br> -One-third of this should be given to his son Joseph and Rose,<br> -one-third should be divided among the Jewish charities, and one-third -should be invested for himself and Rachel. This would produce an -income amply sufficient for the maintenance of a comfortable home -either in London or the country.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rachel will be content," he thought, "and the years that are left to -us shall be passed in peace, away from the turmoil and fever of life. -If she will but forgive me--if she will but forgive!"</p> - -<p class="normal">All depended upon that.</p> - -<p class="normal">He held offices of honor in the synagogue, which he would immediately -resign. There and then he wrote his letters of resignation. He drew -forth the address upon modern Judaism he had undertaken to deliver, -hoping thereby to counteract the loose views of religious obligation -which threatened to sap the foundations of the old faith. He read the -powerful arguments he had written to this end, and sighed as he read.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for me the task," he murmured. "Not for me. I am not worthy. It -is for me to learn, not to teach."</p> - -<p class="normal">He tore the manuscript and burned it. He had forfeited the right to -show his brethren the path of duty.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length he came to the end of his labors. Before he retired to rest -he prayed long and fervently, and offered up supplications for -forgiveness.</p> - -<p class="normal">At nine o'clock in the morning Mr. Moss presented himself, and -reported what he had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everything is in such straight order," he said, "that the whole -business can be finished to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be a great weight off my mind," said Aaron, "when all the -papers are signed. I have letters from Rachel and Rose." He passed the -young girl's letter to Mr. Moss. "She says there is no change in -Rachel, but that she thinks the air and change of scene are doing her -good. If you write to Rose do not hint of any impending trouble, and -do not mention Ruth's name, lest Rachel should suspect that something -was wrong. I ought to tell you, Mr. Moss, that I have resolved to -retire into private life; I shall be much happier, and I am sure -Rachel will be. It is a sudden resolution, and I dare say my friends -will be surprised, but I am fixed; nothing can make me change my -mind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And your contracts, Cohen?" asked Mr. Moss, who was sufficiently -familiar with Aaron's character to know that remonstrance at present -would be thrown away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall transfer them. My earnest wish is that I shall be forgotten, -and allowed to live in peace. I am growing old; let my place, which I -unworthily hold, be occupied by a better man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is hardly likely to come to pass," said Mr. Moss gravely. "You -are not old; you are in the prime of life, with very many years of -usefulness before you. But I will not argue with you; when you have -recovered from your depression, when Rachel is well again, you will -think better of it. We need you; no other man can fill your place. You -deliver your address on Sunday, do you not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, Cohen, it is expected; it is looked forward to, and the best -results are anticipated from it. You will not go from your word?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must. The address is destroyed. I must bear whatever is said of me; -I accept it as part of my punishment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of your punishment! I do not understand you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will by and by. Mr. Moss, the man who presumes to set down the -laws of right and wrong should be above reproach. Can a thief preach -honesty? Can a liar lift his voice in praise of truth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"These are strange utterances, Cohen, from your lips."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a sad foundation for them. To know yourself--that is the -height of human wisdom; and I have learned too late. Pray do not -continue the subject; you stand in the dark, I in the light."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said Mr. Moss, with a sigh, "we will speak of this -another time. Have you seen the papers this morning?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not opened them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are full of your praises for putting an end to the strike; they -say it is due alone to your character and powerful influence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I take no credit to myself. What I did was done with a conscientious -motive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good," said Mr. Moss with hearty emphasis. "That is the keynote of -your life. Then what have you to reproach yourself with?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let every man search his own heart," replied Aaron, and his voice was -very mournful. "He will find the answer there. And now we will waste -no more time in idle conversation. We must go to the lawyers and the -bank. Have you a list of Mr. Storndale's debts? Ah! thank you." He -looked at the total, and drew a check for the amount. "The payment of -these claims will keep you busy during the day. I will give -instructions to the lawyers to prepare the deed of settlement, and<br> -to-morrow it can be signed. You will be a trustee; I will call upon a -gentleman who will be the other. I shall spend to-night at -Bournemouth, and will come back by an early train in the morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you not see Ruth before you leave?" asked Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not till everything is finished. How is she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well and happy, and overjoyed that you are not angry with her. -Between ourselves, Cohen, it is not what she expected."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has all the more reason for contentment. I wish her to be happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">They had a busy time with lawyers, bank managers, and creditors, and -Aaron just managed to catch the two-twenty train for Bournemouth. He -passed a quiet evening with Rachel and Rose, and answered the -questions put by his wife concerning Ruth in a manner to satisfy her. -With Rose he had a private conversation upon the subject, and -cautioned her to preserve silence as to the letter she had received. -On the following morning he took an early train for London, and -arriving before noon, found everything prepared for a final settlement -of his plans for Ruth's worldly future. When the deeds were signed, -and the consols bought and deposited in the Bank of England, Aaron -breathed more freely. He had made some small atonement to Ruth for the -deception of which he had been guilty.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have had no honeymoon trip," said the Honorable Percy Storndale to -him, "and I am thinking of taking Ruth to the Continent to-morrow, but -she will be unhappy if she does not see you before we go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will come with you now," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">They met and parted without any warm demonstration of affection. Such -a demonstration from Ruth toward one whom she believed to be her -father, but for whom she had never entertained a strong love, would -have been a new feature in her character, and grateful as she was for -his generosity, she was held back by the feeling that she had given -him a poor return for his lifelong kindness toward her and by her fear -that he was quietly angry with her; while Aaron was held back by the -consciousness of his wrongdoing. And so the young couple went forth to -commence their new life, and the secret of Ruth's birth was still -unrevealed. Aaron had not yet mustered courage to make confession, but -he knew that the hour was fast approaching when he would stand in the -full light of the sin he had committed through love.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_37" href="#div1Ref_37">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE MOTHER'S APPEAL.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Two weeks had passed away. Joseph had come and gone. In the company of -Rose and his parents he had spent three sad and happy days in -Bournemouth--happy because he was in the society of those he loved, -sad because he was so soon to part from them. Rachel's health was not -improved, the physician said, and those to whom she was so dear were -continually warned that she was not to be agitated by news of a -distressing nature. The shrewd doctor impressed this upon them the -more strongly for the reason that he perceived that a cloud was -hanging over their spirits which they were concealing from the -sightless lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cannot be too careful," he said. "A sudden shock might produce -serious effects."</p> - -<p class="normal">They were, therefore, compelled to preserve secrecy, and to invent -excuses for Ruth's absence from the family circle. Joseph and Rose had -both been informed of Ruth's marriage, and were thus partners with -Aaron in the affectionate conspiracy. Aaron had gone no farther with -them than this. The vital secret was still in his sole possession.</p> - -<p class="normal">The carrying out of his intention to retire into private life, and to -entirely give up the important business transactions in which he had -been engaged for many years, necessitated his being in London the -greater part of these two weeks; he would have liked to keep his -proceedings from public knowledge, but in this he was not successful. -One cause of the publicity which was given to his actions lay in the -disposal of a portion of his fortune in charity; his benefactions were -heralded far and wide, and he was made the subject of numberless -laudatory articles in the newspapers. Another cause was his -transference of large contracts, and especially of the last one for -which he had successfully competed, to other firms. In the -transference of these contracts he had laid down stipulations with -respect to wages and hours of labor which, while they did not meet -with the full approval of employers, earned for him renewed -commendation from the working classes. Mr. Poynter had tried to obtain -some of these contracts, but Aaron found him so shifty in his methods -that he declined to have anything to do with him. For which defeat Mr. -Poynter vowed revenge, and looked about for the means of compassing -it.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of the fortnight Aaron was in London, his labors ended, and -at this time his fortune amounted to something over thirty thousand -pounds, a larger sum than he anticipated would be left to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It must be mentioned that Ruth and her husband had just returned to -London, as he was informed by letter, in consequence of Ruth's -indisposition. It was she who wrote to him, and she was so earnest in -the expression of her wish that he would come and see her that he had -sent her a telegram saying that he would call at eight or nine -o'clock, by which time he expected to be free.</p> - -<p class="normal">At six o'clock on this evening he and Mr. Moss were together in -Aaron's house, by appointment. Aaron had resolved to reveal his secret -to his faithful friend, and he had set apart this evening as a fitting -time for the disclosure. On the following day Rachel and Rose were to -return to London, as Rachel did not wish to remain any longer in -Bournemouth, and Mr. Moss was to return to Portsmouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss' face was flushed with excitement as he entered the room with -an evening paper in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you heard the rumor, Cohen?" he asked excitedly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What rumor?" inquired Aaron, rising to meet his friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"About your bank, the Equitable Alliance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I have heard nothing. I have not been out of the house since the -morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It came on me like a thunderclap, but it cannot be true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What cannot be true, Mr. Moss?" Aaron spoke quite calmly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, there's nothing definite, but you know there has been something -like a panic in the City."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, but it cannot affect me. I have no investments now, with the -solitary exception of my bank shares. All my affairs are settled, and -the money in the bank until I decide how to invest it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss groaned. "I wish you had it safely invested in consols. Is -all your money there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every shilling. The only investments I have not realized are the -shares I hold in the bank."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That makes it all the worse. The shareholders are liable to the -depositors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes."</p> - -<p class="normal">The flush had died out of Mr. Moss' face, which was now white with -apprehension. "They're calling it out in the streets--but here's the -paper."</p> - -<p class="normal">He pointed to a paragraph, which stated that one of the largest banks -in the City had closed its doors half an hour before its time, and -that the panic had in consequence reached an alarming height.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no name mentioned, Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Cohen, no; but I passed through the City on my way here, and the -name of the bank was on everyone's lips. If the bank stops payment<br> -to-morrow how will you stand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it stops payment for sufficient cause," said Aaron in a steady -voice, "I shall be a ruined man!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heavens! and you can speak of it so calmly!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why not? To work myself into a frenzy will not help me. There are -worse misfortunes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot imagine them, Cohen. Ruined? Absolutely ruined?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Absolutely ruined," said Aaron, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And it was only yesterday that you were----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not continue, and Aaron took up his words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is only yesterday that I was on top of the tree. A dangerous -height, Mr. Moss, but I must bear the fall. If, when they climb the -ladder of fortune, men would but be careful to make the lower rungs -secure! But prosperity makes them reckless. Do not look so mournful. -Happiness is as easily found in poverty as in riches."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be, after all, a false alarm," groaned Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us hope so. We will wait till to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you not go into the City now to ascertain whether it is true or -false?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; it will only trouble me, and it will not affect the result. I -will wait till to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">So marked was the contrast between his cheerful and Mr. Moss' -despondent mood that it really seemed as if it were his friend's -fortune that was imperiled instead of his own. He was standing by the -door, and hearing a knock, he opened it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, sir," said a servant, "but this gentleman is -below, and wants to see Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron took the card without looking at it, and handed it to Mr. Moss, -who exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Show him up," said Aaron to the servant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had I not better see him alone?" asked Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you have no objection," replied Aaron, "receive him here in my -presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">They both seemed to scent a coming danger, but Aaron appeared to hail -it gladly, while Mr. Moss would rather have avoided it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand apologies," said Dr. Spenlove to Aaron upon his entrance, -"for intruding upon you, but hearing that Mr. Moss was here I took the -liberty of following him. My errand is an urgent one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am happy to see you, Dr. Spenlove," Aaron responded; "if your -business with Mr. Moss is not quite private you can speak freely -before me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think," said Dr. Spenlove, half hesitating, "that it is quite -private."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a distinct reason," continued Aaron as though Dr. Spenlove had -not spoken, "for making the suggestion, but men sometimes receive an -inspiration for which there is no visible warranty. If it is of an -incident in the past you wish to speak, when you and Mr. Moss were -acquainted in Portsmouth----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How singular that you should have guessed it!" exclaimed Dr. -Spenlove. "It is such an incident that brings me here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The time was winter," pursued Aaron, "the season an inclement one. I -remember it well. For some days the snow had been falling----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes. It was a terrible season for the poor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For one especially, a lady driven into misfortune and who had no -friend but a stern and honorable gentleman who would only lift her -from the depths into which she had fallen on the condition that she -submitted to a cruel sacrifice. His demand was that she should give -her infant into the care of strangers, and that only in the event of -his death should she be free to seek to know its fate. Is that the -incident, Dr. Spenlove?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is. I see you know all, and with Mr. Moss' consent I will speak -openly."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss looked at Aaron, who nodded, and Dr. Spenlove continued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no need to recall all the particulars of that bitter night -when you so kindly assisted me in the search for the unfortunate?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None at all," said Mr. Moss; "they are very vivid in my memory."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And in mine. Your kindness has not been forgotten either by me or by -the lady whose life, and whose child's life, were saved by you. He -shakes his head in deprecation, Mr. Cohen, but what I say is true. Had -he not, out of the kindness of his heart, accompanied me these two -hapless human beings would have perished in the snow. I had a motive -to serve; he had none. On the night we parted in Portsmouth, Mr. Moss, -you were on the point of seeking a home for the poor babe, for<br> -whom"--he turned to Aaron--"a liberal provision was made."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am acquainted with every detail of the strange story," said Aaron. -"I was residing in Gosport at the time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Spenlove gave him a startled look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was in Gosport he hoped to find this home, with a friend of whom -he spoke in the warmest terms. The commission intrusted to me by Mr. -Gordon--I perceive you are familiar with the name--ended on that -night, and what remained to be done was in the hands of Mr. Moss and -Mr. Gordon's lawyers. The following morning I came to London, where I -have resided ever since. From that day until two or three weeks ago -Mr. Moss and I have not met. It was here in your house, Mr. Cohen, -that, seeing him for the first time after so long an interval, I made -inquiries concerning the infant intrusted to him. He informed me that -she died very shortly, as I understand, after she entered her new -home. I was not surprised to hear it; the exposure on that bitter -night was sufficiently severe to kill a child much older. In order -that my visit to Mr. Moss to-night may be properly understood I will -briefly relate in a few words the subsequent history of the mother. -She married Mr. Gordon and accompanied him to Australia, where she has -resided for twenty years. She has had no children by him, and is now a -widow, and very wealthy. Unknown to Mr. Gordon she, in her last -interview with me, intrusted to me a small iron box--it was one I gave -her, and I can identify it--in which she deposited some article of the -nature of which I am ignorant. She entreated me to take steps that -this box should be delivered to the people who received her child into -their home, and to obtain from them a promise that if the child lived -till she was twenty-one years of age it was to be handed over to her, -or in the event of her child dying, or of herself claiming the box at -any future time, to be handed over to her. I informed Mr. Moss of the -mother's desire, and he promised that it should be attended to. I have -looked through some old papers, and I find that, had the child lived, -she would be twenty-one in the course of a couple of months. But the -child is dead, and the mother has appealed to me to assist her to -obtain the box which she delivered into my charge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The mother has appealed to you!" exclaimed Aaron. "In person?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In person," replied Dr. Spenlove. "She has returned to England, and -is at this moment awaiting me in my carriage below. It is not the only -appeal she has made to me. She is overwhelmed at the news of her -child's death, and I have the sincerest pity for her. She desires to -know where her child is buried. Mr. Gordon's lawyers, it appears, were -so bound to secrecy by their client that they do not feel warranted in -giving her any information or assistance. She has communicated with -another firm of lawyers in London, who are unable to assist her. As a -last resource she has come to me to entreat my aid, which, in the -circumstances, I cannot refuse to give her. My errand is now fully -explained. Mr. Moss, will you see the poor lady, and give her the -information she has a right to demand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will reply for my friend," said Aaron. "Dr. Spenlove, I was the -person to whose care the child was intrusted. The box is in this -house, and it is for me to satisfy her. Will you step down and ask her -to come up, or shall I send a servant to her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be best for me to go," said Dr. Spenlove. "How strangely -things turn out! It is fortunate that I came here to seek Mr. Moss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must speak to Mrs. Gordon alone, without witnesses," said Aaron. -"You and Mr. Moss will not mind waiting in the adjoining room for a -few minutes. The poet's words are true: 'There is a Providence that -shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we may.' The mother may have cause -to bless this night."</p> - -<p class="normal">He bent his head humbly and solemnly as Dr. Spenlove and Mr. Moss left -the room together.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_38" href="#div1Ref_38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>A MOTHER'S JOY.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">For the first time in their lives these two beings, whose fates were -so strangely linked together, faced each other--the mother who -believed her child to be dead, the father who had brought up that -child in ignorance of her birthright. It was a solemn moment, more -trying to the man who had erred than to the woman who had fallen. To -him the truth was as clear as though it were proclaimed with a tongue -of fire, to her it had yet to be revealed. How feeble was the human -act when brought into juxtaposition with destiny's decree!</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron's sin had been ever before him; the handwriting had been ever on -the wall. Scarcely for one day during the last twenty years had the -voice of conscience been stilled, and it had been dart of his -punishment that the inherited instincts of the child had worked -inexorably against all his efforts; her silent resistance to the -lessons he would have inculcated had been too powerful for him; and in -the end she had turned resolutely from the path into which, with -inward reproaches, he had endeavored to lead her, and had obeyed the -promptings of her nature in mapping out her own future.</p> - -<p class="normal">Keen as was Aaron's sufferings, he experienced a sense of relief that -the bolt had fallen, and that the hour of retribution had arrived; the -agony of suspense was over, and he accepted with mournful resignation -the decree which ordained that he should pass judgment upon himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">A difficult task lay before him; the revelation he had to make must be -made with tact and delicacy, in consideration for the mother's -feelings. Joy, as well as sorrow, has its fears.</p> - -<p class="normal">Forgetful for the moment of his own domestic grief, a sympathetic pity -for the bereaved woman stirred Aaron's heart. Her tribulation was -expressed in her face, which was pale with woe; her eyes were suffused -with tears; her limbs trembled as she sank into the chair which he -placed for her. It was not he alone who was experiencing the tortures -of remorse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Gordon was in mourning, and Aaron believed it was for her child. -Except that time had left its marks upon her countenance there was but -little change in her, and few persons who had known her in her -springtime would have failed to recognize her in her middle age.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her union with Mr. Gordon had not been entirely unhappy; he had -performed his duty toward her, as she had done toward him, and though -he had a suspicion that, through all the long years, she never lost -sight of her secret sorrow, he made no reference to it, and she, on -her part, did not intrude it upon him. Even on his deathbed he did not -speak of it; she understood him well enough to feel convinced that he -would answer no questions she put to him, and she sincerely desired -not to distress him, for she had grown to be grateful for his faithful -fulfillment of the promise he had made.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now she was free, and in the possession of great wealth. But she -was alone, without a tie in the world. All her bright dreams had -faded. She had indulged the hope that her child still lived, and as -she traveled back to England had raised up mental pictures of her -daughter which filled her with joy. The information she received from -Dr. Spenlove had killed that hope, and her yearning desire was to -visit the grave of the babe she had deserted, and to weep over it -tears of bitter repentance.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not so much now to reclaim the iron box containing the clew to -a shameful episode in her youthful life as to learn where her babe was -buried, that she wished to learn into whose care her child had been -given. There was a time when she nursed a fierce desire for revenge -upon the man who had betrayed her, but this desire had burned itself -away, and she would be content that the melancholy memories of the -past should be buried in oblivion. No good result would accrue from -rekindling the smoldering ashes of an experience so sad. She had lived -down the shame; no word of reproach had been uttered against her; let -the dead past bury its dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a few moments there was silence between her and Aaron, and she was -the first to speak.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Spenlove has told me all," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has told you what he knows," said Aaron, "but you have something -more to hear. It was I who undertook the charge of your child. Mr. -Moss brought her to me in Gosport, and delivered to me also the box -which you intrusted to Dr. Spenlove. I hand you now the box in the -same condition as it was handed to me. You will oblige me by -convincing yourself that it has not been tampered with."</p> - -<p class="normal">She unlocked the box with a key she carried in her purse, and taking -from it the half of the letter she had deposited therein, glanced over -it with a bitter smile, then replaced it in its hiding place and -relocked the box.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was nothing else in it?" asked Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing else," she replied; "it is as I delivered it to Dr. Spenlove. -Tell me about my child. Did she live long? Was she buried in Gosport? -You will tell me the truth--you will conceal nothing from me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you the truth; I will conceal nothing from you; but what -I have to say must be said in my own way. When Mr. Moss left your -child with me there were two babes in my house of the same age, and we -were in deep poverty and distress. My wife--my beloved wife lay at the -point of death----" He covered his eyes with his hands. "Bear with me; -these recollections overcome me." Presently he resumed. "But a short -time before her confinement she had been stricken with blindness. Her -own child, whose face she had never seen, lay quiet and still in her -arms. The doctor who attended her feared the worst, and said her life -depended upon the life of her babe. If our child died on the morrow -the mother would die; if our child lived the mother would live. How -can I expect you to forgive me for what I did in the agony of my -heart?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again he paused, and tears gushed from his eyes. Mrs. Gordon sank back -in her chair; there was not a vestige of color in her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God! my God!" she murmured. "Have I not suffered enough?"</p> - -<p class="normal">These words recalled him to himself. He begged her to have courage, to -be strong; there was no new suffering in store for her, he said; what -he had to relate would bring joy into her life. He gave her wine, and -when she had recovered he proceeded with his story, and gradually and -tenderly revealed to her the truth. As he proceeded her face shone -with incredulous joy, her heart beat tumultuously with the prospect of -this unexpected happiness; and when his story was finished, and he sat -before her with bowed head, there was a long, long silence in the -room. He dared utter no further words; in silent dread he waited for -his condemnation.</p> - -<p class="normal">He felt a hand upon his knee, and looking down, he saw her kneeling at -his feet. She was transfigured; the long pent up love of a mother made -her young again; she took his hand, and kissed it again and again, -bedewing it with happy tears. He gazed at her in wonder. He had -expected revilings and she was all tenderness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it true?" she murmured. "Oh, is it true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the solemn truth," he answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And my child lives?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She lives."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God in heaven bless you! She lives--my daughter lives!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you do not blame me--you do not reproach me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall bless you to my dying day! Oh, my heart, my heart! It will -burst with happiness."</p> - -<p class="normal">He entreated her to be composed, and in a little while she was calmer. -Then for the first time he wrested himself from the environment of his -own selfish sorrows; he put himself in her place, and understood the -sacred joy which animated her. She was all impatience to see her -child, but Aaron bade her restrain her impatience; he had much more to -relate, which it was necessary she should hear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I must see her to-night!" she cried.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall see her to-night. I will take you to her."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was fain to be satisfied with this assurance, but she would not be -content till she saw a portrait of Ruth.</p> - -<p class="normal">He gave her a cabinet photograph, and she gazed at it longingly, -yearningly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is beautiful, beautiful!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, she is a beautiful girl," said Aaron, and then proceeded with -the story, saying nothing, however, of what he had done for the young -couple. At first she was grieved to hear that Ruth was married, but -she found some consolation in the reflection that she had married into -a peer's family. When Aaron related the particulars of the lawyer's -visit to him, commissioned by Lord Storndale because of his stern -objection to his son marrying a Jewess, she exclaimed: "But Ruth is -not a Jewess!" and was appalled by the thought that her daughter was -not born in wedlock. A child of shame! How would she be received? It -was her turn now to fear, and Aaron, whose native shrewdness had -returned to him, divined her fear; but it was not for him to moot the -subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My child," she said, with hot blushes on her face, "believes herself -to be your daughter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She does. It was my intention to undeceive her to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know my story?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was imparted to me," he replied, with averted head, "when I was -asked to receive your child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who knows the truth," she asked, trembling and hesitating, "about -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, Mr. Moss, Dr. Spenlove, and your husband's lawyers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No other persons?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No other persons." He took her hand. "Dear lady, from my heart I pity -and sympathize with you. If I can assist you in any way----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can--you can!" she cried. "For God's sake do not destroy the -happiness that may be mine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As Heaven is my judge, no word shall pass my lips. Be comforted, be -comforted. The lawyers' lips are sealed, as you have already learned, -and I will answer for Mr. Moss and Dr. Spenlove. Say to her and to her -husband's family what you will--it will be justified. Your secret is -safe."</p> - -<p class="normal">She thanked him humbly and gratefully; it was she who was abashed; it -was she who had to implore for mercy; and it was due to his wisdom -that her aching heart was eased.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I can repay you--if I can repay you!" she murmured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can repay me by saying you forgive me for the sin I committed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your sin!" she cried in amazement. "You, who have brought up my child -in virtue and honor! At my door lies the sin, not at yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You forget," he groaned; "my wife, whom I love with a love dearer -than life itself, has yet to receive the confession I have made to -you. It was my love for her that led me into the error."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An error," said Mrs. Gordon in tender accents, "that has saved a -daughter from regarding her mother with abhorrence. Dear friend, God -sees and judges, and surely he will approve what you have done. A -grateful mother blesses you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remain here," said Aaron. "I will speak to my friends and yours, and -then I will conduct you to your daughter."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_39" href="#div1Ref_39">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></h4> -<h5>A PANIC IN THE CITY.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On the following morning Aaron was up earlier than usual, and in the -daily papers he read the confirmation of the intelligence which Mr. -Moss had imparted to him. There was a panic in the City, and fortunes -were already being won and lost. The bank in which his money was -deposited, and in which he held a large number of shares, was -tottering, and he knew that he was ruined if it could not weather the -storm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Moss found him reading the news over his breakfast table. -Business, as we know, had not prospered with Mr. Moss of late years; -his investments had turned out badly, and he was in low water himself. -He had placed his dependence upon Aaron to pull him through, and the -rock he had depended upon was crumbling away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are in trouble, Mr. Moss," said Aaron as his friend made his -appearance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have the second edition of the morning papers," replied Mr. Moss -with a white face. "The Stock Exchange is in a blaze."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rather early to commence business," observed Aaron calmly; "the -outlook is not improving, I suppose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everything is going to the dogs, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you breakfasted?" asked Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had breakfast at seven o'clock. Couldn't sleep a wink all night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. "What a question to ask when ruin stares a -man in the face."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope," said Aaron gravely, "that you are not deeply involved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am up to my neck. But what is my position compared with yours? -Cohen, you are a mystery."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I accept the inevitable. Can you show me how I can improve -matters?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I can't," answered Mr. Moss, with a deep groan; "only if I had -capital I could make a fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By joining the bears. Cohen, there is a chance for you. Your credit -is good. There is nothing for it but a plunge. It will set you right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How if it goes the other way, Mr. Moss?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will be no worse off than a thousand men who are plunging."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The majority of whom, before another sun rises, will find themselves -disgraced. No, Mr. Moss, no. I have never dabbled in stocks and shares -at the risk of my good name, and I never will. There is but one way to -meet misfortune, and that is the straight way. We will go to the City, -and ascertain, if we can, exactly how matters stand. Rachel and Rose -do not return from Bournemouth till the afternoon."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the City they learned the worst, and Aaron realized that he was -beggared.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you save nothing from the wreck?" asked Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing," replied Aaron. "It may be that all I possess may not be -sufficient to clear me. I think you had better take Rose back with you -to Portsmouth; you have been absent from your business too long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must go this evening," said Mr. Moss, "but Rose can stay. She will -be a comfort to Mrs. Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, take her with you. In this crisis Rachel, I know, would prefer to -be alone with me. Besides," he added, with a sad smile, "I have to -provide another home, and I must be careful of my shillings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Another home, Cohen. What do you mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"With certain ruin staring me in the face, and with claims coming upon -me which I may not be able to meet, I must begin immediately to -retrench. Our establishment is an expensive one, and I dare not carry -it on a day longer than is necessary. Rachel and I will sleep in the -house to-night for the last time. To-morrow I will pay off the -servants, and we shall move into humbler quarters. So tumble down all -our grand castles. Well, it has happened to better men, who, after -years of toil, have to begin life over again. Rachel will not mind; we -have faced poverty before to-day, and will face it again cheerfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It drives me wild to hear you speak like that!" exclaimed Mr. Moss. -"You are looking only on the black side. If you had the money you have -got rid of the last two or three weeks----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! Mr. Moss, hush!" said Aaron, interrupting him. "It is a -consolation to me to know that the greater part of my legitimately -earned fortune has been so well bestowed. I am glad I did not wait to -make reparation for the great error of my life. Rachel has yet to hear -my confession. If I obtain her forgiveness I can face the future -bravely and cheerfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">Under the seal of confidence Aaron had made Mr. Moss and Dr. Spenlove -acquainted with the particulars of the story of the two babes and of -the deception he had practiced in his home in Gosport. Mr. Moss was -not greatly astonished, for the hints lately dropped by his friend had -prepared him for some disclosure of a strange nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Besides," he said inwardly to himself, "Ruth bears no likeness to -either Mr. or Mrs. Cohen. How blind we have all been!"</p> - -<p class="normal">In his weak moments Mr. Moss was rather inclined to be wise after the -event. Both he and Dr. Spenlove had pledged themselves to secrecy, but -when they proceeded to justify Aaron for the act he stopped them, -saying it was a matter between him and his conscience. Now on this -disastrous morning, as they walked from the City, Mr. Moss asked Aaron -whether he intended to tell his wife to-day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not to-day," Aaron answered. "I must bide my time. The news that we -are poor will be as much as Rachel can bear."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_40" href="#div1Ref_40">CHAPTER XL.</a></h4> -<h5>"CAN YOU FORGIVE ME?"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On the evening of the same day Aaron and Rachel were alone in their -house in Prince's Gate. Rose had taken her leave of them, and she and -her father were traveling to Portsmouth, Mr. Moss with a heavy heart; -he was older than Aaron, and was not so courageous in the hour of -adversity.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What makes you so melancholy, father?" said Rose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you reach my age, Rose," he replied, "I hope you will not -discover that life is a dream."</p> - -<p class="normal">The remark seemed to him rather fine and philosophical, but had he -been asked to explain its precise meaning he would have found it -difficult.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope I shall, father," said Rose as she leaned back and thought of -her lover; "a happy dream."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to get back to you and to our dear home," Rachel was saying -to her husband at the same moment. "You must never send me away again. -Indeed, dear Aaron, if you intend it I shall for once in my life be -rebellious, and shall refuse to go."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke tenderly and playfully, and held his hand in hers, as in the -olden days.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, my love, your short visit to the seaside has done you -good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, dear, I am almost well; I feel much stronger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the justification," said Aaron. "I am not happy away from -you, but there are occasions when it is our duty to make sacrifices. -This is the longest separation there has been between us in the -twenty-six years of our married life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How time has flown!" she mused. "Twenty-six years of happiness. It -has always been the same, dear husband, whether we were poor or rich, -I cannot recall a day in the past without its flower which money could -not purchase."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You make my task easier, Rachel," said Aaron. "I have something to -disclose to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And it is not good news, love," she said in a tone of much sweetness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not good news, Rachel. By what means have you divined that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see without eyes. In the early days of my blindness I used to tell -you that I was acquiring new senses. It is true. Some accent in your -voice, the touch of your hand, conveys the message to my mind, and I -wait in patience, as I am waiting now. Aaron, my dear husband, I have -known for some time past that you have a sorrow which one day you will -ask me to share. How have I known it? I cannot tell, but it is clear -to me. You have not had a joy in your life apart from me. It is my -right, is it not, to share your sorrows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is your right, Rachel, and you shall share them. I have not been -without my errors; once in the past my footsteps strayed, but in the -straying I inflicted suffering upon no human being."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of that I am sure, my love. It is human to err, but it is not in your -nature to inflict suffering or commit an injustice. I am not pressing -you to confide in me before, in your judgment, the proper time -arrives. Nothing can shake my faith and trust in you."</p> - -<p class="normal">He regarded her in silence a while. The turn the conversation had -taken favored the disclosure of his secret respecting Ruth, but he -feared to speak of that and of his ruin in the same hour. The latter -was the more imperative, because it demanded immediate action, and he -resolved to confine himself to it on this evening.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your loving instinct, Rachel, has not misled you. I have a secret -which I have concealed from you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fearing to give me pain, dear husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes; and fearing that it would disturb the faith you have in me. I -place so high a value upon it that my life would be dark indeed were I -to lose it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is impossible, dear. Banish the fear from your mind. Were the -hands of all men raised against you I would stand before you as your -shield, and they would not dare to strike. So long as you are by my -side I am happy and content."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear life of my life, you inspire me with hope. But one secret which -oppresses me cannot be divulged to-night. It is of my worldly troubles -I must speak now; the rest shall follow at a more fitting time. -Rachel, for twenty years Heaven has showered prosperity upon me; all -my undertakings have succeeded, and I have heard it said, 'Everything -Aaron Cohen touches turns to gold.' It really has been so. I -accumulated a large fortune, and--with humbleness I say it--no man, -however high or low his station, was the loser by it. But a breath may -destroy what the labors of a lifetime have created. If such a reverse -has come to me, Rachel, how would you accept it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without murmuring, love," she said, drawing him close to her, and -kissing his lips. "I should have but one regret--that I could not work -for you as you have worked for me. But that, also, is God's will, and -I have never repined. Who would presume to question his wisdom? His -name be praised forever and ever!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Amen! In our old home in Gosport you were happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have never been happier, Aaron. I have sometimes felt pride in your -successes, but surely that is pardonable. Love is the most precious -gift that life can bestow. All else is nought. It is our soul life and -dies not with the body."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not value money, Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the good it may do to others, not for the good it can do to the -possessor; for the suffering it may be made the means of relieving, -for the blessings it may bring into the lives of the afflicted and -unfortunate. Then it becomes Godlike, and when so used the angels -smile approval."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear love, you lighten my burden. When I won you my life was blessed. -Listen, Rachel. This is a dark day for many men who find themselves -fallen from their high estate. Despair sits in many homes at this -hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not in ours, Aaron, whatever has happened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God! It is my happy belief that this hour is not dark for us. -It was my intention, Rachel, to retire altogether from business and -public life, and to that end I took advantage of your absence from -London to settle my affairs. My resolution was prompted by the secret, -the burden of which, although I have not yet disclosed it to you, you -have made it lighter for me to bear. Brought to public knowledge, -which I fear its peculiar nature will render inevitable, it will be -immediately said that I am unfitted to retain my position as a leader -and teacher. To tarry until that judgment was pronounced would be to -aggravate the disaster, and I resolved to anticipate the verdict by -resigning the honors which have been conferred upon me. I have done -so, and I have withstood the pressure that has been put upon me to -withdraw my resignation. An examination of my worldly affairs resulted -in my finding myself in possession of nearly a hundred thousand -pounds. I divided this into three portions, one of which I intended to -retain in order that we might pass what years of life remained to us -in comfort; the second portion I devoted to charity, and it has thus -been distributed; the third portion was devoted to repairing to some -extent the error of which I had been guilty."</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked at Rachel after he had uttered these words, which he had -spoken with averted head. There was no change in her. Sweetness and -sympathy were expressed in her beautiful face, and it seemed as if her -soul's light dwelt thereon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you approve, Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Entirely, love. Let me hold your hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">He continued. "The money I intended for our private use was lodged in -a City bank, and in this bank I hold shares for which I am liable to -the depositors. Yesterday Mr. Moss brought me news of a commercial -crisis in which I discerned----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on, dear husband, I am prepared for the worst."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which I discerned my ruin. This morning I convinced myself that -the news was true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we are poor again," said Rachel in a gentle voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we are poor again. Everything is lost. I do not know the extent -of my liabilities upon the shares I hold in the bank, but it is -certain that my property in this house and what it contains will -scarcely be sufficient to meet them. I have nothing more to tell of my -worldly trouble, Rachel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear love," said Rachel sweetly, with her arms around him, "it is a -small trouble, and we will meet it bravely. With all my heart and soul -I will help you to meet it. We cannot remain in the house; the -expenses are too great."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You echo my own words, Rachel. I have already discharged the -servants, and have paid what is due to them. To-morrow they take their -departure, and we must be content to move into humbler quarters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am content," said Rachel. "I am happy. We have each other. What -does Prissy say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will not leave us. With or without my consent, she insists upon -sharing our poverty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear, faithful girl! Let it be as she wishes, love. I know her -constant, devoted nature. She will be a comfort to both of us."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused before she spoke again, and then it was in a voice -trembling with emotion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We commence a new life to-morrow. O Aaron, dear husband, my heart is -aching, not because we are poor, not for myself, but for you, love, -for you! Aaron, you have said nothing of Ruth. Let this night end your -sorrows, and let me share them now. It is the thought of Ruth that -oppresses you. I feel it, I have known it long, but did not dare to -mention it. Give me all your confidence; I am well, I am strong. There -is nothing I cannot bear for your dear sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not resist the appeal. In a voice as tremulous as her own he -made confession of his sin, and not for one moment while he spoke -would she relinquish his hand. And when his confession was ended she -held him close in her embrace and mingled her tears with his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you forgive me, Rachel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is for me to bless, not to forgive," she sobbed. "For me you -strayed, for me you have suffered. Comfort his bruised heart, O God, -who sees and judges! And, Aaron, dear and honored husband, we have -still a son to bless our days!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_41" href="#div1Ref_41">CHAPTER XLI.</a></h4> -<h5>A POISONED ARROW.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Had it not been that public attention was mainly directed to events of -greater importance, Aaron Cohen's affairs would have furnished a -tempting theme for the busy hunters of sensational and personal -journalism, but to a certain extent he was protected by the fever of -the financial panic in which men of a higher station were brought down -low, and the fortunes of famous historic houses imperiled. He would -have been grateful to slip into obscurity entirely without notice, but -this could scarcely be expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had one bitter enemy--Mr. Poynter--who rejoiced in his downfall, -and who neglected no opportunity to wing a poisoned arrow against his -old rival. When the excitement of the panic was over these arrows -became more numerous, and Aaron's name was frequently mentioned in a -slighting manner in those second- and third-class journals whose -columns are too freely open to personal spite and malice. He saw but -few of the paragraphs in which he was attacked, and they did not wound -him; some of his friends--for he was not deserted by all--urged him to -reply to them, but he shook his head and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am content. Lives there a man without enemies?"</p> - -<p class="normal">His chief concern was that the slanders should not reach Rachel's -knowledge, and here her blindness aided him. Either he or the faithful -Prissy was ever by her side, and if his traducers hoped to make him -suffer through the being whose love was the most precious jewel in his -life they were doomed to disappointment.</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps Aaron had never been happier than he was during these dark -days of adversity. The weight of a secret sin was lifted from his -heart, and he had no fears of poverty.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had full confidence in his being able to obtain some employment -which would keep the wolf from the door; however lowly it might be, he -was ready to accept it thankfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not immediately free to enter a situation, for much of his time -was occupied in settling his affairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had left his home in Prince's Gate, and was living in lodgings in -Brixton. Everything he had in the world was given up to the creditors -at the bank, and when he quitted the house neither he nor Rachel had -taken from it anything of the slightest value. Small personal gifts -which had been given by one to the other, articles of dress which they -might legitimately have retained, mementoes of little value endeared -to them by some affectionate association, even the old silver-mounted -pipe--all were left behind. Simply dressed, without a piece of jewelry -about them, they turned their faces toward the new home and the new -life without a murmur, and walked to their humble rooms with contented -hearts.</p> - -<p class="normal">Prissy, who had gone before to get the place ready, received them with -a smiling face. Grandeur was nothing to Prissy so long as she could be -with those whom she loved to serve. As happy in a cottage as in a -palace, she proved herself to be a true philosopher, accepting -fortune's rubs with equanimity, and making the best of them with a -cheerful willingness it were well for loftier folk to emulate. The -rooms were sweet and clean, there were flowers about, and blooming -flowers in pots on the window-sill. Rachel sighed with pleasure as she -entered, and her bright face was Prissy's reward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where did the flowers come from, Prissy?" asked Aaron when Rachel was -out of hearing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"From the flowerman, sir," she answered. "They cost next to nothing, -and they're paid for."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, Prissy----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please don't, sir," she interrupted, and there were tears in her eyes -and a pleading rebellion in her voice. "I know what you're going to -say, Mr. Cohen, but please don't. You'd like me to keep good, wouldn't -you, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, of course, Prissy," said Aaron, astonished at the question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't keep good, sir, if you blow me up now you're in misfortune; I -can't keep good if you don't let me have my way in little things. I'll -be very careful, I will, indeed, Mr. Cohen. It's the first time in my -life I've bought any flowers at all--and did you see, sir, how happy -missus looked when she came in?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus inconsequentially Prissy, mixing her arguments in the strangest -manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my good girl," said Aaron kindly, "you have no business to -waste your money; you must think of your future."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's what I am thinking of, sir; I don't want to grow wicked, and -flowers are the only things that will prevent me. Mr. Cohen, if it -hadn't been for you I shouldn't have been no good at all. I don't -forget the first night I come to you with Victoria Regina in Gosport; -if I lived to be as old as Methusalem I couldn't never forget it. And -then when missus got me the gillard water to bathe my eyes--I should -be the ungratefullest woman that ever drew breath if I could forget -those things. Do, please, sir, let me have my way. You've paid me a -lot more wages than I was worth, and all my money is in the<br> -Post-office Savings Bank, and it aint mine at all, it's yours----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My good Prissy," said Aaron, much affected, for Prissy could not -continue, her voice was so full of tears, "do as you wish, but be very -careful, as you have promised. Perhaps fortune will turn again, and -then----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And then, sir," said Prissy, taking up her words, "you shall give it -all back to me. And it will turn, sir; you see if it won't!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron was very busy for several days after this, making a careful -inventory of his possessions in the house in Prince's Gate, which he -sent to the appointed liquidators of the bankrupt bank. Of all the -debtors he was the only one who did not wait for the law's decree to -give up his fortune, to the last farthing, and perhaps he was the only -one whose conscience was free of the intention of wrong.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had his gleams of sunshine. First, as ill news travel fast, his -son, Joseph, upon his arrival in Australia, was made acquainted -through the public journals of the condition of affairs, and divining -that his father was in need of money he cabled home advices which -assisted Aaron in his extreme need. The young man had saved some -money, and he placed it all at the disposal of his parents, who -derived an exquisite pleasure from this proof of affection.</p> - -<p class="normal">As in Gosport twenty years before, Rachel did not know the stress to -which her husband was put. He kept from her knowledge everything of a -distressing nature, and in this loving task he was silently assisted -by Prissy, whose thoughtfulness and devotion were not to be excelled. -She watched her mistress' every movement and anticipated her slightest -wish.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What should I do without you, Prissy?" said Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope you'll never want to do without me, ma'am," answered Prissy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another gleam of sunshine came to him in the offer of a situation from -a merchant who had known him in his days of prosperity. He was not -asked to occupy a position of responsibility, and the offer was -conveyed to him in apologetic terms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot displace men who have been long in my employ," the merchant -said, "but a desk is vacant which you can have if you think it worthy -of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron accepted it gladly and expressed his thanks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fortune has not deserted us," he said to his wife. "I shall not only -be able to pay our expenses, but I shall even be able to save a -little. The hours are short, the labor is light; and in time I may -rise to something better."</p> - -<p class="normal">So, like a young man commencing life, he went every morning to his new -duties, and returned in the evening to a peaceful and happy home.</p> - -<p class="normal">During all this time he had heard no word of Ruth or Mrs. Gordon, and -the sin of which he had been guilty had not reached the public ear. -His house and furniture still remained unsold, law's process being -proverbially slow and tedious. At length, passing his house one -evening he saw bills up announcing that the mansion and its contents -were to be sold by auction in the course of a week. It was his -intention to attend the auction for the purpose of purchasing a few -small mementoes, toward which he had saved two or three pounds. The -sale was to take place on Thursday, and on Wednesday night he was -looking through the catalogue, and talking with Rachel about his -intended purchases.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are dumb memorials, dear," he said, "which from long -association become almost like living friends. I shall not be quite -happy till I get back my silver-mounted pipe. Tobacco has lost its -flavor since I left it behind me, but I had no right to bring away -anything of value, and I have always looked forward to possessing it -again. Great misfortunes are easy to bear in comparison with such-like -trifles."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron seldom indulged now in those touches of humor to which Rachel in -the old days loved to listen. The Aaron of to-day and the Aaron of -yesterday were the same in everything but that; the tender gayety was -replaced by a tender sadness, and Rachel often thought with regret of -the play of fancy which used to stir her to mirth.</p> - -<p class="normal">On this night they expected a visit from Mr. Moss, who was coming to -London on business, and at about nine o'clock he made his appearance. -An hour afterward Rachel retired to bed, and left the friends -together. Aaron had observed that Mr. Moss looked anxious and uneasy, -and being now alone with him he inquired the reason.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I expected you to tell me of it," said Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of what?" asked Aaron. "I hope there is no fresh trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am the harbinger of it, it seems," groaned Mr. Moss. "I was the -first to bring you the news of the panic, and now----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Aaron gently, "and now? Speak low, or Rachel may overhear -us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not see many papers, Cohen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not many."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hardly like to tell you," said Mr. Moss, "but you will be sure to -hear of it to-morrow. They never spare a man who is down. For God's -sake, Cohen, don't blame me; I've never opened my lips--I'd have cut -my tongue out first."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me know the worst," said Aaron. "It relates to me, I see. As for -blaming you, set your mind at ease. You have been too good a friend to -me to do anything to distress me. Come, shake hands. Whatever it is I -can bear it like a man, I hope. I have passed through the fire."</p> - -<p class="normal">In silence Mr. Moss took a newspaper from his pocket, and handed it to -Aaron. It was folded in a particular place, and there Aaron read an -article, headed "A Strange Revelation," in which the whole story of -his sin was circumstantially detailed. He was not referred to by name, -nor was Ruth's name, or Mrs. Gordon's, mentioned, but the name of the -place in which the incident occurred, and the year of the occurrence, -were accurately set down, and certain allusions to himself could not -be mistaken. He was spoken of as a Jew who until lately had occupied -an eminent position in society, who had posed as a friend of the -workingman, and had been instrumental in putting an end to the late -great strike in the building trade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ostensibly this may be said to have been of service to society, but -in our judgment of the man's character such an issue must be set -aside. The question of motive has to be considered; if it be worthy it -reflects credit upon him, if unworthy it passes to his dishonor."</p> - -<p class="normal">From this argument was drawn the conclusion that there was not a -public act performed by "the eminent Jew" that was not undertaken with -a view to self-interest. For years he had been successful in throwing -dust into the eyes of the multitude whom he had cajoled into sounding -his praises, but at length the sword had fallen, and the life of -duplicity he had led both publicly and privately was laid bare to -view. His charities were so many advertisements, and were undoubtedly -turned to profit; his religious professions, unceasingly paraded, -served as a cloak for his greed and self-seeking.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This man's life of hypocrisy points a moral. He was in affluence, he -is in want; he was a leader, he has become a drudge. We hold him up as -a warning."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then followed a promise of further revelations to be furnished by a -competent authority, and probably by the publication of the -delinquent's name for the benefit of society at large.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Aaron read this scandalous article the color deserted his cheeks, -his hands and mouth trembled, his heart sank within him. What could he -say in his defense? Nothing! The deductions and conclusions were -false, but the story was true. There was but one answer to the -question whether he had perpetrated a domestic fraud, and had brought -up as a Jewess a child whom he had allowed to grow up in ignorance of -her parentage and rightful faith. This answer would be fatal and would -give the impress of truth to the entire article. How could he show -himself in public after such an exposure? His intended appearance at -the sale to-morrow must be relinquished; he would be pointed at with -scorn and contempt. Not for him the open paths where he would meet his -fellow-man face to face; he must creep through the byways, close to -the wall. It seemed to him as if his life were over. His head drooped, -his arms sank listlessly down, his whole appearance was that of a man -who had received a mortal stroke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is abominable, abominable!" cried Mr. Moss. "Is there no law to -punish such a slander? Is there no protection for such a man as you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For such a man as I?" echoed Aaron sadly. "Ah, my friend, you forget. -There is no grave deep enough for sin and wrongdoing; the punishment -meted out to me is just."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not--it is not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! You will disturb Rachel."</p> - -<p class="normal">He stepped softly into the bedroom; Rachel was slumbering with a smile -on her lips. As he stood by her side, contemplating her sweet and -beautiful face, she awoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aaron?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it late? Has Mr. Moss gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is still here, Rachel. It is quite early."</p> - -<p class="normal">She encircled his neck with her arms, and drew him to her. "I have had -such happy dreams, dear love. Some good fortune is going to happen to -us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would life be without its delusions?" he said in a sad tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not speak so sadly, dear. It is not because we are poor, is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, love, it is not that. But if your dreams should not come<br> -true----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, then," she answered, and her voice was like music in his ears, -"we have faced trouble before, and can face it again. It will make no -difference so long as we are together. God is all-merciful and in him -I put my trust. To the last--to the last--dear and honored husband, we -will not lose our trust in him. Do not be sad. All will come right--I -feel it will. It is as if a divine voice is whispering to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">When Aaron rejoined his friend the color had returned to his face, his -step was firmer, his eye brighter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is an angel by my side," he said. "Let my enemies do their -worst. I am armed against them. Does this article make any change in -our friendship?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It binds me closer to you, Cohen."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron pressed Mr. Moss' hand. "Love and friendship are mine," he said -simply. "What more can I desire?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_42" href="#div1Ref_42">CHAPTER XLII.</a></h4> -<h5>RETRIBUTION.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The following morning Aaron went to the office as usual, and quickly -discovered that the poisoned arrow had found its mark. He was received -with coldness, and the principals of the firm passed his desk without -speaking to him. He observed the older employees whispering together, -and looking at him furtively, avoiding his eye when he returned their -gaze. His mind was soon made up; he would not wait for the dismissal -he saw impending, and in an interview with his employers he tendered -his resignation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have saved us from a difficulty, Mr. Cohen," they said. "We -intended to speak to you before the day was over. But still, if the -story we have seen in several papers is not true--if it does not, -after all, refer to you----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The story is true," he said, "and it refers to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We regret the necessity," was their reply; "the cashier will pay you -a month's salary in lieu of notice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can accept only what is due to me," said Aaron; and shortly -afterward he left the office.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not return home until evening, and then he said nothing to -Rachel of his dismissal. The next day he went out and wandered -aimlessly about the streets, choosing the thoroughfares where he would -be least likely to be recognized. So the days passed, and still he had -not the courage to speak to Rachel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps in another country," he thought, "I may find rest, and Rachel -and I will be allowed to pass the remainder of our life in peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">On Tuesday in the ensuing week he went forth, and with bowed head was -walking sadly on when, with a sudden impulse, he wheeled round in the -direction of his home. The feeling that impelled him to do this was -that he was behaving treacherously to Rachel in keeping the secret -from her. He would make her acquainted with his disgrace and -dismissal, and never again in his life would he conceal anything from -her knowledge. This resolution gave him the courage he had lacked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is as if I were losing faith in her," he murmured. "Love has made -me weak where it should have made me strong."</p> - -<p class="normal">He hastened his steps, and soon reached his home. As he stood for a -moment at the door of the sitting room he heard a voice within which -he recognized as that of his old rival, Mr. Poynter, and upon his -entrance he found that gentleman and his wife together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel was standing in a dignified attitude, as though in the presence -of an enemy; her face was pale and scornful, and Mr. Poynter was -manifestly ill at ease. Hearing her husband's footsteps, she extended -her hand, and taking his, pressed it to her lips. In this position -they must be left for a brief space while an explanation is given of -another incident which was to bear directly on the scene, and to bring -into it a startling color.</p> - -<p class="normal">Prissy had conducted Mr. Poynter into the presence of her mistress, -and had scarcely done so when she was called down to a lady who had -come to see Mr. and Mrs. Cohen. This lady was Mrs. Gordon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I bring good news to your master and mistress," she said to Prissy -after she had heard that Mrs. Cohen was engaged. "Can I wait until the -visitor is gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can sit in my room if you don't mind, ma'am," said Prissy, who -was greatly excited at the promise of good news.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you," said Mrs. Gordon, and she followed the servant upstairs -to a room next to that in which Mr. Poynter and Rachel were -conversing, and where, the wall being thin, she could hear every word -that was being spoken in the adjoining apartment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This gentleman," said Rachel to her husband, pointing in the -direction of Mr. Poynter, "has called to see you on business, and has -taken advantage of your absence to offer me a bribe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One moment, Rachel," said Aaron; "let me first hear the nature of Mr. -Poynter's business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will explain it," said Mr. Poynter. "I have not been fortunate -enough to win Mrs. Cohen's favor, but ladies are not accustomed to -discuss business matters. You are down in the world, Mr. Cohen. It is -best to speak quite plainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is. I am, as you say, down in the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The newspapers," continued Mr. Poynter, "have been saying -uncomplimentary things of you, and I have heard of a threat of further -revelation. I considered it my duty to make your wife acquainted with -these public disclosures."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rachel pressed her lips again upon Aaron's hand which she held in a -firm and loving grasp. His face brightened.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have rendered me a service," he said. "Possibly I have to thank -you, also, for the statements which have been made in the papers -concerning me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly," said Mr. Poynter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Aaron, "you said just now that it is best to speak quite -plainly, have I, or have I not, to thank you for the unfavorable -publicity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have never shrunk from the truth," replied Mr. Poynter with a lofty -air, "nor from a duty, however distressing the truth or the duty might -be. I became possessed of certain information, and I considered it my -duty, in the interests of truth, not to withhold it from the public -ear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank you. Perhaps you will now come straight to the business which -brings you here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is very simple, and will put money into your pocket, of which, it -seems to me, you stand in need."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do stand in need of money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then the matter can be arranged. Some little while since you -transferred your contracts to other firms, ignoring me entirely in the -transaction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For which," said Aaron, "I had good reasons, and for which you have -taken your revenge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God-fearing men," said Mr. Poynter, "do not seek revenge, but -justice. To continue. The firm to which you transferred the most -important of these contracts happen, at the present time, to need some -assistance, and hearing of it I offer what they need. But it appears -that you have hampered them, and that in the deed of transference you -expressly stipulated that no part of the contracts shall be executed -by me unless I bind myself to a scale of wages and hours which you -have tabulated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I considered it fair to the men," said Aaron, "and it is as you have -stated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is my belief," pursued Mr. Poynter, "that the firm will accept my -aid if I adhere to the scale, which I decline to do. I know what is -right, and I will not be dictated to. My business here is to make you -the offer of a sum of money--I will go as far as a hundred pounds--if -you will cancel this stipulation by which my friends are bound. A -hundred pounds would come in useful to you just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would. It is likely you would increase the sum."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you Jews, you Jews?" exclaimed Mr. Poynter jocosely, thinking<br> -he had gained his point. "Always on the lookout for the main<br> -chance--always screwing out the last penny. I wouldn't mind, Mr. -Cohen. We will say a hundred and twenty."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aaron turned to Rachel and asked, "Is this the bribe you spoke of?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not," she replied. "Mr. Poynter will explain it to you in his -own words."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I haven't the smallest objection," said Mr. Poynter. "You see, Mr. -Cohen, it is sometimes necessary to put the screw on. Who knows that -better than you? There is a material screw, and a moral screw, in this -particular case. The material screw is money; the moral screw is an -iron safe, of which, as yet, no mention has been made in the -newspapers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah," said Aaron.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is almost a waste of words to speak of it to you, who are so -familiar with the circumstances. This iron safe, it appears, was given -into your charge when you received the infant into your house in -Gosport. You were poor at the time, and from that day you prospered. -In a manner of speaking, you became suddenly rich. Well, well, the -temptation was too strong for you. You could not resist opening the -safe, and appropriating what it contained--undoubtedly treasure of -some sort in money or jewels. But, Mr. Cohen, there is an All-seeing -Eye."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I acknowledge it. In the event of my refusing your money you threaten -to accuse me through the columns of the press of breaking open the -safe and stealing its contents."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have expressed it clearly, Mr. Cohen. The moral screw, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Poynter," said Aaron with dignity, "I refuse your offer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not enough?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were you to multiply it a hundred times it would not be enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">Through Aaron's veins ran the sweet approval conveyed in Rachel's cold -clasp upon his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You beggar!" exclaimed Mr. Poynter. "You hypocrite! You defy me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You rich man," said Aaron, "you God-fearing man, do your worst."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be done," cried Mr. Poynter furiously. "You are ruined: I -will ruin you still more; I will bring you to your knees; you shall -lie in the gutter, and beg for mercy! You paragon of sanctity, all the -world shall know you for what you are!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can use no harsher words," said Aaron. "Relieve me now of your -presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he said this the communicating door between the rooms opened and -Mrs. Gordon appeared on the threshold.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I will go," said Mr. Poynter; but fell back when Mrs. Gordon -advanced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," she said; and turning to Aaron, "I have a word to say to -this gentleman. Your servant admitted me and allowed me to wait in the -adjoining apartment till you were disengaged. I have heard all that -has passed between you, and I am thankful for the chance that enabled -me to do so. Mr. Cohen, look upon that man and mark how changed he is, -from braggart to coward. It is not the infamous falsehoods he has -spoken, it is not the cowardly threats to which he has dared to give -utterance in the presence of a lady that causes him to shrink, that -blanches his face, and brings terror into his eyes. It is because he -sees me stand before him, the woman he betrayed and deserted long -years ago. He believed me dead, driven to death by his treachery and -baseness; he beholds me living, to cover him, if I wish, with shame -and ignominy. Heaven knows I had no desire to seek him, but Heaven -directed me here in a just moment to expose and baffle him. It is my -turn now to threaten, it is my turn to dictate. You unutterable -villain, you shall make some sort of retribution for the infamy of the -past!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Psha!" said Mr. Poynter with white lips. "Who will believe you? You -have no proofs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have; God's justice has turned your weapon against yourself. The -safe intrusted to this noble gentleman, and which he delivered intact, -untampered with, when I came to claim it, contained no treasure in -money or jewels. When I parted with my child--and yours--I was too -poor to deposit even one silver coin in it, but in its stead I placed -there the torn half of one of your letters, retaining the other -portion in proof of its genuineness. This letter is now in my -possession. How would you stand in the eyes of the world if I -published this, you God-fearing man, with the story attaching to it? I -will do it, as Heaven is my judge, if you do not repair the injury you -have done this gentleman, whom, with all my heart and soul, I honor -and revere. It is him you have to thank that your child has been -reared in honor and virtue. Go; I never wish to look upon your face -again, but as you are a living man I will bring the good name you -falsely bear to the dust if you do not make reparation!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he slunk past her, uttering no word, she held her dress so that it -should not come in contact with him. His power for evil was at an end, -and Aaron had nothing more to fear from his malice.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after Aaron had introduced her to Rachel, she poured glad -tidings into their ears. She had not sought them earlier, she said, -because she wished first to execute a plan which was in her head -respecting them, and she had also to reconcile Lord Storndale to his -son's marriage with Ruth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her great wealth had enabled her, after much labor, to succeed in this -endeavor, and Ruth was recognized by her husband's family. The fortune -which Aaron had settled upon Ruth had not been used in the carrying -out of her desire; it was deposited in the bank, where only Aaron's -signature was needed to prove his right to it.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now she begged them to accompany her; she wished to show them -something, and her carriage was at the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">It conveyed them to a handsome house in a good neighborhood, and -Aaron's heart throbbed with gratitude as he saw in it all the -memorials of his old home which he and Rachel held dear.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the walls were the portraits of himself and Rachel which had been -presented to him on the day when all his friends had assembled to do -him honor. Happy tears ran down Rachel's face as Aaron walked with her -through the rooms and described their contents. In the study he -paused, lifted something from the table, and placed it in Rachel's -hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your silver-mounted pipe," she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My silver-mounted pipe," he answered. "My life, with this pipe and -the dear picture of yourself sitting beneath the cherry tree, and -holding your dear hand, I could go through the world in perfect -happiness and content."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O Lord of the Universe," said Rachel, clasping her hands, and lifting -her lovely face, "I thank thee humbly for all thy goodness to me and -mine!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fair Jewess, by B. L. 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