Aaron the Jew: A Novel

"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 wrong-doing; you may bury it fathoms deep, but the hour will arrive when the ghost rises and points at you with accusing hand. 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 sadly, dear. You have borne up so bravely; you must not break down now. Come, come-for my sake, love!"

"For your sake, beloved," he said; and as he spoke the tormenting demon which had been torturing him lost its power.

"What made you sad, love?" said Rachel. "Surely not because we are poor?"

"No, love; it was 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. Aaron, with you by my side I would walk barefoot through the world, and bless the gracious Lord that made me. He is all-merciful and all-powerful, and in Him I put my trust. To the last, to the last, dear and honoured husband, we will not lose our trust in Him! Do not be sad again. 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 colour had returned to his face, his step was firmer, his eye brighter.

"There is an angel in my home," 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's hand.

"Love and friendship are mine," he said simply. "What more can I desire?"

CHAPTER XLVI

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 employes whispering together, and looking at him furtively, avoiding his eye when he returned their gaze. His mind was soon made up; sending in his name to his employers he requested an interview with them. Upon entering the private room he saw upon the table a copy of the paper containing the scandalous attack; he did not change colour, he thought of Rachel's love, and his voice was firm and resigned.

"You have read this article, Mr. Cohen?" said the principal member of the firm.

"Yes, sir; I read it last night."

"And you have come to explain-"

He interrupted his employer mildly.

"No, sir; I have not come to explain anything. I am here to tender my resignation."

"You save us from a difficulty, Mr. Cohen. It was our intention to speak to you before the day was over. But still, if the story we have seen in the paper is not true-if it does not, after all, refer to you-"

"The story is true," he said, "and it refers to me."

"In that case," was the reply, "there is nothing more to be said. We regret the necessity, but it appears unavoidable. 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 afterwards he left the office.

Not one of his fellow-clerks offered to shake hands with him as he went away; but the pang he felt was momentary.

"Patience, patience," he murmured, raising his eyes to heaven. "To Thy decree, O God, I humbly submit. My punishment is just."

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 recognised. 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 recognised 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 upon the scene, and to bring into it a startling colour.

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 inquired for Mr. and Mrs. Cohen.

"Mr. Cohen is out," said Prissy, "and Mrs. Cohen is engaged."

"I wish to see them particularly," said the lady, giving Prissy a card, upon which the name of Mrs. Gordon was engraved. "Are you Prissy?"

"Yes, ma'am," Prissy answered in wonder; "but I don't remember ever having seen you."

"You have never seen me before," said Mrs. Gordon with a smile, "but I have heard of you. Can I wait until your mistress's visitor is gone? I bring good news."

"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 favour, but ladies are not accustomed to discuss business matters."

"Did you come here to discuss a business matter with my wife?" inquired Aaron, calmly.

"Well, hardly; but as you were absent I thought I might mention the matter to her."

"What matter?"

"The business I came upon," said Mr. Poynter, irritated by Aaron's composure. "I am ready to hear it, sir."

"Very well. We will not beat about the bush, but will come straight to the point. You are down in the world, Mr. Cohen?"

"Yes, sir; 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 a threat of further revelations. I considered it my duty-in the interests of truth, Mr. Cohen-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 you to thank, also, for the statements which have been made in the papers concerning me."

"Possibly," said Mr. Poynter.

"Nay," said Aaron, "you suggested just now the advisability of not beating about the bush, and you proclaim that you are here in the interests of truth. Have I, or have I not, to thank you for this unfavourable 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. Society has to be considered, and we must ignore the feeling of the individual. I became possessed of certain information, and I considered it my imperative duty not to withhold it from the public ear."

"I thank you. Without further circumlocution I must ask you to come straight to the business which brings you here."

"It is very simple, and will put money in 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 we had a conversation concerning certain contracts which you were not in a position to complete."

"You solicited a transference of those contracts to your firm," said Aaron, "and I declined to grant your request."

"You use high-sounding words for one in your position," said Mr. Poynter, with a frown, "but I will not quarrel with you. You gave the worst of all bad reasons for your refusal."

"Whether my reasons were good or bad, you have taken your revenge."

"God-fearing men do not seek revenge, but justice. To continue. The firm to which you transferred the most important of these contracts happens at the present time to need some assistance, and hearing of it, I offer what it needs. But it appears that you have hampered them, and that in the deed of transference you expressly stipulate 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 is a large sum, Mr. Cohen; it 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 look-out for the main chance-always screwing out the last penny. Well, I am not a mean man, 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 a pauper 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 the contents."

"You have expressed it clearly, Mr. Cohen. The moral screw, you know."

"And of further blackening my character."

"It can scarcely be made worse than it is. In the event of your refusal I shall certainly do my duty."

"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 close clasp upon his hand. "You beggar!" exclaimed Mr. Poynter. "You hypocrite! You defy me?"

"I do not defy you; I simply tell you to 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 turned 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 cause him to shrink, that blanch his face, and bring 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 entrusted to this noble gentleman, and which he delivered to me 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 letters you wrote to me, in your own hand, signed in your own name, the name by which you are known. These letters are now in my possession. How would you stand in the eyes of the world if I published them, you God-fearing man, with the story attaching to them? 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 honour and revere. It is him you have to thank that your child has been reared in honour 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 labour, to succeed in this endeavour, and Ruth was recognised 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 neighbourhood, which they supposed to be Mrs. Gordon's residence. A neatly dressed maid answered the bell, and to their surprise Mrs. Gordon immediately left them, and saying she would call on the morrow, drove away before they could reply. The maid, holding the door open to allow them to enter, handed Aaron a letter and a packet, both addressed to him. The letter was from Mrs. Gordon, and upon reading it the mystery was explained. The house had been purchased by her in the name of Aaron Cohen, and the packet contained the deeds. "In furnishing the house," Mrs. Gordon wrote, "Ruth has been the guiding spirit; she knew what was most precious to you and your dear wife." Aaron's heart throbbed with gratitude as he and Rachel walked through the rooms, and he saw all the memorials of their old home which they held most dear. On the walls were the portrait of himself and the picture of Rachel in the garden in France, which had been presented to him on the day when all his friends had assembled to do him honour. Joyful tears ran down Rachel's face as he described these treasures to her; the love she had lavished on Ruth met now with its return. In the study Aaron paused, and lifting something from the table, 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 you sitting under the cherry tree, and holding your dear hand, I can pass my days in perfect happiness and content."

"O Lord of the Universe," said Rachel, clasping her hands, and raising her lovely face, "I thank Thee humbly for all Thy goodness to me and mine!"

THE END