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!"