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.