UNTO THEM A CHILD IS BORN.
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 which were destroyed he considered himself bound in
honour and common honesty to make good. He made no demur to the claims
that were brought against him, 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 bad 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.
At length he found courage.
"Doctor, will she live?"
The doctor bit his lip as he gazed upon Aaron's misery.
"Whatever lies in my power shall be done, but human skill and science
have their limitations. We are all in God's hands."
And with these words, and a look of compassion, he departed.
Aaron stood motionless awhile. 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.
"Yes, 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, the blessing God is sending us. Aaron, dear love,
do not be anxious for me. I shall 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? That seemed to be the only course open to him. 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 without security. And what security could he
offer but his own bare word? There were money-lenders; the newspapers
teemed with their advertisements. It would be folly to apply to any
one of them for so large a loan as fifty pounds, which sum, he
calculated, was the least he could begin business again with; 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, and with a dread crisis so very near. 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 became confused. The pressing worldly necessity,
with its exacting and imperative demands, and the overwhelming human
sorrow were contending for supremacy. 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 conflict now in his mind between the two
extremities; his worldly trouble was forgotten; he thought only of his
beloved wife and their 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 some people's saying about yer, Mr. Cohen?"
"Never mind, never mind, my good girl; I have no time to listen."
"They're saying, everybody is," persisted Prissy, "that yer as good as
ruined, and that yer 'aven't got a shilling left to pay yer way with."
"What does it matter what some people say, Prissy? There are good and
bad, just and unjust. Never listen to tittle-tattle."
"'Ow's it to be 'elped, Mr. Cohen, when it's dinged 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 ain't 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
everybody think as he wants 'em to. There's plenty as speaks up for
yer. 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. He knows what He's up to, Gawd
does. Wot did Mrs. Cohen 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 ain't she good, sir, and
does she ever say anythink but the truth, and ain't she as kind as
kind can be to everybody about 'er? Why, it's in everybody's mouth,
'xcept Mr. Whimpole's! Nobody 'xcept 'im's got a word to say agin
'_er_. 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 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 up the stairs, and
gently 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 despair 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 went into the passage and listened. He heard no
sound, not a sob, not a cry; and after remaining in the passage
several minutes, 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
right-minded man do with a cheerful spirit. 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 he could do was to wait, and hope, and
pray.
Hush! What was that? An infant's wail--the cry of a new-born 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? "Lord of the universe," he prayed, inwardly, "spare
my beloved! With Thee is the fountain of life; by Thy light only do we
see light. Let Thy light shine upon me and upon 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 him 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.