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 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 had already grown 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 recognised 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
an atmosphere of deceit, 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 before many weeks were past--he could
still retain the love of his wife, if she would forgive him for the
deception he had practised, he would be content, he might even be
happy again, fallen as he would be from his high estate. Meanwhile
there lay upon him the obligation of lifting Ruth and her husband from
poverty, of placing them in an honourable 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. Apart from the
personal consideration of the matter so far as it affects myself, and
from another consideration which doubtless is in your mind, Mr.
Storndale has acted as honourably as we could expect from one in his
position. There has been concealment and deception, but it is not for
me to cast a stone against him. The young man is in difficulties, and
I have resolved to clear him from them, and to provide for Ruth's
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, and I value your friendship; 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."
"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's hand, and then 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 a gentleman, 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 honourable 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 public property. 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
finished. 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?
Have you calculated how much it will cost you? A large sum, Cohen."
"It will be forthcoming; the means will be placed in your hands
to-morrow. Do not return here tonight. 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 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 entrust 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 realise a sum of
about ninety thousand pounds, in addition to which there were his
house and furniture, which would realise another ten thousand. One
third of this would be sufficient to provide for Ruth and her husband,
one third should be divided among the Jewish charities, and one third
should be invested for himself and Rachel. This would produce an
income of between eight and nine hundred pounds, 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 honour in the synagogue which he would immediately
resign; there and then he wrote his letters of resignation. There had
been a time when he was called upon to support a movement in respect
of these honourable offices. A man who had grown rich by usury and
fraud had succeeded in getting himself nominated for a high position
in the synagogue, and this had aroused the displeasure of the more
respectable members of the community, who had enlisted Aaron on their
side. His all-powerful influence had settled the question, and the
usurer was taught a salutary lesson. From that time a strict watch was
kept upon these dignities, which were conferred upon none whose past
lives would not bear strict scrutiny. Aaron thought of this as he drew
forth the address upon modern Judaism he had undertaken to deliver,
hoping thereby to counteract the loose views of religious obligations
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 labours. 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 Esther." 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 Esther do not hint at 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 daresay my friends
will be surprised; but I am fixed, nothing can induce me to 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, and
you will not be allowed to retire without remonstrance. But we will
wait till Sunday, when you are to deliver your address upon 'Judaism,
its Duties and Obligations.' After it is delivered it will be printed
in pamphlet form, will it not?"
"No; it will be neither delivered nor printed."
"Cohen!" exclaimed Mr. Moss, amazed at this statement.
"It is as I say, Mr. Moss," said Aaron, firmly.
"But 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 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. But I do not see what you can have 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 cheque 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
tomorrow 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." Under his
breath he added, "Nor what I expected, either."
"She has all the more reason for contentment," said Aaron. "I wish her
to be happy."
They had a busy time with lawyers, stockbrokers, bank managers, and
creditors, and Aaron just managed to catch the two-twenty train for
Bournemouth. He passed a quiet evening with Rachel and Esther, and
answered such questions put by his wife concerning Ruth in a manner
which seemed to satisfy her, for she did not press him upon the
subject. With Esther he had a private conversation, and cautioned her
to preserve silence as to the letter she had received. On the
following morning he took 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 Honourable Percy Storndale
to him, "and I am thinking of taking Ruth to the Continent tomorrow."
"Yes," said Aaron, absently.
"But," added Mr. Storndale, "the trip will have no pleasure for her if
she does not see you before we go."
"I will come with you now," said Aaron.
They met and parted without any warm expression of affection. Such a
demonstration from Ruth towards 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 life-long kindness towards her, and by her fear
that he was quietly angry with her; while Aaron was held back by the
consciousness of his wrong-doing. And so the young couple went forth
to commence their new life, and the secret of Ruth's birth was still
unrevealed.