A POISONED ARROW.
Had it not been that public attention was directed mainly to events of
greater importance Aaron Cohen's affairs would have furnished a
liberal theme for the busy hunters of sensational and personal
journalism, but to a certain extent he was protected by the fever of
the financial panic in which numbers of unfortunate families were
caught and ruined, and the fortunes of famous historic houses
imperilled. He would have been grateful to slip into obscurity
unnoticed, but this could scarcely be expected. He had occupied too
high a station to be passed over in complete silence, and he had one
bitter enemy, Mr. Poynter, who rejoiced in his downfall and neglected
no opportunity to wing a poisoned arrow against his old rival. This
man was furious with disappointment at having been unable to secure
his rival's contracts, and when the excitement of the panic was over
these arrows became more numerous, and Aaron's name was frequently
mentioned in a slighting manner in those second- and third-class
journals whose columns are too freely open to personal spite and
malice. He saw but few of the paragraphs in which he was attacked, and
those he read did not wound him; they made his friends angry (for he
was not deserted by all), and they urged him to reply to them; but he
shook his head, and said, "I shall not assist my enemies to stir up
muddy waters. To every word I wrote they would reply with twelve. Let
them do their worst." He was, however, greatly concerned lest the
slanders should reach Rachel's knowledge; and here her blindness aided
him. Either he or the faithful Prissy was ever by her side, and if his
traducers hoped to make him suffer through the being whose love was
the most precious jewel in his life, they were doomed to
disappointment. Perhaps Aaron had never been happier than he was
during these dark days of adversity. Now that the weight of a secret
sin was lifted from his heart he had no fears of poverty. He had full
confidence in his being able to obtain some employment which would
keep the wolf from the door; however lowly it might be he was ready to
accept it thankfully. He was not immediately free to enter a
situation, for the whole of his time was occupied in settling his
affairs. He had left his home in Prince's Gate, and was living in
lodgings in Brixton. Everything he had in the world was given up to
the creditors of the bank, and when he quitted the house, neither he
nor Rachel had taken from it a single article of the slightest value.
Small personal gifts which had been given by one to the other,
articles of dress which they might legitimately have retained,
mementos of little value, endeared to them by some affectionate
association, even the old silver-mounted pipe in its jeweled
case--all were left behind. Simply dressed, without a piece of
jewellery about them, they turned their faces towards the new home and
the new life without a murmur, and, hand in hand, walked to their
humble rooms with contented hearts.
Prissy, who had gone before to get the place ready, received them with
a smiling face. Grandeur was nothing to Prissy, so long as she could
be with those whom she loved to serve. As happy in a cottage as in a
palace, she proved herself to be a true philosopher, accepting
fortune's rubs with equanimity, and making the best of them with a
cheerful willingness it were well for loftier folk to emulate. Bird
never trilled more happily than Prissy as she moved hither and
thither, upstairs and down, setting things to rights, shifting the
furniture and studying each new arrangement with a critical eye,
interrupting herself every minute by running to the window to see
if her master and mistress were coming. The rooms were sweet and
clean, there were flowers about, and blooming flowers in pots on the
window-sill. The fragrance of the flowers greeted Rachel as she
entered, and her bright face was Prissy's reward.
"Where did the flowers come from, Prissy?" asked Aaron, when Rachel
was out of hearing.
"From the flower-man, sir," she answered.
"Surely not a gift?"
"Yes, sir," said the unblushing Prissy; "wasn't it good of him?"
"Prissy!" said Aaron, with warning finger uplifted.
"Well, sir, they cost next to nothing, and they're paid for."
"But, Prissy----"
"Please don't, sir," she interrupted, and there were tears in her eyes
and a pleading rebellion in her voice. "I know what you're going to
say, Mr. Cohen, but please don't. You'd like me to keep good, wouldn't
you, sir?"
"Why, of course, Prissy," said Aaron, astonished at the question.
"Well, sir, I can't, if you blow me up now you're in misfortune; I
can't keep good if you don't let me have my way in little things. I'll
be very careful, I will, indeed, Mr. Cohen. It's almost the first time
in my life I've bought any flowers at all for any one else, and it
ain't in you, sir, to take away pleasure from anybody--and did you
see, sir, how happy missis looked when she came in?"
Thus inconsequentially Prissy, mixing her arguments in the strangest
manner.
"But, my good girl," said Aaron, kindly, "you have no business to
waste your money; you must think of your future."
"It's what I am thinking of, sir; I don't want to grow wicked, and
flowers are the only things that will prevent me. It's the honest
truth, sir; they make me feel good. Mr. Cohen, if it hadn't been for
you, where should I have been? In the gutter, I daresay. You took me
out of it, sir. I don't forget the first night I come to you with
Victoria Regina in Gosport; if I lived to be as old as Methusalem I
couldn't never forget it. And then when missis got me the gillard
water to bathe my eyes--I should be the ungratefullest woman that ever
drew breath if I could forget those things. Do, please, sir, let me
have my way. You've paid me a lot more wages than I was worth, and all
my money is in the post office savings bank, and it ain't mine at all,
it's yours----"
"My good Prissy," said Aaron, much affected, for Prissy could not
continue, her voice was so full of tears, "do as you wish, but be very
careful, as you have promised. Perhaps fortune will turn again, and
then----"
"And then, sir," said Prissy, taking up his words, "you shall give it
all back to me--and I'll take it then, sir, you see if I don't. It
will turn, if there's any fairness anywhere. And now, if you'll
forgive me, sir, I must go and look after the dinner."
Aaron was very busy for several days after this making a careful
inventory of his possessions in the house in Prince's Gate, which he
sent to the appointed liquidators of the bankrupt bank. Of all the
debtors he was the only one who did not wait for the law's decree to
give up his fortune to the last farthing, and perhaps he was the only
one whose conscience was free of the intention of wrong.
He had his gleams of sunshine. First, the sweet contentment and
happiness of his beloved wife. The affection she lavished upon him was
of so tender and exalted a nature that it made their humble home a
paradise. She listened for his footstep, she stood at the door to meet
him, she drew him to her side, as a young maiden in the springtime of
life might have done to the lover she adored. Spiritual flowers grew
about her feet, and everything and every one was made purer and better
by contact with her. Then, as ill news travels fast, his son Joseph,
when his ship stopped at a not-distant port to take in cargo, was made
acquainted through the public journals with the condition of affairs;
and, divining that his father was in need of money, he cabled home
advices which assisted Aaron in his extreme need. The young man had
saved some money, and he placed it all at the disposal of his parents,
who derived an exquisite pleasure from this proof of affection. As in
Gosport twenty years before, Rachel did not know the stress to which
her husband was put; he kept from her knowledge everything of a
distressing nature, and in this loving task he was silently assisted
by Prissy, whose thoughtfulness and devotion were not to be excelled.
She watched her mistress's every movement, and anticipated her
lightest wish. The dishes she liked best were always on the table, and
everything she wanted was ready to her hand. Prissy was no less
attentive to her master, brushing his clothes, and polishing his boots
till she could see her face in them.
"What should we do without you, Prissy?" said Rachel.
"I hope you'll never want to do without me, ma'am," answered Prissy.
Another gleam of sunshine came to him in the offer of a situation from
a merchant who had known him in his days of prosperity. He was not
asked to occupy a position of responsibility, and the offer was
conveyed to him in apologetic terms.
"I cannot displace men who have been long in my employ," the merchant
said, "but a desk is vacant which you can have if you think it worthy
of you."
Aaron accepted it gladly, and expressed his thanks.
"Fortune has not deserted us," he said to his wife. "I shall not only
be able to pay our expenses, but I shall even be able to save a
little. The hours are short, the labour is light; and in time I may
rise to something better."
So, like a young man commencing life, he went every morning to his new
duties, and returned in the evening to a peaceful and happy home.
During all this time he had heard no word of Ruth or Mrs. Gordon, and
the sin of which he had been guilty had not reached the public ear.
His house and furniture still remained unsold, law's process being
proverbially slow and tedious. At length, passing his house one
evening, he saw bills up, announcing that the mansion and its contents
were to be sold by auction in the course of the following week. He was
not a stoic, and it gave him a pang, but the pain soon passed away.
"What have I to repine at," he thought, "with heavenly love awaiting
me at home?" It was his intention to attend the auction for the
purpose of purchasing two or three small mementos, towards which he
had saved a few pounds. The sale was to take place on Thursday, and on
Wednesday night he was looking through the catalogue, and talking with
Rachel about his intended purchases.
"There are dumb memorials," he said, "which from long association
become like living friends. Something of our spirit seems to pass into
them, imbuing them with life. I shall not be quite happy till I get
back my silver-mounted pipe; of all my possessions it was my dearest.
Tobacco has lost its flavour since I left it behind me; but I had no
right to bring away anything of value, and I have always looked
forward to possessing it again. Great misfortunes are really easy to
bear in comparison with such-like trifles."
Aaron seldom indulged now in those touches of humour to which Rachel
in the old days loved to listen. The Aaron of to-day and the Aaron of
yesterday were the same in everything but that; the tender gaiety was
replaced by a tender sadness, and Rachel often thought with regret of
the play of fancy which used to stir her to mirth.
On this night they expected a visit from Mr. Moss, who was coming to
London on business; and at about nine o'clock he made his appearance.
An hour afterwards Rachel retired to bed, and left the friends
together. Aaron had observed that Mr. Moss looked anxious and uneasy,
but he was careful not to refer to it in the presence of his wife.
"You have something on your mind," he now said. "No new misfortune, I
hope?"
"Not to me personally," replied Mr. Moss, with a reluctant air.
"To none of your family, I trust."
"No; they are all quite well. My dentist son is getting along
famously; I saw him before I came here, and he told me that he had
pulled out three Christian teeth to-day. Isaac of York is avenged!"
Dolefully as he spoke, Aaron could not help smiling. "But what is it?"
he asked.
"I am the harbinger of trouble, it seems," groaned Mr. Moss, "and to
my best friend. I was the first to bring you the news of the panic,
and now----"
"Yes," said Aaron, gently, "and now? Speak low, or Rachel may overhear
us."
"You do not see many papers, Cohen?"
"Not many."
"I hardly like to tell you," said Mr. Moss, "but you will be sure to
hear of it to-morrow. They never spare a man who is down, For God's
sake, Cohen, don't blame me! I've never opened my lips--I'd have cut
my tongue out first."
"Let me know the worst," said Aaron. "It relates to me, I see. As for
blaming you, set your mind at ease. You have been too good a friend to
me to do anything to distress me. Come, shake hands. Whatever it is, I
can bear it like a man, I hope. I have passed through the fire, and it
has left me humble and patient."
In silence Mr. Moss took a newspaper from his pocket, and handed it to
Aaron. It was folded in a particular place, and there Aaron read an
article headed "A Strange Revelation," in which the whole story of his
sin was circumstantially detailed. He was not referred to by name, nor
was Ruth's name or Mrs. Gordon's mentioned; but the name of the place
in which the incident occurred and the year of the occurrence were
accurately set down, and certain allusions to himself could not be
mistaken. He was spoken of as a Jew who, until lately, had occupied an
eminent position in society, who had posed as a friend of the working
man, and had been instrumental in putting an end to the late great
strike in the building trade.
"Ostensibly this may be said to have been of service to society, but
in our judgment of a man's character the public issue must be set
aside. The question of private motive has to be considered: if it be
worthy it reflects credit upon him; if unworthy, it passes to his
dishonour."
From this argument was drawn the conclusion that there was not a
public act performed by "the eminent Jew" that was not undertaken
with a view to self-interest and self-aggrandisement. He was a dealer
in fine phrases, which, with a stock of empty professions and mock
moralities which he kept always on hand, had helped to set him on the
pedestal from which he had toppled down. For years he had been
successful in throwing dust into the eyes of the multitude whom he had
cajoled into sounding his praises; but at length the sword had fallen,
and the life of duplicity he had led both publicly and privately was
laid bare to view. His charities were so many advertisements, and were
undoubtedly turned to profit; his religious professions, unceasingly
paraded, served as a cloak for his greed and self-seeking.
"This man's life of hypocrisy points a moral. He was in affluence, he
is in want; he was a leader, he has become a drudge. He has been
justly served, and we hold him up as a warning and an example to all
pretenders of his class and creed."
Then followed a promise of further revelations to be furnished by a
competent authority, and probably by the publication of the
delinquent's name, for the benefit of society at large.
As Aaron read this scandalous article the colour deserted his cheeks,
his hands and mouth trembled, his heart sank within him. What could he
say in his defence? Nothing. The deductions and conclusions were
false, but the story was true. There was but one answer to the
question whether he had perpetrated a domestic fraud, and had brought
up as a Jewess a child whom he had allowed to grow to womanhood in
ignorance of her parentage and rightful faith. This answer would be
fatal, and would give the impress of truth to the entire article. How
could he show himself in public after such an exposure? His intended
appearance at the sale to-morrow must be relinquished: he would be
pointed at with scorn and contempt. Not for him the open paths where
he would meet his fellowman face to face; he must creep through the
byways, close to the wall. It seemed to him as if his life were over.
His head drooped, his arms sank listlessly down, his whole appearance
was that of a man who had received a mortal stroke.
"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?"