RETRIBUTION.
The following morning Aaron went to the office as usual, and quickly
discovered that the poisoned arrow had found its mark. He was received
with coldness, and the principals of the firm passed his desk without
speaking to him. He observed the older employes whispering together,
and looking at him furtively, avoiding his eye when he returned their
gaze. His mind was soon made up; sending in his name to his employers
he requested an interview with them. Upon entering the private room he
saw upon the table a copy of the paper containing the scandalous
attack; he did not change colour, he thought of Rachel's love, and his
voice was firm and resigned.
"You have read this article, Mr. Cohen?" said the principal member of
the firm.
"Yes, sir; I read it last night."
"And you have come to explain----"
He interrupted his employer mildly.
"No, sir; I have not come to explain anything. I am here to tender my
resignation."
"You save us from a difficulty, Mr. Cohen. It was our intention to
speak to you before the day was over. But still, if the story we have
seen in the paper is not true--if it does not, after all, refer to
you----"
"The story is true," he said, "and it refers to me."
"In that case," was the reply, "there is nothing more to be said. We
regret the necessity, but it appears unavoidable. The cashier will pay
you a month's salary in lieu of notice."
"I can accept only what is due to me," said Aaron; and shortly
afterwards he left the office.
Not one of his fellow-clerks offered to shake hands with him as he
went away; but the pang he felt was momentary.
"Patience, patience," he murmured, raising his eyes to heaven. "To Thy
decree, O God, I humbly submit. My punishment is just."
He did not return home until evening, and then he said nothing to
Rachel of his dismissal. The next day he went out and wandered
aimlessly about the streets, choosing the thoroughfares where he would
be least likely to be recognised. So the days passed, and still he had
not the courage to speak to Rachel.
"Perhaps in another country," he thought, "I may find rest, and Rachel
and I will be allowed to pass the remainder of our life in peace."
On Tuesday, in the ensuing week, he went forth, and with bowed head
was walking sadly on, when, with a sudden impulse, he wheeled round in
the direction of his home. The feeling that impelled him to do this
was, that he was behaving treacherously to Rachel in keeping the
secret from her. He would make her acquainted with his disgrace and
dismissal, and never again in his life would he conceal anything from
her knowledge. This resolution gave him the courage he had lacked.
"It is as if I were losing faith in her," he murmured. "Love has made
me weak where it should have made me strong."
He hastened his steps, and soon reached his home. As he stood for a
moment at the door of the sitting-room he heard a voice within which
he recognised as that of his old rival, Mr. Poynter, and upon his
entrance he found that gentleman and his wife together.
Rachel was standing in a dignified attitude, as though in the presence
of an enemy; her face was pale and scornful, and Mr. Poynter was
manifestly ill at ease. Hearing her husband's footsteps she extended
her hand, and taking his, pressed it to her lips. In this position
they must be left for a brief space while an explanation is given of
another incident which was to bear directly upon the scene, and to
bring into it a startling colour.
Prissy had conducted Mr. Poynter into the presence of her mistress,
and had scarcely done so when she was called down to a lady, who had
inquired for Mr. and Mrs. Cohen.
"Mr. Cohen is out," said Prissy, "and Mrs. Cohen is engaged."
"I wish to see them particularly," said the lady, giving Prissy a
card, upon which the name of Mrs. Gordon was engraved. "Are you
Prissy?"
"Yes, ma'am," Prissy answered in wonder; "but I don't remember ever
having seen you."
"You have never seen me before," said Mrs. Gordon with a smile, "but I
have heard of you. Can I wait until your mistress's visitor is gone? I
bring good news."
"You can sit in my room, if you don't mind, ma'am," said Prissy, who
was greatly excited at the promise of good news.
"Thank you," said Mrs. Gordon; and she followed the servant upstairs
to a room next to that in which Mr. Poynter and Rachel were
conversing, and where, the wall being thin, she could hear every word
that was being spoken in the adjoining apartment.
"This gentleman," said Rachel to her husband, pointing in the
direction of Mr. Poynter, "has called to see you on business, and has
taken advantage of your absence to offer me a bribe."
"One moment, Rachel," said Aaron; "let me first hear the nature of Mr.
Poynter's business."
"I will explain it," said Mr. Poynter. "I have not been fortunate
enough to win Mrs. Cohen's favour, but ladies are not accustomed to
discuss business matters."
"Did you come here to discuss a business matter with my wife?"
inquired Aaron, calmly.
"Well, hardly; but as you were absent I thought I might mention the
matter to her."
"What matter?"
"The business I came upon," said Mr. Poynter, irritated by Aaron's
composure. "I am ready to hear it, sir."
"Very well. We will not beat about the bush, but will come straight to
the point. You are down in the world, Mr. Cohen?"
"Yes, sir; I am, as you say, down in the world."
"The newspapers," continued Mr. Poynter, "have been saying
uncomplimentary things of you, and I have heard a threat of further
revelations. I considered it my duty--in the interests of truth, Mr.
Cohen--to make your wife acquainted with these public disclosures."
Rachel pressed her lips again upon Aaron's hand, which she held in a
firm and loving grasp. His face brightened.
"You have rendered me a service," he said. "Possibly I have you to
thank, also, for the statements which have been made in the papers
concerning me."
"Possibly," said Mr. Poynter.
"Nay," said Aaron, "you suggested just now the advisability of not
beating about the bush, and you proclaim that you are here in the
interests of truth. Have I, or have I not, to thank you for this
unfavourable publicity?"
"I have never shrunk from the truth," replied Mr. Poynter, with a
lofty air, "nor from a duty, however distressing the truth or the duty
might be. Society has to be considered, and we must ignore the feeling
of the individual. I became possessed of certain information, and I
considered it my imperative duty not to withhold it from the public
ear."
"I thank you. Without further circumlocution I must ask you to come
straight to the business which brings you here."
"It is very simple, and will put money in your pocket, of which, it
seems to me, you stand in need."
"I do stand in need of money."
"Then the matter can be arranged. Some little while since we had a
conversation concerning certain contracts which you were not in a
position to complete."
"You solicited a transference of those contracts to your firm," said
Aaron, "and I declined to grant your request."
"You use high-sounding words for one in your position," said Mr.
Poynter, with a frown, "but I will not quarrel with you. You gave the
worst of all bad reasons for your refusal."
"Whether my reasons were good or bad, you have taken your revenge."
"God-fearing men do not seek revenge, but justice. To continue. The
firm to which you transferred the most important of these contracts
happens at the present time to need some assistance, and hearing of
it, I offer what it needs. But it appears that you have hampered them,
and that in the deed of transference you expressly stipulate that no
part of the contracts shall be executed by me unless I bind myself to
a scale of wages and hours which you have tabulated."
"I considered it fair to the men," said Aaron, "and it is as you have
stated."
"It is my belief," pursued Mr. Poynter, "that the firm will accept my
aid if I adhere to the scale, which I decline to do. I know what is
right, and I will not be dictated to. My business here is to make you
the offer of a sum of money--I will go as far as a hundred pounds--if
you will cancel this stipulation by which my friends are bound. A
hundred pounds is a large sum, Mr. Cohen; it would come in useful to
you just now."
"It would. It is likely you would increase the sum."
"Oh, you Jews, you Jews!" exclaimed Mr. Poynter, jocosely, thinking
he had gained his point. "Always on the look-out for the main
chance--always screwing out the last penny. Well, I am not a mean man,
Mr. Cohen. We will say a hundred and twenty."
Aaron turned to Rachel, and asked, "Is this the bribe you spoke of?"
"It is not," she replied. "Mr. Poynter will explain it to you in his
own words."
"I haven't the smallest objection," said Mr. Poynter. "You see, Mr.
Cohen, it is sometimes necessary to put the screw on. Who knows that
better than you? There is a material screw, and a moral screw, in this
particular case. The material screw is money; the moral screw is an
iron safe, of which, as yet, no mention has been made in the
newspapers."
"Ah!" said Aaron.
"It is almost a waste of words to speak of it to you, who are so
familiar with the circumstances. This iron safe, it appears, was given
into your charge when you received the infant into your house in
Gosport. You were a pauper at the time, and from that day you
prospered. In a manner of speaking you became suddenly rich. Well,
well, the temptation was too strong for you. You could not resist
opening the safe, and appropriating what it contained--undoubtedly
treasure of some sort in money or jewels. But, Mr. Cohen, there is an
all-seeing Eye."
"I acknowledge it In the event of my refusing your money, you threaten
to accuse me through the columns of the press of breaking open the
safe and stealing the contents."
"You have expressed it clearly, Mr. Cohen. The moral screw, you know."
"And of further blackening my character."
"It can scarcely be made worse than it is. In the event of your
refusal I shall certainly do my duty."
"Mr. Poynter," said Aaron, with dignity, "I refuse your offer."
"It is not enough?"
"Were you to multiply it a hundred times, it would not be enough."
Through Aaron's veins ran the sweet approval conveyed in Rachel's
close clasp upon his hand. "You beggar!" exclaimed Mr. Poynter. "You
hypocrite! You defy me?"
"I do not defy you; I simply tell you to do your worst."
"It shall be done!" cried Mr. Poynter, furiously. "You are ruined; I
will ruin you still more; I will bring you to your knees; you shall
lie in the gutter and beg for mercy! You paragon of sanctity, all the
world shall know you for what you are!"
"You can use no harsher words," said Aaron. "Relieve me now of your
presence."
As he said this the communicating door between the rooms opened, and
Mrs. Gordon appeared on the threshold.
"Yes, I will go," said Mr. Poynter, but fell back when Mrs. Gordon
advanced.
"Not yet," she said, and turned to Aaron. "I have a word to say to
this gentleman. Your servant admitted me, and allowed me to wait in
the adjoining apartment till you were disengaged. I have heard all
that has passed between you, and I am thankful for the chance that
enabled me to do so. Mr. Cohen, look upon that man, and mark how
changed he is from braggart to coward. It is not the infamous
falsehoods he has spoken, it is not the cowardly threats to which he
has dared to give utterance in the presence of a lady, that cause him
to shrink, that blanch his face, and bring terror into his eyes. It is
because he sees me stand before him, the woman he betrayed and
deserted long years ago. He believed me dead, driven to death by his
treachery and baseness; he beholds me living, to cover him, if I wish,
with shame and ignominy. Heaven knows I had no desire to seek him, but
Heaven directed me here in a just moment to expose and baffle him. It
is my turn now to threaten, it is my turn to dictate. You unutterable
villain, you shall make some sort of retribution for the infamy of the
past!"
"Psha!" said Mr. Poynter, with white lips. "Who will believe you? You
have no proofs."
"I have. God's justice has turned your weapon against yourself. The
safe entrusted to this noble gentleman, and which he delivered to me
intact, untampered with, when I came to claim it, contained no
treasure in money or jewels. When I parted with my child--and yours--I
was too poor to deposit even one silver coin in it, but in its stead I
placed there the letters you wrote to me, in your own hand, signed in
your own name, the name by which you are known. These letters are now
in my possession. How would you stand in the eyes of the world if I
published them, you God-fearing man, with the story attaching to them?
I will do it, as Heaven is my judge, if you do not repair the injury
you have done this gentleman, whom, with all my heart and soul, I
honour and revere. It is him you have to thank that your child has
been reared in honour and virtue. Go! I never wish to look upon your
face again; but as you are a living man I will bring the good name you
falsely bear to the dust if you do not make reparation!"
As he slunk past her, uttering no word, she held her dress so that it
should not come in contact with him. His power for evil was at an end,
and Aaron had nothing more to fear from his malice.
Then, after Aaron had introduced her to Rachel, she poured glad
tidings into their ears. She had not sought them earlier, she said,
because she wished first to execute a plan which was in her head
respecting them, and she had also to reconcile Lord Storndale to his
son's marriage with Ruth. Her great wealth had enabled her, after much
labour, to succeed in this endeavour, and Ruth was recognised by her
husband's family. The fortune which Aaron had settled upon Ruth had
not been used in the carrying out of her desire; it was deposited in
the bank, where only Aaron's signature was needed to prove his right
to it. And now she begged them to accompany her; she wished to show
them something, and her carriage was at the door. It conveyed them to
a handsome house in a good neighbourhood, which they supposed to be
Mrs. Gordon's residence. A neatly dressed maid answered the bell, and
to their surprise Mrs. Gordon immediately left them, and saying she
would call on the morrow, drove away before they could reply. The
maid, holding the door open to allow them to enter, handed Aaron a
letter and a packet, both addressed to him. The letter was from Mrs.
Gordon, and upon reading it the mystery was explained. The house had
been purchased by her in the name of Aaron Cohen, and the packet
contained the deeds. "In furnishing the house," Mrs. Gordon wrote,
"Ruth has been the guiding spirit; she knew what was most precious to
you and your dear wife." Aaron's heart throbbed with gratitude as he
and Rachel walked through the rooms, and he saw all the memorials of
their old home which they held most dear. On the walls were the
portrait of himself and the picture of Rachel in the garden in France,
which had been presented to him on the day when all his friends had
assembled to do him honour. Joyful tears ran down Rachel's face as he
described these treasures to her; the love she had lavished on Ruth
met now with its return. In the study Aaron paused, and lifting
something from the table, placed it in Rachel's hands.
"Your silver-mounted pipe!" she exclaimed.
"My silver-mounted pipe," he answered. "My life, with this pipe, and
the dear picture of you sitting under the cherry tree, and holding
your dear hand, I can pass my days in perfect happiness and content."
"O Lord of the Universe," said Rachel, clasping her hands, and raising
her lovely face, "I thank Thee humbly for all Thy goodness to me and
mine!"
THE END
* * * * * *
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
End of Project Gutenberg's Aaron the Jew, by B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon