VI

And at Ellis Island a terrible thing happened, unforeseen--a shipwreck

in the very harbour.

As the "freight" filed slowly along the corridor-cages in the great

bare hall, like cattle inspected at ports by the veterinary surgeon,

it came into the doctor's head that Leah's eye-trouble was infectious.

"Granular lids--contagious," he diagnosed it on paper. And this

diagnosis was a flaming sword that turned every way, guarding against

Leah the Land of Promise.

"But it is not infectious," she protested in her best German. "It is

only in the family."

"So I perceive," dryly replied America's Guardian Angel, who was now

examining the obvious sister clinging to Leah's skirts. And in Biela,

heavy-eyed with sickness and want of sleep, his suspicious vision

easily discovered a reddish rim of eyelid that lent itself to the same

fatal diagnosis, and sent her to join Leah in the dock of the

rejected. The fresh-faced Tsirrele and the wizen-faced mother of Srul

passed unscrutinized, and even the dread clerk at the desk who asked

questions was content with their oath that the wealthy Srul would

support them. Srul was, indeed, sent for at once, as Tsirrele was too

pretty to be let out under the mere protection of a Polish crone.

When the full truth that neither she nor Biela was to set foot in New

York burst through the daze in Leah's brain, her protest grew frantic.

"But my sister has nothing the matter with her--nothing. O _gnaediger

Herr_, have pity. The Koenigsberg doctor--the great doctor--told me I

had no disease, no disease at all. And even if I have, my sister's

eyes are pure as the sunshine. Look, _mein Herr_, look again. See,"

and she held up Biela's eyelids and passionately kissed the wet

bewildered eyes. "She is to be married, my lamb--her bridegroom

awaits her on the wharf. Send _me_ back, _gnaediger Herr_; I ought not

to have come. But for God's sake, don't keep Biela out, don't." She

wrung her hands. But the marriage card had been played too often in

that hall of despairing dodges. "Oh, _Herr Doktor_," and she kissed

the coat-tail of the ship's doctor, "plead for us; speak a word for

her."

The ship's doctor spoke a word on his own behalf. It was he who had

endorsed the two girls' health-certificates at Hamburg, and he would

be blamed by the Steamship Company, which would have to ship the

sisters back free, and even defray their expenses while in quarantine

at the depot. He ridiculed the idea that the girls were suffering from

anything contagious. But the native doctor frowned, immovable.

Leah grew hysteric. It was the first time in her life she had lost her

sane standpoint. "Your own eye is affected," she shrieked, her dark

pock-marked face almost black with desperate anger, "if you cannot see

that it is only because my sister has been weeping, because she is ill

from the voyage. But she carries no infection--she is healthy as an

ox, and her eye is the eye of an eagle!" She was ordered to be silent,

but she shrieked angrily, "The German doctors know, but the Americans

have no _Bildung_."

"Oh, don't, Leah," moaned Biela, throwing her arms round the panting

breast. "What's the use?" But the irrepressible Leah got an S.I.

ticket of Special Inquiry, forced a hearing in the Commissioners'

Court.

"Let her in, kind gentlemen, and send back the other one. Tsirrele

will go back with me. It does not matter about the little one."

The kind gentlemen on the bench were really kind, but America must be

protected.

"You can take the young one and the old one both back with you," the

interpreter told her. "But they are the only ones we can let in."

Leah and Biela were driven back among the damned. The favoured twain

stood helplessly in their happier compartment. Even Tsirrele, the

squirrel, was dazed. Presently the spruce Srul arrived--to find the

expected raptures replaced by funereal misery. He wormed his way

dizzily into the cage of the rejected. It was not the etiquette of the

Pale to kiss one's betrothed bride, but Srul stared dully at Biela

without even touching her hand, as if the Atlantic already rolled

again between them. Here was a pretty climax to the dreams of years!

"My poor Srul, we must go back to Hamburg to be married," faltered

Biela.

"And give up my store?" Srul wailed. "Here the dollar spins round. We

have now what one names a boom. There is no land on earth like ours."

The forlornness of the others stung Leah to her senses.

"Listen, Srul," she said hurriedly. "It is all my fault, because I

wanted to share in the happiness. I ought not to have come. If we had

not been together they never would have suspected Biela's eyes--who

would notice the little touch of inflammation which is the most she

has ever suffered from? She shall come again in another ship, all

alone--for she knows now how to travel. Is it not so, Biela, my lamb?

I will see you on board, and Srul will meet you here, although not

till you have passed the doctor, so that no one will have a chance of

remembering you. It will cost a heap, alas! but I can get some work in

Hamburg, and the Jews there have hearts of gold. Eh, Biela, my poor

lamb?"

"Yes, yes, Leah, you can always give yourself a counsel," and Biela

put her wet face to her sister's, and kissed the pock-marked cheek.

Srul acquiesced eagerly. No one remembered for the moment that Leah

would be left alone in the Old World. The problem of effecting the

bride's entry blocked all the horizon.

"Yes, yes," said Srul. "The mother will look after Tsirrele, and in

less than three weeks Biela will slip in."

"No, three weeks is too soon," said Leah. "We must wait a little

longer till the doctor forgets."

"Oh, but I have already waited so long!" whimpered Srul.

Leah's eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "I ought not to have made

so much fuss. Now she will stick in the doctor's mind. Forgive me,

dear Srul, I will do my best and try to make amends."

Leah and Biela were taken away to the hospital, where they remained

isolated from the world till the steamer sailed back to Hamburg.

Herein, generously lodged, they had ample leisure to review the

situation. Biela discovered that the new plan would leave Leah

deserted, Leah remembered that she would be deserting little Tsirrele.

Both were agreed that Tsirrele must go back with them, till they

bethought themselves that her passage would have to be paid for, as

she was not refused. And every kopeck was precious now. "Let the child

stay till I get back," said Biela. "Then I will send her to you."

"Yes, it is best to let her stay awhile. I myself may be able to join

you after all. I will go back to Koenigsberg, and the great doctor will

write me out a certificate that my affliction is not contagious."

At the very worst--if even Biela could not get in--Srul should sell

his store and come back to the Old World. It would put off the

marriage again. But they had waited so long. "So let us cheer up after

all, and thank the Lord for His mercies. We might all have been

drowned on the voyage."

Thus the sisters' pious conclusion.

But though Srul and his mother and Tsirrele got on board to see them

off, and Tsirrele gave graphic accounts of the wonders of the store

and the rooms prepared for the bride, to say nothing of the great

city itself, and Srul brought Biela and Leah splendid specimens of his

stock for their adornment, yet it was a horrible thing for them to go

back again without having once trodden the sidewalks of the Land of

Promise. And when the others were tolled off, as by a funeral bell,

and became specks in a swaying crowd; when the dock receded and the

cheers and good-byes faded, and the waving handkerchiefs became a

blur, and the Statue of Liberty dwindled, and the lone waste of waters

faced them once more, Leah's optimism gave way, a chill sinister

shadow fell across her new plan, some ominous intuition traversed her

like a shudder, and she turned away lest Biela should see her tears.