Aaron felt that his foot was on the ladder. He entered into a three years' partnership with his friend the engineer, and they executed many public works, and never had a failure. The justness of their trading, their consideration for the toilers who were helping to build up a fortune for them, the honest wages they paid, earned for them an exceptional reputation for rectitude and fair dealing. In these matters, and in this direction, Aaron was the guiding spirit. He left to his partner the technical working out of their operations, and took himself the control of wages and finance. Occasionally there were arguments between him and his partner, the latter hinting, perhaps, that there was a cheaper market, and that so much money could be saved by employing such and such middlemen, who offered to supply labor and material at prices that were not equitable from the point of view of the toilers and producers. Aaron would not entertain propositions of this kind. "We are doing well," he said, "we are making money, we are harvesting. Be satisfied." His partner gave way; Aaron's character was too strong for resistance. "Clean and comfortable homes," said Aaron, "a good education for their children, a modest enjoyment of the world's pleasures--these are the laborers' due." Hearing of this, some large employers called him quixotic and said he was ruining trade, but he pursued the just and even tenor of his way, satisfied that he was a savior and not a spoiler. Upon the conclusion of each transaction, when the accounts were balanced, he devoted a portion of his profits to benevolent purposes, and he became renowned as a public benefactor. The thanks that were showered upon him did not please him, but tended rather to humiliate and humble him; he would not listen to expressions of gratitude; and it will be presently seen that when he returned to England he took steps to avoid the publicity which was distasteful to him. Meanwhile Rachel throve. She walked with an elastic spring in her feet, as though in response to nature's greeting, and joy and happiness accompanied her everywhere. She was profoundly and devoutly grateful for her husband's better fortune, and daily rendered up thanks for it to the Giver of all good. She took pleasure in everything; blind as she was, she enjoyed nature's gifts to the full. In winter it was extraordinary to hear her describe the aspect of woods and fields in their white feathery mantle; with deep-drawn breath she inhaled the fresh cold air, and a glory rested on her face as she trod the snow-clad paths. When she visited the poor on those cold days Prissy accompanied her, carrying a well-filled basket on her arm. Her sympathy with the sick and suffering was divine, and in the bleakest hours, when the sky was overcast and the light was hidden from shivering mortals, she was the herald of sunshine. A priest met her on one of these journeys, and gave her good-day. "Good-day, father," she said.