Counting the money in his purse, he calculated that it was sufficient
to last for nine or ten days. In four days the nurse would take her
departure, and then he and Rachel and their babe would be left alone
in the house. At the expiration of less than a week after that he must
be prepared to face the most serious difficulties. He had friends in
London, to whom he had already written, and had received replies of
regret that they were unable to assist him. Mr. Moss had been so good
a friend that he hardly dared appeal again to him, and he resolved to
leave it to the last moment. With a troubled heart, and hardly having
the strength to hope against hope, he went about the house and
attended to his duties. The four days passed, the nurse, having taken
her leave of Rachel, came down to Aaron to receive her wages and bid
him good-by. He paid her with a sad smile, and thanked her for her
services. The "good-day" exchanged, she lingered a moment. With quick
apprehension he divined why she delayed.
"You have something to say to me, nurse, about my wife."
"Yes, Mr. Cohen, I have," she replied, "and I am glad you have
mentioned it, as I did not know how to bring it out." She paused
again.
"Well, nurse?"
"I think you ought to know, Mr. Cohen, that your wife is not so well
as you suppose."
"Nurse!"
"She keeps it from you, sir, and has begged me not to alarm you, but
it is my duty. No, sir, she is far from well, and is not getting on as
she ought. She grows weaker and weaker--and baby, too, is not thriving.
It is that which keeps Mrs. Cohen back."
"What can be done, nurse?" asked Aaron, the agony of his feelings
depicted on his countenance.
"It isn't for me to say, Mr. Cohen. If I were you I would ask the
doctor to tell me plainly."
"I will, I will. Nurse, does she suffer?"
"She's just the one to suffer, sir, and to say nothing. It would be a
dreadful thing for you, sir, if----" But here the woman stopped
suddenly and bit her lip. She had said more than she intended.
"Good-day, sir, and I hope we may all be wrong."
He caught her arm. "No, no, nurse. I will ask the doctor to speak
plainly to me, but he will not be here till to-morrow, and I cannot go
to him and leave my wife and child alone in the house. Finish what you
were about to say. 'It would be a dreadful thing if----'"
"Well, sir, it is best to face the truth. If your poor lady was to
die."
"Great God! There is danger, then?"
"I am afraid there is, sir. Don't take on so, sir, don't! I am sorry I
spoke."
"You have done what is right," Aaron groaned.
"We must all of us be prepared, sir; trouble comes to all of us."
"Alas, it is a human heritage! But you do not know what this means to
me--you do not know what it means to me!"
"Perhaps I have made things out worse than they are; I hope so, I am
sure. But you ask the doctor, sir, and don't give way. I shall think
of your lady a good deal when I am gone."
With that, and with a sympathetic look at him, the woman departed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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