"God knows. Perhaps He will direct me." Mr. Moss considered a moment, then took ten five-pound banknotes from his pocket, and laid them on the table. "I will leave this money with you," he said. "No, no!" cried Aaron. "Why not? It will do no harm. You are to be trusted, Cohen. In case you refuse I will take it back. If you do not come for me, I will come for you, so I will not wish you good-night. Don't trouble to come to the door; I can find my way out." Aaron was alone, fully conscious that this hour was, perhaps, the most momentous in his life. The money was before him, and he could not keep his eyes from it. It meant so much. It seemed to speak to him, to say, "Life or death to your beloved wife. Reject me, and you know what will follow." All his efforts to bring himself to a calm reflection of the position were unavailing. He could not reason, he could not argue with himself. The question to be answered was not whether it would be right to take a child born of Christian parents into his house, to bring her up as one of a Jewish family, but whether his dear wife was to live or die; and he was the judge, and if he bade his friend take the money back, he would be the executioner. Of what value then would life be to him? Devout and full of faith as he was, he still, in this dread crisis, was of the earth earthy. His heart was torn with love's agony. The means of redemption were within his reach: why should he not avail himself of them? Rachel enjoyed life for the pleasure it gave her. Stricken with blindness as she was, he knew that she would still enjoy it, and that she would shed comfort and happiness upon all who came in contact with her. Was it for him to snap the cord, to say, "You shall no longer enjoy, you shall no longer bestow happiness upon others; you shall no longer live to lighten the trouble of many suffering mortals, to shed light and sweetness in many homes"? Was this the way to prove his love for her? No, he would not shut the door of earthly salvation which had been so providentially opened to him, he would not pronounce a sentence of death against the dear woman he had sworn to love and cherish. Aaron was not aware that in the view he was taking he was calling to his aid only those personal and sympathetic affections which bound him and Rachel together, and that, out of a common human selfishness, he was thrusting from the scale the purely moral and religious obligations which usually played so large a part in his conduct of life. In this dark hour love was supreme, and held him in its thrall; in this dark hour he was intensely and completely human; in this dark hour the soft breathing of a feeble woman was more potent than the sound of angels' trumpets from the Throne of Grace, the sight of a white, worn face more powerful than that of a flaming sword of justice in the skies. He had arrived at a decision; he would receive the child of strangers into his home.