Mr. Moss stood at the street door, bearing in his arms the little iron casket which Dr. Spenlove, at the intercession of the mother who had consented to part with her child, had entrusted to him. "In my excitement, Cohen," he commenced, before Aaron could speak, "something slipped my memory when we were talking together. I rapped softly at first, fearing to disturb Rachel, but no one answering, I had to use the knocker. I hope I have not disturbed her." "She is sleeping peacefully," replied Aaron, "and is taking a turn for the better, I am thankful to say. To-morrow, I trust, all danger will be over. Come in." He closed the door gently, and they entered the parlour. "I have come back about this little box," said Mr. Moss, depositing it on the table; "it belongs to the task I undertook. The mother of the babe made it a stipulation that whoever had the care of the child should receive the box, and hold it in trust for her until she claimed it." "But I understood," said Aaron, in apprehension, "that the mother had no intention of claiming her child." "In a certain sense that is true. Don't look worried; there is no fear of any trouble in the future; only she made it a condition that the box should go with the child, and that, when the girl was twenty-one years of age, it should be given to her, in case the mother did not make her appearance and claim the property. It stands this way, Cohen. The mother took into consideration the chance that the gentleman she is marrying may die before her, in which event she stipulated that she should be free to seek her daughter. That is reasonable, is it not?" "Quite reasonable." "And natural?" "Quite natural. But I should have been informed of it." "It escaped me, it really escaped me, Cohen; and what difference can it make? It is only a mother's fancy." "Yes, only a mother's fancy." "I'll lay a thousand to one you never hear anything more about it. Put the box away, and don't give it another thought." Aaron lifted it from the table. "It is heavy, Mr. Moss." "Yes, it is heavy." "Do you know what it contains?" "I haven't the slightest idea." "It must be something that the mother sets store on--jewels, perhaps." "Nothing more unlikely. The poor woman didn't have a shilling to bless herself with. I shouldn't trouble about it if I were you." "I have gone too far," said Aaron, sighing; "I cannot retreat." "It would be madness to dream of such a thing. Remember what depends upon it. Cohen, in case anything occurs, I think I ought to tell you what has been passing in my mind." "In case anything occurs!" repeated Aaron, in a hollow tone, and with a startled look. "What can occur?"