"I daresay, I daresay," said Mr. Moss, restlessly, "but what's the use of confessing it when there's no occasion? It's letting yourself down." Aaron turned to greet another friend, and the subject was dropped; but it remained, nevertheless, in Mr. Moss's mind. His daughter Esther was in the room during the proceedings, and her fair young face beamed with pride; it was her lover's father who was thus honoured, and she felt that she had, through Aaron Cohen's son, a share in that honour. When the gratifying but fatiguing labours of the day were at an end, and Aaron, Rachel, and Esther were alone, Rachel said,-- "I am sorry, dear Esther, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said about his father." "It would not have made him love and honour him more," said Esther. Rachel pressed her hand and kissed her; she had grown to love this sweet and simple girl, who seemed to have but one thought in life--her lover. Then the sightless woman asked them to describe the pictures to her, and she listened in an ecstasy of happiness to their words. "Is it not wonderful?" she said to Aaron. "A famous picture, they said, and I the principal figure. What can the painter have seen in me?" "What all men see, my life," replied Aaron; "but what no one knows as I know." "It has been a happy day," sighed Rachel; she sat between them, each holding a hand. "You did not hear from our dear Ruth this morning?" "No, dear mother." For thus was Esther already permitted to address Rachel. "She will be home in two days, and our dear lad as well. I wish he were back from India, even before he has started, and so do you, my dear. But time soon passes. Just now it seems but yesterday that we were in France." The day waned. Rachel and Esther were together; Aaron was in his study writing, and preparing for an important meeting he had to attend that night. A servant entered. "A gentleman to see you, sir." Aaron looked at the card, which bore the name of Mr. Richard Dillworthy. "I am busy," said Aaron. "Does he wish to see me particularly? Ask him if he can call again." "He said his business was pressing, sir." "Show him in." The servant ushered the visitor into the room, a slightly-built, middle-aged man, with iron-grey hair and whiskers. Aaron motioned him to a chair, and he placed a card on the table, bearing the name and address of a firm of lawyers. "I am Mr. Dillworthy, of Dillworthy, Maryx, and Co.," he said. "Yes?" "I have come to speak to you upon a family matter----" "A family matter!" exclaimed Aaron, interrupting him. "Does it concern me?" "It concerns you closely, and the client on whose behalf I am here." "What is its nature?" "Allow me to disclose it in my own way. I shall take it as a favour if you will regard this interview as private." "Certainly." "Briefly, I may say, as an introduction, that it refers to your daughter, Miss Ruth Cohen." CHAPTER XXXIV. THE HONOURABLE PERCY STORNDALE.