When the gratifying but fatiguing labors of the day were at an end, and Aaron, Rachel, and Rose were alone, Rachel said:
"I am sorry, dear Rose, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said about his father."
"It would not have made him love and honor him more," said Rose.
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 picture 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 Rose already permitted to address Rachel.
"She will be home in two days, and our dear lad as well. I wish he were back from Australia, 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 Rose were together; Aaron was in his study, writing letters. A servant entered.
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."
The servant ushered the visitor into the room--a slightly built, middle-aged man, with iron-gray 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 & Co.," he said.
"I have come to speak to you upon a family matter----"
"A family matter!" exclaimed Aaron, interrupting him.
"On behalf of a client. I shall take it as a favor if you will regard this interview as private."
"It refers principally to your daughter, Miss Ruth Cohen."
CHAPTER XXX. THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE.
For the second time on this eventful day Aaron felt as if his sin were about to be brought home to him, as if the temple which, by long years of honorable and upright conduct, he had built for himself were about to crumble to dust.