Aaron stood motionless awhile. We are all in God's hands! How often has that been said, and how terrible is its import! Human science and skill have done all it is in their power to do, the rest is with God. Aaron reasoned the true meaning away.
"Yes, we are all in God's hands," he murmured; "old and young, rich and poor, the strong and the feeble alike. It is so with one and all. I thank God he did not tell me to prepare for the worst!"
He drew comfort, not from what was said, but from what was not said. He continued to commune with himself.
"How can she be otherwise than weak? And doctors sometimes think it their duty not to look on the brightest side. My Rachel will be spared to me. God will not take her away."
He went up to her. A nurse he had engaged was in the room; she could come for only a week, her services at the end of that time being required elsewhere.
She put her fingers to her lips as he entered.
She nodded in reply; but when he approached the bed, Rachel held out her hand to him.
"Nurse thought you were asleep, dear," he said, bending down to her.
"I may have been," she answered. "I fall off into a doze a dozen times an hour, it seems, but I always know when you are near me."
"Oh no. I am rather weak, but I shall get strong soon. Whenever I doze I see our dear one, the blessing God is sending us. Aaron, dear love, do not be anxious for me. I shall hold our darling in my arms."
The nurse gave him a warning look not to encourage her to talk, and, understanding the silent monition, he kissed Rachel tenderly, and went down to muse and pray.
The settlement of all his debts had left him almost a beggar. He owed not a shilling, except to the doctor, who had said nothing about his account; the week's money for the nurse was carefully put away: he could not have afforded to engage her for a longer term, for all the money he had left in the world amounted to barely two pounds. What was he to do when that was spent? Commence business again upon borrowed capital? That seemed to be the only course open to him. But who would lend it to him? It was no small sum that would be required, and all his friends, with the exception of Mr. Moss, were poor. Mr. Moss was comparatively a new friend, and he could not expect him to render such substantial assistance without security. And what security could he offer but his own bare word? There were money-lenders; the newspapers teemed with their advertisements. It would be folly to apply to any one of them for so large a loan as fifty pounds, which sum, he calculated, was the least he could begin business again with; he would be sure to be met with a refusal. But what was he to do?