Neil's emotion was almost beyond his control. For a few minutes he could not answer the proposition, but Cohen had the patience of the Jew, and he divined the young man's agitation and mental tremor. Silent and motionless he waited for Neil's reply. It came strained and hesitating, as if speech was an effort.
"Mr. Cohen—I will sell you the land—yes, indeed! As you say, for four hundred pounds."
"To-morrow? Can the sale be completed to-morrow?"
"I will prepare the papers to-day."
"I am well pleased."
"Mr. Cohen, this is a great surprise—a good surprise—you do not understand how good. I believe it is something more than business you intend; it is sympathy, kindness, friendship."
"It is business, but it is kindness also, if you will accept it. Your house have ever done me good, and not evil. I and mine prayed for you—yes, the Jew knows the pang of injustice that must be borne without protest and without redress."
"You have done my family and myself an unspeakable kindness. I were the worst of ingrates not to acknowledge it," and Neil rose and offered his hand. And when Cohen took it, and held it for a few moments within his own, a marvellous change passed over the old man. The timid attitude, the almost servile respect, vanished; his face beamed with a lofty expression, his eyes met Neil's frankly; in the prosaic surroundings of the dark, crowded shop he looked, for a few moments, like an Eastern prince.
As they stood thus together, Neil longing to say something that should show his deep gratitude and friendship, and forgetting that Israel in America at that day still preserved much of their Oriental seclusion in household matters, asked after his daughter, Mrs. Belasco. "I have not seen her since her marriage," he said; "but I can never forget her. It was her promptitude in the duel between Captain Hyde and myself that saved my life."
"She has a good heart;" then suddenly, "come, come into my home, yes, come in and see her."