Would Mr. Moss' errand open up the means of giving Rachel the benefit of soft air and sunshine in a more genial clime? He prayed that it might, and he had never prayed more fervently. But the night was inclement, and Mr. Moss might not be able in consequence to pay the promised visit. Time pressed; the necessity was imminent, and would brook no delay; therefore he determined to finish his letter, and to post it this night in the event of Mr. Moss not making his appearance.
It wanted a few minutes to eight when his task was completed. He read the letter over and addressed an envelope, but did not stamp it; he had but one stamp, and every penny was of importance. He looked at the clock; eight o'clock. With gentle steps he went up to Rachel.
"It is time for the draught, my love," he said.
"I will take it, dear."
He poured it into a glass, and she drank it reclining in his arms.
"If our dear one lives, Aaron," said Rachel, "we will call her Ruth, after your mother."
"It shall be so, love," answered Aaron, laying her head upon the pillow. "God will vouchsafe the mercy to us. She will live, Rachel, she will live." Desirous that she should not talk now that she had taken the sleeping draught he kissed her tenderly and would have left her, but she held him by the hand.
"Has the doctor told you that I am in sorrow, Aaron?"
"You have the gift of divinity, love. Yes, he has told me, and he said that to-morrow perhaps, please God, you will hear our darling's voice."
"Did he say so? Heaven bless him. She is sleeping?"