THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PAST.
Aaron observed him anxiously. The disclosure that had already been made had so unnerved him that he was apprehensive of further trouble.
"Ah, here it is," said the lawyer, opening the letter for which he had been looking. "I was afraid I had left it behind me. Excuse me a moment; I wish to refresh my memory."
He ran his eye over the letter, and nodded as he went through its points of importance.
"Does it concern the unhappy affair we have discussed"? inquired Aaron, unable to restrain his impatience.
"No," replied the lawyer; "I take it that is settled, and I trust, for the sake of both the families, that it will not be reopened."
"I trust not."
"This is quite a different matter, and I hardly know how to excuse myself for troubling you with it. It is a sudden thought, for I came here with no such intention. You must thank your own reputation for it, Mr. Cohen; it is well known that you have never neglected an opportunity to do an act of kindness, and though what I am about to speak of has come to me in the way of business, the story contains elements so romantic and peculiar that it has strangely attracted me. The reference in the letter which induces me to think that you may be able to help me is that you are a gentleman of influence in your community, and have a wide acquaintance with your co-religionists. Perhaps I had better read the words. My correspondent says: 'I know that there are peculiar difficulties in the search I intend to make upon my return home, but before my arrival you may be able to discover something which will be of assistance to me. Probably if you consulted some kind-hearted and influential member of the Jewish race you may, through him, obtain a clew; or, failing this, you might employ a Jewish agent to make inquiries.' It is a lady who writes to me, and her letter comes from Australia. May I continue? Thank you. Let me tell you the story; it will interest you, and I will be as brief as possible. The letter is too long to read throughout." He handed it to Aaron. "It occupies, you see, fourteen closely written pages, and it is somewhat in the nature of a confession. If you wish I will have a copy of it made, and will send it on to you to-morrow."
Aaron, turning over the pages, came to the superscription: "I remain, yours truly, Mary Gordon."
Truly this was a day of startling surprises to him. He recollected the name as that of the gentleman for whom, twenty years ago, Mr. Moss had undertaken the commission which had lifted him from beggary by placing in his hands a large sum of money, to which in strict justice he was not entitled, but which, from fear that the deception he had practiced might otherwise be discovered, he had been compelled to accept. He had, as an atonement, expended in secret charities a hundred times the sum, but this did not absolve him from the responsibility. The spirit of the dead past rose before him, and he was overwhelmed with the dread possibilities it brought with it.