"It was so with many Jewish women," Aaron said. "It would be wrong to force her; she will find out her error by and by."
But Ruth never did, and Rachel suffered in silence.
There was another sorrow. Between their son Joseph and Ruth did not exist that love which brother and sister should bear each other. Joseph was ready with demonstrative affection, but Ruth did not respond. Aaron had taken note of this, but he was powerless to remedy it, and the lad, who was as solicitous as his father to spare the dear mother pain, made no trouble of it.
Ruth respected and admired her reputed father, and in the feelings she entertained toward him there was an element of fear, because of his strength of character, but she did not love him as a child should. He, knowing what he knew, found excuses for her. "It is in her blood," he said to himself.
All this was hidden from Rachel, to whom Ruth was tender and kind. Who could be otherwise to so sweet a woman? But Rachel did not know of what she was deprived until Rose Moss began to make long visits to their home. "Rose is like a daughter to me," she said, and only Aaron was aware of the depth of meaning these simple words conveyed.
But now he had to consider the matter, not from his or Rachel's point of view, but from Ruth's. She was a woman in her springtime, and love had come to her, and she had held out her arms to it. And the man she loved was a Christian.
It was not within his right to take into consideration that the man she loved was a spendthrift and a scapegrace. The question had often intruded itself, since she was grown to womanhood, whether he would not be adding sin to sin by encouraging her to marry a Jew. She had answered the question herself. What right had he to gainsay her? He might, as a true and sincere friend, say to her: "This man will not make you happy. He has vices and defects which will bring misery upon your home. You must not marry him." But he had no right to say to her: "You must not marry this man, because he is a Christian." It would be a detestable argument for one in his position, and in hers, to advance.
Then Mr. Dillworthy might be wrong in his estimate of the young man's character. The only objection Lord Storndale had to the union was that Ruth was a Jewess. But she was not a Jewess, and it was in his power to go to the young man's father and make the disclosure to him. Lord Storndale's natural reply would be: "Let it be clearly understood. You have done this lady a grievous wrong. You are a wealthy man. Repair the wrong by making a suitable settlement upon her. But it must be publicly done, and the injustice of which you have been guilty must be publicly acknowledged." The only answer he could make would be: "It is just. I will do as you dictate."
What would be the effect as regarded himself? Among his
co-religionists he was held up as a pillar of the old Jewish faith. His voice had been raised against apostasy; he had taken a decided stand against the more liberal ideas of civilized life which prevailed and were adopted by a large section of his race.
Even now he was pledged to deliver a public address against the backsliding of the modern Jew, who was disposed to adapt his life to the altered circumstances of the times. He had written his address, and public attention had been drawn to the coming event. His arguments were to himself convincing, and by them he hoped to stem the tide.