"Take me to her. In the name of Heaven, tell me where she is!"
She was in a house at a safe distance from the fire, and thither he was led. Rachel was lying on a couch in her night dress; sympathizing people were about her.
"Rachel, Rachel!" he cried, and fell upon his knees by her side.
She did not answer him; she was insensible.
"Do not agitate yourself, Mr. Cohen," said a voice; it was that of the physician who had been attending to her. "Be thankful that she lives."
"O Lord, I thank thee," murmured the stricken man. "My Rachel lives!"
What mattered all the rest? What mattered worldly ruin and destruction? The beloved of his heart was spared to him.
"You are a sensible man, Mr. Cohen," said the physician, "and you must be calm for her sake. In her condition there will be danger if she witnesses your agitation when she recovers."
"I will be calm, sir," said Aaron humbly. "She is all I have in the world."
He made no inquiries as to the cause of the fire; he did not stir from Rachel's side, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her pallid face. The physician remained with them an hour, and then took his departure, saying he would return early in the morning, and leaving instructions to Aaron what to do.