"I think you ought to know, Mr. Cohen, that your wife is not so well as you suppose."
"Nurse!"
"She keeps it from you, sir, and has begged me not to alarm you, but it is my duty. I should never forgive myself if I went away without speaking. No, sir, she is far from well, and is not getting on as she ought. She grows weaker and weaker--and baby, too, is not thriving. It is that which keeps Mrs. Cohen back."
"What can be done, nurse?" asked Aaron, the agony of his feelings depicted on his countenance. "Tell me--only tell me!"
"It isn't for me to say, Mr. Cohen. If I were you I would ask the doctor to speak plainly."
"I will, I will. Nurse, does she suffer?"
"She's just the one to suffer, sir, and to say nothing. It would be a dreadful thing for you, sir, if----" But here the woman stopped suddenly and bit her lip. She had said more than she intended. "Good-day, sir, and I hope we may all be wrong."
He caught her arm. "No, no, nurse. I will beg the doctor to speak plainly to me; but he will not be here till to-morrow, and I cannot go to him and leave my wife and child alone in the house. Finish what you were about to say. 'It would be a dreadful thing if----'"
"Well, sir, it is best to face the truth. If your poor lady was to die."
"Great God! There is danger, then?"