"And our child, doctor, how is it with her?"
"I can answer you with less certainty. Something of the delicate susceptibilities of the mother has in the course of nature entered her child's being. The baby is not strong, but she may grow into strength; it is as yet a problem to be solved, and a physician's skill is almost powerless to help to a happy issue. Hope, Mr. Cohen, hope; and in bidding you hope, and in explaining matters to you, I have not said all that it is necessary for me to say. There remains something more."
"One question first, doctor," said Aaron, in a hushed voice; "if our child lives, there is hope that my wife will live?"
"A strong hope; I speak with confidence."
"And if our child dies?"
"The mother will die. Forgive me for my cruel frankness."
"It is the best kindness you can show me. You have something more to tell me."
"Something almost as cruel, but it must be spoken. Mr. Cohen, your wife has been severely tried; the shock of the fire, the shock of her sudden blindness, both coming so close upon her expected confinement, have left their effects upon her. If things take a favourable turn with her it will be imperative, in the course of the next three or four weeks--earlier if possible, and if she can be removed with safety--that you take her to a milder climate, where she can be nursed into permanent' strength. We are going to have a severe winter, and I will not answer for its effects upon her. From three or four weeks hence till the spring in a warmer atmosphere, where there are no fogs or east winds, will be of invaluable service to her, will set her up probably for many years to come. You must recognise this yourself, and if by any possibility or sacrifice you can manage it, you must do so."
"Is it vitally necessary, doctor?"
"You have used the right word--it is vitally necessary. And now, good-night, Mr. Cohen. I leave my best wishes behind me."