Mr. Moss stood at the street door, bearing in his arms the little iron casket which Dr. Spenlove, at the intercession of the mother who had consented to part with her child, had entrusted to him.
"In my excitement, Cohen," he commenced, before Aaron could speak, "something slipped my memory when we were talking together. I rapped softly at first, fearing to disturb Rachel, but no one answering, I had to use the knocker. I hope I have not disturbed her."
"She is sleeping peacefully," replied Aaron, "and is taking a turn for the better, I am thankful to say. To-morrow, I trust, all danger will be over. Come in."
He closed the door gently, and they entered the parlour.
"I have come back about this little box," said Mr. Moss, depositing it on the table; "it belongs to the task I undertook. The mother of the babe made it a stipulation that whoever had the care of the child should receive the box, and hold it in trust for her until she claimed it."
"But I understood," said Aaron, in apprehension, "that the mother had no intention of claiming her child."
"In a certain sense that is true. Don't look worried; there is no fear of any trouble in the future; only she made it a condition that the box should go with the child, and that, when the girl was twenty-one years of age, it should be given to her, in case the mother did not make her appearance and claim the property. It stands this way, Cohen. The mother took into consideration the chance that the gentleman she is marrying may die before her, in which event she stipulated that she should be free to seek her daughter. That is reasonable, is it not?"
"Quite reasonable."
"And natural?"
"Quite natural. But I should have been informed of it."