Mr. Moss had been somewhat puzzled by Aaron's speech. It seemed to him that his friend did not place sufficient value on himself. "People are always ready to take you at your own price, so don't be too modest," was a favourite saying of his. Then what did Aaron mean by letting people suppose that he had done something wrong in his life? He spoke about it to Aaron.
"Look back," said Aaron, laying his hand kindly on Mr. Moss's shoulder, "and tell me if you do not recollect some action which you would gladly recall."
"I daresay, I daresay," said Mr. Moss, restlessly, "but what's the use of confessing it when there's no occasion? It's letting yourself down."
Aaron turned to greet another friend, and the subject was dropped; but it remained, nevertheless, in Mr. Moss's mind.
His daughter Esther was in the room during the proceedings, and her fair young face beamed with pride; it was her lover's father who was thus honoured, and she felt that she had, through Aaron Cohen's son, a share in that honour. When the gratifying but fatiguing labours of the day were at an end, and Aaron, Rachel, and Esther were alone, Rachel said,--
"I am sorry, dear Esther, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said about his father."
"It would not have made him love and honour him more," said Esther.
Rachel pressed her hand and kissed her; she had grown to love this sweet and simple girl, who seemed to have but one thought in life--her lover. Then the sightless woman asked them to describe the pictures to her, and she listened in an ecstasy of happiness to their words.
"Is it not wonderful?" she said to Aaron. "A famous picture, they said, and I the principal figure. What can the painter have seen in me?"
"What all men see, my life," replied Aaron; "but what no one knows as I know."