Many were the arguments which the Joneses had with some of their neighbors on account of Isaac and the peculiar position which he occupied in their household. Bigotry and narrow-mindedness are not unknown even in free America, where, theoretically, a man’s race and religion should have no influence, favorable or unfavorable, upon the opinion which is held concerning him, and where, if anywhere, the principle enunciated by the rabbis in the Talmud should prevail—“Thy deeds shall recommend thee, thy deeds shall condemn thee.” Some of the good Christian people of Atbury, who thought, like Sancho Panza, that the most essential characteristic of a Christian was a sound hatred of the Jews, could not conceal their amazement, nay, their righteous indignation, that a Jew should be a favored member of a Christian household, and, worse yet, the trusted friend and companion of a little Christian maiden.
“How can you permit an unbeliever to dwell in your home?” they would say, with much show of holy horror. “Aren’t you afraid that in course of time he may seduce you or your little daughter, with specious reasoning, away from the true faith, and lead you into the error of Judaism?” But the Joneses would only laugh at these pious apprehensions and answer that Isaac never spoke to them on religious subjects; that, while he was undoubtedly sincerely religious in his own way, he never obtruded his views on others; and that, in fact, it would not have been a bad thing if some people whom they knew would have imitated him in this particular.
The neighbors would then try another tack, in which they hoped to be more successful. “How can you trust Alice to such a person?” they would ask, with the solemn air of those who warn friends against impending dangers which they are rashly incurring. “Aren’t you afraid that he may do her some harm? You never can tell what such a Jew might do. Why, in some parts of Europe they even accuse them of slaying Christian children in order to use their blood for the Passover. It isn’t safe to leave Alice in his charge.”
But when they came with this argument they received a fitting response, which was not lacking either in clearness or emphasis. The Joneses, particularly Mrs. Jones, told them that they might be at better business than calumniating one of whom they knew no evil; that Isaac was the kindest, best-hearted, most devoted fellow in the world; that he was deeply grateful to Alice because she had been the means of saving him from starvation, and, as for her being in any danger at his hands, why they, the Joneses, were convinced that he would at any time be ready to give his life rather than see a hair of her head harmed.
Sooner than any one anticipated the opportunity came which demonstrated that Isaac was indeed ready to lay down his life to save his little friend from harm. A few days after an unusually warm debate of the kind outlined above between Thomas Jones and an especially zealous neighbor, who had warned Isaac’s employer that all kinds of dreadful things would certainly happen if this unholy friendship were permitted to continue, Jones summoned Isaac to him. “Come here, you Jew!” he said half jocularly, half angrily, for the remembrance of the uncharitable words of his officious neighbor was still strong in him. “I want to show you what I think of you.” Isaac at once advanced and waited with deferential air for the further words of his employer. “I’ve got a job in the outskirts of the town,” continued Jones, gazing with satisfaction at the brawny figure and submissive attitude of his most reliable workman, “and, as I can’t spare any men from the other work, I’m going to put the whole thing in your hands. There’s a little cottage on the Prentice place that’s got to be jacked up to make room for the masons to build a new foundation, and then all the board work and carpentering generally must be renovated and fixed up. I’ve sent up all the necessary wood already, so you can go right up and attend to the whole job alone. When you get there you can see for yourself what is to be done, and if you don’t understand anything, why, just ask old man Prentice, and he’ll tell you what to do.”
Isaac picked up his box of tools and was about to depart when little Alice, who had been listening to the words of her father, skipped up and, laying her hand on Isaac’s arm, asked eagerly: “Won’t you take me along, Isaac? I want to be with you when you’re doing the work.”
“Ask your papa, Alice,” said Isaac, smiling pleasantly at his little friend. “If he will let you go, then I’ll be glad to take you.”
Alice did not need to ask her father, for the latter, without giving her the opportunity to speak, at once gave her the desired permission. “Yes, indeed, you can go with Isaac,” he said, with rather more emphasis than was apparently necessary. “I’ll just show those numbskull bigot neighbors of mine what I think of their fanatical suspicions and insinuations. Just trot along, little one, and I wish you lots of pleasure seeing Isaac at work.”
Thus duly authorized and permitted, Isaac and Alice went off together to the scene of his solitary task, which they reached in about half an hour. The Prentice place was a little farm of two or three acres, in the centre of which stood the cottage. It was not a very large structure, but Isaac’s practised eye at once perceived that his employer had set him a task sufficient to try the strength of three men. Old man Prentice was of the same opinion, and very emphatically expressed his dissatisfaction that Jones had sent only one man to do the work of three. Nothing daunted, however, Isaac at once set about the performance of his task. The first thing to do was to lift the structure, which was done by means of appliances called jacks. Isaac inserted one of the jacks under each of the four corners of the house and screwed it up until that part of the building was elevated to the desired height. In the mean while Alice stood near her favorite and watched him at his arduous task, chatting and prattling all the while with the careless innocence of childhood; and Isaac, though engrossed in his labor, did not fail to answer her childish queries, and kept his little friend interested and amused. All went well until Isaac came to the fourth and last corner and proceeded to jack it up as he had done the others. Here, by some miscalculation, he raised the corner a foot or so more than was necessary. At once the frame structure began to careen. Isaac instantly perceived that the building would certainly topple to the ground, and a pang of agony shot through his heart as he thought of the loss which his mistake, unaccountable even to himself, would cause. His next thought was to save himself from harm; but, as he turned to flee from under the falling structure, what horrible sight met his eyes! Little Alice, petrified apparently by fright, was standing motionless under the tottering building. A sickening picture flashed up instantly before his mental retina of her little body lying crushed and bleeding under the ruins of the building, its life crushed out by the overwhelming weight. How could he save her? She was too far away for him to seize her and flee with her to safety, neither would it avail aught to shout to her to flee. Before she could have recovered control of her faculties and impelled her limbs to motion, the blow would have fallen and all would be over. There was but one way to save Alice, and, though Isaac knew it meant almost certain death for himself, he instantly determined to do it. Placing his powerful shoulders under the tilting woodwork, he shouted in a great and terrible voice to Alice to run—run for her life. For a minute or so he stood, like fabled Atlas upholding the world, supporting with his tremendous strength the falling structure, while his muscles stood out like whipcords and the sweat of agony poured all over his body. In that minute Alice recovered herself and toddled out of harm’s way. A second later the heavy framework crushed out the man’s strength and bore him to the ground with a sickening thud, while the harsh crackling of the beams and boards as they were torn from their fastenings mingled with his awful shriek. He did not need to lie there long. Poor little Alice, with an intelligence beyond her years, ran to seek help from the neighbors; but her frenzied efforts were not necessary. The frightful crash of the falling building and the fierce, agonized shriek of the stricken victim had aroused all the neighborhood, and from all sides assistance speedily came. The united efforts of old man Prentice and a number of laborers who hastened from a neighboring field speedily succeeded in removing the mass of beams and boards and odds and ends of woodwork from the body of Isaac, and tenderly they laid him upon a temporary couch formed of their coats. He was crushed and maimed and bloody, every limb broken, and his features disfigured almost beyond recognition, but he was conscious and a happy smile played upon his face when he saw that Alice had escaped all injury and was safe and sound.
“Come to me, little darling,” he said, in barely audible tones, gazing wistfully at the child-friend for whom he had given his life; “come and bid me good-bye, for I feel that I must go. I do not complain because God is calling me away, but I am glad your young life is spared to be a joy to yourself and your dear parents for many years to come.” And his young friend, with strangely grave and solemn face, went to her dying protector and clasped his hand and kissed his blood-stained and distorted features, and called him her own dear Isaac, and begged him not to die, while the strong men who stood around bowed their heads in reverent sorrow and silently wept. Then they bore him home, and Alice’s parents, when they heard the story of what he had done, knew not of which feeling their hearts were fuller—of gratitude that their darling daughter was safe or of admiration for the pure and self-sacrificing friendship which Isaac had so heroically displayed and sorrow for his untimely end. He had relapsed into semi-consciousness and lay for several hours without speaking on his couch. Then he stirred uneasily and feebly beckoned to his employer, indicating that he desired to communicate something to him. Thomas Jones, who had not left the room since first Isaac had been brought home, at once went to the bedside, and putting his ear to the mouth of the dying man, heard him say in a feeble voice: “Dear master, promise me one favor. I die a Jew. Have me laid away among my people.”