“He is too cunning a scoundrel to tell unnecessary lies, and very likely he may have disposed of them to some Jew attorney; but I think nothing is to be feared but some annoyance.”
“And annoyance to my mother is the one thing I most fear,” sighed Rachel, helplessly.
“There might be a mode of much lessening it to her,” he said.
“Oh, what? Tell me, and I would do it at any cost.”
“Will you?” and he came nearer. “At the cost of yourself?”
She thrilled all over, and convulsively grasped the arm of her chair.
“Would not a son be the best person to shield her from annoyance,” he added, trying for his usual tone, but failing, he exclaimed, “Rachel, Rachel, let me!”
She put her hands over her face, and cried, “Oh! oh! I never thought of this.”
“No,” he said, “and I know what you do think of it, but indeed you need not be wasted. Our women and children want so much done for them, and none of our ladies are able or willing. Will you not come and help me?”
“Don’t talk to me of helping! I do nothing but spoil and ruin.”