“Not another jump, not another step, till you have told us,” exclaimed Simeon, laughing heartily at the boy’s grotesque movements, and catching him midway in a jump that would not have disgraced a harlequin. “Now what is it, you overgrown baby? Are you not ashamed not to meet joy like a man?”
“No baby ever felt such joy, Simeon; and though I am a man to-morrow, I am not ashamed to act the madcap to-night. Mother, have I not told you the notice Mr. Morales has always taken of me, and the books he has lent me? Well, my master must have said such kind things of me; for what, what do you think he has offered?—that is, if you will consent; and I know, oh, I know you love me too well to refuse. He will call on you himself to-morrow about it.”
“About what?” reiterated Simeon. “My good fellow, it is of no use his calling. You are gone distracted, mad, fit for nothing!”
“What does he offer, my love?” anxiously rejoined the widow.
“To take me home with him, as companion and friend to his own son, a boy just about my age—and such a fellow! He has often come to talk with me about the books we have both read. And Mr. Morales said I shall learn all that Conrad does. That I shall go abroad with them, and receive such an education, that years to come, if I still wish it, I may be fitted to be, what of all others I long to be, the Hazan of our people. Hebrew, the Bible and the Talmud, and Latin, and Greek, and everything that can help me for such an office; besides the lighter literature and studies, which will make me an enlightened friend for his son. Oh, mother! Simeon! is it not enough to make me lose my wits? But I must not though, for I shall want them more than ever. You do not speak, my own dear mother; but you will not, oh, I know you will not refuse.”
“Refuse!” repeated the grateful widow, whose voice returned. “No, no; I would deserve to lose all the friends and blessings my God has given me, could I be so selfish to refuse, because for a few years, my beloved child, I must part with you. I do not fear for you; you will never forget to love your mother, or to remember and obey her precepts!”
“Give you joy, brother mine! though, by my honour, I had better not wish you any more joy, for this has well-nigh done for you,” laughingly rejoined Simeon; for he saw that both Joseph and his mother’s eyes were wet with grateful tears, and he did not wish emotion to become pain.
“Yes, one more joy, but one: it is almost sinful to wish more, when so much has been granted me,” replied Joseph, almost sorrowfully. “Would that Ruth, my own Ruth, could but look on me once more; could but have sight restored, that I might think of her as happy, independent, not needing me to supply her sight. Oh, I should not have one wish remaining; but sometimes I think, afflicted as she is, and bound so closely as we are, I ought not to leave her.”
“Then don’t think any more silliness, my boy. Reuben and your humble servant are much obliged to you for imagining, because we do not happen to be her twin brothers, we cannot be to her what you are—out on your conceit! Make haste, and be a Hazan, and give her a home, and then you shall have her all to yourself; till then we will take care of her!”
Joseph’s laughing reply was checked by the entrance of Leah, attended by a young man of very prepossessing appearance. It was Maurice Carvalho, the son and heir of a thriving bookseller and fancy stationer, of Liverpool, noted for a devoted attendance on the pretty young milliner.