“Well,” said Elias, “I have made up my mind to do as you wish—to call upon Mr. Koch this evening, and do as you wish.”
The rabbi jumped up from his seat, grasped Elias's hand, wrung it fervently, and cried, “It is the will of the Lord! The Lord be praised!” Elias held his tongue. He was looking very grave this morning.
“Oh, but you have lifted a load from off my spirit,” pursued the rabbi, returning to his place. “At last I shall be contented. If only your mother might have lived to enjoy this day!”
“I am glad you are pleased,” said Elias.
“But tell me, boy, tell me all about it. What finally decided you?”
“Oh, it's a long story. It wouldn't interest you.”
“On the contrary, I'm most anxious to hear it. Go on. Out with it. Come.”
“Well, it isn't very exciting. It's simply this. I have tried to be honest, and to get at the real truth. I have tried to analyze and comprehend my own feelings, and to look the circumstances squarely in the face. The result is, I believe that you are right—that I have more or less seriously compromised her, and am bound in duty, therefore, to marry her, if she wants me to. I don't think I am swayed by any selfish motive. I think my desire to act honorably, to do the right thing, is sincere and genuine. The prospect of having her for my wife gives me no pleasure at all. I must confess that it is no longer repugnant to me, either. It awakes no emotion of any kind. It leaves me totally indifferent. This evening, as I say, I shall propose for her hand. If, as you expect, I am accepted, well and good. If I should be rejected, equally well and good. I shall neither be pleased nor disappointed, in the one event or in the other. The long and short of the business is, that I never hope to be happy in this world; nor to be much of any thing, except listless and sluggish. I've used up my share of happiness, already. So far as I can see, I'm utterly good-for-nothing, besides. I have already caused plenty of misery. If, by marrying this young girl, I can keep from causing any more, and perhaps even become the means of a little positive happiness—why, I can't think of any better use to which to put myself. I dare say I shall be able to make her a tolerable husband, as husbands go. I shall try to, any how. It's a pity I was ever born; but that can't be helped at this late date. If I could be quietly annihilated, wiped out of existence, I think that would be the best thing all around; but I haven't the courage to do away with myself. So, as long as I've got to go on cumbering the face of the earth, when I see a chance to render myself comparatively inoffensive, it seems as though I'd better seize it and improve it.”
“Elias,” said the rabbi, “I don't know whether to scold you, or to laugh at you. You're morbid, abominably morbid. This marriage is exactly what you need, to brace you up, and put a little health into you. You talk like a French novel. You have cut open your doll, and found it stuffed with saw-dust. Poor, pessimistic fellow! Bah! I shall neither scold you, nor laugh at you. I shall congratulate you. And in a few months now, I shall have the satisfaction, in my professional capacity, of pronouncing you the happiest of husbands.”
“If I talk like a French novel,” returned Elias, “I talk, at least, as I feel. I mean every word I say. The one conviction that abides with me all the time, lies heavily upon my conscience day and night, is the conviction of my utter uselessness and worthlessness in the world. Why, the cook in our kitchen, the man who looks after our furnace, does more practical good, has a better claim to his bread and butter, than I. I have lived twenty-seven years. All that I have been able to accomplish in all that time, is the irretrievable ruin of an innocent young girl's life. That's the one ponderable result of my twenty-seven years' existence—the one thing I've got to show for it.”