"Mother," said Hannah, passionately breaking the silence, "are you going to stay here while Levi is dying in a strange town?"
"My husband wills it," said the Rebbitzin, sobbing. "Levi is a sinner in Israel. Thy father will not see him; he will not go to him till he is dead."
"Oh yes, surely he will," said Esther. "But be comforted. Levi is young and strong. Let us hope he will pull through."
"No, no!" moaned the Rebbitzin. "He will die, and my husband will but read the psalms at his death-bed. He will not forgive him; he will not speak to him of his mother and sister."
"Let me go. I will give him your messages," said Esther.
"No, no," interrupted Hannah. "What are you to him? Why should you risk infection for our sakes?"
"Go, Hannah, but secretly," said the Rebbitzin in a wailing whisper. "Let not thy father see thee till thou arrive; then he will not send thee back. Tell Levi that I—oh, my poor child, my poor lamb!" Sobs overpowered her speech.
"No, mother," said Hannah quietly, "thou and I shall go. I will tell father we are accompanying him."
She left the room, while the Rebbitzin fell weeping and terrified into a chair, and Esther vainly endeavored to soothe her. The Reb was changing his coat when Hannah knocked at the door and called "Father."
"Speak not to me, Hannah," answered the Reb, roughly. "It is useless." Then, as if repentant of his tone, he threw open the door, and passed his great trembling hand lovingly over her hair. "Thou art a good daughter," he said tenderly. "Forget that thou hast had a brother."