'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 endeavoured 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.'
'But how can I forget?' she answered him in his own idiom. 'Why should I forget? What hath he done?'
He ceased to smooth her hair—his voice grew sad and stern.
'He hath profaned the Name. He hath lived like a heathen; he dieth like a heathen now. His blasphemy was a byword in the congregation. I alone knew it not till last Passover. He hath brought down my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave.'
'Yes, father, I know,' said Hannah, more gently. 'But he is not all to blame!'
'Thou meanest that I am not guiltless; that I should have kept him at my side?' said the Reb, his voice faltering a little.