“Mehusmed!”
He bent over her very tenderly, stooping to meet her eyes, and trying to take her hand.
The two children clung to Zillah, and the boy suddenly began to pipe out, in his clear treble, the hymn so beloved of Jewish children who attend the mission meetings.
“Come to the Saviour, Make no delay,”
Rachael shot a fiercely angry glance in the boy’s direction, then without looking at her husband, she thrust at him, to prevent his taking her hand, as she cried:—
“Accursed! Mehusmed! Don’t touch me!”
“But, Rachael!” he began tenderly.
She flung herself sharply round upon him and spat full in his face. Then she turned sharply from him again.
A full half minute went by. The room grew so eerily still that it startled her. She turned to gaze where the quartette had been.