"What is the matter, my dear?" asked the Reb, anxiously.

 

"Oh, father," she cried, "read this! Bad news of Levi."

 

A spasm of pain contorted the old man's furrowed countenance.

 

"Mention not his name!" he said harshly "He is dead."

 

"He may be by now!" Hannah exclaimed agitatedly. "You were right, Esther. He did join a strolling company, and now he is laid up with typhoid in the hospital in Stockbridge. One of his friends writes to tell us. He must have caught it in one of those insanitary dressing-rooms we were reading about."

 

Esther trembled all over. The scene in the garret when the fatal telegram came announcing Benjamin's illness had never faded from her mind. She had an instant conviction that it was all over with poor Levi.

 

"My poor lamb!" cried the Rebbitzin, the coffee-cup dropping from her nerveless hand.

 

"Simcha," said Reb Shemuel sternly, "calm thyself; we have no son to lose. The Holy One--blessed be He!--hath taken him from us. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

 

Hannah rose. Her face was white and resolute. She moved towards the door.

 

"Whither goest thou?" inquired her father in German.

 

"I am going to my room, to put on my hat and jacket," replied Hannah quietly.

 

"Whither goest thou?" repeated Reb Shemuel.

 

"To Stockbridge. Mother, you and I must go at once."

 

The Reb sprang to his feet. His brow was dark; his eyes gleamed with anger and pain.

 

"Sit down and finish thy breakfast," he said.

 

"How can I eat? Levi is dying," said Hannah, in low, firm tones. "Will you come, mother, or must I go alone?"

 

The Rebbitzin began to wring her hands and weep. Esther stole gently to Hannah's side and pressed the poor girl's hand. "You and I will go," her clasp said.

 

"Hannah!" said Reb Shemuel. "What madness is this? Dost thou think thy mother will obey thee rather than her husband?"

 

"Levi is dying. It is our duty to go to him." Hannah's gentle face was rigid. But there was exaltation rather than defiance in the eyes.

 

"It is not the duty of women," said Reb Shemuel harshly. "I will go to Stockbridge. If he dies (God have mercy upon his soul!) I will see that he is buried among his own people. Thou knowest women go not to funerals." He reseated himself at the table, pushing aside his scarcely touched meal, and began saying the grace. Dominated by his will and by old habit, the three trembling women remained in reverential silence.

 

"The Lord will give strength to His people; the Lord will bless His people with Peace," concluded the old man in unfaltering accents. He rose from the table and strode to the door, stern and erect "Thou wilt remain here, Hannah, and thou, Simcha," he said. In the passage his shoulders relaxed their stiffness, so that the long snow-white beard drooped upon his breast. The three women looked at one another.

 

"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."

 

"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 by-word in the congregation. I alone knew it not till last Passover. He hath brought down my gray 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.

 

"No, father, not that! Levi could not always be a baby. He had to walk alone some day."

 

"Yes, and did I not teach him to walk alone?" asked the Reb eagerly. "My God, thou canst not say I did not teach him Thy Law, day and night." He uplifted his eyes in anguished appeal.

 

"Yes, but he is not all to blame," she repeated. "Thy teaching did not reach his soul; he is of another generation, the air is different, his life was cast amid conditions for w............