A Ghetto Violet | Page 9

for his sister. When he
handed her the bird in its little gilt cage, her joy knew no bounds, and
showering kisses by turns upon her brother, and on the wire-work of
the cage, her eyes sparkling with animation:
"You shall see, Ephraim, how I 'll teach the little bird to speak," she
cried.
The softening influence which had, during the last few months, come
over his sister's nature was truly a matter of wonder to Ephraim.
Humbly and submissively she accepted the slightest suggestion on his
part, as though it were a command. He was to her a father and mother,
and never were parents more implicitly obeyed by a child than this
brother by a sister but three years his junior.
There was one subject, however, upon which Ephraim found his sister
implacable and firm--their absent father, the mere mention of whose
name made her tremble. Then there returned that haughty curl of the
lips, and all the other symptoms of a proud, inflexible spirit It was
evident that Viola hated the man to whom she owed her existence.
Thus had it come about that Ephraim was almost afraid to pronounce
his father's name. Neither did he care to allude to their mother before
Viola, for the memory of her death was too closely bound up with that
dark form behind the distant prison walls.
Let us now return to the night on which Ephraim opened the door to his
father. How had it come about? A thousand times Ephraim had thought
about his father's return--and now he durst not even kindle a light, to
look upon the long-estranged face. As silent as when he had come,
Ascher remained during the rest of the night; he had seated himself at
the window, and his arm was resting upon the very spot where formerly
the cage had stood. The bird had obtained its freedom, and was, no
doubt, by this time asleep, nestling amid the breeze-swept foliage of
some wooded glen. He too had regained his liberty, but no sleep closed

his eyes, and yet he was in safe shelter, in the house of his children.
At length the day began to break. The sun was still hiding behind the
mountain-tops, but its earliest rays were already reflected upon the
window-panes. In the Ghetto footsteps became audible; here and there
the grating noise of an opening street-door was heard, while from round
the corner resounded, ever and anon, the hammer of the watchman,
calling the people to morning service; for it was a Fast-day, which
commenced at sunrise.
At that moment Ascher raised himself from his chair, and quickly
turned away from the window. Ephraim was already by his side.
"Father, dear father!" he cried from the inmost depths of his heart, as he
tried to grasp the hand of the convict.
"Don't make such a noise," said the latter, casting a furtive glance in the
direction of the window, and speaking in the same mysterious whisper
in which he had asked for admittance into the house.
What a strange awakening it was to his son, when, in the gray twilight
of the breaking day, he looked at Ascher more closely. In his
imagination Ephraim had pictured a wan, grief-worn figure, and now
he saw before him a strong, well-built man, who certainly did not
present the appearance of a person who had just emerged from the dank
atmosphere of a prison! On the contrary, he seemed stronger and more
vigorous than he had appeared in his best days.
"Has he had such a good time of it...?" Ephraim felt compelled to ask
himself... "how different our poor mother looked!"
With a violent effort he repressed the feelings which swelled his bosom.
"Dear father," he said, with tears in his eyes, "make yourself quite
comfortable; you have n't closed your eyes the whole night, you must
be worn out. You are at home, remember... father!"
"It's all right," said Ascher, with a deprecating gesture, "we fellows
know other ways of spending the night."

"We fellows!" The words cut Ephraim to the heart.
"But you may be taken ill, father," he timidly observed.
"I taken ill! What do you take me for?" Ascher laughed, boisterously. "I
have n't the slightest intention of failing ill."
At that moment the watchman was heard hammering at the door of the
next house. The reverberating blows seemed to have a strangely
disquieting effect upon the strong man; a violent tremor seized him; he
cast one of the frightened glances which Ephraim had noticed before in
the direction of the window, then with one bound he was at the door,
and swiftly turned the knob.
"Father, what 's the matter?" Ephraim cried, much alarmed.
"Does the watchman look into the room when he passes by?" asked
Ascher,