thing could he see. Then quite close to him a voice cried: "Make no
noise ... and first put out the light."

"Heavens! Father, it is you then ... !" Ephraim exclaimed.

"Hush!" came in a whisper from without, "first put out the light."

Ephraim closed the window, and extinguished the light. Then, with almost
inaudible step, he walked out of the room into the dark passage;
noiselessly he proceeded to unbolt the street-door. Almost at the same
moment a heavy hand clasped his own.

"Father, father!" Ephraim cried, trying to raise his parent's hand to
his lips.

"Make no noise," the man repeated, in a somewhat commanding tone.

With his father's hand in his, cautiously feeling his way, Ephraim led
him into the room. In the room adjoining lay Viola, sleeping peacefully.
...

Time was when "Wild" Ascher's welcome home had been far otherwise.
Eighteen years before, upon that very threshold which he now crossed
with halting, stealthy steps, as of a thief in the night, stood a fair
and loving wife, holding a sturdy lad aloft in her arms, so that the
father might at once see, as he turned the street corner, that wife and
child were well and happy. Not another Ghetto in all Bohemia could show
a handsomer and happier couple than Ascher and his wife. "Wild" Ascher
was one of those intrepid, venturesome spirits, to whom no obstacle is
so great that it cannot be surmounted. And the success which crowned his