Mr. Grahame listened in grim silence. He felt choking, with spite and envy. The man he had pressed to the verge of despair, in the hope to compel him to sign away his birthright, was now immeasurably his superior in position as he was his equal in descent. He would be a formidable antagonist to fight with the miserable deed he had forged. He could not dare to attempt it.
He fell back in his chair with a groan. Nathan Gomer had brought him ill news indeed. He had expected foul tidings, yet not such as this. He could have wept scalding tears of bitterness, vexation, and rage. He bit his white and trembling lips, and exerting himself to control his tremulous voice, he said--
“It is to give me this information you have waited upon me, Mr. Gomer, I suppose, and with no other object?” The misty shapes dancing before his eyes began to take the distinct form of a pistol with which he had resolved to anticipate the thunderbolt hovering over to crush him.
“I have another object, calculated, I think, to prove vastly advantageous to you,” returned Nathan, with a grin. “You know I have your interest at heart,” he grined again; “and I wish to serve you--in my own way.” He rubbed his hands, and grinned again, then he went on. “You and Wilton are the claimants to the whole of old Eglinton’s property. Wilton wants a witness--you want--Wilton dead--hem! All this time, neither of you are deriving any benefit from the property. Now supposing you and Wilton were to unite your claims and possess it jointly; the sum accumulated in arrears is enormous, and the yearly rental largely improved since Eglinton’s death, is at least thirty thousand a-year. Now, an income of fifteen thousand pounds sterling, with half the enormous sum in cash for each, would not be so bad, I conceive! The money would be doing more good, I suspect--administering to the comforts, the pleasures, the enjoyments of yourselves and respective families--than it will in swelling the millions already held in trust by the Court of Chancery. How say you, Mr. Grahame--what is your opinion of my proposition?”
All the time Nathan Gomer was speaking, Mr. Grahame experienced a variety of emotions. He was cold and hot by turns--now his knees quivered, and his teeth chattered--anon he burnt as if scorched by fever. What burst of sunshine was this on a heart almost buried in a dense, life-destroying gloom? What sudden saving hand was this lifting him up out of the engulph-ing quicksands of almost fathomless debt, and placing him upon a rock firm enough to stand the shock of any storm? What haven of safety was this stretching out its unassailable arms to receive him into its secure shelter, even while sinking beneath the hurricane raging around him?