The Amateur Gentleman Part 67

"I am, therefore, going to make you an offer--"

"Which I must--refuse."

"And my offer is this: instead of twenty thousand pounds I will double the sum."

Jasper Gaunt's lolling figure grew slowly rigid, and leaning across the desk, he stared up at Barnabas under his hairless brows. Even Captain Slingsby stirred and lifted his heavy head.

"Forty thousand pounds!" said Jasper Gaunt, speaking almost in a whisper.

"Yes," said Barnabas, and sitting down, he folded his arms a little ostentatiously. Jasper Gaunt's head drooped, and he stared down at the papers on the desk before him, nor did he move, only his long, white fingers began to tap softly upon his chair-arms, one after the other.

"I will pay you forty thousand pounds," said Barnabas. Then, all in one movement as it seemed, Gaunt had risen and turned to the window, and stood there awhile with his back to the room.

"Well?" inquired Barnabas at last.

"I--cannot, sir."

"You mean--will not!" said Barnabas, clenching his fists.

"Cannot, sir." As Gaunt turned, Barnabas rose and approached him until barely a yard separated them, until he could look into the eyes that glittered between their hairless lids, very like the cruel-looking dagger on the wall.

"Very well," said Barnabas, "then I'll treble it. I'll pay you sixty thousand pounds! What do you say? Come--speak!" But now, the eyes so keen and sharp to read men and the ways of men wavered and fell before the indomitable steadfastness of unconquered Youth; the long, white hands beneath their ruffles seemed to writhe with griping, contorted fingers, while upon his temple was something that glittered a moment, rolled down his cheek, and so was gone.

"Speak!" said Barnabas.

Yet still no answer came, only Jasper Gaunt sank down in his chair with his elbows on the desk, his long, white face clasped between his long, white hands, staring into vacancy; but now his smooth brow was furrowed, his narrow eyes were narrower yet, and his thin lips moved as though he had whispered to himself "sixty thousand pounds!"

"Sir,--for the last time--do you accept?" demanded Barnabas.

Without glancing up, or even altering the direction of his vacant stare, and with his face still framed between his hands, Jasper Gaunt shook his head from side to side, once, twice, and thrice; a gesture there was no mistaking.

Then Barnabas fell back a step, with clenched fist upraised, but in that moment the Captain was before him and had caught his arm.

"By Gad, Beverley!" he exclaimed in a shaken voice, "are you mad?"

"No," said Barnabas, "but I came here to buy those bills, and buy them I will! If trebling it isn't enough, then--"

"Ah!" cried Slingsby, pointing to the usurer's distorted face, "can't you see? Don't you guess? He can't sell! No money-lender of 'em all could resist such an offer. I tell you he daren't sell, the bills aren't his! Come away--"

"Not his!" cried Barnabas, "then whose?"

"G.o.d knows! But it's true,--look at him!"

"Tell me," cried Barnabas, striving to see Gaunt's averted eyes, "tell me who holds these bills,--if you have one spark of generosity--tell me!"

But Jasper Gaunt gave no sign, only the writhing fingers crept across his face, over staring eyes and twitching lips.

So, presently, Barnabas suffered Captain Slingsby to lead him from the room, and down the somewhat dark and winding stair, past the wizen-faced clock, out into the street already full of the glow of evening.

"It's a wonder to me," said the Captain, "yes, it's a great wonder to me, that n.o.body has happened to kill Gaunt before now."

So the Captain frowned, sighed, and climbed up to his seat. But, when Barnabas would have followed, Billy b.u.t.ton touched him on the arm.

"Oh, Barnaby!" said he, "oh, Barnaby Bright, look--the day is dying, the shadows are coming,--in a little while it will be night. But, oh Youth, alas! alas! I can see the shadows have touched you already!"

And so, with a quick upflung glance at the dismal house, he turned, waved his hand, and sped away on noiseless feet, and so was gone.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

OF AN ETHICAL DISCUSSION, WHICH THE READER IS ADVISED TO SKIP

Oho! for the rush of wind in the hair, for the rolling thunder of galloping hoofs, now echoing on the hard, white road, now m.u.f.fled in dewy gra.s.s.

Oho! for the horse and his rider and the glory of them; for the long, swinging stride that makes nothing of distance, for the tireless spring of the powerful loins, for the masterful hand on the bridle, strong, yet gentle as a caress, for the firm seat--the balance and sway that is an aid to speed, and proves the born rider. And what horse should this be but Four-legs, his black coat glossy and s.h.i.+ning in the sun, his great, round hoofs spurning the flying earth, all a-quiver with high courage, with life and the joy of it? And who should be the rider but young Barnabas?

He rides with his hat in his whip-hand, that he may feel the wind, and with never a look behind, for birds are carolling from the cool freshness of dewy wood and copse, in every hedge and tree the young sun has set a myriad gems flas.h.i.+ng and sparkling; while, out of the green distance ahead, Love is calling; brooks babble of it, birds sing of it, the very leaves find each a small, soft voice to whisper of it.

So away--away rides Barnabas by village green and lonely cot, past hedge and gate and barn, up hill and down hill,--away from the dirt and noise of London, away from its joys and sorrows, its splendors and its miseries, and from the oncoming, engulfing shadow. Spur and gallop, Barnabas,--ride, youth, ride! for the shadow has already touched you, even as the madman said.

Therefore while youth yet abides, while the sun yet s.h.i.+nes,--ride, Barnabas, ride!

Now as he went, Barnabas presently espied a leafy by-lane, and across this lane a fence had been erected,--a high fence, but with a fair "take-off" and consequently, a most inviting fence. At this, forthwith, Barnabas rode, steadied Four-legs in his stride, touched him with the spur, and cleared it with a foot to spare. Then, all at once, he drew rein and paced over the dewy gra.s.s to where, beneath the hedge, was a solitary man who knelt before a fire of twigs fanning it to a blaze with his wide-eaved hat.

He was a slender man, and something stooping of shoulder, and his hair shone silver-white in the suns.h.i.+ne. Hearing Barnabas approach, he looked up, rose to his feet, and so stood staring as one in doubt.

Therefore Barnabas uncovered his head and saluted him with grave politeness.

"Sir," said he, reining in his great horse, "you have not forgotten me, I hope?"

"No indeed, young sir," answered the Apostle of Peace, with a dawning smile of welcome. "But you are dressed very differently from what I remember. The quiet, country youth has become lost, and transfigured into the das.h.i.+ng Corinthian. What a vast difference clothes can make in one! And yet your face is the same, your expression unchanged. London has not altered you yet, and I hope it never may. No, sir, your face is not one to be forgotten,--indeed it reminds me of other days."

"But we have only met once before," said Barnabas.

"True! And yet I seem to have known you years ago,--that is what puzzles me! But come, young sir,--if you have time and inclination to share a vagrant's breakfast, I can offer you eggs and new milk, and bread and b.u.t.ter,--simple fare, but more wholesome than your French ragouts and highly-seasoned dishes."

"You are very kind," said Barnabas, "the ride has made me hungry, --besides, I should like to talk with you."

"Why, then--light down from that great horse of yours, and join me.

The gra.s.s must be both chair and table, but here is a tree for your back, and the bank for mine."

So, having dismounted and secured his horse's bridle to a convenient branch, Barnabas sat himself down with his back to the tree, and accepted the wandering Preacher's bounty as freely as it was offered.

And when the Preacher had spoken a short grace, they began to eat, and while they ate, to talk, as follows:

_Barnabas_. "It is three weeks, I think, since we met?"

_The Preacher_. "A month, young sir."