It was not until the door was barricaded that I
could draw a full inspiration and relieve the weight that lay upon my
bosom. Northmour and I exchanged a steady glance; and I suppose each made
his own reflections on the white and startled aspect of the other.
"You were right," I said. "All is over. Shake hands, old man, for the last
time."
"Yes," replied he, "I will shake hands; for, as sure as I am here, I bear
no malice. But, remember, if, by some impossible accident, we should give
the slip to these blackguards, I'll take the upper hand of you by fair or
foul."
"Oh," said I, "you weary me!"
He seemed hurt, and walked away in silence to the foot of the stairs,
where he paused.
"You do not understand," said he. "I am not a swindler, and I guard
myself; that is all. I may weary you or not, Mr. Cassilis, I do not care a
rush; I speak for my own satisfaction, and not for your amusement. You had
better go upstairs and court the girl; for my part, I stay here."
"And I stay with you," I returned. "Do you think I would steal a march,
even with your permission?"
"Frank," he said, smiling, "it's a pity you are an ass, for you have the
makings of a man. I think I must be _fey_ to-day; you cannot irritate me
even when you try. Do you know," he continued softly, "I think we are the
two most miserable men in England, you and I? we have got on to thirty
without wife or child, or so much as a shop to look after--poor, pitiful,
lost devils, both! And now we clash about a girl! As if there were not
several millions in the United Kingdom! Ah, Frank, Frank, the one who
loses his throw, be it you or me, he has my pity! It were better for
him--how does the Bible say?--that a millstone were hanged about his neck
and he were cast into the depth of the sea.
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