You are at the present time penniless, are you not?"

Frank had hard work to suppress a groan as he bowed his head and thought of how, had he been given time, he could have paid every creditor in full, and had to spare, instead of his poor a.s.sets being more than half swallowed up in costs.

"You came here expecting a stormy interview, did you not?"

"I did!" said Frank.

"To be sure! and now I am going to show you that old Grab-all is not so black a devil as he is painted."

"Good heavens, sir!" cried Frank joyfully.

"Stop a bit--stop a bit--don't be rash, young man; for perhaps I am not going to favour you in the way you may expect, though I do feel disposed to help you. Now look here: I suppose five hundred pounds would be a great help to you just now?"

"It would start me in life again, sir," said Frank, sadly; "but I should not feel justified in commencing upon borrowed capital at high interest."

"Did I say a word about borrowed capital or high interest?"

"No, sir, but--"

"Yes, yes--of course--I know--old Grind-'em will have sixty per cent, they say, eh? But look here, suppose I were to _give_ you five hundred pounds to start with!"

"Give! give! Give me five hundred pounds in hard cash, sir! Mr Richards, why do you play with my feelings?"

"Play, young man?" said the money-lender quietly. "I am not playing--I am in earnest. I tell you that I will give you, now, this minute, five hundred pounds. There," he said, "give me that cheque book," and he pointed to a safe in the wall. "I'll write you one now this instant; and with five hundred pounds you have the key to a fortune. You may die rich as I am, Frank Marr."

"But you have a condition: you wish to buy something with this five hundred pounds, Mr Richards," said Frank sternly.

"I only want five minutes of your time," said the old man.

"What to do?"

"To write half a dozen lines at my dictation."

"And to whom?"

"To my daughter."

"Their purport?"

"That you break with her, and set her free, now and for ever."

"If I do," cried Frank fiercely, "may G.o.d in heaven bring down--"

"Stop, stop, you rash, mad fool!" cried the old man excitedly. "Look here, Frank Marr: you have not a penny; your mother is almost starving; you are living together in a beggarly second-floor room at a tallow-chandler's. You see I know all! You are suffering the poor old lady's murmurs day by day, and she reproaches you for wasting her little all in your business. Look here: be a man, and not a love-sick boy.

I'll be frank with you. Mr Brough has proposed, and I approve of him for a son-in-law. He is elderly, but a better-hearted man does not exist; and you will have the satisfaction of knowing that May has gone to a good home; while you have the chance, and at once, of doing your duty by your old mother. She wants change of air, Frank, and more nourishment. Five hundred pounds clear, Frank, to start with, and on your obtaining one name, one respectable name, beside your own, I'll advance you five hundred more--at five per cent, Frank, my good fellow-- at five per cent.--a thing I never before did in my life. I'll do it at once, this very hour, and you can pay the cheque into a banker's, start a new account, and a prosperous one. There, I'll find you a name--your uncle, Benjamin Marr; I'll take him; he's a respectable man, and good for five hundred pounds. He'll do that for you. Now, my good lad, sit down and accept my offer."

"Does the devil tempt men still in human form?" gasped Frank, as with veins starting he stood panting for breath before the old man.

"Pooh! nonsense! absurd! Now, how can you talk such silly book-trash, Frank Marr? I thought five years with me as clerk would have made another man of you. You ought never to have left me. Throw all that folly aside, and look the matter in the face like a man. Now you see how calm and how lenient I am. I might play the tyrant, and say that May shall be Mr Brough's wife, and all that sort of thing; but I want to spare everybody's feelings. I don't want any scenes. Come, now: you give her up; you will write to her, eh?"

Frank Marr's voice was hoa.r.s.e as he spoke; for he had felt the old man's words burning as it were into his brain, as scene after scene presented itself to his imagination. There on one side wealth, prosperity, comfort for the old and ailing woman whom he had, as he told himself, in an evil hour robbed of the comforts of her declining years; a new career, and the means to pay off that other ten shillings in the pound, so that he could once more hold up his head amongst his fellow-men. On the other side, the sweet, loving face of May Richards, whom he thought he loved as man never yet loved. He told himself that without a moment's hesitation he should defy the temptation to gain a hold; but for all that he temporised, and John Richards saw it, and stretched out his hand to take a pen.

"But you will give me time to recover myself?" said Frank.

"What for? I don't understand," said Richards.

"For May's sake," pleaded Frank.

"Stop! Not another word!" cried the old man, now speaking fiercely. "I told her last night that I'd sooner see her dead than your wife. I tell you the same. But I will not be angry, nor yet harsh--I was put out last night. Now, once more look here: Five hundred pounds in cash--a free gift, mind--and five hundred more as an easy business loan, renewable year after year during my life, so long as the interest is punctually paid. Nothing can be easier for you. Think now, to give up a boy's milk-and-water love I offer you what to a man in your present position is a fortune--a thousand pounds. And you will take it?"

Frank tried to speak, but he seemed to be choking.

"A thousand pounds, which means future prosperity--which means, as well, a score of rich and beautiful women to choose from."

Frank had not heard a door open behind them; he had not seen May, pale as ashes, standing motionless listening to every word; he could only hear the words of the tempter, and the scratch, scratch of a cruel pen, sharp as a needle, dipped apparently in some subtle venom, writing the words _one thousand pounds_ on his heart at the same time as in that little slip-book, while the poison was coursing through his veins, making them to beat and throb.

"One thousand pounds, John Richards; payable to Frank Marr, Esquire, or his order," said the old man aloud, but as if speaking to himself; "and all for giving up a boy-and-girl love affair. Pish! I am getting into my dotage. Look here, Mr Marr," he said, speaking up, "I only want you to write the few lines I dictate, and to get that name to the bill, and here is the cheque ready. You'll get on, now, I feel sure," he said, in cool, business-like tones, but watching his victim like a cat the while.

"Bought wit is better than taught wit. Shall I order you a gloss of wine?"

"G.o.d help me!" groaned Frank Marr as, making an effort to speak, he tore at his throat for an instant, s.n.a.t.c.hed at his hat, and then rushed out of the house.

"Expensive, but safe!" said John Richards, with a bitter smile, as he pinned the cheque to its duplicate. "What, you here?"

"Father!" cried May, coming forward and speaking in tones that should have pierced even his heart, had it not been stony to the very core; "O, father, what have you done?"

"Spent hundreds of my hard-earned pounds to free you from a bankrupt lover--a scoundrel whose every thought was on my cash, whose every calculation was as to how many years I should be before I died; upon a man who had not the heart to stand up for you, who valued you at less than five hundred pounds; and yet you reproached me with wishing to sell you to a rich husband, when he is a pure, sterling, true-hearted man, the only one I know that I could trust--a man you have known from a child, and one who has long loved you. Suppose he is grey-headed, what then? You can trust in his experience and--eh? What? Why? What the deuce! talk of the--How are you, Brough? glad to see you. Got the gout awful this morning. Don't stop; I'm bothered and sick with pain. Take May up-stairs. My dear, give Mr Brough some lunch."

Then, in an undertone, he spoke to the new-comer:

"I've done it for you, Brough; smoothed the way, and the day's your own.

Bought him off for five hundred."

"And has he taken it?" said the new-comer, a handsome, florid, elderly man.

"As good as taken it. It's all right, I tell you. She knows it too.

Go and comfort her up, Brough; comfort her up."

"Poor child, poor child," muttered Mr Brough, taking a cold stony hand in his; and the tears rose to his eyes as he read in the despairing look directed at him the truth of the old money-lender's words. The next minute he had led May Richards up-stairs and was seated by her on one of the sofas, gazing pityingly at her, for with her face covered by her hands the poor girl wept as though her heart would break.

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER THREE.

TOM BROUGH.

For a good quarter of an hour no word was spoken; then again taking one of the unresisting hands in his, May's new courtier talked long and earnestly, telling of how, with no ardent pa.s.sion, but with the chastened love of one who had known a bitter disappointment, he had long watched her and waited.

"And now, at last, May, I ask you to be an old man's wife," he said.