"Never you mind who sent me, Sir Thomas. Perhaps he did, and perhaps he didn't. Perhaps I came without hany sending. Perhaps I'm more hup to this sort of work than he is. At any rate, I've got the part pretty well by 'eart—you see that, don't you? Well, hour hultimatum about the business is this. Forty thousand pounds paid down on the nail, half to the governor, and half to your 'umble servant, before the end of this year; a couple of thousand more in hand for the year's hexpenses—and—and—a couple of hundred or so now at once before I leave you; for to tell the truth we're run huncommonly dry just at the present moment." And then Aby drew his breath and paused for an answer.
Poor Sir Thomas was now almost broken down. His head swam round and round, and he felt that he was in a whirlpool from which there was no escape. He had heard the sum named, and knew that he had no power of raising it. His interest in the estate was but for his life, and that life was now all but run out. He had already begun to feel that his son must be sacrificed, but he had struggled and endured in order that he might save his wife. But what could he do now? What further struggle could he make? His present most eager desire was that that horrid man should be removed from his hearing and his eyesight.
But Aby had not yet done: he had hitherto omitted to mention one not inconsiderable portion of the amicable arrangement which, according to him, would have the effect of once more placing the two families comfortably on their feet. "There's one other pint, Sir Thomas," he continued, "and hif I can bring you and your good lady to my way of thinking on that, why, we may all be comfortable for all that is come and gone. You've a daughter Hemmeline."
"What!" said Sir Thomas, turning upon him; for there was still so much of life left in him that he could turn upon his foe when he heard his daughter's name thus polluted.
"Has lovely a gal to my way of thinking as my heyes ever rested on; and I'm not haccounted a bad judge of such cattle, I can tell you, Sir Thomas."
"That will do, that will do," said Sir Thomas, attempting to rise, but still holding on by the back of his chair. "You can go now, sir; I cannot hear more from you."
"Go!"
"Yes, sir; go."
"I know a trick worth two of that, Sir Thomas. If you like to give me your daughter Hemmeline for my wife, whatever her fortin's to be, I'll take it as part of my half of the forty thousand pounds. There now." And then Aby again waited for a reply.
But now there came a knock at the door, and following quick upon the knock Herbert entered the room. "Well, father," said the son.