Mr Carker the Manager looked at him, as he spoke, and when he had finished speaking, with a smile that seemed to divide his face into two parts.
“You are an excitable youth, Gay,” he said; “and should endeavour to cool down a little now, for it would be unwise to encourage feverish predispositions. Be as cool as you can, Gay. Be as cool as you can. You might have asked Mr John Carker himself (if you have not done so) whether he claims to be, or is, an object of such strong interest.”
“James, do me justice,” said his brother. “I have claimed nothing; and I claim nothing. Believe me, on my—”
“Honour?” said his brother, with another smile, as he warmed himself before the fire.
“On my Me—on my fallen life!” returned the other, in the same low voice, but with a deeper stress on his words than he had yet seemed capable of giving them. “Believe me, I have held myself aloof, and kept alone. This has been unsought by me. I have avoided him and everyone.
“Indeed, you have avoided me, Mr Carker,” said Walter, with the tears rising to his eyes; so true was his compassion. “I know it, to my disappointment and regret. When I first came here, and ever since, I am sure I have tried to be as much your friend, as one of my age could presume to be; but it has been of no use.
“And observe,” said the Manager, taking him up quickly, “it will be of still less use, Gay, if you persist in forcing Mr John Carker’s name on people’s attention. That is not the way to befriend Mr John Carker. Ask him if he thinks it is.”
“It is no service to me,” said the brother. “It only leads to such a conversation as the present, which I need not say I could have well spared. No one can be a better friend to me:” he spoke here very distinctly, as if he would impress it upon Walter: “than in forgetting me, and leaving me to go my way, unquestioned and unnoticed.”
“Your memory not being retentive, Gay, of what you are told by others,” said Mr Carker the Manager, warming himself with great and increased satisfaction, “I thought it well that you should be told this from the best authority,” nodding towards his brother. “You are not likely to forget it now, I hope. That’s all, Gay. You can go.”
Walter passed out at the door, and was about to close it after him, when, hearing the voices of the brothers again, and also the mention of his own name, he stood irresolutely, with his hand upon the lock, and the door ajar, uncertain whether to return or go away. In this position he could not help overhearing what followed.