“A government appointment?” said Jack, vaguely.
Stephen nodded.
“Yes,” he went on. “By a singular chance I have acquired some influence with the present government. One of these men has a seat in Wealdshire, which really hangs on the Hurst influence. The squire never interfered, but I could do so; and—you see, my dear Jack—a snug little sinecure, say of a thousand a year! It is not much, it is true; but Una has not been accustomed to wealth so long as to feel a thousand a year to be poverty.”
Jack rose and paced the room. Was he dreaming, or was this a different Stephen to the one he knew and disliked? He had heard of sudden wealth as suddenly transforming the nature of a man. Had Stephen’s nature undergone this marvelous change?
He doubted and mistrusted him, but here was the absolute evidence. What could Stephen gain by this generosity? Nothing—absolutely nothing. It was strange, passing strange; but who was he that he should refuse to believe in the generosity and virtue of another man, especially when that generosity was exerted on his behalf?
Struggling against his suspicion and prejudice, Jack strode round the table and held out his hand.
“Stephen, I—I have wronged you. You must be a good fellow to behave in this way, and I—well, I have been a brute, and don’t deserve this on your part.”
Stephen winced under the hard grip of the warm, honest hand.
“Not a word more, my dear Jack; not a word more,” he exclaimed. “This—this is really very affecting. You move me very much.”
And he pressed his spotless handkerchief to his eyes.