“Like yourself, sir, I would dare much if pushed to it,” said Dunn, in a voice that now had recovered all its wonted composure. “But come, Hankes, it is not a hasty word or an ungenerous speech is to break up the ties of a long friendship. I was wrong; I was unjust; I ask your pardon for it. You have served me too faithfully and too well to be requited thus. Give me your hand, and say you forgive me.”
“Indeed, sir, I must own I scarcely expected—that is, I never imagined—”
“Come, come, do not do it grudgingly; tell me, frankly, all is forgiven.”
Hankes took the outstretched hand, and muttered some broken, unintelligible words.
“There, now, sit down and think no more of this folly.” He opened a large pocket-book as he spoke, and searching for some time amongst its contents, at last took forth a small slip of paper. “Ay, here it is,” said he: “'Sale of West Indian estates; resident commissionership; two thousand per annum, with allowance for house,' &c. Sir Hepton Wallis was to have it. Would this suit you, Hankes? The climate agrees with many constitutions.”
“Oh, as to the climate,” said Hankes, trembling with eagerness and delight, “I 'd not fear it.”
“And then with ample leave of absence from time to time, and a retiring allowance, after six years' service, of—if I remember aright—twelve hundred a year. What say you? It must be filled up soon. Shall I write your name instead of Sir Hepton's?”
“Oh, sir, this is, indeed, generosity!”
“No, Hankes, mere justice; nothing more. The only merit I can lay claim to in the matter is the sacrifice I make in separating myself from a well-tried and trusted adherent.”
“These reports shall be ready immediately, sir,” said Hankes. “I 'll not go to bed to-night—”