“There is no difficulty with Bigger and Swain, sir,” said Kennyfeck, as his cheek grew slightly red. “They will neither be pressing for a settlement, nor exacting when making it; besides, you have not overdrawn very heavily, After all.”
“Overdrawn, said you?—did you say overdrawn, Mr. Kennyfeck?”
“Yes, sir. In the account last forwarded, your debit was eleven thousand four hundred and forty pounds; since that you have drawn—but not for any large amount.”
“Overdrawn!” repeated Cashel, as though his thoughts had never wandered beyond the first shock of that fact; then rallying into something like his habitual easy humor, he said, “I am, I need not tell you, the stupidest man of business that ever breathed, so pray forgive me if I ask you once more if I understood you aright, that I have not only expended all the money I owned in these people's hands, but actually had contracted a debt to them?”
“That is the case, sir,” said Kennyfeck, gravely.
A deep groan broke from Cashel, and he sat silent and still.
“I would wish to observe, sir,” said Kennyfeck, who was shocked at the alteration a few moments had made in the young man's countenance—“I would wish to observe, sir, that if you desire a sum of money for any purpose—”
“Stay—let me interrupt you here,” said Cashel, laying his hand on Kennyfeck's arm, and using a tone whose earnest distinctness thrilled through his hearer's heart; “I should deceive you, were you to suppose that it is the want of money gives me the pain I am now suffering. That I had believed myself rich a few moments back, and now found myself a beggar, could not give one-thousandth part of that suffering which I feel here. I have braved poverty in every form, and I could brave it again; but I 'll tell you what it is that now cuts me to the soul, and lowers me to myself. It is that, in a senseless, heartless career, I should have squandered the wealth by which I once imagined I was to bless and succor hundreds. It is to think, that of all the gold I have wasted, not one memory has been purchased of a sick-bed consoled, a suffering lessened, a sinking spirit encouraged,—I have done nothing, actually nothing, save pamper vice and sensual heartlessness. I came to this kingdom a few months back, my very dreams filled with schemes of benevolence; I felt as if this wealth were given to me that I might show the world how much of good may be done by one who, having experienced narrow fortune, should best know how to relieve it in others; and now, here am I, the wealth and the high aspirations alike departed, with no tradition to carry away, save of a life passed in debauch, the friendship of worthless, the pitying contempt of good men! Hear me out I was nurtured in no school of sentiment; I belonged to a class who had too little time or taste to indulge in scruples. We were reckless, passionate,—cruel, if you will,—but we were not bad in cold blood; we seldom hated long; we never could turn on a benefactor. These are not the lessons I 've lived to learn here! It is over, however—it is past now! I 'll go back to the old haunts, and the old comrades. It will go hard with me if I quarrel with their rude speech and rough demeanor. I 'll think of gentlemen! and be grateful.”
The rapid utterance in which he poured forth these words, and the fervid excitement of his manner, abashed Kenny-feck, and deterred him from reply. Cashel was the first to speak.
“This arrangement, however, must be provided for; whatever Mr. Corrigan's interest be worth—or rather, whatever he will accept in lieu of it—I insist upon his having. But I see Dr. Tiernay coming up to the door; we can talk of these things at another time.”