“At least I think not.”
“To-night will show.”
“I must know that before night,” cried Meadows, and with the word he sprang on Jefferies and seized him in a grasp of iron, and put a pistol to his head.
“Ah! no! Mr. Meadows. Mercy! mercy!” shrieked the man, in an agony of fear.
“All right,” said Meadows, coolly putting up the pistol. “You half imposed on me, and that is something for you to brag of. You won't kill yourself, Jefferies; you are not the stuff. Give over shaking like an aspen, and look and listen. You are in debt. I've bought up two drafts of yours—here they are. Come to me to-morrow, after the wedding, and I will give you them to light your pipe with.”
“Oh, Mr. Meadows, that would be one load off my mind.”
“You are short of cash, too; come to me—after the wedding, and I'll give you fifty pounds cash.”
“You are very liberal, sir. I wish it was in a better cause.”
“Now go home, and don't be a sneak and a fool—till after the wedding, or I will sell the bed from under your wife's back, and send you to the stone-jug. Be off.”
Jefferies crept away, paralyzed in heart, and Meadows, standing up, called out in a rage: “Are there any more of you that hope to turn John Meadows? then come on, come a thousand strong, with the devil at your back—and then I'll beat you!” And for a moment the respectable man was almost grand; a man-rock standing braving earth and heaven.