“Twenty pounds a year when all goes prosperously.”
“Then, under the most favorable circumstances, it would take you five years to save one hundred, ten to lay by two hundred, and twenty-five to accumulate five hundred pounds?”
“Just, so, if everything went well with me; otherwise, I could save nothing, and might even get into debt.”
“Yes. Well, Anderson, if you will lend your assistance in the most righteous cause of delivering your benefactor’s orphan daughter from unmerited death, I will pay you down five thousand pounds in hard English sovereigns—a sum that will make you and your family independent in this or any other country for the rest of your lives!” said Malcolm, coming at once to the point, though with an unsteady voice and flushed cheek.
“Good Heaven, sir!” exclaimed the governor, shrinking back, as the blood rushed to his face.
“You consent?” asked Malcolm, in a low husky voice.
“I never dreamed of such a thing!”
“The sum is large, it is all I can raise, or it should be doubled, trebled, quadrupled! I would give twenty thousand—a hundred thousand—a million if I had it—as I would give my life, if I could do it, to save Eudora.”
“And I would not ask one penny to save her, if I could do it honestly, sir. Perhaps I didn’t understand you, sir. How could I save her?”
Malcolm seized his wrist, bent to his ear, and in eager, vehement whispers, recounted his simple plan for the escape of Eudora.