She assured him that the money was simply a deposit left in her hands.
This intelligence overset and disappointed him. He returned to his chair, and drawing it near the fire, gave himself up to considering what could be done; ejaculating from time to time, 'That's bad!—that's very bad!—being really so poor is but melancholy!—I am sorry for her, poor pretty thing!—very sorry!—But still, taking up goods one can't pay for?—Who has a right to do that?—How are trades-people to live by selling their wares gratis?—Will that feed their little ones?'
Then, turning to Ellis, who, in deep disturbance at these commentaries, had not spirits to speak; 'But why,' he cried, 'since you have gotten this money, should not you pay these poor people with it, rather than let it lie dead by your side? for as to the money's not being yours,—theirs is not yours, neither.'
'Should I raise myself, Sir, in your good opinion, by contracting a new debt to pay an old one?'
'If you contract it with a friend to pay a stranger, Yes.—And these notes, I suppose, of course, belong to a friend?'
'Not to ... an enemy, certainly!—' she answered, much embarrassed; 'but is that a reason that I should betray a trust?'
'What becomes of the trust of these poor people, then, that don't know you, and that you don't know? Don't you betray that? Do you think that they would have let you take their goods, if they had not expected your payment?
'Oh heaven, Mr Arbe!' cried Ellis, 'How you probe—perplex—entangle me!'
'Don't vex, don't vex!' said he, kindly, 'for that will fret me prodigiously. Only, another time, when you are in want, borrow from the rich, and not from the poor; for they are in want themselves. This friend of yours is rich, I take for granted?'
'I ... I believe so!'