Their relations, as the old miser had discovered, were much closer than those of servant and master. William stood for youth, for the seeing mind, for cheerful, selfless giving, for life itself. The tones of his voice, his kindly readiness, his tolerance for an old man’s megrims; even the sound of this good fellow moving furniture in the next room and the sense of him about the place had grown to mean so much that, now they were withdrawn, all other things grew null.
The old man felt now that he could not go on, and at any other moment, the force of his appeal might have touched the gentle nature to whom it was made. But the stars in their courses fought against S. Gedge Antiques. He was a figure to move the heart, as he stood in the shop of a rival dealer, the slow tears staining his thin cheeks, but William had the shadow of that other figure upon him. The wreck of youth, of reason itself, seemed infinitely more tragic than the falling of the temple upon the priest of Baal whose wickedness had brought the thing to pass.
William denied his master. And yet hearing him out to the bitter end, he was unable to withhold a little pity. All feeling for the old man was dead; the bedside from which he had just come had finally destroyed the last spark of his affection, yet being the creature he was, he could not sit in judgment.
“I’ll pay you twice what you are getting now if you’ll return to me,” said the old man. “As I say, I can’t go on.” He peered into that face of ever-deepening distress. “What do you say, boy?” He took the hand of the young man in his own, as a father might take that of a beloved son. “I’ll give you anything—if you’ll come back. I haven’t long to live. Return to-night and I’ll leave you the business. Now what do you say?”
Had it been human to forgive at such a moment, S. Gedge Antiques would have been forgiven. But William could only stand dumb and unresponsive before the master he had loved.
“I’m a warm man.” The voice of the old dealer who had made money his god, sank to a whisper becoming a theme so sacred. “My investments have turned out well. There’s no saying what I am worth—but this I’ll tell you in strict confidence—I own property.” The hushed tone was barely audible. “In fact I own nearly half my own side of this street. Now what do you say? Promise to come back to me to-night and I’ll go right now and see my lawyer.”
The young man stood the image of unhappiness.
“Only speak the word and you shall inherit every stick and stone.”
It was a moment to rend the heart of both, but the word was not spoken. For the second time that afternoon William was hard set to rein back his tears; but he had not the power to yield to this appeal.
Overborne by the knowledge that the hand of Fate was upon him, S. Gedge Antiques, leaning heavily on his knotted stick, moved feebly towards the dark street.