‘Then why offer an opinion?’ put in the old man implacably.
‘At all events, sir, I hazarded none as to how the thing came into William Henry’s possession.’
‘Tut, tut,’ replied the antiquary, once more reverting to the precious document, ‘who cares how he got it? The point is that we have it here; not only Shakespeare’s handwriting, but a most incontestable proof, to such as ever doubted it, of his honour and punctuality in discharge of his just debts. William Henry, I have been mistaken in you, my lad. I will honestly confess that I had built no such hopes upon you. When I lost my poor Samuel happy by anything a boy could do again. This is the proudest moment of my life—to have under my own roof, to see with my own eyes, to touch with my own fingers, the actual handwriting of William Shakespeare.’
Then, with a sigh like one who returns to another something he himself fain would keep, as knowing far more how to value it, he folded up the document, and returned it to William Henry.
‘Nay, sir,’ said the lad, gently breaking silence for the first time, ‘it is yours, not mine. My pleasure in acquiring it—for, to say truth, it cost me nothing—would all be lost if you refused to accept it.’
‘What, as a gift? No, my boy, that is impossible. I don’t mean that you must take cash for it,’ for William Henry looked both abashed and disturbed, ‘but something that will at least show you that I am not ungrateful.’
For one wild instant the young man believed that, like a stage father, Mr. Erin was about to place Margaret’s hand in his and dower them with his blessing, but he only walked to his bookcase, and took from the shelf, where it had just been reverently laid, ‘Stokes, the Vaulting Master,’ and pushed it into his hands.
‘But, sir, you have not heard how I gained possession of the deed,’ exclaimed the astonished recipient of this treasure.
‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ answered the antiquary as he left the room with the document hugged to his heart; ‘to-morrow will be time enough for details.’
In his heart of hearts he feared lest there should be some flaw in the young man’s story which might throw discredit upon the genuineness of his discovery: and, for that night at least, he wished to enjoy his acquisition without the shadow of a doubt.