It was surely only natural that these two young people should entertain a very strong mutual attachment; through long familiarity they doubtless seemed more like brother and sister to one another than cousins. It could not be said, in short, that Mr. Erin winked at their love-making, but he shut his eyes to it. It would have been very inconvenient to have said ‘No’ to a certain question, and quite impossible to say ‘Yes.’ It was better that things should take their own course, even if it was a little dangerous, than to make matters uncomfortable by interference.
‘From first to last, my lad,’ he continued in a cheerful voice, ‘we shall make little short of 500l., I expect.’
‘Indeed,’ said William Henry indifferently. To do him justice he cared little for money at any time, and just now less than usual. His appetite, even for fame, had for the present lost its keenness. Love possessed him wholly; he cared only for Margaret.
‘To think that a new reading of an old play—though to be sure it is Shakespeare’s play—should produce so much!’ went on Mr. Erin complacently. ‘Good heavens! what would not the public give for a new play by the immortal bard?’
‘The question is,’ observed William Henry, ‘what would you give, Mr. Erin?’
The remark was so unexpected, and delivered in such a quiet tone, that for a moment the antiquary was dumbfounded, and between disbelief and expectancy made no reply.
‘My dear Samuel,’ he murmured presently, ‘is it possible you can be serious, that you have in your possession——’
‘Nay, sir,’ interrupted the young man smiling; ‘I never said that. I do not possess it, but within the last few days I have known of the existence of such a manuscript.’
‘You have known and not told me!’ exclaimed the antiquary reproachfully; ‘why, I might have died in the meantime!’
‘Then you would have seen Shakespeare, and he would have told you all about it,’ returned William Henry lightly.