"True," said Barnabas.
"Supposing I go, and never come back?"
"Then I shall be two guineas the poorer, and you will have proved yourself a thief; but until you do, you are an honest man, so far as I am concerned."
"Sir, said the fugitive, hoarsely, but with a new light in his face," for that, if I were not your servant—I—should like to—clasp your hand; and, sir, my name is John Peterby."
"Why, then," said Barnabas, smiling all at once, "why then, John
Peterby, here it is!"
So, for a moment their hands met, and then John Peterby turned sharp about and strode away down the lane, his step grown light and his head held high.
But as for Barnabas, he sat there in the ditch, staring at nothing; and as he stared his brow grew black and ever blacker, until chancing at last to espy the "priceless wollum," where it lay beside him, he took it up, balanced it in his hand, then hurled it over the opposite hedge: which done, he laughed sudden and harsh, and clenched his fists.
"God!" he exclaimed, "a goddess and a satyr!" and so sat staring on at nothingness again.