Bellew took out his pipe again, looked at it very much as if he had never seen such a thing before, and laid it down upon the mantelpiece.
"Baxter," said he, "kindly understand that I am speaking to you as—er—man to man,—as my father's old and trusted servant and my early boy-hood's only friend; sit down, John."
"Thank you, Master George, sir."
"I wish to—confess to you, John, that—er—regarding the—er—Haunting Spectre of the Might Have Been,—you were entirely in the right. At that time I knew no more the meaning of the—er—the word, John—"
"Meaning the word—Love, Master George!"
"Precisely; I knew no more about it than—that table. But during these latter days, I have begun to understand, and—er—the fact of the matter is—I'm—I'm fairly—up against it, John!"
Here, Baxter, who had been watching him with his quick, sharp eyes nodded his head solemnly:
"Master George," said he, "speaking as your father's old servant, and your boyhood's friend,—I'm afraid you are."
Bellew took a turn up and down the room, and then pausing in front of Baxter, (who had risen also, as a matter of course), he suddenly laid his two hands upon his valet's shoulders.
"Baxter," said he, "you'll remember that after my mother died, my father was always too busy piling up his millions to give much time or thought to me, and I should have been a very lonely small boy if it hadn't been for you, John Baxter. I was often 'up against it,' in those days, John, and you were always ready to help, and advise me;—but now,—well, from the look of things, I'm rather afraid that I must stay 'up against it'—that the game is lost already, John. But which ever way Fate decides—win, or lose,—I'm glad—yes, very glad to have learned the true meaning of—the word, John."