The vicar read it with a vague comprehension, and in his cold fingers shook the hand of his fellow sufferer. Less than fifty pounds would not do! Oh, where was he to turn? It was quite hopeless, and poor Larkin pressed too!
Now, there was this consolation in 'poor Larkin's case,' that although he was quite run aground, and a defaulter in the Dollington Bank to the extent of 7_l_. 12_s_. 4_d_., yet in that similar institution, which flourished at Naunton, only nine miles away, there stood to his name the satisfactory credit of 564_l_. 11_s_. 7_d_. One advantage which the good attorney derived from his double account with the rival institutions was, that whenever convenient he could throw one of these certificates of destitution and impotence sadly under the eyes of a client in want of money like poor Will Wylder.
The attorney had no pleasure in doing people ill turns. But he had come to hear the distresses of his clients as tranquilly as doctors do the pangs of their patients. As he stood meditating near his window, he saw the poor vicar, with slow limbs and downcast countenance, walk under his laburnums and laurustinuses towards his little gate, and suddenly stop and turn round, and make about a dozen quick steps, like a man who has found a bright idea, towards the house, and then come to a thoughtful halt, and so turn and recommence his slow march of despair homeward.
At five o'clock—it was dark now—there was a tread on the door-steps, and a double tattoo at the tiny knocker. It was the 'lawyer.'
Mr. Larkin entered the vicar's study, where he was supposed to be busy about his sermon.
'My dear Sir; thinking about you—and I have just heard from an old humble friend, who wants high interest, and of course is content to take security somewhat personal in its nature. I have written already. He's in the hands of Burlington, Smith, and Company. I have got exactly 55_l._ since I saw you, which makes me all right at Dollington; and here's my check for 50_l._ which you can send—or perhaps I had better send by this night's post—to those Cambridge people. It settles that; and you give me a line on this stamp, acknowledging the 50_l._ on account of money to be raised on your reversion. So that's off your mind, my dear Sir.'
'Oh, Mr. Larkin—my—my—you don't know, Sir, what you have done for me—the agony—oh, thank God! what a friend is raised up.'
And he clasped and wrung the long hands of the attorney, and I really think there was a little moisture in that gentleman's pink eyes for a moment or two.
When he was gone the vicar returned from the door-step, radiant—not to the study but to the parlour.
'Oh, Willie, darling, you look so happy—you were uneasy this evening,' said his little ugly wife, with a beautiful smile, jumping up and clasping him.