"Yes; there was nothing to keep me this afternoon, so I did not stay."
The two old men exchanged a few more commonplaces. They were now standing by the hearth. Suddenly John Harman, uttering a half-suppressed groan, resumed his seat.
"It is odd," he said, "how the insidious something which men call Death seems to grow nearer to me day by day. Now, as we stood together, I felt just a touch of the cold hand; the touch was but a feather weight, but any instant it will come down like a giant on its prey. It is terrible to stand as I do, looking into the face of Death; I mean it is terrible for one like me."
"You are getting morbid, John," said Jasper; "you always were given to look on the dismals. If you must die, as I suppose and fear you must, why don't you rouse yourself and enjoy life while you may?"
To this John Harman made no answer. After a moment or two of silence, during which Jasper watched him nervously, he said;—
"As you have come back so early from the City, can you give me two hours now? I have a great deal I want to say to you."
"About the past?" questioned Jasper.
"About the past."
Jasper Harman paused and hesitated; he knew well that he should never see his brother again; that this was his last request. But dare he stay? Two hours were very precious, and the avenger might even now be at the door. No; he could not waste time so precious in listening to an old, old tale.
"Will two hours this evening do equally well, John?"