He shook hands cordially and went away, leaving Thomas Godolphin to battle alone with his care. Ah me! no human aid, henceforth, could help him, by so much as a passing word, with the terrible battle already set in. God alone, who had been with Thomas Godolphin through life, could whisper to him a word of comfort, could shed down a few drops of sustaining strength, so that he might battle through and bear. That God had been with him, in the midst of the deep sorrows He had seen fit to cast upon him, Thomas knew: he knew that He would be with him always, even unto the end.
“You had better accept my offer of assistance,” Lord Averil turned back to say.
“No,” broke from Thomas Godolphin in a sharp tone of pain, very different from the calm, if grateful, answer he had previously given to the same proposition. “What sort of justice would it be, if I robbed you to pay the claims of others?”
“You can refund me when the panic’s over,” returned the viscount, somewhat surprised at the nature of the reply.
“Yes. But—but—it might be a risk,” was the rejoinder, given with unwonted hesitation. “In a crisis, such as this, it is, I believe, impossible to foresee what the end may be. Thank you greatly, Averil, all the same.”
Mr. Hurde was not very long before he returned, bringing with him an answer to the last message. Colder and moister became Thomas Godolphin’s brow as he read it; colder and colder grew his hand. It appeared to be only a confirmation of the one received before.
“I cannot understand this,” he murmured.
Mr. Hurde stood by. That some ominous fear had arisen, he saw. He was an old and faithful servant of the house, entirely devoted to its interests. His master said a few words of explanation to him.
They aroused Mr. Hurde’s fears. Had some deep-laid treachery been at work?—some comprehensive scheme of duplicity been enacting for some time past, making a bankrupt house appear to be still a flourishing concern? If so, it could only have been done by falsifying the books: and that could only have been done by George Godolphin.
Mr. Hurde did not dare to give vent to his thoughts. Indeed, he did not seriously contemplate that they could be realities. But, in the uncertainty created, he deemed himself perfectly justified in mentioning to Mr. Godolphin the untoward occurrence of the previous day; the rude demand of the man for money, and the unpleasant expressions he had used of the state of Mr. George Godolphin’s affairs. He was clearing his throat to begin in his usual slow fashion, when Mr. Godolphin spoke.