The old man started, and apologised for his inattention.
“A singular circumstance has occurred beneath my roof to-day,” he said, “and it has surprised, mystified, and upset me—yes, much disturbed me, when I hoped to have been really more gratified and happy than I have been for a long time. When you have finished your communication, I will take your opinion upon the matter.”
Nathan Gomer peered under his eyebrows at him, and stroked his chin. He noted, with seeming pleasure, the vexed expression the old man’s features wore; but he made no allusion to it, nor even to the incident respecting which he was to be called upon to give his opinion. He said, in a dry manner—
“I stated to you the present position of Grahame, and I have come to consult with you upon our future course with respect to that unhappy man and his family.
“But I did not hear you, Gomer,” exclaimed Wilton, quickly; “pray repeat it! How stands now the proud man who would have destroyed me and mine?”
“Low, indeed; broken, beggared, and outcast!” returned Nathan, with emphasis.
A grim smile sat on Wilton’s features.
“Retribution!” he muttered, “retribution!”
“A heavy one, Eustace Wilton,” said Nathan, with a sharpness in his tone not usual with him. “He has been struck to the heart in his family as well as in his fortune. I have small pity for the man, for he paused not at the most foul crimes to accomplish his selfish ends; but I cannot look at the stain which has befallen the female members of the family without a feeling of pain and regret. They were, at least, innocent of harm to you, in thought or act.”
“My children were innocent of wrong to Grahame,” said Wilton, harshly, “but he spared them not.”