Denham groaned inaudibly and said, “Well, I’ve no objection to give twenty pounds.”
“How much?” said the old gentleman, as though he had heard imperfectly, at the same time pulling out a notebook.
There was a slight peculiarity in the tone of the question that induced Denham to say he would give fifty pounds.
“Ah! fifty,” said Summers, preparing to write, “thank you, Mr Denham (here he looked up gravely and added), the subject, however, is one which deserves liberal consideration at the hands of society in general; especially of ship owners. Shall we say a hundred, my dear sir?”
Denham was about to plead poverty, but recollecting that he had just admitted that his friend had been the means of saving a thousand pounds to the business, he said, “Well, let it be a hundred,” with the best grace he could.
“Thank you, Mr Denham, a thousand thanks,” said the old gentleman, shaking his friend’s hand, and quitting the room with the active step of a man who had much more business to do that day before dinner.
Mr Denham returned to the perusal of his letters with the feelings of a man who has come by a heavy loss. Yet, strange to say, he comforted himself on his way home that evening with the thought that, after all, he had done a liberal thing! that he had “given away a hundred pounds sterling in charity.”
Given it! Poor Denham! he did not know that, up to that period, he had never given away a single farthing of his wealth in the true spirit of liberality—although he had given much in the name of charity.