The pale man, Jordan, rushed at him and thrust his hand over his mouth.
‘Curse not,’ he said vehemently; then in a subdued tone, ‘Listen to reason, and you will feel pity and love for my little one who inherits the name and blood of your Eve. I have laid by money: I am in no want. It shall be the portion of my little Eve, and I will lend it you for seventeen years. This day, the 24th of June, seventeen years hence, you shall repay me the whole sum without interest. I am not a Jew to lend on usury. I shall want the money then for my Eve, as her dower. She’—he held up his head for a moment—‘she shall not be portionless. In the meantime take and use the money, and when you walk over the fields you have purchased with it,—bless the name.’
A flush came in the sallow face of Ezekiel Babb. He rose to his feet and held out his hand.
‘You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds?’
‘I will lend you fifteen hundred.’
‘I will swear to repay the sum in seventeen years. You shall have a mortgage.’
‘On this day.’
‘This 24th day of June, so help me God.’
A ray of orange light, smiting through the window, was falling high up the wall. The hands of the men met in the beam, and the reflection was cast on their faces,—on the dark hard face of Ezekiel, on the white quivering face of Ignatius.
‘And you bless,’ said the latter, ‘you bless the name of Eve, and the blood that follows it.’