"Can you promise me this?"
"I swear it. I will sell the reversion of the legacy left me by my aunt Maitland, which falls due at her husband's death. It is eight hundred pounds; I will sell it for half its value to meet the demand. But to accomplish this, more time is required than I can just now command. Will this satisfy you?"
"It will. But woe to us both if you deceive me!"
"Can you imagine me such an ungrateful scoundrel?"
"You have betrayed me once before. If you fail this time, Godfrey, you will not die alone."
Anthony went to the desk, and unlocked it with a trembling hand. As he opened the drawer which contained the money, a sudden chill crept through his veins, and he paused, irresolute how to act. "It is not theft," he argued to himself; "it is but a loan, which will soon be repaid. A few hours cannot make much difference. Long before Frederic requires the money, it will be replaced."
He had gone too far to recede. Godfrey was already at his side and eagerly seized the golden prize. With tears of real or feigned gratitude he left the house, and Anthony had leisure to reflect upon what he had done.
The more he pondered over the rash act, the more imprudent and criminal it appeared; and when, by the next post, he received a letter from Frederic, informing him that he had made a very advantageous purchase of land, and requested him to transmit the money he had left in his keeping, his misery was complete.
"Unfortunate Anthony!" he cried. "Into what new dangers will your unhappy destiny hurry you!"
Snatching up his hat, he rushed forth in quest of his unprincipled relative.