"Would not a less sum satisfy you?" and the miser eyed fearfully the weapon of offence, on which his son continued to lean, and again drew forth the key.
"Not one farthing less."
Mark glanced hurriedly round the apartment, and listened with intense anxiety for the sound of expected footsteps. The sigh of the old trees that bent over the hovel, swept occasionally by the fitful autumnal blast alone broke the deep silence, and rendered it doubly painful.
"Where can the fellow stay?" he muttered to himself; then as if a thought suddenly struck him, he turned to his eon, and addressed him in a more courteous tone. "Anthony, I cannot give you this great, sum to-night. But come to me at this hour to-morrow night, and it shall be yours."
"On what surety?"
"My word."
"I dare not trust to that. You may deceive me."
"When was Mark Hurdlestone ever known to utter a lie?" and a dark red flush of anger mounted to the miser's face.
"When he forged the news of his brother's death, to murder by slow degrees my unhappy mother," said Anthony, scornfully. "The spirits of the dead are near us in this hour; silently, but truly, they bear witness against you."
The old man groaned, and sunk his face between his hands as his son continued;