“I have, indeed,” answered the Squire, with a sigh. He rose to go.
“And Miss Culpepper, is she quite well?” said Mr. Cope; rising also. “I have not had the pleasure of seeing her for some little time.”
The Squire faced fiercely round. “Look you here, Horatio Cope,” he said; “you and I have been friends of many years’ standing. Fast friends, I thought, whom no reverses of fortune would have separated. Finding myself in a little strait, I come to you for assistance. To whom else should I apply? It is idle to say that you could not help me out of my difficulty, were you willing to do so.”
“No, believe me——” interrupted the banker; but Mr. Culpepper went on without deigning to notice the interruption.
“You have not chosen to do so, and there’s an end of the matter, so far. Our friendship must cease from this day. You will not be sorry that it is so. The insults and slights you have put upon me of late have all had that end in view, and you are doubtless grateful that they have had the desired effect.”
“You judge me very hardly,” said the banker.
“I judge you from your own actions, and from them alone,” said the Squire, sternly. “Another point, and I have done. Your son was engaged to my daughter, with your full sanction and consent. That engagement, too, must come to an end.”
“With all my heart,” said the banker, quietly.
“For some time past your son, acting, no doubt, on instructions from his father, has been gradually paving the way for something of this kind. There have been no letters from him for five weeks, and the last three or four that he sent were not more than as many lines each. No doubt he will feel grateful at being released from an engagement that had become odious to him; and on Miss Culpepper’s side the release will be an equally happy one. She had learned long ago to estimate at his true value the man to whom she had so rashly pledged her hand. She had found out, to her bitter cost, that she had promised herself to a person who had neither the instincts nor the education of a gentleman—to an individual, in fact, who was little better than a common boor.”
This last thrust touched the banker to the quick. His face flushed deeply. He crossed the room and called down an India-rubber tube: “What is the amount of Mr. Culpepper’s balance?”