Part 88 (2/2)
It was quite out of the usual order for these books to come under the inspection (unless at stated times) of Mr. G.o.dolphin. The very asking for them implied a doubt on George--at least, it sounded so to that gentleman's all-conscious ears. He pointed out the books to Isaac in silence, with the end of his pen.
Isaac Hastings, carried them to Mr. G.o.dolphin, and left them with him.
Mr. G.o.dolphin turned them rapidly over and over: they appeared, so far as he could see at a cursory glance, to be all right; the balance on the credit side weighty, the available funds next door to inexhaustible, the Bank altogether flouris.h.i.+ng. Thomas took greater shame to himself for having doubted his brother. While thus engaged, an observation suddenly struck him--that all the entries were in George's handwriting. A few minutes later, George came into the room.
”George,” he exclaimed, ”how industrious you have become!”
”Industrious!” repeated George, looking round for an explanation.
”All these entries are yours. Formerly you would not have done as much in a year.”
George laughed. ”I used to be incorrigibly idle. It was well to turn over a new leaf.”
He--George--was going out of the room again, but his brother stopped him. ”Stay here, George. I want you.”
Mr. G.o.dolphin pointed to a chair as he spoke, and George sat down.
George, who seemed rather inclined to have the fidgets, took out his penknife and began cutting at an offending nail.
”Are you in any embarra.s.sment, George?”
”In embarra.s.sment? I! Oh dear, no.”
Thomas paused. Dropping his voice, he resumed in a lower tone, only just removed from a whisper:
”Have you paper flying about the discount markets?”
George G.o.dolphin's fair face grew scarlet. Was it with conscious emotion?--or with virtuous indignation? Thomas a.s.sumed it to be the latter. How could he give it an opposite meaning from the indignant words which accompanied it. A burst of indignation which Thomas stopped.
”Stay, George. There is no necessity to put yourself out. I never supposed it to be anything but false when a rumour of it reached my ear.
Only tell me the truth quietly.”
Possibly George would have been glad to tell the truth, and get so much of the burden off his mind. But he did not dare. He might have shrunk from the terrible confession at any time to his kind, his good, his upright brother: but things had become too bad to be told to him now. If the expose did come, why, it must, and there would be no help for it: tell him voluntarily he could not. By some giant strokes of luck and policy, it might yet be averted: how necessary, then, to keep it from Thomas G.o.dolphin!
”The truth is,” said George, ”that I don't know what you mean. To what rumour are you alluding?”
”It has been said that you have a good deal of paper in the market. The report was spoken, and it reached my ears.”
”It's not true. It's all an invention,” cried George vehemently. ”Should I be such a fool? There are some people who live, it's my belief, by trying to work ill to others. Mr. Hastings was with me this morning. He had heard a rumour that something was wrong with the Bank.”
”With the Bank! In what way?”
”Oh, of course, people must have gathered a version of the loss here, and put their own charitable constructions upon it,” replied George, returning to his usual careless mode of speech. ”The only thing to do is, to laugh at them.”
”As you can laugh at the rumour regarding yourself and the bills?”
remarked Thomas.
”As I can and do,” answered easy George. Never more easy, more apparently free from care than at that moment. Thomas G.o.dolphin, truthful himself, open as the day, not glancing to the possibility that George could be deliberately otherwise, felt all his confidence return to him. George went out, and Thomas turned to the books again.
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