Part 49 (2/2)
”I don't want any free gift. At the same time, I don't want to sacrifice my life if there is any chance of saving it.”
”You seem to set great store by it.”
”It is all I have. And of late I have not been able to shake off the conviction that I am responsible to G.o.d for it.”
”I thought as much,” Muller said, with a sneer.
Rufus raised his eyes questioningly.
”Turning Christian again with Christian results,” he went on. ”I caught an echo of the jargon the last time I called on you, and feared you would turn coward, as all these religious people do.”
”Don't let us quarrel, Muller,” Rufus said, mildly. ”I confess I had not much hope that you would be able to help me, so I shall return not greatly disappointed.”
”I would help you a thousand times if I could,” Muller replied, with a great burst of simulated friendliness, ”but, alas! I cannot do impossibilities.”
”Very good, I will not trouble you again.”
”And you will not burst the thing up by awaking suspicion?”
”Not if I can help it.”
”And take a word of advice. Get rid of those silly notions about accountability and all that rubbish. They don't become a man of your intellectual calibre.”
”Thank you: we must follow the light that is in us. Good afternoon and good-bye.”
”Good-bye,” Muller said, lugubriously, grasping his outstretched hand.
”I'm sorry, but I'm helpless.”
Rufus did not reply nor did he look back, and a moment later Muller heard his footsteps slowly descending the stairs.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE RETURN OF THE SQUIRE
Rufus was conscious as he descended the stairs that his feelings towards Felix Muller had undergone considerable change. Felix was not the close and attached friend that he had imagined him to be. Of late he had revealed himself in a new light. It was no doubt true that he had taken considerable risks on his account, but he began to fear that these risks had not been taken on the score of friends.h.i.+p merely. It seemed to Rufus that the pa.s.sion for speculation and the desire for gain had been the chief factors in the case.
”I think he might have helped me,” Rufus said to himself, regretfully.
”If he had really cared for my friends.h.i.+p he would have set my life before most things. I don't think my death will trouble him in the least.”
At the street door he paused for a few moments, and contemplated the busy street stretching right and left. It was market-day, and the youth of the entire country side had poured itself into the town. Up and down they sauntered--lads and maidens--aimless, vacant, but entirely happy.
Hands in pockets, arms round waists, straws between teeth, caps tilted to the back of heads. The world for them was the best of all possible places, and Fore Street, Redbourne, on a market-day the most wonderful place in the world.
Suddenly the crowd divided that a pair of horses drawing an open carriage might pa.s.s up the street. The carriage was empty. The coachman and footman sat stiff and erect in blue livery, and surveyed the scene with a look of pitying condescension on their faces.
<script>