378
GILLIAN.
by a cabinet, filled with large packages of papers and deeds.
Seated by the table was a tall, thin man, in whose face there was a singular mingling of the lines and furrows, which long years of constant occupation will bring upon the face, with a serene moral composure which would have deceived even a keen observer.
But now in that solitude the calmness which a long life of dissimulation had given the coun¬ tenance was gone, and the undercurrent of pas¬ sion showed through like a turbid bottom seen beneath smooth waters.
That man was Nathan Lawrence, the influen¬ tial partner in the house in which Michael Hurst was employed, and the person whom the young man had so unexpectedly seen at the gambling house upon the previous night.
He was sitting with paper before him and *a pen in his hand, but he had not yet written a line, although it was full an hour before that he had taken his seat there.
The events of the past evening had evidently left an impression upon him, which he could not readily shake off, for his losses had been large, even for one of his great wealth, and he might well pause to reflect upon the consequences of many nights of misfortune like that.
In the eyes of the world, Nathan Lawrence possessed the reputation of being a moral man— not religious perhaps in the strict sense of the word—but perfectly upright and conscientious; to be seen every Sunday in his seat in church, uttering the responses with the utmost fervor, always foremost in every public charity or philanthropic act which was sounded abroad. In short, he was a man who possessed the esteem of all who knew him; and when once or twice strange reports had gone abroad concerning him, the source of which no one could explain, they had been indignantly refuted by his large circle of acquaintance, and for a time he had risen almost to the dignity of a martyr from that attempted persecution.
In the business world no man’s oredit stood higher. He was the head of one of the most in¬ fluential firms in the country, and his slightest word was considered equal to the bond of almost any common man.
This was the man whom young Hurst had encountered at the gambling house, and had he known by whom he had been watched, the desperate condition and daring character of the youth, he would scarcely have sat at that table with so much composure, dwelling only upon the sums which he had lost, for his reputation was dearer far to him than wealth or life itself.
While he sat there, a low knock sounded at the door, and in obedience to his summons a domestic entered the room, and paused before him with grave respect.
“What is it, Peters?” Mr. Lawrence asked, after a second’s silence, laying down his pen, and seeming to rouse himself from some important calculation.
“There is a gentleman below who wishes to speak with you, sir?”
“Did he give his name, Peters?”
“Mr. Hurst, sir.”
“Hurst? What can he want? Did you tell him that I was extremely occupied?”
“Yes, sir; but he said that he had just come from the counting-house, and wished to see you on some business of importance.”
“Show him up, Peters, and remember I am at home to no one else.”
The servant left the room, and Mr. Lawrence again took up his pen, but his hand shook so that he could not frame a letter, although his face looked cold and stern as before. The past night had left him strangely nervous; and simple as was the fact of his clerk calling upon him, he was startled at the sound of his name.
In a moment the servant again opened the door, and young Hurst entered with his usual air of careless composure.
Mr. Lawrence turned slowly round with his most dignified manner, and surveyed him from head to foot.
“Good morning, Mr. Hurst,” he said, with a proud blandness; “my servant said that you desired particularly to see me. Business from the office, I suppose?”
Hurst returned his glance without faltering, and replied with the familiar ease of an equal,
“Partially so, Mr. Lawrence, partially so.”
The rich man looked at him in astonishment. It was the first time one of his clerks had ever ventured to address him, except in a tone of the utmost respect, and he could not comprehend the singular assurance of this young man.
“I am very much occupied this morning,” he said, with pompous dignity; “let me hear your message at once.”
“I have none, sir,” replied Hurst, with the same unchanging assurance, “I always employ my servant in anything of that sort.”
“Mr. Hurst!” exclaimed the man of respectability, “what is the meaning of such language? and why have you intruded upon me this morning?”
“Ah, that is the bore of business; one never has a moment for himself or friends.”
“Sir, I am not in the habit of classing my
