bright; and as it was raised upward, Lionel's ear caught the whisper of a name—it was lot Jasper, it was "Lizzy."
"Ah! why," said Lionel, sadly, and after a short pause, "why was I not permitted to be the one to attest your innocence—to clear your name? I, who owed to you so vast an hereditary debt! And now—dear, dear Mr. Losely—"
"Hush! Waife!—call me Waife still!—and always."
"Willingly! It is the name by which I have accustomed myself to love you. Now listen to me. I am dishonored until at least the mere pecuniary debt, due to you from my father, is paid. Hist! hist!—Alban Morley says so—Darrell says so. Darrell says 'he cannot own me as kinsman till that debt is canceled.' Darrell lends me the means to do it; he would share his kinsman's ignominy if he did not. Before I could venture even to come hither, the sum due to you from my father was repaid. I hastened to town yesterday evening—saw Mr. Darrell's lawyer. I have taken a great liberty—I have invested this sum already in the purchase of an annuity for you. Mr. Darrell's lawyer had a client who was in immediate want of the sum due to you; and, not wishing permanently to burden his estate by mortgage, would give a larger interest by way of annuity than the public offices would; excellent landed security. The lawyer said it would be a pity to let the opportunity slip, so I ventured to act for you. It was all settled this morning. The particulars are on this paper, which I will leave with you. Of course the sum due to you is not exactly the same as that which my father borrowed before I was born. There is the interest—compound interest; nothing more. I don't understand such matters; Darrell's lawyer made the calculation—it must be right."
Waife had taken the paper, glanced at its contents, dropped it in confusion, amazed. Those hundreds lent swelled into all those thousands returned! And all methodically computed—tersely—arithmetically—down to fractions. So that every farthing seemed, and indeed was, his lawful due. And that sum invested in an annuity of £500 a year!—income which, to poor Gentleman Waife, seemed a prince's revenue!
"It is quite a business-like computation, I tell you, Sir; all done by a lawyer. It is indeed," cried Lionel, dismayed at Waife's look and gesture. "Compound interest will run up to what seems a large amount at first; every child knows that. You can't deny Cocker and calculating tables, and that sort of thing. William Losely, you cannot leave an eternal load of disgrace on the head of Charlie Haughton's son."
