"Half my fortune!" he repeated. "It's parting with half my life; it's
saying good-by forever to my dearest friend! My money has been such a
comfort to me, Richard; such a pleasant occupation for my mind. I know
no reading so interesting and so instructive as the reading of one's
Banker's Book. To watch the outgoings on one side," said Sir Joseph,
with a gentle and pathetic solemnity, "and the incomings on the
other--the sad lessening of the balance at one time, and the cheering
and delightful growth of it at another--what absorbing reading! The best
novel that ever was written isn't to be mentioned in a breath with it.
I can not, Richard, I really can _not_, see my nice round balance shrink
up to half the figure that I have been used to for a lifetime. It may
be weak of me," proceeded Sir Joseph, evidently feeling that it was not
weak of him at all, "but we all have our tender place, and my Banker's
Book is mine. Besides, it isn't as if you wanted it. If you wanted it,
of course--but you don't want it. You are a rich man; you are
marrying my dear Natalie for love, not for money. You and she and my
grandchildren will have it all at my death. It _can_ make no difference
to you to wait a few years till the old man's chair at the fireside
is empty. Will you say the fourth part, Richard, instead of the half?
Twenty thousand," pleaded Sir Joseph, piteously. "I can bear twenty
thousand off. For God's sake don't ask me for more!"

The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly into an ironical smile.
He was quite as fond of his money as Sir Joseph. He ought to have felt
for his client; but rich men have no sympathy with one another. Mr.
Dicas openly despised Sir Joseph.

There was a pause. The robin-redbreasts in the shrubbery outside must
have had prodigious balances at their bankers; they hopped up on the
window-sill so fearlessly; they looked in with so little respect at the
two rich men.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Richard," proceeded Sir Joseph. "Speak out.
Is it yes or no?"

Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, and burst out on a
sudden with the answer which had been so strangely delayed.

"Twenty thousand with all my heart!" he said. "On this condition,
Graybrooke, that every farthing of it is settled on Natalie, and on her
children after her. Not a half-penny to me!" he cried magnanimously, in
his brassiest tones. "Not a half-penny to me!"

Let no man say the rich are heartless. Sir Joseph seiz