Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 132: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AN UNSETTLED ACCOUNT. 125. _ “ Daunt,” he said, trying hard to keep his voice as cold and even as that of the younger man, “ I have an idea of what you have come for, and I say for your own sake, don’t—don’t go back to the past. It can do no good! Don’t quarrel with me, don’t rake up old scores; for pity’s sake, not now!” . “IT have no intention of quarreling,’ Daunt answered, seating himself on the other side of the fire. “I have a few words to say, if you will be so good as to listen.” | : Chris bowed his head. “ What happened today,” Daunt continued, with that almost wooden im- movability of voice and manner, “has at last made it possible for us to go into this matter. During her life many reasons, which I need not enter into, made it quite impossible.” Chris assented—he began to wonder what was coming next. There was an elemént of unusualness in this preliminary. “ T have heard from your tradespeople and friends,” went on Daunt, “ that you settle your bills promptly when you recognize the justice of the claim. My account happens to be for a considerable amount, and is at present un- paid. It remains for you to allow its justice, which 1s why I am here.” “If you want to fight me,” Chris cried angrily, “ say so at once, without all this metaphor! ” / ‘If you fail to see the justice of my claim,” replied Daunt, moved not a whit by the other’s excitement, “ I will shoot you when and where you please. If not, it will not be necessary.” He took from his breast pocket a folded paper and spread it on the table beside him. Chris watched him curiously, with a deep foreboding at his heart. “I must beg you to hear me with patience,” said Daunt, raising his cold eyes to the other’s face. “ I have made a note of the items. I will be as brief as possible.” ae “ Before you go on,” said Chris, leaning forward and speaking with des- perate earnestness, “ hear me a moment. Your mother loved me. I don’t defend myself, but have some pity on me! See, I am pleading before you as if you were my judge, and you will not understand! Speak of it if you must, but not in this way. Give meachance. Don’t throw it all on my shoulders. Don’t you see there are things no man can decide—not you, nor I, nor any one? Remember, she loved me!” He stopped, exhausted. He had spoken as much to drown the ticking of the clock as to stop Daunt. ‘* Alice—mad !—Daunt—drunk !"’ He covered his ears to shut it out. What had made him so weak, so humble? Chris could not have told. The first shade of feeling he had shown quivered on Daunt’s face now and seemed to stifle him. He leaned back a moment, very white, and Chris, in his own agony, was sorry for the boy's suffering. There.was a decanter of wine on the table. He drew it toward him, filled a glass, and pushed it across to Daunt. Daunt struck the glass from the table and dashed it to pieces on the floor. “ You are worse than even I thought of you!” he cried, swayed with sud- GOH GoOOO ‘SS COLNT