re, everywhere; the whole machinery of being set easily in motion
again, and no harm done to any one: this was the real force of the
idea--no harm done to any one! Long before the three months were out,
that hundred pounds--a paltry business, a nothing, when a man had time
before him--could be got, one might make sure; and where was the harm?
_He_ would never know it. Poor Cotsdean need never have the slightest
burden upon his conscience. Here, in the stillness of his own room, it
could all be done as easily as possible, without a soul being taken into
confidence, except that bloodless wretch in the glass with his staring
face, Mr. May said to himself, only dimly sensible that this wretch was
himself. No, it would harm no one, that was clear; it never need be
known to any one. It was a mere act of borrowing, and borrowing was
never accounted a crime; borrowing not money even, only a name, and for
so short a time. No harm; it could do no one in the world any harm.

While these reasonings went on in his mind, his heart dropped down again
into its right place; his pulse ceased to beat like the pistons of a
steam-engine; he came gradually to himself. After all, what was it? Not
such a great matter; a loan of something which would neither enrich him
who took, nor impoverish him who, without being aware of it, should
give--a nothing! Why people should entertain the prejudices they did on
the subject, it was difficult to see, though, perhaps, he allowed
candidly to himself, it might be dangerous for any ignorant man to
follow the same strain of thinking; but in the hands of a man who was
not ignorant, who knew, as he himself did, exactly how far to go, and
what might be _innocently_ done; _innocently_ done--in his own mind he
put a great stress on this--why, what was it? A thing which might be of
use in an emergency, and which was absolutely no harm.

Mr. May was late in leaving his room that night. It was understood in
the family that he "was writing," and all was kept very quiet in the
house; yet not sufficiently quiet, for Janey, when she brought in the
coffee, placing it on the table close to the door, was startled by the
fierceness of the exclamation with which her father greeted her
entrance.

"What do you want prying here?" he said, dropping his hand over the
writing.

"Prying himself!" said Janey, furiously, when she was up again in the
cheerful light of the drawing-room; "a great deal there is to pry into
in that