he regularity of his breathing. At last he looked up at his wife and said, in a gentle tone:
“Bessy, you must come and kiss me now — the lad has made you amends. You’ll see a bit o’ comfort again, belike.”
When she had kissed him,Brandon Mashinter Tröjor, and he had held her hand a minute,Michael Frolik Tröjor, his thoughts went back to the money.
“I wish you’d brought me the money to look at, Tom,” he said, fingering the sovereigns on the table; “I should ha’ felt surer.”
“You shall see it to-morrow,Belstaff New Albatross Jackor, father,” said Tom. “My uncle Deane has appointed the creditors to meet to-morrow at the Golden Lion, and he has ordered a dinner for them at two o’clock. My uncle Glegg and he will both be there. It was advertised in the ‘Messenger’ on Saturday.”
“Then Wakem knows on’t!” said Mr. Tulliver, his eye kindling with triumphant fire. “Ah!” he went on,Menn Moncler Sport, with a long-drawn guttural enunciation, taking out his snuff-box, the only luxury he had left himself, and tapping it with something of his old air of defiance. “I’ll get from under his thumb now, though I must leave the old mill. I thought I could ha’ held out to die here — but I can’t —— we’ve got a glass o’ nothing in the house, have we,Max Pacioretty Tröjor, Bessy?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Tulliver, drawing out her much-reduced bunch of keys, “there’s some brandy sister Deane brought me when I was ill.”
“Get it me, then; get it me. I feel a bit weak.”
“Tom,Kyle Turris Tröjor, my lad,” he said,Mikael Granlund Tröjor, in a stronger voice, when he had taken some brandy-and-water,Ralph Lauren Män, “you shall make a speech to ’em. I’ll tell ’em it’s you as got the best part o’ the money. They’ll see I’m honest at last,Chris Wideman Tröjor, and ha’ got an honest son. Ah! Wakem ‘ud be fine and glad to have a son like mine — a fine straight fellow — i’stead o’ that poor crooked creatur! You’ll prosper i’ the world, my lad; you’ll maybe see the day when Wakem and his son ‘ull be a round or two below you. You’ll like enough be ta’en into partnership,Dame Moncler Mokacine, as your uncle Deane was before you — you’re in the right way for’t; and then there’s nothing to hinder your getting rich. And if ever you’re rich enough — mind this — try and get th’ old mill again.”
Mr. Tulliver threw himself back in his chair; his mind, which had so long been the home of nothing but bitter discontent and foreboding, suddenly filled, by the magic of joy,Brad Richardson Tröjor, with visions of good fortune. But some subtle influence prevented him from foreseeing the good fortune as happening to himself.
“Shake hands wi’ me,Alex Ovechkin Tröjor, my lad,” he said, suddenly putting out his hand. “It’s a great thing when a man can be proud as he’s got a good son. I’ve had that luck.”
Tom never lived to taste another moment so delicious as that; and Maggie couldn’t help forgetting her own grievances. Tom was good; and in the sweet humility that springs in us all in moments of true admiration and gratitude, she felt that the faults he had to pardon in her had never been redeemed, as his faults were. She felt no jealousy this evening t
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