"I'll do it for one and a half," said Mr. Edgar, yielding slightly to the claim of humanity, urged by the voice, that seemed to be coming nearer. Love of gain, after slight opposition, was satisfied. But the low, penetrating voice asked for something better still. "Weakness! Folly!" exclaimed Mr. Edgar. "I'd better make him a present of the money at once." It availed nothing. The voice could not be hushed. "One per cent! He couldn't get it done as low as that in the city." "He is a poor young man, and has a wife and four little children," said the voice. "Even the abstraction of legal interest from his hard earnings is defect enough; to lose twice that sum, will make a heavy draught on his profits, which, under the present competition in trade, are not large. He is honest and industrious, and by his useful labour is aiding the social well-being. Is it right for you to get his reward?--to take his profits, and add them to your already rich accumulations?" Mr. Edgar did not like these home questions, and tried to stop his ears, so that the voice could not find an entrance. But he tried in vain. "Bank rates on this note," continued the inward voice, "would not much exceed nine dollars. Even this is a large sum for a poor man to lose. Double the rate of interest, and the loss becomes an injury to his business, or the cause of seriously abridging his home comforts. And how much will nine dollars contribute to your happiness? Not so much as a jot or a tittle. You are unable, now, to spend your income." The young mechanic entered at this favourable moment. The money-lender pointed to a chair; then turned to his desk, and filled up, hurriedly, a check. Blakewell glanced at the amount thereof as it was handed to him, and an instant flush of surprise came into his face. "Haven't you made a mistake, Mr. Edgar?" said he. "In what respect?" "The note was for three hundred dollars, six months; and you have given me a check for two hundred and ninety dollars, forty-three cents." "I've charged you bank interest," said Mr. Edgar, with a feeling of pleasure at his heart so new, that it sent a glow along every nerve and fibre of his being. "Bank interest! I did not expect this, sir," replied the young man, visibly moved. "For less than one and a half per cent. a month, I have not been able to obtain money. One per cent, I would have paid you cheerfully. Eighteen dollars saved! How much good that sum will do me! I could not have saved it--or, I might say, have received it--more opportunely. This is a kindness for which I shall ever remember you gratefully." Grasping the money-lender's hand, he shook it warmly; then turned and hurried away.