"Ah, just you be bad as I have been, Saul, my lad, and perhaps you'll be snaggy and sneery. By George! that seems to send life through your veins. What did you say the company was?" "Company be hanged! Am I the sort of fellow to persuade a man to invest in some visionary company with dividends _in futuro_? Solid mercantile affair, as you can find out for yourself in the city." "Ah, well, we'll see about it. Pass that decanter." Saul pushed the little cut-glass vessel across the table, and the convalescent was in the act of taking it, when a hand was laid upon his and held it fast. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. FOR GERTRUDE'S SAKE. "Beg pardon, Miss Gertrude, could I speak to you for a minute?" "You will excuse me a moment, Mrs Hampton?" "Oh, of course, my dear. Don't stand upon ceremony with me." Gertrude rose with an anxious expression of countenance, and followed the old housekeeper from the room. "Is anything the matter, Denton?" "No, my dear, only that Master George rang for the spirits, and I've taken 'em down the garden where they're sitting under the big cedar." "They?" "Yes, my dear, Mr Saul's there. He saw him in the garden, I s'pose, and didn't come up to the house. And I thought, perhaps, a word from you might keep him out of temptation, my dear; for them spirits do tempt him." "Yes, yes, I'll go, Denton," said Gertrude quickly; and she hurried down the garden, her steps inaudible on the closely shorn lawn, and came round behind the bushes in time to lay her hand upon that of the would-be suicide. "What the dev--" "George, dear." "Oh, it's you, Gertie. Well, what's the matter?" "Mr Saul Harrington," said the girl, flushing, as she turned upon the visitor, "have you forgotten Doctor Lawrence's words?" "I? Oh, no," said Saul uneasily, "but doctors exaggerate, and dear George here is all the better for a refreshing draught." "It is not true," she retorted angrily. "George, dear, indeed, indeed it is not good for you." "Nonsense, my darling," he cried, drawing her to him so that she stood close to his chair, and he placed his arm about her waist. "You are too particular. Here, just a little more." "No, no," said Gertrude fiercely. "You are so much better now. Don't, don't! for my sake, don't?" "Hang it! I want only one glass," he began angrily, with his brow growing knotty with a network of veins. "Don't be so confoundedly--" "George, dear, for my sake," she whispered. The change was magical. "Ah, well, then, I will not, pet. But it would not have hurt me." Saul Harrington's countenance was a study during this colloquy; his face grew more sallow, and a peculiar nervous twitching set in about the corners of his eyes. At one time he seemed to be suffering intense agony, but by an effort he preserved his calmness, and a faint, sardonic smile played about his lips, as his companion assumed the manner of one betrothed toward Gertrude, but those lips looked white all the same.