I acted
mechanically, under the influence of the vague inexplicable fear
which the man's extraordinary parting words had aroused in me,
without stopping to analyze my own sensations--almost without
knowing what I was about. In three minutes from the time when the
stranger had closed my door the clerk had started for the bank,
and I was alone again in my room, with my hands as cold as ice
and my head all in a whirl.
I did not recover my control over myself until the clerk came
back with the notes in his hand. He had just got to the bank in
the nick of time. As the cash for my draft was handed to him over
the counter, the clock struck five, and he heard the order given
to close the doors.
When I had counted the bank-notes and had locked them up in the
safe, my better sense seemed to come back to me on a sudden.
Never have I reproached myself before or since as I reproached
myself at that moment. What sort of return had I made for Mr.
Fauntleroy's fatherly kindness to me? I had insulted him by the
meanest, the grossest distrust of the honor and the credit of his
house, and that on the word of an absolute stranger, of a
vagabond, if ever there was one yet. It was madness--downright
madness in any man to have acted as I had done. I could not
account for my own inconceivably thoughtless proceeding.
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