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Entered acconling ,o Act of Parliament of Canada, in the Office of the Minister cf Agriculture, by William Brvcb, in the year one thousami eight hundred and eighty-seven. TORONTO : WILLIAM ERYCE. CONTENTS. I.— Tni Maw m Possrssioit ..•,,! II.— Mh. RowLB AMD I BECOME FRISTTDg ... ft III.— Mr. BiiAKsroRD shows mn Teeth .... 9 IV.- -I BECOME A LaWTBb's ClBRK .... 16 v.— Mu. Blakkford SurrERs, aio) I Catch tiim Echo . 23 VI.— Uhdeb Mart's Mask 27 VII.— Drbams or THE Great Magnbt .... 31 VIII.— I TAKB A Bold Stbp 37 IX. — On THB Ko/D TO LONDOR • . • . , 44 X.— Aloro thb Towiro-path . . . , , fiO XI.— Mr Vagabond Lipb combs to Aif End , , , 67 XII.— My First Nwht in Town gj XIII.— P.O. Rbvitts .66 XI V. — BREAKrAST WITH THB LaW, AND VHAT FoLLOWBD . 72 XV.—" BoTs Wanted " 75 XVI.— Plans por thb Future 83 XVII.— Mt first Literary Kpportb. I mare anothbb Friend 90 XVIII.— My Friend Jbm Smith mares me- Ambitious , 96 XIX. — WiLLiAlf Revitts on Lessons , , , .101 XX.— The Wayeegoobb ••..,, 106 XXI. — In thb Forest . . . , , , .113 XXII.— William Revitts is Angry . , , , ng XXIII.— Mr. Hallrtt at Home . . . , , . 121 XXIV.— Linny's Secret ....,,, 127 XXV.— SisVEN-AND-A-HALP AND A BONVS . . , . 132 XJtVI.- Sunshine , 141 XXVIL— Linny is Oct Latb ..•,,, 145 1XVIII.-.WB CCMPLKB tu Modil 14A coyrEiXTS, ;v ' CBAP. XXIX.— Arothbr WAKsrvL Nioht . • XXX. — Rbtitts' NuRsa abritm . • XXXT. — How Mary Brokr Dowir . • XXXII.— Coming Oft .... XXXIII. — I HAVE ANOTHIR LlSSON IN LoVB . XXXIV'. — I TARB THE Ne«V8 TO MT FrIENDS XXXV.— I BUILD A CaSTLB IN THE AlR XXXVI.— Mr. Jabez Rowlb's Monet Matters XXXVII.— An Angbt Farting XXXVIII.— A Wbddino Trip .... XXXIX.— WiLTilAM RBVITT8 18 EOCENTRIC XL. — HAiiLBTT'ft News . XLI.>^Trb Bbidbgboom's Rbtubn . . XLII.-— A Question of Law . . • XLIII.— A SCBNB XLIV.— I AM Forgiven .... XLV. — Hallbtt's New Landlord . . XLVI. — LiNNY Awakes .... XLVII. — Miss Carr hears thb Truth XL VIII. — An Invitation .... XLIX. — ^Mr. Jabez undertakes a Commission L. — Mr. Rowlb begins his Task LI. — Mr. Lister is Moved On . , LII. — Mr. Jabez has a Spasm LIII. — My Visitor LIV. — Peter Rowle's Bargain . LV. — Thb Day of Triumph LVI.-rJoHif Lister's Triumph LVII. — I ni^i> I have a Temper LVXII.— The. Crisis . LIX. — Mx Inheritance LX.— AtI,ast! . LXI. — M,T Meeting with my Enemy . , LXIL-tMus Care has another Offer tAom . . 153 • • 169 . 166 109 . 171 178 . . . 183 186 . 19.3 . . 196 , . . 205 . . 209 > . . sa* 219 . 223 227 . 231 234 . 238 244 . 249 252 . 259 264 . 266 274 . 277 283 . . 287 294 . 300 303 , 310 316 A;i .; r. 162 109 . 166 109 171 m 188 186 193 196 , 205 209 . ai* 219 . 223 227 . 231 234 . 238 244 . 249 252 . 259 264 . 266 274 . 277 283 . 287 294 . 300 303 . 310 316 • V- • V V THE STORY OF A>'TO\Y GPtACE. ( IIAPTEU I; TIIK MAN IN I'OSSKSS ON. Mr. Rowlr pjiine the day after tlu» fuiuTal, walltMin;' s^traijrlit in. un<l. iMKldiTi/j to conk, who opmjMl th»' door, hiiiisi^ up l''-^ sbahln hat in the hall. The\), to niv surprise, hr took it down ajfiiin,and after jrnzing into it as Mr. Uhikeford us»'d to ilo in his when he came over to our church, he turned it round, luiide an offer as if about to put it on wrong way first, reconsi<ifir<l the inaitur, put it on in the regular way, and as it .-^eemed to uie drew his sword. But it was not Ids sword, oi.ly a very I'lng L'hiy pipe which he had been carrying up his h»ft sleeve, with the huwl m his hand. Then, thrusting the said hand ijito his tail-pocket, he })rou^dit out a little roll of tobacco, upon which was printed, as [ afterwards saw, n small woodcut, and the conundrum, " When is a door not, a door K" " llo !" said cook; " I suppose you're the " "That's just what I am, my dear." said tiie stranger, interrupt- ing her; ** and my name's Howie. Introduced by Mr. iJlakeford ; and just fetch me a light." " Which you'd be<»tfetch this irentleniana lijlit,. Master Antony," said cook; "for I ain't going to hemean niystlf." As she spoke she made a sort of whirlwind in the hall, and whisked herself out of the place, .^lamming the door a^ the end t^uite loudly. " Wa.xey !" said Mr. Rowle, Inokintr lia?d at me, and shut tin;:' one eye in a peculiar way. " (i"t ii light. yr>untr nn r " *' Yes.," T said, feeling sorry that cf>ok >liould have been so rudi» to the visitor: and as I hurried into the stucly to get a match out of the little brojize stand, and lit the eurled-up wav tnp»»r that my father used to seal liis parti(!uhir l<»tiers. I found thiit Mr. Rowle had followed m^, turking litiU- l.ir> of tobacco in the pipn- W)wl u he came. Till-: 8T »i.V - !• A.N TO > 1 •.iwACK. He tlu'ii |»r(icHt'(lt'(l 1(1 l<if)k hImhiI. .»ttM.}i»'(l down and pnnpli*>d \\u>i h'lg InatlHT-roverpd rlmir, uttered a ^runt, took the taper, lit liis pipe, and beg-an to 8mf)ke. "Now then, squire," he «aid, " .suppose you and I have a look loiind." There wns siicli a rnlni nt-liomoness nlioiit him that the thought ^ ruck rne that he must somehow helnnjf to the place now; ana I Liiized nt him with a feelinp- nkiii to nwe. He was a little man in a loose rout, and his face put me jfreatly in mind of the cover of a new spelling-hook. He was dressed in black, and his tail-coat had an tnMi'inoii.sly high collar, which Miemed to ncl as a screen to the hack of hi.i half-bald head when lit» sat down, as he did frequently, to try the different chairs or s (fas. It never struck nie that the coat mifcht have been made for iiiiolher man. but that he had had it .shaped to come down to the tips of his fillers, and so keep him warm. When he had 'nkcn off his hat I had n(>ticed that his hair lay in streaks across ihe top of his head, at'.d the idea occurred to me that his name ini<>ht be .Jacob, becau.'^e he was in other re.spects so smooth. I follow* d Mr. Itowle as he proceeded to have what he called • a look round," and tliis consi.^tcd in g'oing from room to room, in • ■^ery one of whi( li he kept his hat on. and stood stnoking as he .rndually turned his eyes on everything it contained, ending with ;i ffiMint as of sat i refaction at what he saw. Every room was taken in turn, even to the kitchen, where our tiitry caused a sudden cessation (tf the conversation round the tea- 1 able, and the servants turned away their lieads with a look of • ontempt. " That'll do," said Mr. Tlowle quietly ; then, " Mary, my dear, you can bring me my tea in the study." No one ans'^-^red, and as we went back 1 remember thinking that if Mr. Ko.*'le was to be the new master at Cedar Hill ho wnuld soon .-^end our old .servajits away. He walked back, smok- ing all tlie time, and seated himself in my father's chair, staring iiard at me the while. "Shut the door, young im," he .«aid at last, and when I had obeyed, " .sit down, and make your mi.serahle life happy." My face began to work, and J had to battle hard to keep back the tears, as for a few minutes 1 could not sneak, but sat there feeling sure Mr. Rowle must think me sulky and strange; and it troubled me, for the old man seemed disposed to be kind. " Poor boy!" he said all at once, and his voice seemed to me to ( ome out of a cloud of smoke ; " so you've lost both your father and your mother ?" " Yes, sir ! " T said piteously. *• Hah ! so have I," said Mr. Rowle, and 'he went on smoking. ' was thinking as I tried to stare at him through the smoke, ill;, .M.\ \ i(.i,- l«'N. ;t iJint tliis must havf boon n ' t<rv ]'W<i ♦tn"- .;■•>. •' li -n 1c fjiiff Ktartlcd mo hy Hf-einiiii.' '•• J'':"! my f Imipjln^. ii> In* >iii(l mkIiU-hIv : *' V«'s; iIiuTm a loii^' linn- n^o." •' Ves, wir; I llioii^lit it uiii>t hv," I vii r !'• ^av ; ami tlieii llicn- was a l(»ii;r •'*i'i«'iice, during'' wlii( li I s.i i.fii' w.iii' in;^ t(» u" bwav, hut ni»t (larin^"" it> stir, lest Mi. !i'o\\l»' >li>ii;!il tliink me rw\r. and Htill Im» sinokiil <tii. "I SUV, \<U'ij^ iin," lit' «',\clnitii»'t|, mnlit'i: ni'' •»;>>•! mit i.t' a r»'V«'rie, in ^liicli I was tliiMkiii^j Iimw vi'Ni-'I nmmin:! v mM l-ni- Imm'II to Net' Mr. li'owle sinnlviiiy in , ill i lir liffl'-noins, '• 'p -mi you'd just couH' luM>' to slop, wliicli room siiuidil mhi -Ii tp ni ;- '* Tlu' h\\w room's tlu' Wi^'^^fst mid \\i>- b«->i, . ii,"' I -lii'I. " Imt I like tlie little pink room lii.' iii">(." '• Hall ! then the pink ifxii'i it must Iw." )i(> snil. scndinpr 'nt such a long puff of smoke thai I nvmj diinl ||/i\v Lis n < i.tli niii 1 have held it all. " I say, youn^ un. (lir.'i it liiii.- .M,:r\ lii(.ii;^lit up my tea ? " '* It's pa.st tea-lime ever fny niudi,' I -nid. "iiii.! I» r name's Jnne." He took hold of an old l)rass key liaii^infr a! tin- end of a 'l.iu Bteel chain, niid d'a.';.;t'd out a ver. Iii- o.M ".JKcr watc'i. lix.Keil at it, shook it, and ludil it to his »Mr, and ilun li.wrivd it down once more into its ])i r !(!uiiir pricl>>'t. "Then Mary — .latie ^^on't Iti-ii'y it." .'•:iid Mr. liowle. As he spoke the door opfiird. imd .lai.c. ciiv l.dii-t'Minid, ex- claimed sharply, " Now, Master Anioiiv . I wiint yi.ii ■■ iiiui I iM-.^e and followed her into the diirni;;-roiim. w lnic my • litin-y Ii-m \\;is spread out for me. 1 sto-.i! ^axiii-' jit i; w l:eii .-I;.' li It tne in a miserable dejected way, for I ftli as if I couM r.ot li;!. rrd as if the tea when 1 poured it our \\(ul<Ih" hitt.- iir ! , ] ;.. ,, .^ i.'nrs: and then 1 began to think aliMiit Mr. I»n\\ If. i':;(| -t'>i.. •. .•!:,. ijunv. opened it, and stood listeninjj- lo the ianuhi!)^- .-nid i.ilkiiii; in the kitehen. "I wonder whether tlu'y will raltf >!r. l.'-.wle his tta." I thought ; and I leaned aj^aiiist the doMf. ll>;t laim si ill, hut theic was no sign of any preparation. Tht' .-tioi ^' sii' !\ • ,■ i-i-pt < iit into the hall, and in imagination 1 fiiiM .-re ilir h'lS '.lltw idhii sitting back and smoking in tln' e'uiir iihv;!\>' n.-.i! 1;. \ fnther. At last! summoned up my »•( ii'ii:;e (iii<l went td ih. -i dy door. opened it, and asked Mr. IJowle ii he wmilil come and iiave .si.uie tea. " I will that !" he said with alacrity: '• 1 ii» vei- dcsidse my y)eer, but a cup o' tea's my reg'jar drink." He followed me into the fliiiiii;.'-room, ai.tl we sal dnwn, 1 find- ing very awkward, especially ;.*< ^Iv. IJowle leant d across, lift e't the pot, and gave me his peculiar wink. ** Silver ? " he said. 1-2 4 TiiL siuiiv nr anjony grace. " YoH, sir ; and the coffee-pot and basin and jugf too," I repliwl. " llulj ! yes." It wa« \fry awkward, for there was only one teacup and saucer, and I did not like to ring fur anotht^r; ho I filled that and passed it to Mr. Ilowle, who sat smoking all tlie wliilo. " Thankye ! " he said, nodding ; and he was about to pour ii into the saucer when he stopped short. " Hallo t " he said, " Where's your'n P " " I — I have not got another cup," I stammered. " Worse disasters at sea !" he said. " Never mind ; look ye here, I'll have the saucer and you have the cup," and pouring out the tea, he passed me back the cup, and the meal went on. For the first time since his arrival Mr. Rowle laid down his pipe, and after hewing otT a great piece of bread, he proceeded to cut it up in little cubes, all six sides of which lie buttered before he ate tliem, while I contented myself with a modest slice or two, for my appetite was gone. It was a doleful meal, but he seemed to enjoy it, and after par- taking of five or six saucerfuls he nodded at me again, took up and refilled his pipe, and then walked back to the study, where he sat smoking till ten o'clock, when he went up to bed. I'm afraid that I was a very ignorant boy. Perhaps not so in the ordinary sense of the word i<rnorant, for I had been fairly edu- cated, and besides being pretty forward with my Latin, I could have written a letter or carried on a decent conversation in French ; but, living in a secluded part of the country, I was very ignorant about the matters of ordinary erery-day life, and I found it hard to understand how it was that Mr, Blakeford, the lawyer, should be allowed to do just as he pleased in our old house. The terrible misfortunes that liad come, one after the other, had seemed to stun me and take away my breath. One day we seemed to be all so happy together, and I was sitting reading to my invalid mother in the pleasant old room opening on to the lawn. And the next day I was holding my throbbing head in my bed- room, after crying till it ached as if about to split, while I tried again and again to believe that it was all some dreadful dream, that my father had been carried home dead, killed in an instant by a fall from his horse, and that my mother lay beside him in the darkened room, silent too in death, for the shock bad been too great for her delicate frame. All that followed seemed to me dream-like and strange — the darkened house and the rustling sounds of the black dresses that were made for tho servants ; my own new black things and stiff black hat ; the terrible stillness of the place, and the awe with which I used to gaze at the closed room upstairs ; and lastly that dreadful darkest day when I was the companion of Mr. Blakeford ,1 TIIK MAN IN IOS>::.>S10N. 5 and an old Much' in the nionniiiiff coueli wliirli followed tbehuai.M wit)t itH nodding- pliiiii»>s to tlit* ^mve. I wanted to be ulunu uiid sii and think, hut thofw about nie •eomed to cuiir^ider that it wum thei* duty to try and «'on)fort aixl cboer ine in my aMIiction. wlien all they did was to worry me and make me more wretched than before. ft troubled nie, too, ter- ribly, that people Mbould think nie nillons and indilTerent to ni\ [on», when all the time my heart wan throbbing, un<l 1 telt a ^en- aation of deNolation and nii-^erv that 1 iiiid my bent to corneal. I remember jfoiug on ti}>loe lowuvdo iln- dining-room on the day of the funeral, dreading list my new budis t-honld nuike a noi-of*. when, aM I reached the mat at the door, 1 stopjied .short, for my uncle wa.s saying rouphlv — " Don't seem to trouble /lim much." "No, of course uot," Mr. Hlaketord rtj)li.'(l. ''Wluit can you expect?' I dare say he's thinking more of lii.i new black idoihe.^. ' 1 had to clench my hands and bite my li| > to keep from bur>i- ing out into a pas.sionate fit ^f wee^tin^, and 1 .>iood there foi some minute.N, unable to move, its I be.ird all that wux said. " Well, it's no business of mine," said my uncle. *' It wan hi> own money." " Yes," said Mr. Rlakeford, with a sigh. ** I was bis lejinl adviser, but be would not be advised." "Never wouhl," said my uncle. "All he thought of wat catching butt erfiiefc' and drying wteds in bk>t ling-paper." " JUit he was a goo<l man," said Mr. IWakelord. " Bab ! good ? What, to plunge into speculation and ruin him- •elfP" " We are none of us perfect," said Mr. Itlakeford. " Who wants to be? ' said n)y inicle. '• \\ ell, 1 wash my hands of the whole affa^ . Vou know where I am if you want me. ll*- was never like a brother to nie. I will do as you said." " Yes," said Mr. Blakeford, " oi course, Vou ma} trust me, Mr. Grace." " I don't trust anybody," said my ui'de, ju.st as one of the servants, coming along the passage, said kindly — " Why don't you go in, Master Tony r ' There was a sftdden mo\emeiit of a cliair, and 1 saw Mr. Blakeford come forward and louk at nje cunoiisiy as 1 t-utered in a shamefaced way. Then he ».\(l.a!!gtd glances \Mih my uncle, and my heart sank as I felt that lliey botii ftu.«|ie(it':i me ut buvuig been listening on the mat. It was only at nijrhts when I was alone in my own room that 1 could cry as a half beart-broKen boy of t-levtu can cry in the desolation of his heart. M\ uncle bad ^.^one away ibe day aftt-r the funeral, telling uie sburu\ iluii l i. l:^: be a mnu mu\v, un<l mind what Mr. BlukefOid &aid ; and Mr. Llukeloid hud luukud ut 8 TIIK sloKV Oi" ANiONV LillACK. out a pen, and t linn, taking' a little iiik-bottle from niiother porket, he took out tliH cork and baiuiieed it un the top ot a chiuu tigure ; then, securing the ink-bottle to one of the buttons of his coat by a little loop, he pulled out a long p jcket-book, drew from it an elastic baud with a snap, opeut'd it, and fastened the leaves back with the band, just as a tall, gaunt, elderly inun came in with a pen behind on»; ear, a pencil behind the otluT, making him look in profile like some peculiar kind of horned snail. 1 watched their acts with boyish in!»'ie.s^ as they proceeded methodically to set down the conf^nts of room after room, punch- ing the chairs, turning up the settees, feoliiig the curtains, and tapping the mirrors, till at the end of the second day, all being done, they closed their books with a f-nup, nodded to nie, and after a short chat with Mr. Kowle took their departure. "Sale's on Toosdny week," said that gentleman as I looked at him inquiringly. " What's going to be done o' you 'i " " l)cae with me?" J said. " Yes ; where are you going to Ije !" " " " I'm going to stop here," 1 isaid. "That can't be, anyhow, young un. Il.iven't you got any friends ? " " Yes," I said; "there's Dick Wilmot, but he's at school." " I say, young un, what a precious innocent you arel Haven't you never been awav at school ? " " No, sir." " Where have you been, tiien ? " " Here at home with papa and mamma." " Lor', what a shame, to be sure ! Why, you don't seem *(> know nothin'." "Iiideed I do," I said indignantly. " T can read, and write, and cipher, and I know a little botany, and Latin, and French, and papa was teaching me the violin." " What, the fiddle ? W^ell,'that may be some use to you ; but as for t'others, bah ! I never found the want of any on 'em. How old are you ? " "Just turned eleven, sir." " 'Leven, and blt^s your 'art, young un, you're about as innocent as a fcaby." " If you please, sir, I'm very sorry." " Sorry .^ .So am I. W^hy, up in London I've ^een boys of 'leven as was reg'lar old men, and know'd a'most everythitig-. Lookye here, .young un, don't you know as your poor guv'nor died ever so much in debt through some bank breaking? " "I heard poor papa say that the bonk had shut its doors." "That's right,'' said Mr. Rowle, nodding. " Well, young un, and don't you know what that means for you P '' "No, sir," I said. ^ 2 MR. KOWLI-: AND 1 Ui-X'OME KKlhlMJS. know," said Jane, addressing me Hpitei'uUy. " Vou duu t bupp^ai; as I've took them away !- " She looked at me angrily, while I felt as if I bad been accusing her unjustly. " Oh no, my dear, of course not ! " said Mr. Rowle. " You're too highly respectable a girl to '^o-such a thii.g; but where I wa- once there was a houserauid as stole a little bronzt^ peii-tray out of the study, and she was found out about it, and given intu eutiiudv of the police, and got three months." Jane looked fiercely at him and whisked out of the room. " Please, Mr. Rowle," I said, " the little pen-tray that mamn.- gave poor papa has — has " I could pay no more, for the recollection of that birthday presen' , towards \/iUch I had subscribed some of my pocket-money, caused such a choking sensation that I was ready to break down oncf more, and I had to strive hard to keep it back. " Gone out of the study, young un Y Oh no, not it. Ycu fan«\v as it has." " I'm sure it has gone, sir," I said eagerly. " I was looking for it yesterday." " Ah, well, you'll see when we get downstairs," said Mr. Rowle, and he went on from room to room, always sending a few puffs of smoke into each, till we wotit downstairs, meeting Jane on llic way, looking very hot and indignant as she carried up tlie lit lie china candlesticks, and sure eiiousfh, to my great surprise, om entering the study, there was the pen-tray in its familiar place. "There; what did I tell yoif!-'*' said Mr. Rowle, lauohiiiij. " It was underneath some papers, or p'raps Jane took it down in give it a rub or two." " That must have been it, sir," I said ; and 1 wont out to h;i\»' a walk round the garden. But somehow every thing looked S(l II different: the grass had not been cut for days, the beds were rapidly growing weedy, and the flowers and fruit looked s> different, or seemed to look so different, that I was glad to po back into the house, where I found another stranger, a litilp dapper, red-faced man, who nodded to me familiarly, and tli resumed a conversation with Mr. llowle. " My clerk will be here directly,"' I heard him say, soon run ovex' the inventory." "The sooner the better, I .^ay, Mr. .levins, sir, " and then we shall know wh.-.t Ave're at." " You don't mean " beuan the newoomer. " No, sir, I don't, because I've had too sharp a hye on *em ; there's one young lady here a.s wouidnt take nothing out of reach, and if I was Mr. Jilakeiord I'd make a clean sweep uu;, the sooner the better." The little man drew a silver pencil-case out of his pochor. "and we'll suld y.v. liowl W- ai. sli Sl|(. 6 THE S'JOIiY OK ANTONY GRACE. me in his peculiar way, tightening his thin lips, and smiling strangely, but saying nothing. I knew that some arrangements had been m£ le about my future, but though I was the pei-son most concerned, evei y one seemed to consider tliat I was only a bov, and no explanation was vouchsafed. So it was, then, that I rambled about the house and grounds al- most alone, growing more and more thoughtful and wretched as the change oppressed me line a weight of lead. As the days went on, though, and ihe first passionate feelinjr-^ of grief gave way to a strange sense of despair, I began to take notice of what was passing around me. It seemed as if the ser- vants in their new black dresses looked upon the change as a holiday. They had f-.f jiient visitors: there seemed to be always a kind of lunch in pr i^-ress, and as I sat alone of an eveniiig 1 could often hear laughter from the kitchen : and at last, unable to bear the solitude, I used to go into the study and sit down and stare at Mr. Kowle. It was not cheerful, even there, for Mr. Rowle used to sit and stare at me. We rarely spoke. Still, it was company, and the old man did sometiuies give nie a nod, and say, in aliusiou to a burst of mirth from the kitchen — " They're keeping the game alive young un I " ^ CHAPTER II. MB. ROWLB AXD I BECOMR PRIEyDS As I have said, in the days that followed, T used, when feeling very lonely, to go and sit and stare at Mr, Rowle and he at me. Few words were spoken, but quite a friendship sprang up between us, and by degrees I learned what his position really was — that of man in possession, placed there by Mr. Blakeford. Mr. Rowle was not an active busy man, but somehow he had a way with him that seemed to take charge of everything in the house. I verily believe that in a few moments he made a mental inventory of the contents of the room, and he quite offended Jane one morning by ringing the blue-room bell. I was with him at the time, and after the ring had been twice repeated, Jane came bouncing upstairs, and, quite ignoring the presence of Mr. Rowle, addressed herself sharply to me. " I'm surprised at you. Master Antony, ringing the bells like that, knowing how busy I am. Whatever do you want ? " " It wns me as rung, Jane, my dear," said Mr. Rowle. " What's gnn*^ of '^^nsp two little chayney candlesticks off this table P " •'I 1c 'em down to clean, Master Antony, if you must MK. BLAKKIOiilJ SlIOW.S HIS TEETH. 11 I } i - '■ I pure charity I am going to take you into my oilice, you had hotter try to make yourself of some use, unless you want to be turned adrift and starved ; " and he bent down and shook his finger in my f i ce. *' Come to your office, sir ? " I cried, wondering. " Come to ray office, sir, yes," he snarled. " What else were you going to do ? Did you think you were going to spend your life sticking pins through butterflies and running about picking butter- (1- iuisies, as you did with your defrauding scoundrel of a I Iher?" • ,. J .V dare you say that ! " 1 cried, as a fierce burst of passion swept over me at hearing him speak thus of my poor dead father. I have some recollection ^f ri &.hing at him with clenched fists, and being caught roughly by & strong hand, of being shaken, my ears sharply boxed, and ot being then thrown panting, sobbing, ti'i'l half heart-broken upon the floor, us Mr. Hlakeford stood over I e. That's your tempei, is it, you young dog?" he cried; "but I'll soon tame that dow a. \\ hat, am I to lose thousands of pounds by your cheating scoundrel of a father, and then, when to save his wretched brat from starvation I have arranged to giv^> him a home, I am to have him turn and rend me ? But I'll soon cure all that, my fine fellow. You've got the wrong man to deal with, and ir was quite time your career of spoiled child was over." He turned and left the room, and after crouchuig there sobbing for a few minutes, I got up in a stunned, hopolesis way, brushed the dust oflf my clothes, and as 1 turned 1 caught a glimpse of my hot red face and wet eyes in the glass. I was hastily removing the truces of the childish tears when f smelt the pungent odour of tobacco, and my first impulse was to run away and liide ; but there was no way of escape, and I had to turn round and face Mr. Rowle, who stood sraoldng in the door- way. " What's he been leathering you for? " he said, without remov- ing his pipe. " I — 1 struck him ! " I panted out, trembling with shame and ndignation. " I'ou 'f You hit Lawyer Blakeford ? " he . -^id, with a broad grin overspreading his face. "Come, 1 like that. 1 didn't think there was so much staff in you." " He — he — said false things about my poor dead father," 1 faltered. " And you tried to punch his head for it, young 'un ; and serve him right, that's what I say. Never mind : olieer up, young un ; you'll grow a man some day, see if you don't, iiut, i say, look here, where are you going to stay ? The house'U be full of people directly." 12 THE .^TORY OF ANIONY GRACE. "I'm — Fm to go to Mr. lilakeford — to his olKce, he says." "Wbee-ew !" whistled Mr. Kowle. "That's it, is it? Your ^uv'uor owed him money, eh, and he's going to take it out of you P i say, young un, you're in for it." ** A ui I, sir ? " I said, in a dull, despairing way, for I understood hy his words that my future was not to be a very pleasant one, but just then I heard Mr. Blakeford's voice below, and Mr. Ilo'^vle pave me a friendly nod and turned away, while I stood listening, expecting to be called. 1 can recall those feelings th^t came over me to this day — shame, mortification, wounded pride, misery, and despair. What was to become of me ? How could I ever live with a man who spoke so cruelly of one who had always been so firm and yet so gentle with nie ? No mother, no father, no one to say one kind and encourag- ing'- word to me but that poor rou^'-li man in po.«session, towards whom in those hours of misery my young heart went out with all its pavssion of childlike affection. I was half stunned. Had I been so idle and spoiled a boy ? I did not know, only that I had been very happy— tliut every lesson had been a pleasure, and those summer-day entomological and botanical rumbles with my father times of joy nnd delight. It was all n puzzle, too, about my father and Mr. IJlakeford and their money matters, and of course I was too young to comprehend the legal Instruments which empowered the solicitor to take possession of everything of which my father died possessed. The entry of one of the porters made me creep hurriedly away, and going downstairs, 1 found room after room filhng with the people coming to the sale, with the result that I crept into the garden and down the old laurel walk to the little summer-house at the bottom, where I shut myself in to lean my head against my aim and try to check the miserable tears that would come. Jt was very weak and girlish, but 1 was only eleven, and during the past few days there had been so much to give me pain. I was htariily ashamed of my weakness, feeling all the time a kind of instinct tliat I ought to be more manly, and trying hard to become 80, though now I can smile at the thought of the little, slight boy of eleven battling with his natural emotions, and striving to .school them to his will. It was very quiet and lonely down there, and in a few minutes I felt calmer and better, seating myself and wondering whether I "light not to go up and look for Mr. Blakeford, as I watched the iv>bin — an old friend of mine — hopping about amongst the twigs. Perhaps it was a foolish idea, but it seemed to me then as if iluit bird, as it gazed at me with its large round eyes, could feel for my sorrow, and I felt a kind of envy of the little thing's freedom from pain and care. While I sat there thinking in my despondent way, the lew Mil. BUVKRFORD SHOWS HIS IKKT.f. 9 "Phew!" replied Mr. Rowle, whistling; "well, pynn^i : ». kindest to tell you, after all. Why, louk here, younp un. iIiim Filace, with every stick in it, is ffoing to he hoM up — piaie, liiu ii, urniture, chuyney, glass, and the liouse iind all, ami youll Have ui go to some of your friends, unleAS Mr. Dhikeloid's got his ].I,ins made for you." " Please, sir, I don't think I've pot any friendy to po to," I sjn<l : "I thought I was going to stay at home — at least, I hoped so," I added despondently. " It's a rum go," muttered Mr. Rowle, as he raised his hat with one hand and rearranged his hair with the stem of his pipf. '* Ali, well, I s'pose I've no call to he putting thing.s into your h> nl. o\<\\ I should like to see vou not quite so innocent, and hetU'i- ule to look after yourself,'' Mr. liowle and I hnd many snrh conversations dnvincr tlie intervpl before the sale, in all of uhich lie was so mncli iicnlih-d by what he called my innotence, that I began to look upon my ignorance of tlie world as something approacliing a crime. I >a\v no more of ^Ir. lllakeford or my mule, and tlie duys glided ."-l.iw 1\ by till just before the sale, when the servants came upon ni" (in- evening in the dining-room, to announce that thsy we''e going, and to sav " good-hve." " Going ! " I said ; " what, all ? " " Yes," said cook sharply, and I think tliere was a twinkh- of mois.ure in her eyes; ''yes. Master Antony, we're all goiii>i, and we've come to say good-hye.'' I believe that cook would have taken me in her arms mid hugged me in good motherly fasliion, l)ut for ilie tliird per.-oii. As it was, she shook hands very warmly and 1 )oked tendt-rly at me for a niomenf — not moi-e — for her soul scemnd to h^ aronst'd within her at the presence oi Mr. Howie, at wliinn slie darttd the most furious of glances, an example lollowed by the other two maids ; and then we were alone. "Bless 'em !" said Mr. Itowle, taking his pipe for a moment from his lips, i.:id then going on smoking CIIAPTEK III. MH. BLAKKl<'()RD SHOWS UIH TRI'.TH. I if si ■'s |W The morning of the sale arrived, and still no one took any notice of me. I had stood by in a melancholy fashion, and seen little tickets pasted or tied upon the various articles of finnit'no; the stair rods done up in bundles and the carpets in rolls. The chinuiey ornaments seemed to be holding a meeting in a comer of 10 THE STORV OF ANTONV GlIAr^K. the sideboard recess, presided over by a bronze Neptune; »nd apparently deceived by the reflection of the isunshine, tiie steel tender had settled itself calmly on a table before the tall pier> fflaas a8 if it were a fire; the pictures looked down in the most melancholy way from the walls at the doleful chaos of furniture, all except one of her Majesty the Queen, and that seemed tofolloM' 'ne in a sorrowful, pitying fashion that made me gaze up at it again 'ind again. Wearied with wandering from room to rooTi — all dust and con- tusion now— I turned to go upstairs. As I did so I passed the .'ludy, whose door was wide open, with Mr. llowle in the easy- i hair smoking away, his hat on, and the wretchedness of the place vith its piled-up bundles of books seemmg to have no effect upon iiim whatever. Upsairs matters appeared even worse, though it struck me that the rooms were not so dusty. After the " view " on the previous (lay the auctioneer's men had arranged the things so that they would be liandy for taking downstairs, and the grotesque positions they were now in suggested endless ideas. Pairs of sheets and lihinicels hung from pegs like so many culprits ; towel-horses stood upon iiieir herds, while chairs did acrobatic tricks, one at the bottom sustaining four or five piled up in a state of equilibrium ; the tooth-brush trays all seemed to have been frightened into taking refuge in the ewers ; while the bedsteads and toilet-tables appeared to think the place so dirty and untidy that they were holding up their trailing garments to keep them from being soiled. On the previous day I had taken refuge in my favourite haunt, *he summer-house, till the strangers had gone, and now, hearing tlie auctioneer's men below, I was hurriedly taking a farewell glance round before once more making my retreat. I had heard footsteps on the stairs, and supposed it to be one of the owners of the carpet-caps and aprons that lay tucked in a corner, when suddenly passing oni of one of the bedrooms into the passage I came face to face with Mr. Blakeford. " Oh ! you're there, are you ? " he said, in quite an ill-used tone, as if he had been hunting for me for days. " Why, where have you been hiding yourself .^ " " Please, sir, I've been here all the time." " It's false, sir. How dare you tell me such a lie ! I was hunting for you all day yesterday and you were not here. I sup- ijosed you had run away." " If you please sir," I said, " I was in the summer-house — indi^ed!" " Tiien how dare you tell me, sir, that you were here ! Now look here, Master Antony Grace ; don't you try to trifle with me, lor I'm not the man to be played with. You've been allowed to grow up in sloth, ignorance, and idleness ; and now that out of MR. BLAKEFORD SHOWS HIS TEETH. 10 ras o lof It was growinff dusk, and Mr. Dlakeford struck a match and lit ft gas-jet over tne fireplace, just iu front of a yellow-iookin^'^ almanack ; and now I could see that the place was one litter of papers, parchments, and dust, save at the end, which was occupied by a bookcase full of great volumes all bound iu leather about the colour of Mr. Howie's skin. "Sit down there," he said shortly, and he pointed to one of tli'* tall stools by the great desk ; and as I climbed upon it lie pick«')i up the bag I had placed upon the desk, threw it upon the table. and walkM ut of the place. " Like a man — take it like a man," I said to myself as I recalled Mr. Howie's words; and, pressing my teeth tightly and clonchinq my fists, I sat there fighting down the depressing feelings thnt came upon me in a flood, and wondering what I should have to do. My musings were interrupted by th« loud entry at the end f)f about half an hour of a cross-looking servant-girl, who banged m small tray containing a mug and a plate of bread and butter dow i< before me. "There's jrour tea," she said roughly ; " and look here, I'm not Soing to wait on you. Bring the mug to the kitchen when you've one, and you'll have to fetch it in future." I looked up at her very wistfully as she scowled at me, but I did not speak. "Sulky, eh P " ahe said. " You'll soon get that taken out of yon here, I can tell you." With these words she whisked herself out of the ofllce, tit swing-door creaked dismally and banged betiind her, and 1 left to enjoy my meal. At first 1 felt that I could not touch it, but I was faint hungry, and after a few mouthfuls a boy's voung healthy apyi^-i i • asserted itself, and I drsuk all the mean thin tea and finish* d : i.< bread and butter. Then I remembered that I was to take the things back to the kitchen. Where was the kitchen, and dare I leave that stool without Mr. Blakeford's orders ? I felt that I dare not, and therefore sat there patiently gazin;' about the room, my eyes resting longest on those bills which told of sales of furniture, as I wondered whether those who had belonged to the furniture had died and left a son alone in tht world, as I seemed to be just then. There was a clock, I found, in one corner — an old Dutch clock — that ticked away in a very silent, reserved fasliion, givin.- furthwf. every hour a curiouj running-down noise, as if it were aboixt to strike; but though I watched it patiently as the minute-hand passed on, it never fulfilled the expectations given. but confined itself to its soft subdued tick, tick, tick, tick, hour after hour. W : wv' 14 TMK STi>!;V OF ANTONY CRACK. iiumM him, (iinl if li.' ^ivs it to y<»u !i;^ain, why , there, if I WHH you IM i.ilif ii lll.f ii mail, that I would." I h«\'«ilatt'(l fur a niorntut, and tht'ii took my rough friend's Mflvi.P by ffoiri:,'' out into thf pirden, wliere I found Mr. Dlakeford with a hliick hnfj in li's hand. "Tftkc ihot," hf s))irl lia> silly, and threw the h&g towardf me. I WMs t.ilif'Ti Ity surprint', cau;rht at and dropped the ba^:, which I'lnst open, Jiiid a number of papers tied with red tape fell out. " liah ! ', ou clumisy oaf," he exclaimed angrily. '* There, pick them up.' T hastily stooped, gathered them together, and tremblingly re- placed the parkets in the bncr, and as soon as it was closed fol- Uwcd my new master tow^irdsthe pate, thrfujrh which he passed to where a mnn was holding a thin pony attached to a shabby four-wheeled chaise. "Jump up behind," he said; and I climbed into the back-seat, while he took the reins, got into the front, and fumbled in one pocket. " Here, catch ! " he cried to tae man, as he gave the reins .1 shalte. The pony started off, and we had not gone a dozen yards before something hard hit me in the back, and turning sharply, I saw one of the big old-fashioned peimy-pieces fall into the road, while the man who had thrown it after us was making a derisive gesture at Mr. Blakeford, by which I concluded that he was dissati.-fied with the amount that had been given him. " Sold badly, very badly," Mr. Blakeford kept muttering, and ut every word he gave the reins a jerk which made the pony throw up its head ; and so he kept on muttering durinof our four-miles ride into the town, when he drove into a little yard where a rough-looking man was waiting, threw him the reins, and then turned to me. . , " Jump down, and bring that bag." 1 jumped down, and as I did so leaped aside, for a large dog rushed out to the full extent of his chain and stood baying at me, till Mr. Blakeford gave him a kick, and he disappeared into a kennel that had once been creen. I followed the lawyer through a side door and into n blank-looking office cut in two by a wooden partition topped with little rails, over which hung old and new posting-bills, nju.;y of which papered the wall, so that look which way I would my eye rested ou, " To be sold by auction," " Estate," or " Property," in big black letters. On one side of the partition were a high dotible desk and a couple of tall stools : on the other some cocoa-nut matting, a table covered with papers, a number of shelves on which stood black- JMpanned boxes, each of which had upon it somebody's name or • lily initials in white letters, with perhaps the word "Exors." i.iier them, whii.» on rlie chimney-piece were a letter-weigher, two ' '• three iar^^i.^ jr.k-botttej., and a bundle of quill pens. MR. BL.VKKFO:a) SIIO\V> MIS TElITII. i humming of voices up at the house cnme to me, and now nnd tli 'm I could hear steps on the jfnivt'l paths, hut tUut iHiuiiii^r up to tl. summer-house was of short turf, so that 1 was suddenly aurpriaoil by hearing a fresh young voice exclaim : " Oh, look here, mamma ! What a nico oummpf-house ! " "Yes, my dear," said some on«», in cold, harsh ton >.q. "Tl- • Graces knew pretty well how to take care of themselves. I haven' patience with such way.'»." I jumped up angrily to go away, but I wns too late, for the do. i opened suddenly, and I wa.s t'acM to face with a vouiig -^iil oi about my own age, and a tall thin lady, with a careworn, ill-iis*! expression of countenance ; and as she s'emed to know who I w;.. , she c-ught the girl's arm and gave her a snatch, exclaiiiiiiig : " Lome away, Hetty; it's young tirace." The girl took her eyes unwillingly from mine, nnd ns she nccoiM- panied the lady away, she turned round once, and I fancied 1 reai in her looks sorrow for my position, and a desire to come and hi . her little hand in mine. I sat all through that dreary day nlone, and getling faint and hungry — though my memories of my encounter with Mr. iilake- ford kept me from thinking much about the latter, and it must have been nearly five o'cloclc when the door once more optMuxl, and Mr. Rowle stood there, holding a bundle tied tip iu a red hand- kerchief in one hand, his pipe in the other. " Why, here you are then, yoiin^- 'un," he said. '* I thought old Blakeford had carried you otY. Lookye here! you're just rigiii. I'm going to have a bit of wit ties down here in peace, and you'l' join in." As he unfastened the bundle handkerchief nnd displayed a porl< pie and a small loaf, he took a couple of table-knives from his tail pocket. "Borrowed," he said, holding them up. " They're a part of 1 > hundred and forty-seven. Stop a moment, lei's make sure." One hand dived into the breast-pocket of his old coat to brini; out 8 dirty catalogue, leaf after leaf or which he turned over, and theL, running a dirty thumb down one page he read out : "Lot hundred and forty-seven: sixteen black No, that ain't it. Here it is, young 'un. Lot hundred and fj/ti/saxeu : two dozen and seven ivory balance-handle knives. Tliem's them, and they won't be none the wor&e f<jr my using on 'em." Mr. Kowle's intentions were most friendly, but I could hardly eat a mouthful, and I was sitting w tching him making heavy onslaughts upon the loaf when I heard Mr. IJlakeford's voice call- ing me, and I started up, feeling ns if I must run away. " What are you up to Y " said Mr. Rowle, with his mouth full. " Let me go," 1 cried excitedly. " Let me run somewhere." ** QammoQ 1 Why, what for ? You go out like a man an I 16 TIIK STORY OF AN'IONV ORACR. S VMn. ••ii.'lii. iiiriH, tni lind l)»'»Mi miirkprl off J»y tlmf clork, ni'd 8till 1 Milt tb^rp, wiiitiii^, uiid wondt'ciiifr wliHther I was to sleep tluMc u^4 WL'Il as to tmvH my nieulN; and tlieii I heard a door banff, tbt! sound of u fnotntup, and with a great tiD caiidlestick in his hand Mr. Blakuturd entered the room. CHAPTER IV. I BBCOMB A LAWYER S CLBBK. iM "Tfits wny!" he s.-iid abruptly, and tliore was a curious look in his face that I could not undorstand. "Here, hold this," he cried, thrusting the candlestick into my hand: and I held it treml»lii)jr us he crossed unateadily to the (jas-jet, turned it down, and then strode out of the ollice. "There!" he said, open iii;^ a door, "up there; and get down in f^ood time. You'll have to clean tlie boots and things." '• Tp there " was up a flight of steps wluch led into a low slopin^-ceiled chamber that had been evidently meant for a lumher-voom, but had now been fitted up with an old stump bt'dstead with a coloured counterpane, a little corner washstana with a cracked jug, a strip of carpet, and a three-legged painted (best of drawers, which had gone down at one corner, and left a corresponding by .slightly raised in the air. The place was cold and miserable, chilling to a degree, but it W!is clean; and as I looked round I was surprised by seeing on a ciiair a heap of my clothes and a brush and comb. 1 liad just flnished looking round when I heard a noise below. " You Antony ! " shouted Mr. Blakeford ; " mind you put that candle out safely, and lock sharp into bed." I obeyed by hastily undressing and putting out the candle to get quickly into bed. It was not to lie down, but, after once more battling with my weakness, to offer up the simple prayers I had l)een taujriit, and then, still upon my knees, but with my head drooping on to tIib pillow, foiling fast asleep. I awoke terribly depressed at daybreak, to listen to some noisy fowls close by, and then I could hear that the rain was pattering heavily down. Ought I to get up then, or should I lie a little longer P I could not tell, but 1 recollected Mr. Blakeford's words, and as I did so the same wretched despondent feeling came over me as I thounbt of my helplessness, and trembled, feeling sure I should give offence. There are few people who thoroughly realixe the sufferings of, !i tenderly nurtured, sensitive br)y when tirst called upon to battle • I IJECOMK A LAWVKirs CLKUK. with the world anioiicrst UIL<ytnpalliuill^[ ^lrllll^('l'H. lie it* oiil> u boy in their eyes, und they fail to give him credit for the hhiiih feelings as themselves, when too often Im* is fur mure Hiu'K .ttrung, and suffers acutely from every unkind wunl und looK. The very act of going from home is distrossing enough, hut when it is supplemented by his finding himself force<i to nnike his fir>t essays in some nncongeniiil tnsk to which his hands und the brain that should guide are totally unac. ustomed. a feeling of desnair ofteti takes p<».s.«nMsion of his young spirit, and is nccompunied by a hopeless despondency that is long befoit it wears away. I nad hud painful atllictions enough during the past weckt*, ^o tiiat I was anything but well prepared for my new life. Resides, I had been badly fed, and the natural sinking caused by the want of proper food terribly augmented my sense of misery. The rain pattered down on tl.e slates and skylight, while thf water ran along the gutter und gurgled strangely in a pipe close to the comer where my be<l was placed, as I lay wondering what 1 had better do. The office was below me, with its silent clock, but perhaps I should not be doing right, T thought, if I got n}» and went down tx) see the time. Perhaps, too, the place might be locked up. I lay thinking in this undecided way till all my doubts were set aside, for there was a loud continuous ringing just outside my door, one which was kept up as if some angry person were sawing' away at the wire with the full intention of tlvagging it down. It agonized me as I jumped out of bed and l»e^;un hastily to dress, for I felt as if it must be to rouse me up, und as if I had inadvertently been guilty of some lapse. The bell stopped ringing as suddenly us it had begun, and with a feeling of relief I continued dressing, but only to start nevvonsly as I heard Mr. l^lakeford's voice at the foot of the stairs shouting mj name. i " Do you hear that bell, sir ? " he cried. "Yes, sir." i " Then make haste down ; don't be all the morning dressing." Then there was the loud banghig of a door, and 1 hastily finished, and went down cautiously, found the otfi{;e door at the end of the dim passage, and was just going in when the sharp voice of the servant arrested me. , " Here, you — what's your name ? " she said harshly. .1 " Antony, ma'am." ,y "Ho! Then, Mister Antony, missus says you're i to make yourself useful. They've pretty well worked the flesh off uiy bones since I've been here, so you must just help to put a little on." I looked at her in amazement, and she certainly was not at all prepossessing, being a tall raw-boned woman of some three or four 18 Tin: » :".>i:v oi- .\NioNV (iKace. nml fw»*rity, in a li;i-i ilv-jinf-on c »tTi..i iJrt-sA*, Iut Imii' loii^'li and untidy, unci (lisplityiii;^ u ^'Hftal u^]l«M*l df liuving spent us little tiniH us pos^ilile upon lii-r tnilHt. " Now, tluMi, <1()m'i -lainl .-^laiinj^ like that ! " slie said. " Come along here, nn«l fill tliis scntflM." Slio led tlie way info tli • kifclien and pointed to a lurpc ronl- sctiltle, wliirh I Iind to take and fill for linr. after wliicn sIih ^ef»med to hesitate as to whether she should jdato the broom she held in my hands; but, probably under the impresHiun that, it would save lier no trouhh', she alttivd her mind, and went and fetched a larj^f pair of dirty Wellington boots, which she threw down upon the tldor. "There, go into that >1i('d and rlea?i them and your own too, and mind you do 'em well," she cried. " Jle'u u reg'lar wanner about his boot?." Wy experience in boot-cleaning consisted in havin;;^ seen the ^i-rooni at home ocea.Nioiially polish a pair, so 1 was no adept : but hastily setting to, I worked hard at the task, and succeeded indifferently well with the big Wellingtons y)efore bestowing the same pains u])on my own shoes. I need hardly say that \ was not very quick over my task, and so it happened thut when [ returned to the kitchen tlie tire was brightly burning, the kettle boiling, and my new friend, or enemy, seated at her breakfast. "There, you can put em down," she said, with lier mouth full of bread and butter. " And now you'd best go and wait in the orfice till he comes. Vou're too much of a gent, I s'pose, to have meals witli me?" "I'm sure I don't know," I said, rather piteously. "Don't you? Well, then, I do, You're to have your victuals in the ortice, and 1 s'pose they'll send some out to you when tliey're done, seeing as you're took here out o' charity." 1 felt a red spot burn in each cheek at these words, but I said nothing, only went sadly to the office, which looked terribly dim and gloomy in the morning light. The dust lay thick upon bill and parchment, and tlie drab hooks with their red patches upon tlieir backs I could see by this light were old, discoloured, and worn. Judging from the lippeavance of the place, in spite of the ink marks and well-stained blotting-paper, there was not much work carried on there, though, < f court.o, I could not judge that then. All that struck me was that the place looked most melancholy, and that a gloomy yew-tree that half e'laded one window wa* heavily laden with drops of rain. Seeing my mug and plate upon the big desk, I remembered th€ words of the servant, and hastened to take them to the kitchen where I was received with a scowl, and hastened to retreat baclt to the oltice. I DFXOMi: A LAWVER'^ TLERK. IK I liiid h**pv HtiiTirl'ni? t)ifn> about an \w\\r, nnd had |ii«*t nniirfil that thu elorU uoiiitfii to liulf-uu.'^t ci^ht.-wh^'n I li^'unlu li^lit stvp lH)hind mu, and, turning round, there (»t(K)d the girl 1 had mi-n in the gard«>n at home. Iler brijjht, fresli yr«n<r fncn wn« the first plonsnnt thinp upon which my eyes had n-Nted sinci' I rntne the iii^fht h^'ton*. mid us we alornl fj^azin^ at each other it M»>»>ui«'d to me that 1 could retid sympathy and welcome in lu-r trunk Mmile. "(t(M>d morning," she .saiil <iui»Mly, .and h<dd out her liiind, which I was iu the act uf tukiug, wlien a wiry »hai-p voice cried loudly — " I Jetty ! Hetty ? where are you ? " " Here, miimma," cried ?ny visitor. " Then you've no business there," cri« d the snme voire : and the owner — to wit, the lady \ had se^-n in the piinlfn — came in. "Go back to the parlour directly, miss: and mind this, yuu ure never to come in here at all." The girl looKed eug»'rly at me again, nodd»'d, and tripped away, leaving a hopeful feeling behind that 1 could not explain. •• So you are young Graee," said the Indy, whom I presumnd to be Mrs. Jihikeford, and I gaxed wondt'ringly at li»'r paiiu'd wrinkled face and weak-looking, wandering ey»'s. "Mind this: you are to keep in the office. I won't have you in my rooms: and Mr. Rlakeford says you ; "e not to he in the kitchen on account of the neighbours' remarks. I'm sure 1 don't know whv we siudv people who never study us; and I'm pinciied enough for money now, without having you thrown on to my hous^'keepinrr." "Now then, what are yoti doing there y" cried Mr. Hlukeford harshly, as he entered iu his slippers. "(Jo and make ihe tea; what do you want to b»!yin chuiiering to tliut boy tor uLuut our private affairs ? " Mrs. Blakeford muttered sotnetliing about luing always wrong, and turned to go. " Always wrong ? Of course yon nro, when ynxi will come meddling with what don't concern you. Now theii." he cried, turning sharply round to me, " what are vou starinu" ai 'f (ier a cloth and rulb down liiat dtsk and tahif. Can't }uu see how dusty they are.''" " Yes, sir," 1 said, for it was very evident. . " Then wliy dont you go nnd do it, hlockliead ?** I started to perform the tassk in great alarm : but I had no duster, and dared not ask him. P'ortnnately he was called awnv just then to his breakfast: but he .seem»Kl to me to he tliere still, gazing at me with his keen dark eyes, while iiis riiihtly closed thin lips seemed as if they were about to be drawn aside to bite. rwssv 20 THE 8T() Y OF ANION Y GIUCE. li! :.li As soon as 1 was aldiie I stole into the kitchen to ask for a duster. " Don't bother me : can't you see I'm making toast P " was my greeting. I could see she was makinjr toast, and my attention was further called to ii by the sharp rin^'i'ig" of a bell. "Ah, ring away," said il:' woman, going on with her task. "You may ring the bell dowi, and then I shan't come till the toast's done. So now then!" "Please, Mary, is the " 1 turned upon hearing the pleasant little voice again, which stopped short a.s I looked round, and our eyejs met once more. " 5f o, Mis.s Hetty, n\v dear, the toast ain't done," said the woman more softly : " and you may tell your ma that if she is in a hurry she must wjiit till her hurry's over." " Don't be cross, .Aiaiy," said the child : and tripping acroas the kitchen, she ran up to where the woman whs kneeling before the fender, kissed her cheek, and tripped out again. "They may thank her for it, that they may," grumbled Mary, as if speaking to the tire, " for if it wasn't for Iter I wouldn't stop a day longer in their nasty, disagreeable old house. There! "' The toast was by this time done, and Mary was serapitig away at a burnt spot, wJien the bell b"gan to ring more violently than before, with the result that, instead of running off with the toast, Mary deliberately phiceJ it upon the fender and went across to one of the diedser drawers, out of wliich she took a clean duster. " Iling away! " she grumbled. "There's a duster for you, boy. And look here; you must be hungry. Stop a minute and I'll cut you a slice. Ah, ring away ! You don't frii,'-hten me." To mv horror, she coolly spread rliickly a slice of bread, cut it, and handed it to me before buttering the toast with which she at last crawled out of the kitchen, while 1 literally fled to the office, laid the bread and butter on tlie desk, and stopped to listen. At the end o^ half an hour the 1)ell rang again, and soi^n after Mary came sulkily into the office with a mug of lialf-cold weak tea and some lumps, not slices, of hread and l)utier. These she thrust before me. and 1 was sadlv making inv breakfast when Mr. Blakeford entered the pi ice. "Come, make haste ! "' he said sharply; and as I glanced up at him I read in his face that for some reason or another he had taken a great dislike to me. I could not tell then, nor did I know for lon^ afterwards, why this was; but it grew more evident hour by hour that he hated the sight of my anxious young face, and that my sojourn with him was to be far from pleasant. He took his seat at the table while I tried to finish my break- fast, but Lis coming bad completely taken away my appetite, and I BECOME A LAWYER'S CLERK. 21 at the end of a few minutes I hastened to take the mug and plate to the kitchen, and tlien returne<i to the ofllce. "Now, sir," Mr. Blakefor<t be^an, "just look here. Your father owed me a large sum of money when he died, and I have taken you on here quite out of compassion. Do vdu hear ? " " Yes, sir," I faltered. " Well, you've got to learn to be of use to me as soon as you can. You can write, I suppose ? " • " Yes, sir — not very well," I ^altered. " Of course you can't. No boy brought up as you have been, without going to a school, could be expected to write a decent hand. But look here, you'll have to try and write well; so take that paper to the desk and copy it out in a neat round hand." 1 took the paper with tremblincr hands, climbed to the desk, spread the sheet of foolscap ready upon a big piece of hlotting- paper, and took up one of tlie pens before me. Those were the days before steel nibs had become common, and the pen I took was a quill split up and spoiled. I took another and another, but they were all the same; and then, glancing at the inkstand, I found that it was dry. I hardly dared to do it, but he ghniced up at me to see if I had begun, and I ventured to say that there was neither pen nor ink, " Of course not, blockhead. Get down and fetch some olT the chimney-piece." I gladly obeyed ; and then, resuming my seat, with the words on the paper dancing before my eyes, made my first essay as Mr. Blakefoi-d's clerk. The writing before me was not very distinct, but I managed to decipher it pretty well, getting a little puzzled as to the mean- ing of "ads." and " exors,," with various other legal contrac- tions, but after the first line or two going steadily on, for, bad as my education had been, I was able to write a boy's neat round hand, consequent upon often copying out lists for my father, or names to label the collections we made. I had been writing about half an hour, working away diligently enough, when I heard the chair on the other side of the partition scroop, and Mr. Blakeford came up beliind me. I fully expected a severe scolding or a blow when he took up my sheet of foolscap and scanned it over, but he threw it down before me again with a grunt. Soon afterwards he rose and went out, leaving me busy over my task, writing till I grew giddy and my head began to ache. About the middle of the day Mary came in with some bread and meat ; and about six o'clock there was another mii<r of thin tea and some pieces of bread and butter. Then the night came ' on, the gas w&a lighted, and I finished my first day in what THE S'iolJY or A VI ON Y GRACE. Memed to be, and really "^as, as I look back upon it now, little better tlmn a prison. The days crept slowly by as I took my place each morning at the desk, finding always something fresh to copy in a neat round hand, and at this I patiently toiled on, with my old griefs grow- ing more dull as a little hope began to arise that I might soon see little Hetty to speak to again : but though from time to time I heard the voice and the sound of a piano upon which some one was industriously practising, she never came near the office. Mr. Blakeford seemed as brutal to everyone in the house as he was to ine. The only person who did not seem afraid of him wes Mary, and upon her his angry scoldings iiad no effect whatever. To me she was harsh and uncouth as on my first arrival, but, seeing that the amount given me for my meals was disgracefully small, after the first week she did take care that I had a suffi- ciency of food, although it only took one form. I remember upon one occasion, having to go to tho kitchen door, and finding her muttering angrily to herself, while upon seeing me she exclaimed: " They've been going on about too much butter being used again. Come here ! " I went closer to her, and she hurried into the larder, and came out with a roll oi ^resh butter and a new loaf, cutting off a thick piece and plastering it excessively wi^h butter. " There !" she exclaimed, " you go back into the office, and don't you show your face here again until you've eaten up every scrap of that. I'll teach 'em to grumble about the butter." From that day forward Mary was always cutting me great slices of new bread and thickly spreading them with butter. " There," she used to say ungraciously, " I don't like boys, but they shan't half-starve you while I'nj here." I was so moved by her unexpected kindness — for it really waa done out of goodness of heart — that, having become somewhat hai*dened to being a confe Jerate in this unlawful acquisition of provender, on one occasion I threw my arms round her neck and kissed her. " Why, yoa impudent young scamp, what d'yer mean?" she exclaimed, in astonishment. " Please, Mary," I said, "I didn't mean to be impudent; it waa because you were so good to me." " Good ? St uff !" she said roughly, " I'm not good. There, get along with you, and don't you do that again." I certainly should have run a good chance of being half-starved but for M ary and another friend. One day when I opened my desk, I found just inside it a plate With an appetising piece of pudding therein, and concluded that MR. BLAKEiOilD '< ii A N J u ^ ,;u'iiTiii: ECHO. it was Marv's doing-; but I could not be sure, fov lier benevolencp always took the torm of thick slices of bread aiiii butter. The next day there was a piece of cuke : unoilier day s^Mie apples; another, a couple of tartlets; and at last 1 deteiiuined to hide and see who was the donor of these presents, so welcome to a growing boy. I had made up my mind at last that they came from Hetty, and I was right ; for ^;oing itiside the large pa])er cupboard one day, in.stead of going out to fetch the newspaper according to custom, this being one of my new duties. I saw the office door gently open and Hetty's little head peering cautiously in. Then, satisiied that no one was near, siie ran lightly to the big desk; I heard it shut down hastily, and then there was a quiet rustling noise, the office door closed and she was gone. This went on regulaily, and at last one day it occurred to me that I sliould like to make her a present in return. I had a few shillings, the remains of my pocket-money, and I turned over ui my own mind what I should give her. Cakes or sweets I voted too trifling, a doll too childish. What should 1 buy then Y Sud- denly I recollected that there were in a window in the little town some pretty silver brooches formed like a knot of twisted ribbon, and one of these I determined to buy. It took three out of my five shillings; but it looked very pretty in its little box, reposing on pink cot tun-wool : and having st'cnred it, I returned to my copying at the desk, to think out how [ couM make my gift. Nothing was more simple. I wrapped up the little box neatly in a quarter-sheet of foolscap, sealed it with the olHce wax. and directed it in my best hand to " Miss Hetty Blakefoid. From one who is very grateful." I felt very conscious and excited as I finislied and laid it in the bottom of the desk, just where the presents were always placed for me, and to my great delight, wiieii I looked again there was a plate of tart which the poor child had saved t'roni her own dinner, and the packet was gone. CHAPTEH V. MB. BLAKEFORD SUFFKRS, AND I CATCH THE ECHO. My life at Mr. Blakeford's knew but little change. It was one reffular monotonous occupation— copy, copy, copy, from niorninn till night ; and but for stolen bits of reading I believe I should have gone melancholy mad. I had no companions of my own age, no older friends to whom I could confide my troubles or ask for advice. Mr. Blakeford was always stern and repellent ; Mrs. } I. ■P 24 THE STORY Oi" AN'luNV uRAOfi. I V IJI^ AAJXO^A U,ILfA\^ ivy AAA T A\y\yAAAi lor point, and he knew it well enough, was an alKusion her 8 debt to him ; and afterwards, when I went up Blakeford, on the rare occasions when I encountered her, ill-used, nnd ready to say something about my being an extra expense. Only at rare intervals did I see little Hetty, and then it would be ill tlie street, when I had been sent to the post, to fetch stamps, or un some such errand. Then I had a smile and a pleasant look to think about till our next encounter. A year glided by in this fashion, during which time, in spite of his constant complaints, I must have grown very useful to Mr. Rlakeford, for ray handwriting was clear and firm, and I copied a great many documents in the course of the moiuh. lie was as brutal to me as ever, and never lost an opportunity of abusing me for my being an incumbrance, or saying something wliich sent me miserable to my room. My terd( to my fathers aent to mm; ana atterwaras, when l went up wretched and low-spirited to bed, I used to make a vow that some day or another 1 would save enough money to pay him all my father owed, and so free his memory from what the lawyer always told me was a disgrace. Quite eighteen months had elapsed, when it became evident to me that Mr. Blakeford was in some trouble with one of his clients. This latter, a tall florid-looking farmer, had, as I learned from what I heard of their conversation, borrowed money frorr my employer upon some security, with the understanding that pay- ment was not to be enforced so long as the heavy interest was provided for. Mr. Blakeford's business seemed to consist a great deal in money-lending, and every now and then my old acquaintance, Mr. Rowle, came to the office for instructions, and found time for a friendly chat. Upon this occasion I noticed that Mr. Blakeford was very anxious about the coming of some one to the office, and he spent, a good deal of time in watching from one of the windows. He was sternly examining a piece of copying that I had just finished, when there came three aeavy knocks with a stick upon the outer door of the office. Mr. Blakeford turned yellow, and, catching me by the arm, whispered — " It's Mr. Wooster. Antony, say I'm not at home. Say I've gone out. Quick." He pushed me towards the door, and I went to open it just as there were three more heavy knocks, and on drawing back the fastening, there stood Mr. Wooster, the stout, tall, farmer-looking man, scowling and angry. " Where's Mr. Blakeford ?" he cried, catching me fiercely by the collar, and shaking a stout ash stick he carried. "Please, sir — " I began. MR. BLAKPJFORl) SUFFERS, AND T CATCH THE ECHO. 2r> " It's A lie !" he roared ; " he's not out. Didn't he tell you to say he was out ? " " Yes, sir," I faltered, and he strode straiglit in ; and as I fol- lowed, I saw him catch Mr. Blakeford by the throat and pin liim in his chair. "Fetch the constable, Antony,'' cried Mr. Hlakeford. "Quick!" "Stop where you are, you young dog," roored the farmer, "or I'll kill you. Now, you scoundrel, wlmt do you mean by seizing my goods, by putting your rascally man in possession after pro- mising me in this office that you would never put me to any Inconvenience ? " " If you have any complaint to make against me, Mr. Wooster, employ your solicitor," cried Mr. Blakeford hoarsely. "Hang your solicitor and the whole crew, you scoundrelly serpent ! roared the farmer. " You've ruined me, as you ruined that poor boy's father, and a score more before him." " Antony — a constable — help ! " crie<l Mr Blakeford, for he was yellow and green with fear. " If Antony Grace stirs, I'll crush him like I would a snail," cried the farmer. " And now look here, you crawling snake ; I trusted you because I didn't believe any one could deliberately ruin another for the sake of a few pounds." " Mr. Wooster, if you dare to strike me," cried the miserable Coward, " I shall proceed, against you for assault." " So you may,' cried the farmer, with a bitter laugh ; " and as you've got every penny I had, much good may it do you. Look here, Blakeford ; if I knew that I should be transported for life to Botany Bay for what I'm going to do, I'd do it now." As he spoke, he spat in his hand, took a fresh grip of the nsh stick, and, in spite of Mr. Blakeford's cries for lielp and mercy, he thrashed him till the stick broke in pieces ; and then, taking him by the collar with both hands, he shook him till he was tired, and ended by throwing him back in his chair. " There ! " cried the farmer ; " now do your worst, you cheaiing scoundrel. I'm satisfied ; go and satisfy yourself, and nnich good may the money you have stolen from the poor, the fatherless, and the widow do you." As he said this he strode out of the office and banged the door. I was half stunned with fear and horror, and 1 renienibev how thankful I felt that I had seen Mrs. Blakeford go out with Hetty half an hour before. While the thrashing was going on Mary had opened the door and looked in, but as if it were no busint'ss of hers, she had gone out again, and I was left the sole spectator. " Are you much hurt, sir ? " I said in trembling tones as soon as we were alone. " Yes," he whispered hoarsely, and showing his teeth, " a good doal." 91 THE STOi:V OE ANTONY GIMCE. 11 . !, "Shall I j^ret yon something-, sir? " " Yes," he Hiiid. muting less hoarsely, " fetch that leather case out of tliH pasMi^'-e.' I ran and fetched the heavy leather-covered box he meant, and placed it beside him, watchiug him anxiously, to see if he were I tetter. " Now, fiistf-n both the doors," he whispered, laying his hand upon his breast to keep down the panting as he drew his breath more easily, and wiped the perspiration from his face. 1 obeyed him, and then returned to his side. " Now unfasten that case, Antony," he said in quite a faint wliisper; and g^oing down on one knee I unbuckled a thick strap 1 liat was round it, and was about to raise the lid, but it was locked. "That will do," he said, suddenly changing his tone as he 't ized nie by the jacket collar with one hand, the strap with the nther. " Voii young villain ! " he hissed; "you dog! Didn't I •tdl you to say t was out, and you let that buliy in ? I'll give you Mich a lesson as you will never forget." I was half stupefied as he raised the thick strap, and then i rought it heavily down in blow after blow, cutting me all ovei ;!ie body, across tlie face, hands, legs, anywhere, and causing the uost intense pain. I writhed and twined and screamed out under 1 lie first few mows in my agony ; then a feeling of blind passion -ame over me, and I caught at and struggled with him for the possession of the strap, but in vain ; for he kept me at bay with >ne hand and continued to beat me cruelly till I fell ; and then, placing one foot upon my chest, he beat me again till his arm fell in weariness to his side. "I'll teach you to mind me another time," he panted, as he yloated over me in his pitiful revenge for the beating he had him- self received. " I'll give you something to remember this day by ; " aud, as I rose, he once more began to strike me; but this time I caught at the strap and held it with hands and teeth, I wisting it round me and holding on while he strove to drag it iway. My resistance seemed to half madden him as I still held on. " Let go, you dog ! " he roared, " let go ! " but I held on the •iiore tightly ; when, beside himself with rage, as a loud knocking came now at the inner door, he caught up a heavy office ruler from the table and struck me so cruel a blow across the head that 1 staggered backwards, and should have fallen to the floor if the duor had not bseu daahed in and Mary caught me up. UNDEK MARY'S MASK. 87 CHAPTER VI. VNDBR MABY 8 MASK. "You great coward!" she cried in a rage, as, sick, faint, and heavy, and seeing everything now as in a dreaui, 1 was lifted in her stout arms. " Leave this room, woman ! " I heard him say. '• Yes, and your house too, you wretch ! " she retorted ; and then I beard no more till I seemed to wake in a heavy, dull, throbbing fashion in the kitchen, where some one seemed to be wetting my head with water smelling very strongly of pickles. The place looked as if it was early morning, and the walls, with the dresser, plates, and tureens, and the bright tin dish-coverh<, seemed to be going round and round, but not regularly, for it wa> as if they went up and down in a wavy billowy way, and all the time I seemed to feel terribly sick. " Oh, if I was a man ! " I heard Mary mutter ; and then more softly, " There, don't you cry. Miss Hetty ; he ain't killed. It's left off bleeding now. You go to your mar's work-basket and gei ma a strip of rag. You ain't got any sticking-plaister, have you J*" " I've got some black court-plaister, ^lary." *' That 11 do, chucky ; go and gel it. Poor boy, he has had a beating ! " she muttered as I heard Hetty's steps crossing the kitchen floor. « I'm — I'm better now, Mary," I said faintly ; and I tried to rise. "No, you ain't better, neither; and you'll just lie quite still till your head's done," said Mary, in her rough ungracious way. ** You needn't be afraid about him ; he's gone to bed and sent for the doctor, because he pretends, he's so bad, and Mr. Emmett the con- stable is upstairs with him, about going to the magistrates and taking up Mr. Wooster for beating him; but he didn't say nothing about taking his self up for beating you, a great ugly cowaid ! Oh ! here you are, are you ? " " Here's some clean soft linen and the court-plaister," I beard Hetty say with a sob. " XVhere's your mar ? " said Mary. ** Upstairs in papa's room." " Ho ! " ejaculated Mary, "and I hope she'll stay there. There, don't you begin a-crying again. Hold his hair back while 1 put this bit on. There, it's not going to bleed any more, and yon needn't get shuddering like that at the sight of a little bluod. That's the way. Poor boy, it was enough to knock down a box. mm 28 THE STOIIY OK AN ION Y GRACF. * ' in: Neve? mind the wet hair; itV only vinegar and water. That's the way ; we'll soon strap it up. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Miss Ilt'tty, but your par's a brute." "Oh, Mury ! I won't stop in the kitchen if you say such things," cried Hetty, stamping her little foot. •' Then you'd better go back into the parlour, my dear, for I •^hall say what I like in my own kitchen ; so there now." " It's very cruel and unkind of you, Mary." '• And it's very cruel and unkind of your par to keep this poor I toy half-starvea in that orfis." " He did not, Mary. I'm sure papa would not do such a thing.'* "And that's why you go witljout half your dinner, and then take and put it in Antony's desk." " Mary ! " ' " Ah, you may Mary as long as you like, but I've seen you do it." " Hush ! pray don't, Mary ; he'll hear you." " Not he, my dear. Voor boy ! he's dropped off asleep, and the best thing too. You're asleep, aren't you 'f I tried to answer "No," but the faint deathly feeling came over me again as strongly as ever, and all seemed dark and silent once more. It was getting dark when 1 awoke ; for, from fainting, I must have lapsed into a heavy sleep, tli^ result qf exhaustion and the shock. My head ached, and 1 m a ery stiff and in great paia aa I tried to raise myself from tiu p .low which propped me up iu ilie j;reat Windsor chair. Mary ^^a.s seated opposite to me, crooii- mg some ditty in a low voice as she sat sewing, the needle clicking iii^ainst her thimble as she thrust it through the work. The fire was burning brightly, the tea-things on the table, the pot on the hob, and some buttered toast upon the fender. As I was gazing at her, and noticing the play of the flames over hir red and rugg>^d countenance, she suddenly raised her eyes, oazed full at me, and the harsh repulsive look passed away as she showed a set of white teeth in a pleasant smile, and rose and came to me, bending down and laying her hand upon my burning fore- head. " You won't want no doctor," she said; and to my utter astonish- ment she bent lower, kissed me, and then softly patted my cheek. " Poor boy," she said, " it was a shame ! " I gazed up pitt'ously and wildly, I believe, in her face, for it was so strange. Slie had always been so rough and harsh towards ine, and her frequent donations of bread and butter seemed to liave been given to me more out of spite to her employers than out of kindness to me ; but now it w^as plain enough that under her rugged crust she possessed a true woman's nature, and the ill- treatment I had received liad completely made her my friend. f* I've been waitings all this time for you to wake and have tea," UNDKH MARY'S .MASK. 2f» she said, placing the pot and tlio toast on the table. " Now then. see if you can't sit up and have some." "I couldn't drink any, thank you," I said faintly. "Such stuff and nonsense! It's quite fresh, and I've put in some extra as Miss Hetty give me. Come now, sit up and try, there's a dear." I tried to sit up, but the pain wan so great that I sank barK. having hard work not to cry out ; an<i seeing this, with a tender- ness for which I should nut have giveji her credit, she gently raised me and backed the pillows up, so as to support me; anti then, finding that this wa.s not suiicient, she run out of ihe kitchen, to return in a few minutes, doubling up what 1 knew wtis her best shawl, which she now formed into a cuslilon. "There, now we shall do," she said i-hi-prily ; and, pouring out a cup of tea, she tasted and added milk till it was to her liking, and then held it to my lips. It was like nectar, and 1 gave her a grateful look for thai ^hich seemed to impart new life to my bruised body. "Now, you've got to eat some toast," she said, and I stared at her in wonder, for it seemed to be a new Mary upon whom I gazed. "I couldn't eat a bit," I said helplessly. "But you must," she said iniperativtdy. "Now look here, you have had hardly anything since breakfast, and if you don't eat, you can't get well." I took the toast she held to me, and managed to eat it. That done, 1 had another cup of tea, and the sickly faint fitling I had had every time I moved seemed less overpowering : and at last i lay back there, listening helplessly to Mary as she chuttfd to nu- and washed up the tea-things. " Don't you trouble about them ; they won't come in my kitchen. He's ill in bed, or prettmding to be, and the doc-lor e;a\ - he ain't to move for a week. I hope he mayn't for a nionili :: brute! I never see such a cowardly trick. I wi.>h my W'illiaM had him. He's going to have the law of Mr. Wooster, ;?o Mi. Emmett the constable told me ; and him and tlie doctor'll mak>' out a nice case between Vm, I know. l*ah ! I hate la\v\ers and doctors. So you make yoursfdf romfortahle. I'll Ix* your doctor. and if they ain't pretty civil to me, I'll be your lawyer, too, ainl go to the madgistrits, see if I don't. If I was you I wouMn'i stay with 'em a minuit after 1 got well. I shan't ; I'm sick of 'em.'' " I wish I could go, Mary," I said, " but 1 don't want to go now you've been so kind." "Kind! Stuff! It's only my way. There ain't a better- tempered girl nowheres than I am; only when you come to livf in a house where the master's a snarling, biting, growling hound, and the missus is a fault-finding, scolding, murmuring nimidge, ,,l I '» THK STDRY OF ANTONY 'JRACE. 'M iiin ,ii it's enon<Tl« to put out n Imriclmnrrt'l. Hut T sny, if I wns vou, and could write siu-li ii lovely liuiid, J should send and tell my father and mother. Uh, I am sorry, dear — 1 forgot about yom poor father and mother. J Jut 1 would write and tell somebody." .Mary's allusion to my lovely handwritinjf was consequent upon !»v having cojjied a letter for her to one Mr. William Revitts, who was tt policeiiian in London. She had asked me to copv it for her, and direct it ** proper," because her hands were so dirty when she wrote that .'^he was afraid he might not be able to read it. All the same, Mary's hands seemed to have been perfectly clean, though the probiil)ilitiea were that the said Mr. William lievitts, " mi one dere williiu," would certainly not have been able to rend the letter. In fact, I broke down over the very beginning l.y mistaking "one" for the number, and had to be correctea, Mary having meant to say own. Her allusion to my parents touched a tender chord, and my face worked as I recalled the happy times gone by. " I have nobody to write to," I said at last — " only my uncle." " Then I'd write and tell him, that I would." " I am not quite sure where l^e lives," I said. " I never saw him till — till he came to the funeral." " But haven't you got nobody belonging to you — no friends at all P " ** I think not," I said helplessly. " No one who would help me." ** Well, you are a one," said Mary, pausing in the act of wiping out the tea-tray after half filling it and pouring the dirty water off at one corner. " Why, I've got no end o' people belonging to me ; and if that brute upstairs — as I wish he mev ache bad for a week ! — was to raise bis hand against me, my William would be down and serve him worse than Mr. Wooster did, I can tell him — a wretch ! " ♦* Is thnt Mr. William Revitts," I asked, " the policeman ? " " Yes ; but he wouldu't come down here as a policeman, but as a gentleman, and he'd soon teach Mr. Blakeford what he ought to — - Yes! What is it?" This was in answer to a shrill call for Mary in Mrs. Blakeford 's voice, and that lady came in immediately after, to Mary's great disgust. " You must get hot water ready directly, Mary," she began in an ill-used way. " I'm sure I don't know what I shall do. He's very bad indeed." " Oh, there's lots of hot water," said Mary shortly. " Biler's Cull, and kettle's full, and I'll put on the great black saucepan and iight the copper if vou like." As she spoke Mai'y seized the big poker, and began stoking ;!id hammering away at the fire in a most vicious manner, as if determined to vent her spleen upon Mr. Blakeford's coals. DUtAMS OF THi: (iKLAT MAi.NET. ni " Vour poor miisfor's Hr»»a'!fiiMv ' lul." snitl >ris. r.l.'iK''r.tv<| a^ain, niid she k»>pt on looking at me in u wu^ tliut Mecnifd (jumi' to indicate that 1 alonu was to blame. "Oh, yes, mum, I dettsuy he is, and so'.s other ncople too, and WU88. 1 dessny lie'il get better again if hi- ijiii'i du-.' Mrs. Blakefoid stared at Mary in a luilf-f 'rrifitd way, and barked to the door. ** Vou ring the bell when yon want it. mil I'll brinn' yon a can of water npstairs," continued Mary nngra(ii»ii-l\ . ''And couldn't you help me u liitle in utundiiig upon your master, Mary h" "No, I couldn't, mum," she .'aid sliorfly, "for I'm t'le wor>t russ as ever was; and be.^iide.**, I've got niy lv'it>lieii w.-rk tu do; and if yon wnnts a nuss, tiiere's ^frs. .Imiifreys over tji- way would be glad to come, I desiipay, only I ain*t goiny to liiivt' lier here in my kitchen." Mrs. lilakeford liastily backed out of the kitchen and retreated upstairs, while Mary's rough uia>k dn^pped oJY as .soon as .»iiL' had gone. " I wasn't going to tell her as I nussed an invalid lady tw> years 'fore I came here," she said, .smiling. "JJeside?, 1 didn't want to have notliing to do with him. for fear I should be tempted to give him his lotion 'stead of his physic, he a^u'ravate- me so. Lotions is pison, you know — outward happlicalmn only." That aigiit I had a bed made up down in the kitcluii, and parsed a weary, fevorissh lime; but towards nioniing a jdiasaiii feeling of drowsiness came over me. 1 f-.dl aslet'p to ilnaui t!i;ii 1 was at liome once more, and all was bright and sun<1ii'iy as I s;!t ha'f asleep in the summer-house, when my mothtr cani" and laid her hand upon my forehead, and 1 opened my ey»'s t.» ti'^l if wa>i Mary, ready to ask me whether I was better; and thoiioh t In- sweet. bright dretim had gone, there was souiethiug very icuiici- iu llji' eyes that looked in iuine. CHAPTER VI[. in Le'8 sr's as DREAMS OF THE GllKAT MAGNET. I WAS very stiff and sore, and the^e was a peculiar niddine,-s ready to assail me as soon as T moved, so Mary, in her double capacity of doctor and nurse, decided thot I was not to attempt to walk about that day. The consequence was that she made no scruple about dragd-inc a little couch out of the parlour into the kitchen, and after 1 was dreftsed, making me lie down near the fire. II' I TMK STOHY (>K ANTONY (tMACE, ii 1; i "If they doii'l ik« it fbout the sofy, they mu«»t do the other thing*," Hhp Miiid, hingliin^. "i say, do you know what tiniK It 18 ^ " No," I replied. " Hiilf-pHNt ten, and I've been waiting breakfast till you woke. Yoii /tare hud a sleep. I wouldn't wake you, for I thought it wouM do you goo<l." " I am better, a great deal," 1 said. " Ye!< ; so you are. He ain't, or pretends he ain't. Misf Hetty's been catching it." •'lias she P" " Yes; for wanting to know about you. Missua told her you were a wicked young wretch, and had half killed your master, and she was never to mention your name again." 1 was decidedly better, and in the course of tlie afternoon I got tip and found tliat the various objects had ceased to waltz around. I made my way up to my bedroom, and for the first time had a look at myself in the glnss, where I found that a sore feeling upon my face was caused by a couple of black marks which crossed each otht»r at a slmrp angle, and that high up above my temple, and just where the hair would cover it, tnere was a patch of nluck court-plaister, which was placed across and across in strips to cover a lon<^ and painful cut. The days glided by; the weals on my face changed colour and btigan to fade, while the cut on my head grew less painful. 1 wafi thrown a good deal with Mary, for no work had been set me in tlie office, and Mr. lilakeford kept his bed, being regularly attended by the doctor. 1 found — Mary being mj^ informant — that there was to be quite a serious case macle of it, and Mrs. Blakeford had told b«t that I was to be an im])ortant witness to the assault. A fortnight had passed ; and as I sat alone day after day in the office thinking of a plan that had suggested itself to my mind, but fearing to put it into execution, I had two visitors who comuletely altered my career in life. ') he first came one morning as I was writing a letter to my uncle — a letter destined never to reach him — in the shape of the big farmer, Mr. Wooster, who rapped sharply at the office door, and gazed sternly at me as I opened :t and stood in the little passage. " VVhere's Blakeford P " he said sharply. " 111 in bed, sir," I said. " It's a lie, you young rascal," he cried, catching me by the collar. " Here, how old are you ? " "Thirteen, sir." " And you can tell lies like that, eh ? and without bliuh- ingP" DREAMS OF THE GREAT MAGNET. 33 I ID my the bhe ih- **It is not ft lie, «ir/' I uaul stoutly. " Mr. Hliik. ford haunt been down since — »in«:e " "I thraAli(>(l him, eh H " lie Miid, liiii/liin?. "It wa.i a frotxi lhra^hing' too, vh, yuungtiter i' iiut, li<ilio! wUai's the uiuth r with your h«'ud!' " ♦' A out, sir." " Wbnt ! Did yon tumhl»' down Y " •' Xo, sir. It was duno ihu day vou~you beat Mr. lUak' - ford." " How P " I was silent. " He— he didn't dare to do if. did he y " I was still silent. "Look here, youngster, tell me the truth and I'll give v'>ii ,i Hhilling." " I never told a lie yet, sir," I said stoutly. *• and 1 don't wunt your shilling." He looked at me intently for a few moments, and then held uui his hand. *' Shake hands," he paid. I placed mine in his, and he squeezed it so that he hurt me, but I did not flinch. " I believe you, my lad. You don't look like a lying eort, and I wish you were out of this. Now, tell me, did he make that cut on yourheadP" I nodded. " What with P " " That ruler." "Humph! And what, forP" " Because I let you in on that day." " Hang him ! " he cried, striding up and down the office, for )»• had walked straight in, " he's a bigj^tir scoundrel than I thoti(.-!i. bim. Now, look here, my man, there's going to be an action, or a trial, or something, against n e, and you'll be the principal wi;- nes8. Now, what are you going to do h " " Going to do, sir ? '^ " Yes,' he said impatiently : " you'll liave to appear before th»' magistrates, and you'll be asked all about my thrashing yoiii- master. What are you going to suy ? " " I shall tell them the truth, sir." "No, you won't, my boy. You'll say what Mr. iilakeford tell- you to say." ^ " I shall tell the truth, sir," I said stoutly. " Look here, my lad, if you tell the truth, that's all I want . '. you don't, you'll ruin me." "I'm sure I shall tell the truth, sir," I said, colouring u;i .1 ' speaking eftruestly. 34 TFIE STDifV OF AN'lTtN'V anACR. ill 'i! " You'll tell tlin lua^^istrat.'s, then, tiiai [ .snatched up tl)e poker and beat Mr. Hlakeford ./ith that, eh 'i " " No, sir, ii was your walking-stick." " Was it anythin,^ like that)^ " he said, holding- out the one he carried. " Yes, sir, just like it. Here are the pieces, sir," I said ; and I took them out of my desk, wh'>ve [ had placed them. " You're a brave boy," he cried, nibl)ing-his hands : "so they are. Now look iiere, my boy : Mr. JJlakeford says 1 assaulted him with the poker. Just you button those pieces of stick up in your pocket — no, give them to me: I'll take them. Now; when the day comes, and I ask you to tell tiie truth about it, you speak out honestly, t>r, better still, go and hide yourself and never come near the court at all. Tliere'shalf-a-crown for you. What, you won't take it ! Well, just as you like. (Jood-bye ! " He shook hands with me again, and nodding in a friendly way, left the otlice. He had not been gone more than an hour when there was another knock at the door, and on opening it, I admitted Mr. Uowle, who smiled at nie a* he took o!T his liat and smoothed his thin strei'.ky hair across his b;ild iiead. " Well, young un," he said, " why, vou're growing quite a man. But what's the matter with yonr forehead.''" 1 told him, and he gave a l.w, long whistle. " I say, young un," he said, " 1 dare say it ain't no business of mine, hul if I was you, I shoiiM k-ok after another place. Perhaps, thouyli, he wouldn't let you go." "Mr. iiliikeford often says, Mr. Uowle, that he wishes I was out of his >i<.'i,t." " Gammon !" said my visitor; "don't you believe him. You do as you like : but if T was a boy like you, I w ouldn't stay here." 1 looked u]) at him guiltily, and he stared hard at me, as if readiny my tlum^jhts. *' Whv, vvliat's wrong ? " he said ; "you look as red as a turkev- cock : •' ' " Please. Mr. Uowle— but vou won't toll Mr. Tdakeford ? " "Tell Mr. P^l.ikeford ? Xot 1." "I mean to go \\\i to London. an<l try vxA find my uncle." " Try iiiid fltid him t What, don't you know where he lives ? " '■' Xo, sii-."' " Hunipli ! London's a big plaee. you know." " Yes, sir, ];u; 1 rlare say I could find him." " What is he- ii g'ntleman?" "Yes. SM', T tliiiik SM." "So don't I, my boy, (m- lie'd never have left you in charge of old Pouneewax. But lookye here now; out with it! What do you meaii to do- -give not i,>e to leave, or are you goini,' to cut f " I ( .V •• U »• i 1 1 ii ^ ■ .» IV. I . 'kev- P" ^e of it do "Cut xvhnt. sii-y" "Cut wiml ! Why, rut aw.iy- vim up to Loinlcii." 1 hf.<>itut";'<l for a tVw mnaitiii.s and hnn^ my Ih'skI : flion. lonKiii-^ up in my old fi'U'nd'.> fact', as lie tliru.>i his '.li.nd inio Ins iiuT lUid I expect t'd to see him draw his pi; e - 1 i( li ihiit 1 had ucil.'.n^' to fear from him, and I spoke out. "Please, Mr. llowle, Tm :^o unhjippy l; 've. that I was cro'iug to run away." He caught me by the collar so sharply ihnt I thought lie wa-i goin"' to punish mo ; but ii Wus miiIv to Wring d<nvu lua otlier hui.d with a sharp clap upon my Minultit-r. "I'm glad of it, youii','' iiti. IJiiu awav, then, l.ri'ore lie cruslu .s all the hope and spirit oui of yu." "Then you don't think it would l)e very wronr. s r 'f" " I think it would be very rii'ht, vouul!- no • an I I li<'po if ynn find your uncle, he won't send \ou hack (t hf \\;i''ts lo, dont come: but run awav again, l.ocic iiere ; /• u'll want a friend in London. Go and see my hio Koi." " Your brother, sir ? " " Yes, my brotlier .labe/. You'll linow him r-i • on as you ^ee him ; he'a just like me. How old do you thi/ik 1 am r " " T should think you're fifty, sir." "Fifty-eight, young un ; anil so's .lahez. Thi've, voti go and put his name and address down. Fit'ty-i'vuht he is. nnA I'm H!ty- eight, 80 there's a pair of us. Now, tm- i. write awa\ : .\ir. .Ja')e;: llowle, Ru<]dle and Lifter." "Mr. .Tahez Itowle." T said, writin. il cuicuiiij duwu. "Good. Now Huddle ad l.isier." "Huddle and Tiister." "Commercial printers," " Com-mer-cia) prin-ters." " Short Street, V^etter Lane." " Fet-ter Lane." " And now let's look." I handed him tlie scrap of ]):\])er. "Why, it's lovely. Copp -r-phit'-'s notiiin:;- to it, yoii"Lr n-i. There, you go up and see him, a id tell lii n you'xtj coin' bp : > London to make your fortune, and he il b-'l)! yoti. [ we::t u}> in London to make mine, young un." " And did you make it, sir y '' f s,",(l cij^iiis , He looked down at his shah!i\ (•'>; li"s, sviD^ihcl iii> hair, ami then, with a curious smile u'|iori hih t'at^" "No, young un, I didn't, make ii. I luaae au.uc u.ii.j tdse i?i.stead." "Did you, sir?' " Yes, young un a mess of it. Look liere, Inn have got ou» but. I IfacnHd to drink liktj a iish, Lo.i't^uu. .\.iiid ilii»: M'r; 30 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. '! I I il ii' '■I drink means goin^ downwards into the mud; leaving it alone means climbing up to the top of the tree. Bless your youiig heart, whatever you do, don't drink." " No, sir," I said, " I will not ;" but 1 did not appreciate hit advice. " There, you stick to that paper. And now, how much money have vou got ? " " Aloney. sir p " " Yes, money. London's a hundred miles away, and you can't walk." "I think I could, sir." " Well, try it ; and ride when you're tired. How much have you got?" I took out my little blue silk purse, and counted in sixpences half-a-crown. He looked at me for some few moments, and then stood think- ing, as if trying to make up his mind about something. " I'll do it," he muttered. " Look here, young un, you and I are old friends, ain't we ? " " Oh, yes ! " I said eagerly. " Then I will do it," he said, and untying his neckerchief, he, to my great surprise, began to unroll it, to show me the two ends that were hidden in the folds. " For a rainy day," he said,, " and this is a rainy day for you. Look here, young un ; this is my purse. Here^s two half-suvs tied up in these two corners — that a one for you, and one for me." " Oh, no, sir," I said, " I'd rather not take it ! " and I shrank away, for he seemed so poor and shabby, that the idea troubled me. " I don*t care wherber you'd rather or not," he said, untying one corner with his teeth. " You take it, and some day when you've made your fortune, you give it me back — if so be as you find I haven't succeeded to my estate." "Do you expect to come in for an estate :iX.r-^ day, sirP" I said eagerly. " Bless your young innocence, yes. A piece of oid mother earth, my boy, six foot long, and two foot wide. Just enough to bury me in. I understood him now, and a pang shot through me at the idea of another one who had been kind to me dying. He saw my look and nodded sadly. " Yes, ray lad, perhaps I shall be dead and gone long before then." " Oh, sir, don't ; it's so dreadful ! " I said. " No, no, my boy," he said quietly ; and he patted my shoulder, as he pressed the half-sovereign into my hand. " Not so dreadful as you think. It sounds very awful to you youngsters, with the I TAKE A r.OLD STEP. 37 jne 've I iry world before you, tind all lii>p»» and bripfhtness; but some day, please God you livo long euoujfli, you'll bei-in to ^row very tired, and then it will seem to you more like going to take u long rest. But there, there, we wou't talk like that. Here, give me thai money back ! " I handed it to him, thinking that he hud r^penti'd of what h- had done, and he hastily rolled the other half-sovereign up, and re-tied his handkerchief. " Here," he said, " stop a minute, and don't shut the door. I i>)hall soon be back." He hurried out, and in five minutes was back again to gii/.^ at me smiling. " Stop amoment," he said, " I must get sixpence out of anotln pocket. I had to buy an ounce o' 'bacco so as to get change. Nov . here you are — hold out your hand." I held it out unwillingly, and heeounted eight sliillingv^aml fom sixpences into it. " That's ten," he said ; " it's better for you so. Now you put soni' in one pocket and some in anotlier, and tie some up just the sani • as I have, and put a couple of shillinirs anywhere else you can and mind and never show your money, and nevfr telljinyhody lio\v much you've got. And mind this, too, when anybody asks yni to give him somethinor to drink, take him to the pump. Th.ii - all. Stop. Don't lose that address. Gov'uor's not down, I s'po.^e : "No, sir," 1 said. " All right then, I shan't stay. Good-bye, young un. WIih . are you going ? " " I'm not quite sure yet, sir." "No? Well, perhaps I shan't see you aorain. .labez Rowl- mind you. Tell him all about yourself, mind, and — — good-l»\< ' He trotted otf, but came buck directly, holding out his hand " God bless you, young un," he said hii.^kilv . *' lo l-l)ye." Before I could speak again, tlie door closed sharply, aud I w.i alone. CHAPTER VIII. lea )ok lore I TAKE A BOLD STEP. My head was in a whirl as soon as 'ur. Uowle lial f^nno, and I -;i 'A my desk thinking over my project, for I had felt '"or dnys p.is; that I could not stay where I was— that I wonll ^ » .ucr di»' ; and night after night I had lain awiike thinking of tin-, to iw terrible step I proposed to take. .My liff ai Mr. llljil\Hi"oril - had been such a scene of misery and loriurt'. iliut I .>li()utd have gone long enough before, had I dared Now ii,ar I iiad grovvu 88 THK 810KV Ui< AMOXV GRACE. m P ! ;; ii older, and a little more confident, I lind prndnnllv nurtured the idea as my only hope, and the events of the past weeks hod pretty well ripened ray scheme. As I sat there, I laid my arras oil the big- desk, and my head down upon them, trembling at my daring, as the idea took a far more positive rhape than ever; and now u feeling of reluctance to leave had corae upon me. Mary had been so kind : and then there was little Hetty, who had silently shown rae so many tokens of hei girlish goodwill. I felt as I sat there, with the money and address in my pocket, that I must go now ; and to act as a spur to my intentions, tht words of Mr. Wooster came trooping across my memory. Would Mr. Blakeford want me to go to the magistrates and say what was not true ? In imagination, I saw his threatening dark face before me, and his thin lips just parting to display his white teeth in that dog- like smile of his, and I shuddered, as I felt how I feared him. 11 would be horrible to be threatened till I promised to say what ht wished, and to lie to the magistrate? with Mr. Wooster's threat- ening face watching me the while. But he would not ask me to tell a lie, I thought, and I could not run away. Mary would never forgive me, and Hetty would think that I really did cause her father to be so beaten. No : I felt I could not go, and that somehow I must get away from the house go straight to Mr. Rowle's lodgings, and give him back the money which I had received upon such a false pretence. It was all over. I felt the idea of freeing myself from raj wretched slavery was one that could never be carried out, and I must wait patiently and bear my miserable lot. Crack ! I leaped up as if I had been shot, to see Mr.Blakeford, in dressing- gown and slippers, his hair cut short, and looking very pale, standing in the office, the ruler in his hand, with which he had just struck the table and made me start. " Asleep ! " he said sharply. " No, sir," I said, trembling as I looked at him over the par- tition. " No, sir, I was not asleep." " It's a lie, sir, you were asleep. Come here." I descended from the stool, and opening the partition door, went slowly into his part of the office, and stood by the table, hii dark eyes seeming to pierce me through and through. " Been worked so hard since I was ill, eh ? " he said sneeriugly "No, sir, I " " Hold your tongue. What's the matter with your head P " " My head, sir P I stammered. " Yes, that half-healed cut. Ob, I remember, you fell down, didn't you P" i \\\ H I TAKK A BOLT) STEP. 39 ' tastily. Ue said in sneering •'Fell down, sir! No, I " '. . . , " You fell down — pitcheil down — I remember, while climbing." "No, sir, I " "Look here, you dog," he hissed between his teeth ; " you fell down, do you hear ? und cut your head when climbing. Do you understand ? " « No, sir, I " " Once more, Antony Grace, listen to me. If aayone asks you how you came by that cut, mind — you fell down wlien climbing — you fell down when climbing. If you foi7>t;t that " He did not finish, but seemed to hold mr with his eye as he played with the ruler and made it go up and d(jwn. "Look here, my boy, you are my clerk, and you are to do exactly as I tell you. Now, listen to me. The day after to- morrow there is to be a case of assault brought before the magistrates, and you will be sworn as a witness. You let Mr. Wooster in — curse him ! — and you saw him come up to my table where I was sitting, and make a demand for money.' "Please, sir, I did not hear him ask fur m^ ney.*' "You did, sir," he thundered ; " and you saw liim strike me with his stick." "Yes, sir, I saw him strike you," I cri' " Oh, you did see that, did you h tones. " Yes, sir." " Did you see the stick break P " " Yes, sir," I said eagerly. " Oh, come ; I'm glad you can remember that. Tlien he caught up the poker and beat me with it heavily across the body, till the poker was bent right round ; and at last, wlien I was quite stunned and senseless, ana with the blood streaming from my lips, he left me half dead and went away." There was a pause here, during which I could not take my eyea from his. " You saw all that, didn't you ? " " No, sir," 1 said, " he did not take the poker." "What?" "He did not take the poker, sir." " Oh ! and he did not beat me with it till it was bent ? " " No, sir." " Go and fetch that poker," he said quietly ; and I went tremb- ling, and picked it up, to find it quite bent. " There, you see ? " he said. " Yes, sir, it is bent." " Of course it is, Antony. You don't remember that he struck me with it, eh?" " No, sir," I said, trembling. wmr mi ■ 1 13 THE SiOilY OF AiNTONY CrKACE. 111' I' : 'i-li ;i;* p i 'i 'i 111 I'll •* Ah, I shall have to refresh your memory, my boy. You • »ipmber, of course, about the blood?" "No, sir. ' " What'i that on the floor P ' 1 looked down at the place to which he pointed with the bent p iker, and there were some dark stains where I had fallen. Then, raising my eyes to his again, I looked at him implorinsrly. " I shall soon refresh your momory, Antony," he said,* laughing silently, and looking at me so that 1 shivered again. " Vou will lind, on sitting down and thinkiner a little, that you recollect ])Hrtectly well how Mr. Wooster beat me cruelly with the poker, till it was bent like this, and left me bleeding terribly on the office loor. There, hold your tongue. You'll recollect it all. Sit down ;'.:.d try and remember it, there's a good boy. I'm better now, but 1 (• iii't talk much. Let me see, Antony, what time do you go to bed P' " Nine o'clock, sir," I faltered. *• Exactly. Well, don't go to sleep, my boy. I'll come up to • I lU after you are in bed, and see if you remember it any better. Ijo back to your desk." 1 crept back, watching him the while, as he stood balancing the i oker in his hand, and smiling at r»e in a way that made my blood tuni cold. Then, throwing the poker back with a crash into the '.•rate, he went out as silently as he had come, and I sat there 1 liinking for quite two hours. At the end of that time, I took a sheet of paper, and wrote iip( n it at well as my wet trembling hands would let me — * My dkab Mary, — Please don't think me a very ungrateful boy, but I cannot. ••:■] 1 ar not, stay here any longer. When you read this I shall ' ffniit-, iiever to come back any more. Please tell Miss Hetty 1 ■ hall never forget her kindness, and I shall never forget yours. "I remain, your affectionate friend, " Antony Gbacb. P.S. — Some day, perhaps, we shall meet somewhere. I am ^ ry unhappy, and I cannot write any more. Mr. Blakeford .' i;.^htens me." This letter I doublpd and sealed up in the old fashion, and kept •I my pocket, meaning ro post it, and at last, when I went into the i.nchen to tea, I was half afraid to meet Mary. She noticed my i)ale face, and I told her the truth, that I had a bad headache, inakln;i' it an excuse for going up to bed at eight o'clock, feeling as if tile greatest event in my life were about to take place, and shakinsT 'i]<e a leaf. I felt tnat I had an hour to spare, and spent part of the time in II I TAKE A BOLD STEP. 41 makinff a bundle of my bpst clothes and linen. I tied up in i, banukercliiti, loo, pome iiiick >lices of bread and butter, and 4ome bread and meat that I had found that afternoon in my desk. Then, as the night grew darker, I sat thinking and asking myself, ifter placing my bundles ready, whether I should go at once, Dr wait till 1 heard Mr. Bhikeford comiiirr. I had just decided to go at once, feeling thiir 1 dare not face Mr. Blakeford again, when I heard bis voice dowustairs, and started up, trembling in every limb. " Wbere's that boy P " " Gone to bed," said Mary surlily. Then I heard a door shut directly after, and breathed more freely. I felt tliat 1 must go at once, and stood in the middle of the room, shivering with nervous excitement, as I thought of the madness of the step I was about to undertake. A dozen times over I felt that I dare not go, till the recollection ot Mr. Blakeford's dark threatening face and sneering smile gave me strength, and made me cull up tlie picture of myself before the magistrates telling all I knew about the assault, of course not saying anything about the poker, or my employer's injuries ; and then 1 began to think about meeting him afterwards. " He'll half kill m»'," I thought ; and stopping at this, I nerved myself for what I had to do, and putting on my cap, went to the door and listened. I had spent so much time in indecision that the church clock was striking ten, and I started as I thought of Mr. Blakeford being already upon the stairs. From where I stood I could have seen the light shining out of the kitchen where Mary sat at work ; but it was not there, and I knew that she must have gone up to bed. It now flashed upon me that this was why Mr. Blakeford had been waiting — he did not want Mary to interfere; and a cold chill came over me as I felt that he meant to beat me till I consented to say what he wished. There was no time to lose, so, darting back, I caught up my two bundles, crept to the door, descended the stairs on tiptoe, and felt my heart beat violently at every creak the woodwork of the wretched steps gave. Twice over a noise in the house made me turn to run back, but as there was silence once more, 1 crept down, and at last reached the mat in front of the office door. At the end of the passage was the parlour, where I knew Mr. Blakeford would be sitting, and as I looked towards it in the darkness, I could see a faint glimmer of light beneath the door, and then heard Mr. Blakeiord cough slightly aud move his chair. Turning hastily, 1 felt for the handle of the office-door, which i*. A t' 42 rilK STOiiV OF AXTONV GllACE. III rt'i \ Mi ,11' wM half gliiHS, with a black muslin blind over it, aud moving the handle, I found the door locked. The key was in, though, and lurnint^ it, there was a sharp crack as the bolt shot back, and then a.>' I unclosed this door, t heard that of the parlour open, and II light shone down the passage. " II(i's coniint?! " I said in despair ; and for a moment, my heart failed me, so great an influence over me had this man obtainwl, and I stood as if nailed to the floor. The next moment, though, with my heart beatmg so painfully that it was as if I was being .-iuflfociited, I glided into the office and closed the door, holding it shut, without during to let the handle turn and the catch slip back. If he came into the office, I was lost, and in iniagination, I saw myself with my cap on, and my bundles under my arm, standing trembling and detected before him. Trembling, indeed, as the light came nearer, and [ saw him dimly through the black blind approaching the office-door. He was coming into the office, and all was over ! Closer, closer he came, till he was oppo.-ite the door, when he stopped short, as if listening. His face was not a yard from mine, and as T gazed at bim through the blind, with starting eyes, seeing his evil-looking coun- tenance lit up by the chamber candlestick he carried, and the grim smile upon his lips, 1 felt that he must hear me breathe. 1 was paralyzed, for it seemed to me that his eyes were gazing straight into mine — fascinating me as it were, where I stood. He was only listening, though, and instead of coming straight into the office, he turned off sharp to the left, and began to ascend the stairs leading to my bedroom. There was not a moment to lose, but I was as if in a nightmare, and could not stir, till, wrenching myself away, I darted across the office to the outer door, slipped the bolts, and turned the key with frantic haste, just as his steps sounded overhead, and I heard him calling me by name. The door stuck, and I could not get it open, and all the time I could hear him coming. He ran across the room, every footstep seeming to come down upon my head like lead. He was descend- ing the stairs, and still that door stuck fast at the top. In a despairing moment, I looked behind me to see the light shining in at the glass door as he descended, and then my hand glided to the top of the door, and I found that I had not quite shot uick the bolt. The next moment it was free, the door open, and I was through ; ut, feeling that he would catch me in the yard, I tore out the key, ; iirust it into the hole witli trembling fingers, and as he dashed ' )en the inner door I closed the one where T stood, and locked it rom the outside. I 'i;^VKE A BOLD STEP. f lit d lot I had somehow held on to my bundles, and was about to run across the yard to the pump in the corner, place one font upon the spout, and by this means reach the top of the wall, when I Hopped, paralyzed once more by the fierce barking of the doir. To my horror I found that he was loose, for his lioursegrowhnc came from quite another part of the yard to that where his kenntfl was fixed ; and I stood outside the door, between two enemies, ivs a faint streak of light shot out thron«?h the keyhole, playing strangely upon the bright handle of the key. " Are you there, Antony ? Come back this moment, sir. Un- lock this door." I did not answer, but stood fast, as the handle was tried and •tbaken again and again. " You scoundrel! come back, or it will be worse for you. Leo, Leo, Leo ! " The dog answered the indistinctly henrd voice with a slinrj) burst of barking ; and as the sound came nearer, i seemed to see the animal's heavy bull-head, and his sliurp teeth about to be fixed in my throat. The perspiration dripped from me, and in my horror I heard Mr. Blakeford exclaim — " You are there, you scoundrel, I know. I heard you lock the door. Come in directly, or I'll half kill you.' My hoarse breathing was the only sound I heard. Then, directly after, there were husty steps crossing the ofHce, and I knew he had gone round to reach the front. There was not a moment to lose, and 1 was about to rissk the dog's attack, sooner than face Mr. Blakeford, when a thouglit struck me. I had the little bundle loosely tied up in a handkerchief, and in it the bread and meat. This might quiet the dog ; and with a eoiirace I did not know I possessed, I hastily tore it open, and taking a couple of steps into the yard, called out, in a loud quick voice, •' Here, Leo, Leo ! " throwing the bread and meat towards where 1 believed the dog to be. There was a rush, a snarling whine, and the dog was close to me for the n^oment. The next, as 1 heard him in the darkness seize the meat, I was across the yard, with one foot on the pump, and us I raised myself the front door was flung open, and I heaid Mr. Blakeford rush out. p; it U THE STORY Of AN!0\> GRACE. OHAl'TKK IX. • • • ON TIIK ROAD TO IX)NPON. As Mr. JJlnkeford ran down to the jrnrd^'n pate, I n'nrhpd tlie top of the wall, from whence I should hnve dropped down, hut tlint he was already outside, and would, I I'elt sure, have l:enrd me. Ff I had then run away, it seemed to me tliat it would be the easiest of tasks for him to pursue me, and hunt ine down. If I stayed where I was, 1 felt that he would see me against the sky, and I knew he wouM ])iuss close by me directly to reach the vard doors, when, half in d* spjtir. I threw myself flat down, and lay as close as I could, embracing the wall, and holding my bundle in my teeth. I heard him pass beneath the wnll directly, and enter the yard by the gate, which lie closed after him, before ninning up to the otfice-door and unlocking it, allowing a stream of light to issue forth just across where the dog was peaceably eating my provender. " Curse him, he has gone ! ' I heard Mr. felakeford mutter, and my blood ran cold, as he made a hasty tour of the place. " I'll have him back if it costs me five hundred pounds,' he snarled. ** Antony, Antony ! Come here, my boy, ana I'll forgive you." He stopped, listening, but of course I did not move ; aud then, in an access of rage, he turned upon the dog. *' You beast, what are you eating there ? " he roared. " Why didn't you seize him ? Take that ! ' There was a dull thud as of a heavy kick, a yelp, a whine, a snarl, and then a dull worrying noise, at? if the dog had flown at his master, who uttered a loud cry of pain, followed by one for lielp : but I waited to hear no more, for, trembling in every limb, i had grasped my bundle and dropped from the wall, when with the noise gi owing faint behind me I ran with all my might in the direction of the London Road. Hearing steps, though, coming towards me directly after, I stopped short, and ran into a garden, cowering down amongst the slirubs, for I felt certain t!iat wlioever it was in front would be in .Mr. Blakeford's pay, ai:d I waited some time after he had passed before continuing my flight. I ran on that night till there was a hot feeling of blood in my throat, and then I staggered up to, and leaned panting upon, a hedge by the roadside, listening for the sounds of pursuit. A dog barking in the distance sounled to me like Leo, and I felt sure that Mr. Blakeford was in hot chase ; then I stumbled slowly on, but not for any great distance, my pace soon degenerating into a walk, till I regained my breath, wlien I ran on again for a time, but at a steady trot now, for I had not sinc« heard the barking of the dog. Still i did not feel safe, knowing that at any moment Mr. Blake- 1 ON THE KOAD TO LONDON. 46 ford might overtake me in bis pony-chaipe, when, unless I could escape by ruuuing off acrosM country, 1 should bti iguouiiuiuu;ily dragged bock. At last, after several attempts to keep un ray running, I was compelled to be content with a steady fast walk, and thus I trudgfd on hour after hour, till Rowford town, where I had ^vi so inuny wretched hours, was a long way behind. • I had passed through two villages, but so far I had not met another soul since leaving liowford, nor heard the sound of wheels. It was n very solitary road, leading through a pretty woodland tract of the country, and often, as 1 toiled on, I came to dark over- shadowed parth, passing through woods, and I paused, not caring to go on. But there was a real tangible danger in the rear which drove me onwards, and, daring the imaginary dangers, I pushed on with beating heart, thinking of robbers, poachers, and highway men, as I tried to rejoice that there were no dangerous wild beasta iu Engloiid. At la.st, I could go no farther, but sank down perfectly exhausted upon a heap of stones that had been placed there for inenditig the road ; and, in spite of my fears of pursuit, nature would have her way, and I fell fast asleep. The sun was shining full upon me when I awoke, stiff and sore, wondering for a moment where 1 was ; and when at last I recalled all the past, I sprang up in dread, and started otf at once, feeling that I had been slothfully wasting my opportunity, and that now I might at any moment be overtaken, As I hurried on, I looked down at niv feet, to find that my boots and trousers were thickly covered witn dust; but there was no one to see me, and 1 kept on, awaking fully to the fact that I was faint and hungry. These sensations reminded me of the contents of the little hand- kerchief, and I wistfully thought of the bread and butter that I might have saved. Then I stopped short, for the recollection of one bundle reminded me of the other, and it was gone. Where was it ? 1 had it when I sank down upon that stone-heap, and I must have come away and left it behind. In my faint, h Jgry state, this discovery was terribly depressing, for the bundle contained my good suit of mourning, besides uiy linen and a few trifles, my only valuables in this world. " I must have them back," I thought ; and 1 started off to re- trace my steps at a run, knowing that I had come at least a couple of miles. It was dreadfully disheartening, but I persevered, gazing straight before me, lest I should run into danger. It seemed as if that stone-heap would never come into iiight, but at iMt I saw it lying grey in the distant sunshine, and forgetting pp I I I \ 4$ TIIK STORV OK ANTONY GFJACE. : I :i W \ iiil i!,|! ill iii\ liiiii^r(>v, I tall «)ii till I t'ruchfd the Hpot, nnd hei^an to look I'diiikI. I ImkI »'xiit'ct«'(l to ««'P file bundle Ivinjf hosidn tlie stone-heap, as Soon u> I caiiu' ill >i^lit, liut tliiTo woiu no t nueft of it ; and though I 8eiii'(liod round, und iu the Ion},' gt'ua.j at the side, there was no hundlf . YiM ; I was certain that I liad it when I sank down, and there- fon.' sotn*'l)()(|y nnint have taken it while I slept, for no one had piif-Mod nu' on the road. I could hiive sut down and cried with vexation, but I had pnity well oiugrown that weakness; and after a final glance vnuiid I was about to go on again, when something a hundred Viirdh nearer the town took inv attention, and, running up to it, 1 ^:l\v a pair of worn-out boors lying on the grass by the roadside. They seemed to be nothing to me, and, sick at heart, I turned •mck and continued my journey, longinur now for the sight of some xilliiRe, where 1 could buy a little milk and a few slices of bread. The sun was growing hot, and licking up the dew beside the dusty roiid, but it was a glorious morning, and in spite of my loss there was a feeling of hopefulness in my heart at being free from the slavery T had endured at Mr. Blakeford's. I thought of it all, and wondered what Mary would sav. what TTetty would think, and wiiether Mr. Blakeford wotdd tr > fetch me back. As 1 thought on, I recovered the j d 1 had lost, and reached a pretty part of the road, where it aiuped down in a hollow as it passed through a wood. It was very aelicious and shady, and the iilvds were smging as they used to sing from the woods around my old home ; and so sweet and full of pleasant memories were th(!8e sounds, that for the moment I forgot my hunger, and stood by a gate leading inio the woods and listened. My reverie was broken by the sound of wheels coming up behind i.ie, and taking alarm on the instant, I climbed over the gate and hid myself, crouching down amongst the thick bracken that sliowed its silvery green fronds around. I made sure it was Mr. Blakeford in pursuit, and, once secure of my hiding-place, I rose up gently, so that I could peeT in between tlie trees and over the high bank to the sloping road, down which, just as I had pictured, the four-wheeled cnaise was coming at a smart trot, with Mr. Blakeford driving, and some- body beside him. My first impulse was to turn round and dash wildly through the wood ; but I partly restrained myself, partly felt too much in dread, and crouched there, watching through the bracken till, as the chaise came nearer, I saw that a common, dusty, tramp- looking boy was seated beside Mr. Blakeford, and the next moment I saw that he had my bundle upon his knee. For a moment J thought t might be deceived ; but no, th«i« i) i ON TIIK l;«»AI» lo LoM'UN. •«: ■»» wan no doubt about it. Tlu'iv was my buixll*', Nur« <»noiip;h, unl that boy inuHt Iuivh taken it from iiit« as 1 luy asIiM)), and iIi«mi met aim told Mr. Hlakefurd wIuto Iu« liad «»'t'n me. I wa8 pretty nearly rij/fli I, l)ui not (|i'iii',a.s it at'terwHid.^ proved. JUit meaiiwliile the chaise had pu^t" d on, .Mr. Hhtki Inid iii^'iii^' the pony to a pretty good spefd, and ^^uzin;^ shar]>ly lo riyht and left a8 he went alon^-. I had hardly dared to breathe as he passed, hut oroiiolied lower and lower, fancying that a robin hoppint,' iitinnt on the iwin-M near seemed ready to betray me: and not until the i-hai.x*- had ^:oiie by some ten minutes or so did 1 dare to sit up and thiiiiv about my future movements. The recollection of thedu.sty, wret(;hed look of the lad who held my bundle set me bruHhinfr my bof>ts and trousers with some fronds of fern, and feeliiifr then somewhat less disrepntal)h'-look- ing, I ventured at last to erettp back into the road aii<l look to right and left. I was terribly undecided as to what I onfj-ht to do. Ho back I would not, and to go forward seemed likt; nishin;^ s: .• i';.;ht into danger. To right or left was nothing but taiii^hd wood, wherein 1 should soon lose myself, and therefore nothing was left for me to do bur go straight on, and this I did in fear and trembling, keeping a sharp look-out in front, and meanintr to take to the woods and fields should Mr. IJhikfford's chaise again appear in sin lit. For quite an hour I journeyed on, and tlien the roots of eottagtH and a church tower appeared, making me at one niniiitMii pit\<8 eagerly forward, the next shrink back for fear Mi-. Ilhiuchjr.i should be there. But at last hmig'r pr.'\ ailed, and mal;iii;i a li Ad rush, 1 walked right on, and seeing no sign of danger, I w eut into the village shop and bought a little loaf and some we; ileifully strong-smelling cheese. "Did you see a gentleman go by here in a chaise ? " I ventured to say. "What, with a boy in it ? " said the woman who served me. I nodded. " Yes, he went by ever .so long ago. You'll have to lo' Ic sliarp if you want to catch them. The gentlenian was asking afiiT yon." I felt that I turned pale and red by turns, as 1 walk' d out in"" the road, wondering what it would be be.sl to do, when, to mv great delight I saw that there was a side lane ofT to the lelt, jii i a little way through the village, and hurrviiig on, 1 found iliat i was quite a byway off the main road. Where it led to I did uv know, only that there was a finger-post with the words " 'Jo Chin lock Bridge" upon it, and turning down I walkinl qni^' a eou] ' of miles before, completely worn out. 1 s;it down bi-ide a \\u'- brook that rippled across the clean-wa-licii atones of the road, a , made the most deliciouH meal I ever ate iu my life. .*,: ,P- 48 THE 3T0RY OF ANTONY GRACE ;' I !jl *li Mill 1 1 i\ ■ I , I \ 'T. IP R'-epd and ^beose and spring' water nnder the nhade of a h\gh hedge, in winch a robin sat — it looked to roe like the one I had seen iu the wood — and darted down and picked up the crumbs I threw it from time to time. As my hunger began to be appeased, and I had thoroughly slaked my burning thirst, by usmg my closed hand for a scoop, 1 began to throw crumbs into the buboling brook, to see them float down for some distance, and then be snapped up by the silvery little fishes with which the stream seemed to swarm. All the while, though, my head had been constantly turning from side to side, in search of danger, and At last iust as I was about to continue my journey, hoping to gain the London Road once more, I saw the dans^er I sought, in the shape of the boy with ray bundle running across the fields, as if he had come from the high road, and was trying to get into the lane below me to cut me off. I looked sharply behind me, expecting to see the chaise of Mr. Blakeford, but it was not in sight ; so, stooping down, I waded quickly through the brook, kept under the slielter of the hedge, and ran on steadily, so as not to be out of breath. The water filled my boots, but it only felt pleasantly cool, and, as I thought, made me better able to run, while, as I raised my head from time to tiii e, I could catch siyht of the boy with the bundle running hard across field after field, and losing so much time in getting through hedges or over gates that I felt that I should be past the spot where he would enter the lane before he could reach it. To my surprise, though, I four 1 that the lane curved sharply round to the right, giving him less distance to run, so that when I tried hard to get bv him, having givon up all ideu of hiding, I found that he had jumped over into the lane before I came up. Then to my horror, as I turned a sharp corner, I came straight upon him, he being evidently quite as much surprised as I at the suddenness of our encounter — the winding of tne lane and the height of the hedges having kept us out of sight the one of the other, until the very last moment, when we came face to face, both dusty, hot, weary, and excited as two lads could be, and for the moment neither of us moved. I don't know how it was that I did not try to run off by the fields in another direction, but is seems to me now that I was stirred by the same savage instincts as an ostrich, who, seeing any hunter riding as if to cut him off, immediately forgets that there is plenty of room behind, and gallops across his pursuer's track, instead of right away. As I ran panting up, the lad stopped sijort, and my eyes fall- ing upon my bundle, a new set of thoughts came flashing across my mind, making me forget my pursuer in the high road. As for the lad, he stood staring at me in a shuty way, and it 0^ TilK i:<'.\i> TU LONDUN'. ^ toon became evident that be ga\e me as much credil for chaaing him as I did him for chasing me. He was the first to speak, and calling up the low cunning of bis nature, be advanced a step or two, saying : " I say, you'd better liook it ; that <^ent's a-looking for you." " You give me my bundle," I said, making a snatch at it, and getting hold with on» hand, to which I soon joined the other. " 'Tain't your bundle," he said fitsrcely. " Let go, or I'll soon let you know. Let go, will yer ? " ^ He shook at it savagely, and dragj^ed me here and there, for be was the bigger and stronger ; but 1 held on with all luy might. I was'horribly frightened of him, for he was a coarse, ruffianly- looking fellow ; but inside that bundle was my little all, and 1 determined not to give it up without a struggle. " Here, you wait till I get my knife out," he roared. " It's my bundle, yer young thief ! " " It is not," I panted : " you stole it from me while I lay asleep." "Yer lie! Take that ! ''^ That was a heavy blow on my chin which cut my lip, and seemed to loosen my teeth, causing me intense pain ; but though for a moment I staggered back, the blow hud just the opposite effect to that intended by the boy. A few moments before, f was so horribly afraid of him, that I felt that I must give up ; now the pain seemed to have driven all the fear out of me, for, 8prin«ring at him with clenched fists, I struck out wildly, and with all my might; the bundle went down in the dust, and, after a minutes scuffle, and a shower of blows, there, to my intense astonishment, lay the boy too, grovelling and twisting about, rubbing his eyes with his fists, and howling dismally. " You let me alone ; I never did nothing to you," he whined. " You did ; you stole my bundle," I cried, in the heat of my triumph. "No, I didn't. I on'y picked it up. I didn't know it was yourn.^ " You knew I was by it," I said. "Yes ; but I thought perhaps it weren't yourn," he howled. " Now look here, I said, " you give me what you took out ©f it." " I didn't take nothing out of it," he whined. " I was only going to, when that gent came along on the shay, and asked mc where you was." "You've got my best shoes on,'' I said. " Take them off." He pulled them off, having half spoiled them by cutting tlit fronts, to let his feet go in. " Where's that gentleman now ? " I said. "I don't know," he whitu'd. "He said if I didn't show hire where you was, he'd hand ine over to the police ; and [ cut ofl across the fields, when we was walking the pony up a hill." 'I I n Jiilii 90 TIIK ^^TORY OF ANTONY GRACB. "You're a nice ltluil\<;iiin<l/" 1 said, cooliiifj- down fast ii;>w, an the fear of Mr. lilukeford cuine back. I was wondering, too, how to get rid of my conquest, when, just as I stoopt'd to pick up the shoes, he shrank away, uttrriug a cowardly howl, as if I had aimed ii blow ut him : and, starting up, he ran back along the lane shoe- less, and seemed making for the high road. " He'll tell Mr. Blakeford," I thought ; and catching up the buadle, 1 hurried on in the opposite direction, till, finding the brook again cross the road, I hastily stooped down and washed my bleeding knuckles, before starting off once more, getting rid of the marks of the struggle as fast as I could, and looking back from time to time, in momentary expectation of seeing Mr. IJIakef ord's head above the hedge. CHAPTER X. l-^'t ALONG THK TOWING-PATH. I PELT in better spirits now. My rest and breakfast, and my encounter with the boy, had given me more confidence in myself. Then, too, I had recovered my bundle, replacing in it my shoes, and, after carefully wrapping them up, the remains of my bread a!id cheese. Hour after hour I walked on, always taking the turnings that led to the right, in the belief that sooner or later they would bring me to the Ijondon Road, which, however, they never did ; and at last, in the afternoon, I sat d'"^" under a tree and made a second delicious meal. I passed, during the rest ot . ^t*t day's journey, through a couple more villages, at the latter of which I obtained a large mug of milk for a penny ; and at last, footsore and worn out, I found my- self at niglitfall far away in a pleasant pastoral country, where haymaking seemed to be carried on a good deal, from the stacks I passed. There were hills behind me, and hills again straight be- fore me, the part where T was being very level. " What am I to do ?" I asked myself, for I could ^o no farther, and a feeling of desolation began to make my heart sink. " I must sleep somewhere — but where ? " T ' answer came in the shape of a haystack, one side of which wac being cut away, and soon after, I was seated on the sweet- scented, soft stuff, feasting away once more, to drop at last, almost unconsciously, into a sweet sleep, from which I started up to find it quite dark, and that I was growing cold There was plenty of loose straw close by,, as if threshing had been going on, and taking my bundle for a piiluW; and nestling ALONti l.iH TOWIXtJ.PATII. Al boiifjitli I he .«itraw which I drew over the hay, I was .^oon fa^' asleep once more, ouly to wake up rested and refreshed as the bird^ were tiineing cheerily upon another sunshiny morning. My toilet consisted in getting rid of the bits of straw and huy, after which 1 started to walk on once luore, folli)\ving- a windiniji lane, which brouglit me out at a wooden bridije, crossing- a river, down by whose pebbly side I finished my toilet, and rose refresh«'d and decent-looking, for my bundle contained my brush and comb. There was a Utile public-house on the other side of the stream, with cows in a field hard by, and directing mv steps there, after stopping on the bridge for a few minutes to gaze at the fi^h glancing in the sunshine, I found I could buy some bread anl milk, tlie ])rivilege being given me of sitting down on a bench an<l watching the sparkling river as I made my breakfast. With every mouthful came hope and confidence. T felt as if T really was free, and that all I now had to do was to trudge steadily on to London. How long it would take me 1 did not know- perhaps a month. But it did not matter; I could continue to bt- very sparing of my money, so as to make it last. It was a red-armed, apple-faced woman who gave me the mug, and she stared at me curiously, frightening me so mucli, lest she should ask me questions, tliat I hastily finished my milk, and, pick- ing up tiie bread, said "good mornmg,'' and walked along by the side of the river, there being here a towing-path, upon which 1 soon encountered a couple bf horses, the foreinust of which was ridden by a boy with a whip, while they dragged a long rope which kept plashing down into the river, and then, being drawn taut, showered down pearly drops of w-atcr, which seemed to be smootlud out by a long, low, narrow barge, painted yellow and red, at the end of which was a man smoking, with his eyes half shut, as he leaned upon the tiller gear. They were going against the stream, and their progress was slow, as I sat down and watched them go out of sight round the bend of the river. '• I wonder wliere this river runs to, and where I should go, if I walked all along this path ?" I said to myself, and then like a flash, the idea came, right or wrong, I could not tell, that it must go on and on to London. It was full of hope, that thought ; so full that I 1, ap d up, and trudged on so steadily, that at the end of an hour I again saw a couple of horses in front, drawing another barge, wiih the ro]v plashing in and out of the river; but this barge was going on in the same direction as I was, and as I drew nearer 1 he.;(in to t n\ v the boy riding so idly on the foremost horse, and wi.>.lie \ it wen- my fate to change places with him, lor one of my feet was ve^^ acre. It paioed me a good deal ; but, all the same, there was a joyon • 4—2 p^ 52 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. I 1 jii '■!:i It feclino- of freedom to cheer me on, and I limped forward, thinking how 1 had notliing to fear now, no dreary copying to do, and then btand shivering, expecting blows, if I had omitted a word, or for- got ten to cross some t. All was bright and beautiful, with the glancing river, the glorious green meadows, and the gliding barge going so easily with the stream. There was a stolid-looking man holding the tiller of the barge, staring dreamily before him, and sm-.king, looking as motionless, and smoking nearly as much, as the chimney of the cabin beside him. The barge itself was covered with great tarred cloths of a dingy bliick, but the woodwork about the cabin was ornamented with yellow and scarlet diamonds and ovals carved in the sides. The man took not the slightest notice of me as I limped on, gazing at h/'m and the gliding barge, but smoked away steadily, and I went on, getting nearer and nearer to the hor?ea, thinking as T did 8< of hoT- pleasant it would be to lie down on that black tarpaulin, and giiJe along upon the shiny river without a care ; and it seemed to me then, ill-used and weary as 1 was, that the life of a bargeman would be perfect happiness and bliss. As I drew near the boy, who was sitting sidewise on the fore- most horse, with a shallow rouiid-boftomed zinc bucket hanging from the collar on tho otht»r side, I found that he was watching me as he whistled some doleful minor ditty, pausing every now and then to crack his whip and utter a loud " Jeet 1 " This was evidently a command to the horses, one of which gave its head a toss up and the other a toss down, but paid no further heed, both continuing their steady way along the tow-path, while the boy went on with his whistling. I gradually drew up closer and closer, as the whistling kept on, to find til at about every minute, as if calculated exactly, but of course from mere habit, there was the crack of the whip, the loud " Jeet ! " and the nod up and nod down of the two horses. I trudged up close alongside the boy now, being anxious to learn where the river really did run, but not liking at first to show my ignorance, so we went on for some time in silence. He was a rough, common-looking lad, with fair curly hair, and the skin of his face all in scaly patches where it had usen blistered by the sun, and I took him to be about my own age. He was dressed in a loose jacket and a pair of cord trousers, both of which were several sizes too large for him, but the jacket-sleeves had been cut off above the elbow, and the trousers were rolled up above his knees, showing his bare legs and clean white feet. His coarse shirt was clean, what could be seen of it, but the tops of the trousers were drawn up by strings over his shoulders, so tnat they took the place of vest. Altogether, even to his old, muddy, torn felt hat, through which showed tuft« of his curly hair, he was ragged to 4 degree ; ALONG THE TOWING-PATH. 9S but be seemed us happy as the day was long* and as healthy ii^ could be, as he whistled away, stared at me, and uttered another loud " Ject!" going a little further this time, and makiug it " Jeet, Sammy — jeet, Tommair-y ! " The horses this lime tightened the rope a little, but only for & few moments, when it fell back into the water with a plasli, thf barge gli'^ed on, the horses' hoofs crushed the sandy gravel, and the rope whisked and rustled as it brushed along the thick growtli of sedge by the water side. " Woss the matter with yer foot, matey P " said the boy at last, breaking the ice as he gave his whip another crack, and then caught and examined the thong. " Sore with walking," I said ; and then there was another pause, during which he kept on whistling the minor air over and over again, while I waited for another opening. " Why don't you take off your shoes, matey P " he said. " They alius makes my feet sore. I don't like shoes. Jeet, Tommair-y ! Jeet, Sam-mair-y ! " This was a new light, and I thought, perhaps, I should be easier, for one shoe was constantly scraping the tendon at the back of my hee^ So sitting down on the grass, I untied and slipped off my shoes, my socks following, to oe thrust into my pocket, and I limped on, setting my feet delicately on the gravel, which hurt them, till I changed on to the short soft turf bellde the path. The barge had passed me, but I soon overtook it, and then reached the boy, wno watched me complacently as 1 trudged on, certainly feeling easier. "One on 'em^ a-blee'^ing," said my new friend then. * Shoes alius hurts. Jeet ! " " Yes, when you walk far," I said, the conversation beginning to warm now. "Walked far, matey?" " Yes, ever so far. Have you come far P" " Pistol" I thought he said. « Where ? " I asked. "Bristol. Jeet, Sammy!" Crack! " All along by the river ? " "We dont call it the river, we call it the canal her* It's river farther up towards London." " Are you going to London ? " I said. « Yes. Are you ? " " Yes," I said ; and my heart was at rest, for I knew now that which I wanted to find out without asking. This river did go right to London, and I must be on the upper part of the Thames. . . W"e went o" for sntne little time in silence, and then my new . friend began : . " Why don't you go and paddle yer feet in the water « bit P" :4 THE S7o:;V or AN'.ONV (.i:ace. i> ■! { 1 : ■1 n '11! 1 ■■VI r ] ' i\ V :! ';,! 1 !'i 3 i ;' "!(! I' It was H g-ood 8ii^:«'.stion, and the shallow sparkling water looked very delicious and cool. "Tie your whoeslrin^f.s toffetlier and hiujjf 'em on to Tommy's collar. Vou ran hing yer fmndle, too, if yer li-ak." I hesitated for a moment. One boy luid alrecdy appropriated my bundle, but he had not the frank honest look of the one on the horse, and besi<les, I did not like to seem suspicious. So, tying- the shoestrings togetlier, I hung them on the tall hame of the collar, and the bundle beside them, before going quickly over tJie gravel down to the shallow water. "Turn up yer trouseis!" shouted the boy; and I obeyed his good advice, ending by walking alojig the shallow water close Itehind the tow-rope, the soft sand feeling delicious to my feet as 'he cool water laved a!id eased the smarting wound. At last I walkerl out witli my feet rested, and the blood-stain wjislied away, to ruji forward and join my companion, who looked at me in a very si - lid maimer, " Tlev a ride ? '* he said at last. • i " May 1 :- " "Fey-ther!" " IIf'1-lo-a ! " came slowly from the bargflb " May this chap hev a ri-ad ? " " Ay-er ! " Thl» boy slipped down off the hcjrse witli the greatest ease, and stuck his whip into a link of the trac * " Now, then," he said, " lay holt o' his collar, and I'll give yer a leg up." I obeyed him, and seizing my leg, he nearly shot me right over the horse, but by hiin.ring tightly on to the collar I managed to save myself, and shulUed round into the proper position for riding sidewise, feeliuii- tlie motion of the horse, in spite of a certain amount of bonines" of spine, delightfully easy and restful. "They're ail light," the boy said, as I glanced at my bundle. " They won't fall off. Are yer comf'able ? " " Yes, capital," I said, and we journeyed on, my luck seeming almost too good to be believed. "NVe went on talking away, now and then passing another barge, when the ropes were passed one o\er the other boat, and the journey contimied. Soon afterwards I made itN first acquaintance with a lock, and got down off the horse to stand by the bar/:e and gaze in wonder- ment at the process. As it glided softly into the space between walls, a pair of great doors were shut behind it, and I and my rew companion helped to turn handles, with the result that I saw the water foam and rush out, and the barge slowly sink down to a lower level, when a couple of great doors were swung open at the other end. There was a certain amount of pushing and i \ ALONG THE TOWIN'tl-PATH. M( thrustingi and the barge glided out iuto the river ten feet lower than it was before. Then the rope was once more made fast, the horses tugged, uud we went on again, but not far before a slirill voice shouted '"Jack!" and my companion stood still till the barge canu' abreast of him, being steered close in, when 1 saw a woman Umiii over the side and hold out a basket, which the boy caught, and then ran after me once more, where I was mounted on the first horse. " My dinner," he said eagerly. " Got yourn .'' " " Yes," I said, colouring up as I pulled the remains of my bread and cheese out of my pocket, there being a large piece of the latter. " Steak pudden to-day," said my companion, hanging his basket on to the collar by my knee, and revealing a basin half full of savoury-odoured beef-steak pudding, which was maddening to me in my hungry state. " 1 say, what a whacking great piece of cheese ! 1 like cheese," said my companion ; '' let's go halves." Pride kept me back for a moment, and then I said — " I'll give you threepence if you']' give me half your dinner." "I don't want your threepence he said scornfully. "You ■hall have half if you give me .aif your new breail and chee.«^e. Oum's alius stale. Look, here's some cold apple puff too." So there was, and delicious it looked, sulliciently so to make my mouth water. "Got a knife, matey P" « Yes," I said, " but " " I say, I tell you what," said my would-be liost. " Have you really got threepence ? " " Yes," I said, and was about to say more, when Mr. Howie's words occurred to me and I was silent. " Then we'll have half a pint o' cider at the next lock, and twopen'orth o' apples, shall us ? " " Yes," I said, delighted at the prospect ; and the result was that we two hearty boys soon finished pudding, puff, and the last scrap of the bread and cheese, after whuli my new friend shouted, " Mother!" The boat was steered in close, and the shrill-voiced woman took the basket back. " Is your name Jack ■* " 1 said, as I descended, and we trudged on together slowly beside the liorses, each of which was now furnished with a tin bucket hung from the top of its head, and containing some beans and chaff. "Yes; what's yourn ? " "Antony." "Ho!" There was silenoe after this, for we came up to another lock, THE STORY OF ANTONY ORACK. Il^i flniiii" ii ■ iii Ii i]< close by which was a little public-house, where Jack was sent to get a stone bottle filled with beer, and up to whose door he summoned me, and we partook of our half-pint of cider, Jack proving most hunourable as to his ideas of half. Then the beer having been passed on board, Jack's mother and father taking not the slightest notice of me, the barge was passed through the lock, and Jack beckoned and waved his hand. " You give me the twopence, and I'll buy," he said. "If we ask Mother Burke for twopen'ortli all at once she won't give us more than she would for a penny. Stop a moment," he said, " you only give me a penny, and we'll keep t other for to-morrow." I handed a penny to him, and we went into the lock cottage, in whose lattice window were displayed two bottles of ginger-beer, a couple of glasses of sugar-sticks, and a pile of apples. Our penny in that out-of-the-way place bought us a dozen good apples, and these we munched behindf the horses as we trudged on slowly, mile after mile. I did not feel tired now, and we boys found so much to talk about that the time went rapidly by. Jack's father and mother did not trouble themselves aoout my being there, but towards six o'clock handed the boy out his tea in a bottle, whose neck stuck out of the basket that had held his dinner, and in which were some half a dozen slices of bread and butter. "'Tain't full," said Jack, holding the bottle up to the light; " she might ha' filled it. There is more brem-butter. Never mind, I'll fill it up with water. You won't mind P " ,. " No," I said ; but as a lock was then coming in siglit, and a decent-looking village, an idea occurred to me. " Let's buy a pen'orth of milk and put to it," I said. Jack's eyes sparkled, and hanging the basket pro tern, on the hames, he cracked his whip, and we proceeded a little more quickly towards the lock, where I bought a twopenny loaf and some milk for our tea. I say ours, for Jack literally shared his with me. " Where are you going to sleep ^ " said Jack to me at last, as the evening mists were beginning to rise on the meadows. " I don't know,*' I said rather dolefully, for the idea had not occurred to me before. i. " Come and bunk along o' me." « Where ? " I asked. " Under the tarpaulin in front o' the barge," he said ; " I alius sleeps there now, cos father says my legs gets in the way in the cabin." " But would your father mind ?" " Not he. He'll go ashore as soon as we make fast for the night and lets the horses loose to feed. He wouldn't mind." And so it turned out, for the bai^e was made fast to a couple of stout posts in a wider part of the canal, close to a lock where there I'i ) I MY VAGABOND LIFE COMES TO AN END. 67 e took WM a public-house. The horsea were turned out to prnze on th thick grass beside the tow-path, and after a little hesitation I too my bundle and shoes and crept in beneath a tarpaulin raised up in the middle to make quite a tent, which Jack had contrived in the fore part of the barge. " Ain't it jolly and snug ? " he cried. ' . ■ " Ye-es," I replied. " On'y it won t do to stop in when the sun gets on it, 'cos it's so Feyther can't kick you here." I had been thinking Jack's life must be hot and sticky. I like it. This was a revelation, one of perfect bliss. " Does your father kick you, then ? " " Not now. lie used to when he came home after being to the public, when he was cross ; but he didn't mean nothing. Feyther's werry fond o* me. I wouldn't go back to sleep in the cabin now for no money." Jack's conversation suddenly stopped, and I knew by his hard breathing that he was asleep : but I lay awake for some time, peering out through a little hole left by the tarptrulin folds at the stars, thinking of Mr. Blakeford and his pursuit ; of what Mary would say when she read my letter ; and from time to time I changed the position of my bundle, to try and turn into a comfortable pillow ; but, try how I would, it seemed as if the heel of one or other of my shoes insisted upon getting under my ear, and I dropped asleep at last, dreaming that they were walking all over my head. CHAPTER XI. HT VAGABOND LIFE COMES TO AN BNS. Somehow or other that idea about my boots being in antagonism to me seemed to pervade the whole of my slumbers till morning, when one of them, I fancied, had turned terribly vicious, and was kicking me hard in the side. I could not move, and the kicking seemed to go on, till a more vigorous blow than before roused me to consciousness; but still for a few moments I could not make out where 1 was, only that it was very dark and stuffy, and that I felt stiff and sore. Just then a gruff voice awoke my mind as well as my body, and I found that some one was administenng heavy pokes through the tarpaulin with what seemed to be a piece of wood. " All right, fpvther," cried Jack just then ; and as we scrambled out from beneath the tent I found it was grey dawn, that u heavy mist hung over the river, and that Jack's father had been poking 06 THE STORY OF ANTONY GUACE. :l'l in at the tarpaulin with the end of a hitcher,the long iron-shod pole used in navigating the barge. " Going to lie abed all day ? " he growled. " Oit them horsee to." " Come along, matey ; never mind your boots," cried Jack, and he leaped ashore. I did not like leaving ray bundle behind, but I felt bound to help, and following Jack's example, I helped him to catch the horses, which were soon attached to the tow-line thrown ashore by the biirgeman, who cast loose the mooring ropes, and with the stars still twinkling above our heads we were once more on our way, Jack walking beside the horse and I barefooted beside him. My feet did not pain me now, but I fe.t. that to replace mv boots would be to chafe them again, so I contented myself with letting them ride, while for the present I made my way afoot. My proceedings as we went along seemed to greatly interest Jack, who stared hard as he saw me stoop down and wash my face and hands at a convenient place in the river, for a shake and a rub of his curly head seemed to constitute the whole of his toilet. My hair I smoothed as I walked by his side, while he looked contemptuously at my little pocket-comb. " That wouldn't go through my hair," he said at l^st. Then in the same breath, " Old woman's up." I turned to see how he knew it, expecting his mother to be on the little deck : but the only thing visible besides Jack's father was a little curl of smoke from the iron chimney in front of the rudder. " That means brakfass," said Jack, grinning ; " don't you want yourn P" 1 said I did, and asked how soon we should get to a lock where I could buy some bread and milk. '• Don't you waste your money on bread and milk," said my companion, "there'll be lots o' brakfass for both on us. You wait till we get farther on and we can get some apples and a bottle of ginger-beer." it seemed so fair an arrangement that when the shrill voice summoned Jack to fetch his breakfast I shared it with him, and so I did his dinner and tea, while we afterwards regaled ourselves with fruit , and sweets, and cider, or ginger-beer. This went on day after day, for though the pace was slow 1 found that 1 could not have got on faster. Besides which, I had endless rides. Jack's proceedings with me never once seeming to awaken either interest or excitement on the part of his parents, In fact. Jack's father seemed to occupy the whole of his time in leaning upon the tiller and smoking, with the very rare exceptions that he might occasionally make use of the hitoher in rounding !■.■!! « MY VAHAnoND J.H'K COilEs; T'.> AN EM). :.o and the aonifi corner. As for tlie passmjf of otlier barp^s, tlu' men ii])'>tj them seemed to do the greater imrt of the ne<•^•^.^ury work in I ill ing tow-ropes. At the locks, too, Iih would stolidly stare ut JhcK and me as we turned the handles with the lock-keeper, and then pwhaps grunt approval. Jack's mother appeared to spend all lier time in cooking and other domestic arrangements, for she never showed herself on deck except to announce the readiness of a meal hy a shrill shout for her boy, rarely speaking a \v urd to him ut such times as he took his food from her hands. Life on the river ceemed to breed taciturnity, and though we boys generally had something to say, for the most part we jogged on silently with the horses, who hung their heads and kept on their course as if half asleep. To me it was a dreamy time of constant journeying by the shining river ; for at last we passed through a loci into the Tsis, and then continued our way on and on through luck? innumerable till we passed out again into what I suppose must have been the Grand Junction or Regent's <^^nnal — to this day I am not sure which. The hundred miles or so I was to have walked to Ijondon must have been more than doubled by the turnings and doublings of the river; but I was never tired, and Jack never wearied of my society. There was always something to see in the ever- changing scenery, and sometimes, if we came to a stoppoge early in the evening, Jack brought out a rough line and a willow wan<i, and we fished for perch by some rushing weir. 1 could have been content to go on for ever leading such a free, enjoyable life, like some young gipsy, so peaceable and linppy seemed my existence as compared to that witli Mr. lilakefoid ; but at last, after a very long, slow journey, we began to near the metropolis, the goal of my wanderings, and one evening the pleasant commumngs of Jack and myself were suddenly brun,;ht to an end. We had been making slow proq-ress along the canal as it wound now amongst houses and large buildings. The pleasant fields were far behind, and the water was no longer bright. It seemed, too, as if we had left the sun behind, while the tow-path had long grown so hard and rough that 1 was glad \o get my boots out of the bundle in which they were tied up and wear them once again. "Here, you sir," Jack's father shouted to me from the barge, " you must sheer off now." It was said in a rough, peremptory fashion that was startling; but he took no further notice of me, only went on smoking, and I went back to Jack, who was now seated on the horse just as at our first meeting. " Feyther say you mwX go now P " PHP I ir m i.ii m 00 'IIIK 8T0KV OF AMONV GIUCB. " Yt'.s" I f.iii<l (luMiiUy. • . " Then you'd better cut off. I say, feyther I * ; * "IIuUo!" " LttRb the tiller, and cro and get his bundle and chuck it ashore." The great rough fellow luethodieally did as he was told — fastening the rudder, going slowly forward, and fishing out my bundle from under the tarpaulin, and turning to me: " Ketch ! " he shouted, and he threw the bundle from the barge to the shore, wliere 1 caught it, and he slowly plodded bock, after giving me a friendly nod. I took my bundle under my arm and rejoined Jack, who was whistling his miuor air, and then we boys looked at each other dolefully. *' Aintcher going P" said Jack at last. " Yes," I said, " I'm going directly.** Then, quickly pulling out a little penknife 1 had in my pocket, I held it to Jack. " WiU you have that, JackP" I said. His eyes sparkled as he took it, but he did not speak. " Do you think I might give vour father something for letting me come up along with youP *' t said. Jack stared in a dull, stolid way for a moment, the idea being so novel to him. Then his face lit up and he checked the horses. " Hold on, feyther," he shouted; and us if it was quite right to ob?y liis son's words, the great fellow steered the long barge so that it come close in. " T!\eve'8 a b^^nr-tjliop," said Jack, pointing to a place close by the towing'-path, all plovious witfi bl le and gold announcements of Barclay, Perkins & Cj.'s Enti/e. " You go and get a pot o* porter — '''s tLieepence ha'penny, )niud— and give it the old man ; we'll wait.' T ran u]) lo t'..e d^or of the public-house and asked the man in fhirt-^ltnves and white apron for a pot of porter, which he drew in the bright pewter vessel, and I paid for it with one of my six- pences, received my chanffe, and then had to make solemn assu- rance that I would bring back the pot before I was allowed to fake it down to the canal-side, where Jack and his father were waiting. The hitter's face was as stolid as ever as I went up to him ; but there was a little extra opening of his eyes as he saw the foaming liquid in the bright pewter and stretcLed out his hand. " Beer ain't good for boys," he said p»'uf^y ; and then, blowing oflf the froth, he put the vessel to iiis lij*s, and slowly poured it all down, without stopping, to the very last drop ; after which he uttere<i a hea^y sigh of either pleasure or regret, and brought bis eyes ^o bear on nie. " Feyther likes a drop o' beer," said Jack. " Ketch ! " aaid " father," and he threw the empty pot to me, m MY HKSl NIGHT IN ToW'S. H which luckily I cniight, and htood watching him hn he went totht* tiller. " Go on I " Jack gave me a nod, cracked his whip, and the horses drew tho slack rope along the cindery tow-path till it was tight. Jack'^ father paused in the act of refilling h\n pipe and gave me another nod, and Jack's mother's head came above the hatcliway to stare at me as the harge moved, and I stofxl watcliing it with my bundle under my arm and the bright newter ve8.Mel in mv hand. My reverie was interrupted by a snout from the public-hou^e door, and I took the pot buck, to return once more to the towing- Sath, sick at heart and despondent, as I thought of the pleauuni ays of my short vagabond career. It was like parting with very good friends, and I sat down at Inst upon a log, one of a pile of timber, full of regrets : for these rough people had in their v uy been very kind to ine, aud I thought that perhaps I should never see them any moftt. CHAPTER XII. MY FIHST NIGHT IN TOWN. I DID not sit thinking long, for I felt that I must be up and doing. The long barge had crept isilently away and wa8 out of si^^ht, bur I felt that after my dismissal I ought not to follow it; so 1 crossed a bridge over the canal und went on and on between rows of houses and along streets busy with vehicles coming aud going, and plenty of people. For the first half-hour I felt that everybody knew me and was staring at the boy who had run away from Mr. Ulakeford's office ; but by degrees that idea passed on and gave place to another, namely, that 1 was all alone in this great city, and that it seemed very solitary and strange. For above an hour I walked on, with the strt'efs growiiifr thicker and the noise and bustle more confusing. I had at last reached a busy thoroughfare ; gas was burning, and the shops looked showy and attractive. The one, however, that took my attention was a cofFee-shop in a side street, with a great teapot in the window, and a framed cai-d on which I read the list of prices, and found that a half -pint cup of coffee would be one penny, aud a loaf and butter twopence. My money was getting scarce, but I was tired and hungry, and after staring at that card for a long time I thought I wouM venture to go in, «nl walked right up to the door. I dared, how- ever, go no farther, bui walked straight on, turned, and came bRcl<, and 80 on several timet, without being able to make up my mind ; m THE sToriv ui.' .K\Jo:;v (jiiaci::. i> > !i I illi: J! if!''i| li!:. ;5 'mt o.t last, ns I was still hovering aboir the place, I caup'ir sij^hl )f a policeman advancing in the distance, and, fully assured that it must be Mary's friend, Mr. Kevitts, iu search of me, I walked breathlessly into the cotiee-house and sal down at the netivest table. There were several men and lads seated abont, but they were all, to my great relief, readinjr papers or periodicals, and I wasre- coveriiva" niy eqiijiiiiiniry somewhat, when it. was upset by a bust- iiii£r maid, wiio came as I tliuught fiercely up to me with a sharp " WhiitVforyouP" ** A cup of coffee, if vou please," I stammered out. ••And roll and butter?" " Yes, ph'ase," I said, somewhat taken aback that she should, as 1 felt, have divined my thoughts; and then, in an incredibly short space of time, a large cup of steaming coffee and a roll and pat of liiittpr were placed on the table. After timidly glancinof round to find that it was no novel thing for any one to enter a coffee-house and partake of the fare before int>, I proceeded to make my meal, wisiiitit; all the while that Jack liad been there to share it, and wonderi^fj where he was, till at last the coffee was all drunk, the roll atid butter eaten, and after paying what was due I stole off once more into the streets. I went on and on in a motiveless way, staring at the wonders ever unfolding before me, till, utterly wearied out, the thought struck me that I must find a resting-place somewhere, for there were no liay -stacks here, there was no friendly tarpaulin to share with •lack, atid, look where I would, nothing that seemed likely to sug- gest a l)ed. 1 hati wandered on through wide, well-lighted streets, and throiiQfh narrow, poverty-stricken places, till I was in a busy, noisy row, along the pavement of which were broad barrows with flam- ing lamps, and laden with fish, greengrocery, and fruit. There was noise enough to confuse anyone used to London ; to me it was absolutely deafening. I had «een by a clock a short time before that it was nearly ten, and my leg? ached so that I could scarcely stand ; and yet, iu the midst of the busy throng of people hurrying here and there, I alone seemed to be without friend or home. I liad been wandering about in a pui-poseless way for a long time, trying to see some one who would win my confidence enough to make me ask where I could obtain a night's lodging, when I sinMenly became aware that a big lad with a long narrow face and little eyes seetned to b^ watching me, and I saw what seemed to nie so marked a resemblance to the young scoundrel who had stolen my bundle, tliat I instinctively grasped it more tightly and l-n'-riH*! a-'Vfiy. C)ii .:l '! cii r liMi ' ' f >n;.! tl;;it the bny was following, and this ■!!^ MY Fin^T XKl :!T IN TOWN. ilarmed me so that I hastened hack into the hi«r street, walked iloiig soiiie distance, then turned and ran as hard as I could up )\\e street and down another, till at ladt I was ohliged to stop and isten to make sure whether I was pursued. To my horror I heard advancing steps, ai'.d T hnd just time to -ihrink back into a doorway before, by the dim lip^ht of the gas, 1 -aw the lad I sought to avoid run by, and as soon as his lieavy boots had ceased to echo, I crept out and ran in the other direc- tion, till, completely worn out, I sat down upon a doorstep in a deserted street, and at last dropped off fast a>leep. I was startled into wakefuhiess by a strange glare shining in my face, and, looking up, there was a round glowing eye of light seeming to seurch me through and throiioh. For a few moments I could do nothing but stare helplesal^ and then started nervously as a gruff voice exclaimed — " Here ; what's in 'that bundle ? " "My clothes and clean shirt, sir," I faltered. " Let's look." My hands shook so that I was some time before I could get the handkerchief undone; but in the meantime I had been able to make out that the speaker was a policeman, and in my confusion at being awakened out of a deep sleep, 1 associated his coming with instructions from Mr. lilakeford. At last, though, I laid my bundle open on the step, and my questioner seemed satisfied. " Tie it up," he said, and I hastened to obey. '* Now, then, young fellow," he continued, "how is it you are sitting here asleep ? Why don't you go home ? " " Please, sir, I came up from the coimtry to-day, and I ran away from a boy who wanted to steal my bundle, and then I sat down and fell asleep." "That's a likely story," he said, making the light of the lantern play upon my face. " Where were you going P " " I don't know, sir. Yes I do— to Mr. Uowle's." " And Where's Mr. Rowle's ? " " It's — it's — stop a minute, f;ir. I've got the address written down. It's at a great printing-otHre." As I spoke 1 felt in my pockets one after the other for the ad- dress of Mr. Rowle's brother, but to my dismay [ found tliat if was gone, and, search how I would, there was no >\'/n of it ii) either pocket. At last I looked up full in the policeman's face, tc exclaim pitifully — " Please, sir, it's gone." " Is it now ? " he said in a bantering, sneering tone. "That's « wonder, that is: specially if it warn't never there. Look here,younf fellow, what have you come to London for ? " " Please, sir, I've come to seek my fortune," H THE STORY 01' ANTONY GRACE. 1 { ' \\r ' 11' . 1:1 1 1 \ I. ; ) n " Oh, you have, have you ? Now look here, which are you, t young innocent from the country, or an artful one ? You may ju6t as well speak out, for I'm sure to find out all about it." " Indeed I've come up from the country, sir, to try and get a place, for I was so unhappy down there." " Then you've run away from vour father and mother, eh ? * " No, sir ; they are both dead. " Well, then, you've run away from home, eh P " " No, sir," I said sadly ; " I haven't any home." " Well, what's got to be done ? You can't stop here all night." " Can't I, sir? '^ " Can't you, sir ? Why, what a young gooseberry it is! Have you been to Loudon before ? " "No, sir." " When did you come up ? " " Only this evening, sir. " And don't you know that if 1 leave you here some one'U have your bundle, and perhaps you too, before morning ? " " I was so tired, sir, I fell asleep." " Come along o' rae. The best thing I can do for you's to lock you up till morning." " Thank you, sir." He burst out into a roar of laughter as he turned off the light of his bull's-eye. " Come along, youngster," he said, " it's all right, I see. Why, you are as green as a gooseberry." " Am I, sir ? " I said piteoualy, for I felt very sorry that I wtM so ffreen, as he called it, but I was too much confused to thoroughly understand what he meant. " Greener, ever so much. Why, if you'd gone down Covent Garden to sleep amongst the baskets you'd have got swept up for cabbage leaves." " Covent Garden Market, sir P Is that close here ? " I said. " As if you didn't know," he replied, returning to his doubting vein. " I've heard my papa speak of it," I said, eager to convince him that I was speaking the truth. " He said the finest of all the fruit in the country went there, and that the flowers in the central — central " " Eveuue ? " suggested the constable. " Yes, 'central avenue — were always worth a visit." " That's so. And that's what your papa said, eh ?" " Yes, sir, I have heard him say so more than once." " Then don't you think, young fellow, as it looks very 8U8][>icioue for a young gent as talks about bis papa to be found sleeping on a doorsiaj) r ''^ ** YeS|fir, I aiippote it does," I laid, " but I have no friendf ^aw/' iwn I' MY HRST N'IGHT IN TOWN. 60 "Well, you'd IwtttT come uUmij? o' nv , nmi lell vftnr 'nle to the inspector. I'm not j/(»m:r to leave y <i here, llc'il t^:'>)>\ g'et to know the ri^-hts of it. ^'oit'vt' mi: awav, ihiit'rs whiii Mtu'vt done." " Yes, jir,'" I siii! • '• I diil run av.uy, l)ut " " Never tnind flu- hiit.-^, voiinjfsrcr. You'll have to hesoiit btu i\ to your sorro\^ i)i<r l'r'e]i<U, >!>y :il si<ti)Hin^^ \ouiiij isloper." "No, no, liO I '' 1 crit'd wildly, as lie took hold of niy cutV. •' Don't ijend mo buck, pray don't send nie buclc. ' "None o' that 'ere now," he said, f^ivinf'' me u roii.;h shake. " You just come along- (jiii«-il\ . ' "Oh, I will, sir. lini«'ivi I v..d 1 "" i ei'.id,"but duu't, ]>:'ay d.-n'; send me back." "Why not? How i!u v u know but it won't be be-sl for yer "■' You conje along o' nie ^ m. i>, .iiiii ve'li sotn phy-'-je your constitu- tion into a rigiit state." The Hgony of dread that -tei/ed me nt tliat mometit was more than 1 could bear. In imagination I saw myself drag;^ed back to Mr. lllakfcford, and saw the .smiI(M>f triumph on his blaek-looking face, as he bad me again in l>is power, and, boy as 1 was then, and full of young life and liojiefulness. I believe that I would gladly have jumped into the river sooner than have luid to trust to h\> tender mercies again. In my horror, tlien, I flung myself on my knees before the policeman, and clasped lus leg as 1 appealed wildly lo him to lei me go. " If you sent me back, sir," 1 cried pileously, " he'd kill me." "And tlu'n we should kill liiin," he said, Inngliing. "Not a> that would be much Ci>n>fnit to you. Here, get U]) " " You don't know what I suffered, sir, after poor papa and mamma died. He used me so cruelly, and he beat me, too. dreadfully. And n(jw, after I nave run away, if lie gels me back lit will be more cruel than befoie,"' " Well, 1 s'pose he woulin'i muke it very pleasant for you, youngster. There, come: get up, and you shall tell the inspector, too, all about it." " No, no, no," I cried wildly, as in spite of his efforts to get me up I still clung to his leg. "Come, none of that, vou know. I shall have to carrv ^0ll. Get up." He seized me more nnigalv, and dragged me to my feet, when with a hoarse cry of drea<i,. I made a dasli to escape, freed my arm and ran for freedom once again, as if it were for my life. Mi'. "P !"!'' CO Tilt: MoiLv ui' ainiony (juace. CHAPTER XIII. I 'I Sii ii (: . ' 1 \': r fi, ■ r: ^ -i 1 ^ P.C. REVITTf, ^ In my blind fonr of capture I did not study which way I went, hut doublin;L,^ down the tirst turninfj f civ.vv to, I ran on, and theii ■ilonff tlui next, to stop short dinctiy aftenvards, being sharply ciuiirht by the coustdble from whom I had fled, and who now iitild me fast. " Ah ! you thought it, did you ^ '' he suid coolly, while, panting lid breathU>;<, I feebly struggled to pet away. " But it won't do, iny liid. You've fiot to come along o' me." " And then 1 sliall be sent baclv.*' I cried, as I tried to wrestle :!iyself free. " I've never done any hnrm, f*ir ; and he'll half kill uie. You don't know him. Pray let me go." " I know you to be a rtg'lar yoinig coward," he said roughly. •■ \\ hy, wlieii 1 was your age, I *il:uui(ln't have begun snivelluig like tliJ!*. Now, then, look here. You ain't come to London only in.^ee your Mr. Hot lloll, or wliatever you call him. Is there :iny one ilst^ you know as I can take you to .f* I don't wan^ to lock you up." '• No, sir, nohody," I faltered. " Yes, there is — there's Mr. i.'eviit.s." ''Mr. who?" •' Mr. Uevitts, sir," I said excitedly. "He's a policeman, like >nu." " Ah, that's something like a respectable reference!" he said. '• What division?" •* What did you say, sir?" "J said wliat division?" " Plea.'!it', t-'\r, I don't know what you mfjin." " Do you know P.C. Uevitts, VV diviMon ?" •'No, sir," I said, with my heart sinking. "It's Mr. William IlevitL- 1 know." " Wl>i( li his name is William," he muttered. Then, aloud, •' Mere, come along." " No. no. sir," I cried in alarm. "Don't fend me back." "('time along, I tell yer." "AVhat's up?" said a gruff \()ice; and u second policeman jo ni'd us. •' Don't quite know yet," said the first man; and then he said ;-ninething m a low voire to tlie otl'cr, with the result that, with- out anoiliei word, I was huiritd up .t d dnwn street after street til! T felt r(>ady to drop. Hiiddinly my gnifle turned into a great hlank-lo(il\ii]g lniihling ;'nd >\i.\a to ainther ])()li('enian, and soon, after a little shouting, a lull, 1 nrly-kinkihg eoi'.-taljle in his L'.c. ':'..\ :,v. cr Lid [h- let Ut )n, lie buHoned-up ^nvi\t-coi;t i-Awi' >li \v!v t ^rr' iis iti tlio wliitr- washed room. *' Here's u lad been aljxi 'lit! iii;^'-." .-iiid m\ i.'iii«le, "* nn«l lie >ii\> lie'll give you for a rt'trii.'ij(f." ** l'«h ! me ?" saiil tin- iiew-coiut'i". m ;!>i :' t;if >tart as lie staii •! bard in my fV.<-e. '• W'h.. art^- \nii, Ion. I lioii't know \i)ii,'' "Antony (jrace, please, siy:' I faltctd. " And who's! AiMony (Iracf ^ " "There,! thoi!<>lif if was :i (|n.",<ai<i the tir-t ron:«taM" roii()hl\ . " \N'hat d'yer mt-aii l)\ uaniUiDnirri}' uii in tlii.t way !' < 'ihim aionij."" '* No, sir, ph'asf'. l*r;iy <ii\t' int- liuif." I criid. •' IKnt "^ciKi me back. Plea>-t'. .M- litvifts. I iui\>' imh ;i\\.t\ tinu; .\.v. l'.hik>- ford, and if I. ai.. >en; back to Kowloni Uc'll Kill n;e. 1 know h.- will." " 'Old 'nrd, Smith," said thn I'ii- eon.-irl b-. •' Lr.ok h-re, boy Wluit did you say Y Where did yon (fin)t' Imni 'r " " Itowford, isir. Prav don't stMu! nie b.ick." " And what'.s the nanu? of the cliap as you're afraid (tn P" " Mr. J^lakoford, sir." "I'm blest!" " What did yon say, sir P " " I said I'm "blest, boy." "Then you do know liini ?" said the first roi'?t!ible. " I don't quite know as I do, yet," was tht' re]']y. "Well, look here, I want to g-et lock. Von takf chnrpfe of him. I found liira on a doorstep in (li-eat (-oram Street. Tlif'te'- his bundle. If he don't fi-ive a ^txxl acrount of hin)^clf, havr it entered and lock him itp." " All right," sai'l tlie otltcr, after a few moments' hesitation. " Then I'm off," said tlie tir-t man : and lie Irfi nif in charLif of the big constable, who stood stavinc;' down at nn* so tierc ly, as 1 thought, that I looked to right and left for a way ol t'.scape. "None o* that, sir," he said sliHr])ly, in tlif words and way of the other, who.se heavy footsteps were tiow fchoiij^- down tin- passage. " Ijookye here, if you fiy to run away. I've only j^ot to shout, and hundreds of thoti.'^aiids of plec* emeu will start up all round about to stop yer." As he spoke he puslu-d mt^ into m \v;;;r]sor arni-fhiiii-. wher" 1 sat as if in a cage, while lie held ii]) ofit> linger to >^hal\" in ni\ face. , "As the Clerkenwell magistrate said t'other day, the law',^ a great network, and spreads wi<lt'. Yon'rc iidw in tlu' net o' thf law, young fellow, and you can't get out. .Iiisl look ht':>>, ^\t• knows a deal in the law and po-lice, ai.<l I can find out in two twos whether you are telling me the trntli or doim; tli" tntfnl." "Please, sir " "Hold your tongue, sir I You can make your <lefence wIk i, 1M 68 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. I '"' iiir iii'iri {\\ \\4 your time comen; and mind this, it's my dooty to tell you that what you says now may be used in evidence again you." Thus silenced, I stood gazing up in his big-whiskered face, that seemed to loom over me, in the gaslight, and wondered why there should be so much form and ceremony over taking my word. " Now look here," he said pulling out a note-book and pencil, like the auctioneer's, only smaller, and seeming as if he were going to take an inventory of my small person. " Now, look here," he repeated, moistening the point of his pencil, " you told Joe Smith you knowed me, and I never set eyes on you wore." " Please, sir," I said hastily, " I told him I know Mr. Revitts, who's in the police." "Yes, and you said vou had run away from Rowford and a Mr. Blake- Blake * What's his name ? " " Blakeford, sir," I said despondently, for it seemed that this was not my Mr. Uevitts. "Blakeford. That's right; and he ill-used youP" " Yes, sir." " He's a little fair man, ain't he, with blue eyes ? " And he ]-ustled the leaves of his note-book as if about to take down my answer. " No, sir," I cried eagerly ; " he's tall and dark, and has short hair, and very white teeth." " Ho ! Tall ! is he ? " said the constable, making believe to write, and then holding out his pencil at me. " He's a nice, kind, amiable man, ain't he, as wouldn't say an unkind word to a dorg ? " " Oh no, sir," I said, shuddering ; " that's not my Mr. Blake- ford." " Ho ! Now, then, once more. There's a servant lives there at tliat house, and her name's Jane — ain't it P" " No, sir, Mary." " And she's got red hair and freckles, and she — she's very little and " " No, no," I cried excitedly, for after my heart had seemed to sink terribly low, it now leaped at his woms. " That isn't Mary, and you are saying all this to try me, sir. You — you are Mr. \Villi''m Revitts, I know you are; and I caught him eagerly by the arm. " Which I don't deny it, boy," he said, still looking at me sus- Iiiciously, and removing my hand. " Revitts is my name. P.O. levitts, W 240 ; and I ain't ashamed of it. But only to think of it. How did you know of me, though ? " " I wrote Mary's letters for her, sir." " Whew ! That's how it was she had so improved in hei writing. And so you've been living in the same house along o* herP" P.C. KKVITTS. 69 " Yes, sir," I said, " and she was so good and kind.** ** When she wasn't in a tantrum, eh 1^ " " Yes, sir, when she wasn't in a " s "Tantrum, that's it, hoy. We should ha' heen snliced afor^' now if it hadn't been for her tantrums. JUit only totnink o'your being picked up in the street like this. And what am I to do now? You've absconded, you have; you know you've absconded in the eyes of the law." "Write to Mary, please, sir, and ask her if it wasn't enough ti» make me run away.' "Abscond, my lad, abscond,'" said the constable. "Yes, sir," I said, with a shiver, " abscond." "You didn't — you didn't," he said in a half lH\«iitiiting way, ii> he felt and pinched mv bundle, and then ran his liand down by my jacket-pocket. " 'i'ou didn't — these are all your own thinu> in this, are they ? " " Oh yes, sir !" I said. "Because some boys when they absconds, makes mistakes, and takes what isn't theirs." " Do they, sir .P" "Yes, my lad, and I'm puzzled about you. Y^ou see, it's my duty to treat you like a runaway 'prentice, and I'm uneasy in my mind about what to do. You see, you did run away." "Oh yes, sir, I did run away. I was obliged to. Mr, Blake- ford wanted me to tell lies." " Well, that seems to come easy enough to most people," Iw said. "But I am telling the truth, sir," I said. "Write down tn Rowford, and ask Mary if I'm not telling the truth." "Truth!- Oh, I know that, mv bov," he said kindlv. " Here, give's your hand. Come along," "But you won't send me back. isirJ' " "Send you back? Not I, boy. He's a blackguard, that Blake- ford. I know him, and I only wish he'<l do souieihing, and I lia.l him to take up for it. Mary's told nie nU ahuut hini, and if ever we meets, even if it's five pourids or a month, I'll punch his head: that's what I'll do for him. Do yer heai- ? " " Yes, sir," 1 said. "Now, what's to be done witii your " # I Si>ook my head and looked at liiin helplessly. Hf stood looking at me for a few ukjuumus and then went iiili» another room, where tliere wa.s a ])()lifeuian .•titling at a dislc, like a clerk, with a big book before luai. I cmld .•^ee him through the other doorway, and they talked for a few iiiinntes; iind then .Mr. Revitts came back, and stood Marine at uw. "P'r'aps I'm a fool," he nuitieied, •• I'rapis 1 ain't. Anyhow, rildo it. Look here, youngster, I'm going to trust you, though 70 THE .vroHV OK ANTONY dlJACK. \ '\i\\'A i.iit-i iiH you've abseondefJ 1 on;:lii to tukr yoii I )t' fore a in(t^istrat« of tlie inspector, but 1 won't, ub you'ie a irieiiJ of my Mary." -^ " Thunk you, sir," I na'ul. " And if you tuni out badly, why, woe betide vou." " Please, sir, I won't turn out badly if I can help it; but Mr. Rlakeford said I was good for nothinjj." '• Mr. Jilakeford be blowed f 1 wouldn't asU him for a character for a dorg; and as for Mary, she don't wnni hi.s character, and be may keep it. I'll take her without, i wouldn't speak to anyone like this, youngster; but you know that gal's got a temper, though she 8 that good at heart that— that '" ** She'd nurse you so tenderly if you wt-re ill," I said enthusi- astically, *' that you wouldn't w jU to be better." He held out his hand and gave mine a long and «>olemn shake. " Thankye, youngster," he said, " thankve tor tliat. You and I will be good friends, I see. 1 will trust your word, hang me if I don't. Here, come along." "Ave you — are you going to take me up, .sir?" I faltered, with a shiver of apprehension. " I'm a-going to give you the door-kev wliere I lodges, my lad. I'm on night duty, and shan't be home till quarter-past six, so you may have my bed and welcome. Now, look here," he said, "don't you go and let anybody fool you. I'm going to show you the end of a long street, and you'll go right to the top, then tuni to the right along the road till you come to the fourth turning, and on the right-liand side, number twenty-seven, is where I lodges. Here's the key. You puts it in the lock, turns it, shets the door after you, and then goes gently upstairs to the second-pair back." " Second-pair back, sir?" I said dubiously. "Well there, then, to the back room atop of the house, and there you may sleep till I come. Now then, this way out." V; It was a change that I could not have believed in, and I accom- panied the constable wonderingly as he led me out of the police- station and through several dark-looking streets, till he stopped short before a long dim vista, where straight before me two lines of gaslights stretched right away till they seemed to end in a bright point. " Now, then," he said, " you can't make any mistake there.** "No, sir." " Off you go then to the top, and then you'll find yourself in a big road." " Yes, sir." " Turn to the right, and then count four streets on the right- hand side. Do you understand P " "Yes, sir." ^ ' » • "Go down that street about half-way, till you see a gaslight shining on a door with number twenty-seven upon it. Twenty- 1] ■I I I P.C. KEVITT8. ^^ Iglit ity- •even Caroline Street. Now, do you undHrsfand ? Strnipfht up to the top, and then it's ri^ht, right, right, all the way." " I understaud, sir." " Qood luck to you then, he off ; here's my wergennl ." I should have stopped to thank him, hut he hurried me aNMiy : and half forgetting my weariness, f went alorifjr the strut, ffinnl at last the road at the end, followerl it as din-eted, and then in the street of little houses foimd one where tlie li^''ht from tli«- lamp shone as my guide had said. I paused with the key in my hand, lialf fearing to use it, Imi summoning up my courage, I found the door opened easily and closed quietly, when I stood in a narrow pas.sM^re with tlie staii- before me, and following them to the top, I hesitated, hard!\ knowing back from front, A deep heavy breathing from 'Jit' room, however, convinced me that that could not bn thf back, ^<> I tried the other door, to find it yield, and th»'re was jus li<rtii enough from the window to enable me to hwl the lied, on wiii<!li I threw myself half dressed, and slept soundly till morning, when I opened my eyes to find Mr. Revitts taking off his stiff uniforvi coat. "Look here, youngster," he said, throwing himst If upun f! •• bed, " I dessay you're tired, so don't you get up. Have anollur nap, and then call rae at ten, and we'll have .some breakfast. How — how " he said, yawning. " What did you sav, sir ? " " How— Mary look ? " " Very well indeed, sir. She has looked njuch letter latelv, and " I stopped short, for a long-drawn breath from vhere M'- Revitts had thrown himself upon tlie bed told me plainly enou;.--! that he was asleep. I was too wakeful now to follow his example, and raisini- myself softly upon my elbow, I had a good lodk at my new friend to see that he did not look so big and hmly wltlnMit liis yreai- coat, but all the same he was a stoutly built, fine-looking man. with a bluff, honest expression of countenance. I .stayed there for .some miinites, thinking almnt him. and theit about Mary, and Mr. Rlakeford, and Hetty, and I wondeied hn\\ the lawyer had got on before the mauistvates without me. Then. rising as quietly as I could, I washed and tinished dressing' myself before sitting down to wait patiently for my host- awakening. The first hour pns.sed verv tediously, for there was nothing in see from the window but ehininey-pots, and thonTh it was ea'ly I began to feel that I bad not V)reakfasted, and three hours or so was a long time to wait. The room was clean, btit .shabbily furnished, and as I glanced round offered little in the way of 72 THE S'lOifV <»r ANTONV (.HA(^K. » i . 1 1't ■ 1l i H ■ ; . 'M i nil • recreation, till my eyes lit on a net of lia.ijyiny^ slu'Ives with a few l»ook« thereon, and ffoing- on tiptoe iioross the room, I began to read tiifir harks, coiisidfrin^'' w liich 1 should choowo. TherH wis thn *' KarintM' of li)<,'h!\v(iod Korest," closi- hy the -Old English ihiroii," with ihc 'M'hiMn-n of the Abhfy,'' and '■ Robinson Crusoe." Side hy siiie with theni was a gilt-edged I'rayer-hook, upon openintr which I found that it was the pro- iii'rty of " Mr. William Uevitts, a present from his effectinat iriend Mary Jiloxam." On the opposite leaf wa« the following \ bfse : — ^ ** When this yu soo, remeiiilipr me, And bare mo in yure minil; And (lo'i't forget ol i Iiis:prland, And tlie lasa yu lef bihind." The Bible on the shelf was from the same source. Besides these were several books in shabby c )vers — Bogatsky's "Golden Ifeasury," the " Pilgrim's Progress,'' and the " Young Man's Best Companion." 1 stood looking at them for a few minutes, and then reached down poor Id "Robinson Crusoe," bore it to the window, and tor tl": founii time in my life began its perusal. In a very short time my past troii>)les, my precarious future, •ind my present hunger were all forgotten, and I was far away i'rom the attic in N<jrth London, watching the proceedings of iiobitison in that wonderful island, ha\ing skipped over a good many of the early adventures for the sake of getting as soon ae ,)ossible into tluit far-away home of mystery and romance. The strengthening of his house, the comin^f of the savages, the •iitensely interesting occurrences of the story, so enchained me, that T read on and on till 1 was suddenly startled by the voice of Mr. Revitts exclaiming: " Hallo, you ! I say, what's o'clock ?" CHAPTER XIV. BREAKFAST WITH THK LAW, AND WHAT POLrX)WET). I LET the book fall in a shamefaced way as my host took a great, ugly old silver watch from beneath h, ^ pillow, looked at it, shook it, looked at it again, and then exclaimed : " It's either 'levin o'clock or else she's been up to her larks. Hush!" He held up his hand, for just then a clock began to strike, and we both counted eleven. ,„ . BRE A Fv FAST Willi ri'l-: [.\\V, ANl) WjIAT FOLLOWED. 7'' ** Tlinn .she WHS rijrlif for oiico in a way. uie at ton 'r " Why (liduf you cull " I fiirjjot, sir. T \va.s rcu lin^^," f falti-red; for 1 felt I ha<i been guilty of a gri'ui hivadi '>t inist. " And you havrn't had no br»'al\l'asf," 1m* .said, drt'i««iMfj hims«df q'liekly, and then ^dun^inn- hi.s face into the baflin of water, fr* bpliiiSh and blow loudly, ht-tore havin^f a nio.st vigorous rub with the towel. '* Why, you must be as Ininiriy us a liunter," he co!i- tinued, as he halted in what was apjuirently his morning- tvistunie of flannel shirt and trousers. '* \Ve'll verv soon have it readv, though. Shove the cloth on, yoiiiij'srer; the cups and aaueer< are in that citpI)oai*d. That's ritrhr, look alive." I hastened to do what he wi.vj, • 1, and in a few mijiutes had spread tlie table after tli(> fashion observed by Mary at Mr. lUakeford's, while Mr. Uevitts took a con] le of ra.shers of bacrtn out of a piece of new.spaper on the top of the bookshelf, and some bread and a preser\e jar containing butter out of a box under the table. Next he poured some collee out of a canititer into the poi , and haviig inserted his feet into slippers, he prepared to go out of the room. '• Bedroom, with use of the kitclien, for a single gentleman," be said, winking one eye. " That's me. Back in five minutes, youngster." It must have been ten minutes before he returned, with the coffee-pot in one hand and the two rashers of hot sputtering bacon in the other, when in the most friendly spirit he drew a chair to the table, and saying, " Help yourself, youngster," placed one rasher upon my plate and took tlie other upon his own. " I say, only to think of my mate coining iipon you fast asle ']> in London," he said, tearing n)e off a piece of bread. " Why, ii" he'd been looking for you, he couldn't ha' done it. Don't be afraid o' the sugar. There ain't no niilk." I was veiy hungry, and I gladly began my breakfast, since it was offered in so sociable a f^pirit. " Let's see. How did you say Mary looked ? " " Very well indeed, sir," I replied. "Send me — come, tuck in, my lad, you're welcome — send me any message ? " " She did not know I was coming, «ir." " N9, of course not. So vuu've come to Loudon to seek your fortune, eh?" "Yes, sir." " AVhere are you going to look for it first P " he said, grinning. "I don't know s'r," I said, rather despondently. "More don't 1. Pour me out another cup o' coffee, my lad, while 1 cut some more bread and scrape. Only to think 0' my mate meeting you 1 And so Mary looks well, does she ? ' 74 THE SToilV OF ANTONY f;UACF. r I -tl I ' ^ i: f "Yes, sir." " A 11(1 ain't very comfortable, eh P " "Uh no, 8ir! It's a ver» unronifortable placo." '*Ah, T sliiiH have to Hnd her a phice a ter nil! She mifrht just as well have said t/c^ la**t tim»', instead of gojii-jf into a ifantrum. I siy, come; you ain't hal. eafin^'. [ sluiU write and (ell her I've seen you." If 1 was Imlf eating'- before, I was eatinjr nothing- now, for his words sufTgettted dinovery, and my beinj^ j^iven up to .Mr. liluite- ford: when, seeiii;^ my di.smay, mv ho.st laii^rlie*! at me. "There, get on witli your toke, youn^.ster. If I tfll AlMry where you are, you don't suppose she'll go and tell old Hlake- fordP" • "Oh no, sir! slie wouldn't do that," I said, taking heart ngain, and resuminn; mv breakfast, " And I say, youngster, suppose you don't sjiy <«;/• to me any more. I'm only a policeman, you know. I say, you were a bit Miared last ni<^ht, weren't you Y " " Yes, sir— yt's, I mean, I was very much afraid." "Ah, that's the majesty of the law, that is! Do yr u know, I've only got to go into a crowd, and just give my head a nod, and they disperse directly. The police have wonderful power in l.ondon." " Have they, sir?" " Wonderful, my lad. We can do anything wo like, so long aa it's men. Hundreds of 'em '11 give way before a half-dozen of us. It's only when we've got to deal with tlie women that we get b at : and that ain't no shame, is itP " " No, sir," 1 s lid, thouirli I had not the faintest notion why. "You're quite riglit," he said; "it ain't no shame VV^hat! Have you done P " " Y^is, sir — yes, I mean." " Won't you liave tliat other cup of coffee? " , " No, thank you." " Then I will," he said, suiting- tlie action to the word. "Well, now then, yonne-ster, what are yon ij'^iitio- to do, eh ? " •' I'm going to try and lind Mr. Ko.vle's brother, sir, at a great nrlntinsr-office," I said, search ini;' my pockets, and at last finding t!ie address given me. *• Perhaps he'll help me to find a situation. * " Ah, p'r'aps so. They do have boys in print iny-olli-es. Now, if you were a bit hiyg-'r you might have joined the police, and got U} be a sergeant some day. It's a l>ad job, but it can't be helped. You must grow." , ,^ • ,/ u " I am growing fast, sir." I replied. " Ah, I s'pose so. Well, now lookye here. You go and see Mr. Rowle, and hear what he says, and then come back to me" " Come back here P" 1 said, hesitating. tiOYS WAN'lliD." 7.T " Unless you're got somewhore bntter to go, my lad. Thnr*'. don't you mind comuiff. YouVo an old friend u' my Mury, and no you're an old friend o mine. So, fur a week, or a furtni^'lit, or u month, if you like to bunk down along o' me till you cmi >r(M settled, why, you're woliome; and if u man can say a better word than that, why, tell him how." •* I — I should be very, v»^rv prntt'^'iil if you would give m»» ii ni^ht or two's lodging, sir,'' I wiid, ** and — and I've got six shillings yet." "Then don't you spend morn than you can help, youngster. Do you know what 8 the chf.ipest dinner you can grt h " " No, sir — no, I mean." " Penny loaf and a pen'orth o' chr»'st>. You come back here and have tea along o' me. I don't go on duty till nij^ht. There, no shuttling," he said, prinning. " If vou don't come back I'll writ** and tell old Blakeford." I could see that he did not uifun it, and soon after I left my bundle there, and started off to try if I could tind .Mr. Howie's brother at the great priDting-otiice in >Shurt iSireet, i'Yiter Lane. )i • f •. h CHAPTEU XV. i "flOYH WANTKU. T WKNT over the address in my own mind to make sure, and also repeated the directions given me by Mr. U«vitr.s, so as to make no mistake in going into the City. Then I thon;;lir over nrrn'm Mr. Howie's remarks about his hrotlier, bin namt», .lahfz. his asi>', ami his be'' ,•'• exactly like himself. That would, L thonw-ht, make it ♦".1 > lor me to recognise him ; and in this .spirit I walked on tlu(.*i<7h 'he busy streets, feeling a good deal coiitiised at bein;i puisheu «»(d hustled about so much, while twice i was nearly run r»ver ill ossing the roads. \t ?..jr, after asking, by Mr. Ilevitts' advice, mv wnyof difPerent poiv.t'inen when I was at fault, I found mys"lf .soon after two in Short Street, Fetter Lane, facing a pile of huildin^^.sfrom the base of which came the hiss and pant of steam, with the whirr, cluiif.'. and roar of machinery; wliile on tlie doorpo.st was a bright zinc plate with the legend "Huddle and Lister, Cteneral Printers: and above that, written on a card hi a large le^'lhle hand, an 1 tacked against the wood-work, the words *•' Jloy.s ^^"anted.'' This announcement seemed to take away my brenth, an'1 J hesitated for a few minutes before I dared np]irnaoh the place : but I went up at last, and then, seeing a severe-look ipg man in a glaM box reading a newspaper, I shrank back and walked on a T 1 i i ( I: h .1" i< J' r 76 THE SToKV OF A.NTe\\ <;U.v<'Ii;. little; way, forget t in f^ all iihout Mr. Jabez Uowle in my anxi^f y to try and obtain a situation by who.se means 1 could earn my living-. At last, in a fit of desperation, I went up to the j;las.s case, and the man readinj^ the uesv;:!paper let it fall upoa hist knees and opened a little window. " Now then, what is it ? " he said in a gruff voice. "If vou nlease, sir, there's a nnMce about bovs wanted- " " Down that passap-e, npstairs, first floor," said the man gruffly, and banged down the window. I was a little taken aback, but I pushed a swing door, and went with a beating heart along the passage, on one side of which were rooms fitted up something like Mr. IJlakeford's office, and on the other side a great open floor stacked with reams of paper, and with laths all over tlie ceiling, upon wliicli boys with curious pieces of wood, something like long wooden crutches, were hanging up sheets of paper to dry, while at broad tables by the windows I could see women busily folding more sheets of paper, as if making books. It was but a casual glance I had as I passed on, and then went )>y a room with the door half open and the floor carpeted inside. There was a pleasant, musical voice speaking, and then there was a burst of laughter, all of which seemed out of keeping in that <lingy place, full of the throb of machinery, and the odour of oil and steam. At the end of the passage was the staircase, and going up, 1 was nearly knocked over by a tall, fat-headed boy, who blundered roughly against me, and then turned round to cry indignantly — " Now, stoopid, where are yer a-coming to ? " " Can you tell me, please, where I am to ask about boys being wanted ? " I said mildly. " Oh, find out I There ain't no boys wanted here." " Not wanted here ! " I faltered, with my hopes terribly dashed, for 1 had been building castles high in the air. " No ; be off ! " he said roughly, when a new character appeared on the scene in the sliap ? oi a business-looking man in a white apron, carrying down an ivon frame, and having one hand at lih"vtv, he made use of it to give the big lad a cuflf on the ear. ** You make haste and fetch up those galleys, Jem Smith ; " and tl6 boy went on down three stairs at a time. "What do you want, my man Y " he continued, turning to me. " I saw there were boys wanted, sir, and I was going upstairs." " When that young scoundrel told you a lie. There, go on, and in at that swing door; the overseer's office is at the end." I thanked him, and went on, pausing before a door blackenad by dirty hands, and listened for a momer t before going in. The hum of machinery sounded distant here, and all within seemed very still, save a faint clicking noise, till suddenly I heard BOYS WANTED." 77 said, said ft l'j\id clap-clapping, as if a flat piece of wood were being bunged down and then struck with a mallet ; and directly after came a hammering, as if some one was driving a wooden peg. There were footsteps below, and I dared not liefitute longer; 80, pushing t'le door, it yielded, and I found myself in a great room, where some forty men in aprtns and sliirt-sleeves were busy at what at the first glance seemed to be desks full of little com- partments, from which they were picking sonietliing as they stood. l3ut I was too much confused to notice more than tliat they took not the slightest notice of me, as I stopped short, wondering where the overseer's room would be. At one corner I could see an old man at a desk, -ith a boy standing beside him, both of them shut up in a glass-case, as if they were curiosities; in another corner there was a second glass- case,, in which a fierce-looking man with a shiny bald head and glittering spectacles was gesticulating angrily to one of the men in white aprons, and pointing to a long, narrow slip o*' paper. I waited for a moment, and then tuin^jd to the man nearest to me. " Car you tell me, please, which is the overseer's ( fllce.^ " I cap in hand. "Folio forty-seven — who's got folio forty-seven P " he aloud. "Here ! " cried a voice close by. "Make even. — Get out; don't bother me." I shrank away, confused and perplexed, and a dark, curly-haired man on the other side turned upon uie a pair of deeply set stern eyes, as he rattled some little square pieces of lead into *<omething he held in his hand. " What is it, boy ? " he said in a deep, low voice. " Can you direct me to the overseer's office, sir ? " " That 8 it, boy, where that gentleman in spectacles is talking." "Wigging old Morgan," said another man, laugliing. " Ah ! " said the first speaker, " that's the place, boy ; " and he turned his eyes upon a slip of paper in front of his desk. I said, " Thank you ! " and went on along the passage between two rows of the frame desks to where the tierce-looking bald man was still gesticulating, and as I drew near I could hear what he said. " I've spoken till I'm tired of speaking ; your slips are as foul as a. ditch. Confound you, sir, you're a perfect disgrace to the whole chapel. Do you think your employers keep readers to do not hi n; else but correct your confounded mistakes f Head } — read your stick ! " " Very sorry," grumbled the man, " but it was two o'clock this morning, and I was tired as a dog." " Don't talk to me, sir ; I do^'t ca^re if it was two o'clcKk, or vour stick, sir rilK Si()l;V OF ANTONY OUACK ijii f twelve o'llu k, or I went \ -four o'clock. I say tlint slip's a disrrrace III you; iiini tor two pins, sir — for two pins Td have it framed and ^;iick up for I ho men to see. lie off and correct it. — Now, then, .\ iiut do you want 'r " I his was to nie, and I was terribly awe-stricken at the fierce . ■•])ect of the .s])Hiikcr, wliose fomlu'nd wns now of a lively pink. ■' If you please, sir, 1 saw tliat you wanted boys, and " •• \o ; 1 don't want boys," he raved. " I'm sick of the young ronkeys ; but I'm obliged to have them." " I am sor"y, sir ' I faltered. " Oh yt s ; of course. Here, stop ! where are you goin^ ? " " Please, sir, you said you didn't want any boys." " You're very sharp, ain't you ? Now hold your toiifrue, and ' I.en answer wliat I ask and no more. What are you — a machine ''oy or reader !" " " If you please, sir, I — I don't know — I thoug-ht — I want " "Confound you; hold your tongue ! " he roared. " Where did \ou work last 't " '' At — at Mr. Rlakeford's," 1 faltered, feeling bound to speak I he truth. ' I'hikeford's ! Pdakeford's ! — I know no Blakeford's. At i'ljichine I-' " '* No, sir ! I wrote all day." •• Wrote P Whaty wasn't it a printing-office ? " " No, sir." *' How dare you come wasting my time like this, you insolent young .scoundrel! Be off! Get out with you! I never knew -iich insolence in my life." 1 si) rank away, trembling, and began to retreat down the avenue, tliis time with the men's faces towards me, ready to gaze in my red and guilty countenance, for I felt as if I had been guilty of some insult to the majesty of the printing-office. To my great ndief, tiiough, the men were too busy to notice me ; but I heard one say to another, ''Old Brimstone's hot this morning." Then I pa.'-sed bn, and saw tlie dark man looking at me silently from beneath his overhimging brows ; and the next moment, heartsick and choking with ilie effects of this rebuff, the swing-door was thrown open by the fat-headed boy coming in, and as I passed out, unaccustomed to its spring, the boy contrived that it would strike me full in the back, just as if the overseer had given me a rude ])ush to drive me awav. I descended the stairs with the spirit for the moment crushed "lit of me; and with my eyes dim with disappointment, I was V 1 sing along the passap-e, when, as I came to the open door of the i-peted room, a man's voice exclaimed — ' No, no, ]NTiss Carr, you really shall not. We'll send it on by (•■..- of the bovs," , . -, ,. ; : ' "r.OYS AV ANTED. 7 It "Oh, nonsense, Mr. Lister ; I cjin rarry it." "Yes, yes; of course j'ou can, but 1 shall not let you. Heiv. boy, come here." I entered the room nervously, to tind my.-" « in presence of a handsome, well-dressed man, anutlii-r wlio was .--tout and eldei 1\ . and two younp- ladies, while upon the table lay a parcel of buol-.-, probably the subject of the remaik. "Hallo! what boy are you P " sai<l tlie your.ger man. "01 '. one of tne new ones, T suppose.'" "No, sir," I said, with voice iiemhling and ray face workin: . fori was unnerved by the treatment I had just received and i).^- dashing of my hopes; " I came to be engagjJ, but — but the gen- tleman upstairs turned me away." " Why ? " said the elder man sharply. " Because I had not been in the print ing-cfTice, sir.'^' "Oh, of course!" he said, tuuJding. ''Of curse. We waiM lads accustomed to the trade, my man." " You should teach him the trade, Mr. Utiddle," said one of th< young ladies quickly, and I darted a look of gmtii ude at lier. "Too busy, Miss Carr," he said, smiling at her. " We doiTi keep a printer's school." "I'll teach him," whispered the young man eagerly, thougli I heard him ; "I'll teach him anything, if you'll promise not to he 80 cruel." " What a bargain ! " she replied, laughing ; and she turried away. " I don't think we need keep you, my lad," said the young man bitterly. " Indeed ! " said the other young lady ; " why, I thought he wa- to carry our parcel of books ? " * " But he is a strange boy, my dear young ladies," said the eldf.' man ; " I'll ring for one from the ofHce." " No ; don't, pray ! " said the lady addressed as Miss Carr quickly . " I don't think we will carry the parcel. You will carry it for us, will you not ? " " Oh, yes, indeed I will! " I cried eagerly ; and T stepped foi - ■ward,foi there was something very winning in the speaker's voice "Stop a moment, my man," said the elder gentleman rathe; sternly, while the younger stood biting his lips ; " where do youi father and mother live ? " Those words made something rise in my throat, and I looked wildly at him, but could not speak. He did not see my face, for he had taken up a pen and drawn a memorandum slip towards him. "Well; why don't you speak?" he said sharply, and as In raised his eyes I tried, but could not get out a word, only pointed mutely to the shabby band of crape upon my cap. ii.i I ■ i 11 If i : r ■ i % ^ 1 [■' r I'' il so THE STOI^Y OF ANTON V GRArM. '• Ah!*" There was a deep siocli close by me, nnd * saw (hat the yottfl|? liidy addressed as MissCair was dea'Jly pule, and for the first time i. noticed that she was in deep niuuruing. " My de.ir Miss (^arr ! " whispered the youno- man earnestly. "Don't speak to me for a minuie," she said in the same tone; and then I saw her face working- and lip quivering as she gazed wistfully at me. "Poor lad!" said the elder man abruptly. Then, "Your friends, my boy, your relatives ? " " I have none, sir," 1 said huskily, "only an uncle, and I don't know for certain where he lives." " But you don't mean iluu you are alone in the world ? " said the young maji qu.ckly, and lie gliUKcl at tiie lady as lie s^poke, " Yes, sir," 1 said quietly, for I had now recovered myself, " I am quite alone, and I want to get a situation to earn my living." The elder gentleman turned upon me and seemed to look me through and through. "Now, look here,younii' fell(;w," he said, "you are either a very unfortunate boy or a desi<.rnin^- younjr impostor," "Mr, Ruddle !" exclaimt'd Miss Carr indignantly; and 1 saw the young man's eye,' glirter as he gazed at her sweet, sad face, twenty times more 8,1 tractive now than when she was speaking lightly a minute befcae. ." I don't want to be harsh, my dear* but here We are obliged to be firm and business-like. Now, boy, answer me ; have you been to a good school P " " No, sir,'' I said, sp making sliarply now, for his use of the word " impostor " stung me : " I was educated at home." " Humpl)^! where do you come from ? " " Rowford, sir." " Town on a tall hill ? " " No, sir," I said in surprise ; " Rowford is quite in a hole ; but we lived four miles from Ruwford, sir, on the Cawleigh road." " Then you know Leydon Wood." " Oh yes, sir ! tl at's where papa used to take me to collect specimens." "Humph! Don't f^aj papa, my boy. Boys who go into the world to get their living don't speak of t heir papas. John Lister ! " " Wait a minute, Ruddle," said the younger man, whose back was towards us ; and I saw that he v/as leaning over AUss Carr and holding her hand. "If you wish it," he whispered softly, "it shall be done." " I do wish it," she {»aid with an earnest look in lier large eyes as ehe gazed kindly at me; and the young man turned round, flushed and excited. I was shrinking tiway towr.rds tht- d jo., pained and troubled, for ili l|(.i| BOYS WANTED.' m If 1 1 felt tliul 1 hud no liusitif.s.t there, wIihm Mr Lister mot i')TU'd in»* to 8top, and said something to the elder ^euilemaii. He in turn acrowed up his face, and gave the yotmger a comical look. "Your father would not have done so, John Lister," he said. " What am I to say, Miss Carr V " For answer the y, ung Inly rose and went and laid her hands in one of his. "If you please, Mr. Uuddle,"' she said in a low musical voice, "it will he ii kindly act." "God bless you, my dear," he said i.-ntlfrly. " I believe if 1 were with vou long you'd make ni«^ as much your slave as you have John Lister." " Then you will > " " Yes, my dear, yes, if it is really as lie says." She darted an iMtelli;icnt iooK at nje. ani then hastily pulled down lier ci-ape veil as Mr. Lister followe*! lier4o her chair. *' Come here, my lad," said Mr. UiuJdk', in (^uiet business-like tones. " We want boys here, but boys used to the printing trade, for it does not answer our pur])o.se to te.iih them; \\(! have no time. But as you seem a sharp, respect ;il>lf Ixty, and pretty well educated, you raiglit, perhaps, be wilting to try." " Oh, if you'll try me, 111 strive so hard tj learn, sir ! " I cried excitedly. " I hope you will, my boy," he said drily. *' but don't profess to<,» much : and mind this, you are not coming hei'e as a young gentle- man, but as H reading-boy — tv) work." " Yes, sir. I want to work," I said earnestly. " That's well. Now, look here. I want to know a little more about you. If, as you say, you came from near Kowford, you can tell me the names of some of the principal people there ? " "Yes, sir; there's Doctor Heston, and the lleverend Jame.^ Wyatt, and Mr. Elton." " Exactly," he said gruffly ; and he opened a large book and turned over a number of pages. " Flumph I here it is," he said to himself, and he seemed to check ofF the names. " Now. look here. my man. What is the name of the principal .solicitor at Kowt'ord Y " " Mr. Llakeford, .\ur,'' I said with a shiver, lest he should want to write to him about me. " Oh, you know him ? " he said sharply " Yes, sir. He managed papa's--my fatiier's — affairs," I said, correcting myself. "Then I'm sorry for your poor fat hei-'-j i)ffairs."he said, tighten- ing his lips. "That will 'lo, my lad. ^Ou can come to work here. Be honest and industrious, and you'll get on. Never mind about having been a gentleman, but learu to be a true man. Go and wait outside." THE "TORY OF ANTONY GRACE. ■ii: J tried to .sptMik. 1 want' 1 to catch Ins hands in luinu. I wanted to flin^r my arms round Miss Carr, and kiss and bless her for her goodness. I was so weak and sentimental a boy then. But I hnd to tight it all down, and satisfy myself by casting a grateful glance at her as I went out to wait. i was no listener, but I heard every word that passed as the ladies rose to go. " Are you satisfied, my dear ? " said Mr. Huddle. " God bless you I " she said ; and I saw her raise her veil and kiss him. " God bless you, my dear ! " he said softly. " So this little affair lias regularly settled it all, eh P And you are to be John's wife. "Well, well, well, my dear, I'm glad of it, very glad of it. John, my boy, I would my old partner were alive to see your choice ; and as for you, my child, you've won a good man, and I hope your sister will be as fortunate." " I hope I shall, Mr. Huddle," said the other lady softly. " If I were not sixty, and you nineteen, my dear, I'd propose for you myself," he went on laughingly. " But come, come, I can't have you giddy girls coming to our works to settle your affairs. There, be off with you, and you dine with us on Tuesday next. The old lady says you are to come early. I'm afraid John Lister here won't be able to leave the office till twelve o'clock ; but we can do without him, eh ? " " Don't you mind what he says, Miriam," said Mr. Lister. " But stop, here's the parcel. I'll send it on." " No, no. Please let that youth carry it for us," said Miss Carr. " Anytlung you wish," he whispered earnestly; and the next moment he was at the door. '* You'll '.;arry this parcel for these ladies," he said ; " and ff^morrow morning be here at ten o'clock, and we'll lind you some- thing to do." " Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I said eagerly ; and taking the parcel, I followed the ladies into Ilolbom, and then along Oxford Street to a substantial row of houses near Cavendish Square, where the one [ looked upon as my friend paused at a large door and held out her hand to me. " I shall hope to hear from Mr. Lister that you have got on well nt the otlice," she said in her sweet musical voice. " Recollect that you are my protcf/e, and I hope you will do me credit. I dliiiU not forget to ask about you. You will try, will you not 'f " " Oh yes," I said hoarsely, "so hard — so very hard ! " '• I believe you will," she said, taking the parcel from my band: '• and now good-bye." The next moment 1 wa,< standing alone upon tlie pavement, feel- ing a» if a cloudiness bad come over the day, while, as 1 looked down into my baud, it was to see rhere u bright new sovereign. PLANS FOR THE j^'UTUEE. 65 CHAPTER XVI. PLAN3 FOR THE FUTURB. I WENT straight back to Mr. llevitts, and only when nearly there did I remember that I had not thouficht to ask about Mr. llowli'. But I felt it did not matter now, for I had obtained ii situation, and he could not be annoyed to find that I was coming to the same establishment. Mr. Uevitts was enjoying himself wher I reached his room : that is to say, he was sitting in his dingy old red-flannel shirt and his blue uniform trousers, with his sleeves rolled well up above the elbow, reading the police news in a daily paper and smoking a short black pipe, with the wreaths of smoke floating out of the open window. " Here you are then, my lad," he said, "just in time. You and T will go out and have a bit o' something at the cookshop. Did you find your friend ? " " No, sir — no Mr. Revitts," I said, correcting myself, " I forgot to ask for him." He let his paper fall in his lap and stared hard at me. " Now, look here, my lad," he said, expelling a i.;rge cloud of smoke, " I don't want you to commit yourself, and it's my dooty to tell you that whatevf you say will be No, no, nonsense. Come, speak out. What are you laughing at ? What have you be^n doing Y " Hereupon I told him my adventure, my eyes sparkling with delight. " And a whole sovereign into the bargain I " he cried hs I Hniished. " Let's look at it." I handed him the bright new g-olden coin, and he span it up in the air, caught it dexterously, and bit it. Then lie tried it thre(? or four times on the table, as a slinpiiiiin woulrl a piece of money on a counter, and ended by making believe to tbrust it into his pocket. '' It's a good one," he stud, " and I think I shall stick to it for your board and lodging last night and tliis morning. What do you say ? " "I think you ought to be paid, sir," [ said eagerly, " for you were very good to me." He stared hai-d at me for a few moments, and then thrust rhe sovereign back in my hand. "I've seen a good many boys in my time," he said, " but I'm blessed if ever I run again one like you. Why, you've got plenty of pluck, or else you wouldn't have run away ; but of all ^l)e simple — well, I won't say simple, but green — of the green chaps! ever did cdme across you are about the greenest." H THE SI Oil V OV ANTONY (UiACE. I iliislicd up fiir from (hat tint at his words, for tliere was the m1 coinphiiiit a^ain alK)ut my (^reeimes?. •' Pleaw, Mr. Itj'vitts, J'm very sorry I'm so green," I said, look- in^'' at hiui wistfully : " perliaps it's because I've always lived in ; he country." He stared harder at me. "Gome hfM'e," li«? said sharplv, and PTf^inpf to the window, he |)lared me between liis knees, laid a prreat hand upon each of my -honidcrrt praspiiijr them firmly, and >.»'az«'d straight into my eyes. • Look here, younfrstj-r," he said an<;rily, " is it K or F ? Are you I rying' to humbug me P Because, if so, it won't do : I'm too old." " Humbugyou, sir P " I said wonderingly. " I don't know what you mean." " That you don't," he said, dropping his fierce way and sinking Mack smiling. " '8tvuth, whpt a uoy yon are ! " r <>azed at him in a troul)led way, for I felt hurt. " Cm very sorry, Mr. Revitts," 1 said, "and I hope yo i don't think 1 would do anything to deceive you," for that " R or F" puzzled me. " Deceive me ? Not yon, my boy. Why, you couldn't deceive a .•^parrer or a hoyster. Wiiy, you're as transparent as a pane of glass. 1 can see right through you and out on the other side." " I'm afraid I am very stupid, sir." I said sadly. " I'll try to learn to be mori' clever. I don't know much, only about books, Hud natural history, and botany, but I'll try very hard not — not to be so — so — green." " Wiiy, bless your young heart, wliere have you been all your life ? You're either as cunning as ■ No, you ain't, you really are as innocent as a limb." '* I've always been at home with papa nnd mamma, sir." "Sir, be hanged ! My name's William llevitts; and if you and !ne's going to be good friends, my boy, you'll drop that sir-ingand mistering, and call me plain Bill." '• Should you like it, sir, if I did ? '' I asked anxiously. '• No, sir, I shouldn't. Yes, I should Now then, is it to be : viends or enemies ? " " ()'i, friends, please," I said, holding out my hand. " Then there's mine, youiig Antony," he cried seizing it in his ivat fingers. " And mind, I'm Bill, or old Bill, whichever you iike." " I'm sure Bill, F should be glad to be the best of friends," I said, "for I have none." " Oh, come now, you said that Polly was very good to you." " What, Mary ? Oh yes ! " " Well, then, that's one. But, I say, you know, you mustn't be so precious innocent." «Mu«tn'tl,.jir?" VL 0:1 'iiiK rni B 65 5 5 " What! " he critid. bringing his hund down crasii on thn tablf. "Mustn't!, J Jill?" "That's better. No: that yon mustn't. I sc :>m to look np(>n you as quite an old friend siiue you lived .so Ion;-- witli my Pnlly. iBut, 1 say, your education Ini.s been horribly neyleeted. Yon p* quite a baby t^ the boys up iiere at vonr nnfe." "But papa was 80 anxion.s that t should learn everythinir," I said, as I thonj^lit of Mr. Ruddle's words, "and we had lessons everv day." " ilah ! Yes ; but you can't learn everything out o' books," he continued, looking at me curiously. " Y ou never went away to school, then ? " "No. I was going in a month or two." " Hah ! and it wa.s put off. ^^'ell, we can't help it now, only you mustn't be so jolly easy-going. Everybody here will glory in taking you in." " Do you mean cheating me ?" " That's just what I do mean. Why, some chaps wou!d have nailed that suv like a shot, and you'd tiever have seen it again. You see, I'm in the police, and we couldn't stoop to such a thing. but I know lots o' men an would say as a suv was no use to a hoy like you, and think as they ougiit to take care of it for you." " Well, wouldn't that be right, Mr. Uevittsj^'" 1 said.' " No, it wouldn't, young gr<;enhorn," he cried sharply, " because they'd take care of it their way." "Greenhorn.''" I said eagerly. " Oh, that's what you mean \>\ my being green ! Y'ou mean ignorant and unripe in the worl l'> ways." *' That's just what I do mean," he cried, slapping me on tht> shoulder. "Brayvol that's the re.«nlf of my tirst lesson,'' he continued admiringly. " Why, I'm bl^s-i'lif I don't think that if I had you here six month.s, and took panis, 1 could make a man of you." " Oh, I wish you would," I cried excitedly. ''I do so want to be a true, good man — one such as papa used to speak of — one who could carve his way to a nol)]e and lionnnrahle career, and grow to be loved and venerated and held in high esfeem by the world at large. Oh, T would try so hard — I'd work night and day, and feel at last that I had not tried in vain." " He-ar ! he-ar ! Brayvo, brayvo, youngster! Well done our side! That's your style!" he cried, <lapping his hands and stamping his feet as I stopped short, flushed and excited with the ideas tlmt had come thronging to my brain, and thenga^ed at him in a shamefaced and bashful manner. ''That's your sort, my boy, I like that. I sav, did vour father teach vou that sorter thing." "Yes, Mr. Rev Yes, Bill." " I say, your par, as you called him, wasn't a fooL" «a. THE S'lOiiV Ui' ANTONY (UiACE. IJ: ■A\ "My papn," I said proudly, " I mean my dear father, wa« the l»«'8t and kind' st of men." " That I'll lay wixp«MU'«< he was. Why, I was feeling quite out of heart about you, and thinking you such a hinnocent young foose that I shouldn't know how to nelp you. Why,lookye here, 've been kicking about in the world ever since I was ten, and been in the police six years, and I couldn't make a speech like that." " CouldnT you, sir— Mr.— I mean Bill P " " No, that I couldn't. Why, I tell you what. You and I'll stick together and I don't know what we mightn't make of you at last — p'raps Lord Mayor o' London. Or, look here, after a few . years we might get you in the police." " " In the police P " 1 faltered. " To be sure, and you being such a scholard and' writing such a hand — I know it, you know. Lookye here," he continued, pulling out a pocket-book, from one of the wallets in which he drew a note I had written for Mary, " I say, you writing such a hand, and being well up in your spelling, you d rise like a air balloon, and get to be sergeant, and inspector, and perhaps superintendent, and wear a sword ! You mark my words, youngster ; you've got a future before you." " Do you think so P " " I just do. I Hk^ you, young Antony, hang me if I don't ; and if you stick to me I'll teach you all I know." " Will you ? " I said eagerly. '* ** Well, all I can. Just hand me that paper o' tobacco. Thankye. I'll have just one more pipe, and then we'll go to dinner." He filled and lit his pipe, and went on talking. " First and foremost, don't you get trying to smoke." " No, 1 will not," I said. " That's right. It's all very well for men, a little of it ; but I don't like to see boys at it, as too many tries just now. I often . sees 'era on my beat, and I never feel so jolly happy as when I come across one looking white after it about the gills, and so sick he can't hold his head straight up. But, as I was a-saying, you stick to me and I'll teach you all I can, and I know two or three things," he continued, closing oiio eye and opening it again. t " You must, sir." " Yes; there's some clever chaps I have to deal with sometimes — roughs and thieves and the like; but they have to get up very early in the morning to take me in." ^ , -j " Do they, sir — Bill P " I said wonderingly. "There, now you're getting innocent again," lie said sharply. " You don't mean to tell me as you don't understand that JP** " Oh yes, I do : you mean that they would hav* t6 g^t aj> very early to master you — say at daybreak." U\ PLANS FOR THE ri'TURUl. «7 "What ft jovm^ innocent, you are,'* he cried, lauj^hinj^; and then seeing my pained look, he slapped me on the shoulder ti^ain. " It's all right, my boy. You can't help it; nnd you'll soon learn all these things. 1 know a lot, but so do you — a sight o' thin;{N I don't. Why, I'll be bound to sny you could write a long letter without making a single mi^^tako in the spelling." " Yes, I think I could," I said innocently. " Both papa and mamma took great pains with me over that." " Look at that, now I " he said. " Why, I couldn't write two lines in my pocket-book without putting down something as the sergeant would chaff." " Chaff P " I said, " cut-un stuff for horses ■' " "Yes: that's it," he saia, grinning. "Stuff as they out up. There, you'll soon know what chatT is, niv lud. Hut, you know, all the same, and speaking quite fair, I do maintain as spelling ain't square." " Not square ? " "I mean fair and square and above-board. Them as invented spelling couldn't have been very clever, or they'd have made everv- tuiug spelt as it sounded. V\hy, it only seems natural to spell doctor's stuff f-i-z-z-i-k, and here you have to stick m p's, and ^'v, and y'«, and «'«, and c'«, as ain't wanted at all." " It is puzzling, certainly," I said. "Puzzling? Puzzling ain't nothing to it. I can write a fair round hand, and spell fast enough my way. Our sergeant says there isn't a man on our station as can write such a nice looking report ; but when it comes to the spelling — there, I won't tell you what he said about that ! " " But you could soon improve your spelling." " Think so ? " he said eagerly. " Oh no, I don't fancy we could." " 1 am sure you could," I said." The best way is to do dictation." " Dictation ? What, ordering about ? " " Oh no ; not that sort of dictation. I mean for me to read to you from a book and you write it down, and then I mark all the misspelt words, and you write them down and learn them." " Look at that now ! " he exclaimed. " To be sure, that's the way. Now, you know, I bought a spelling book, that didn't seem to do no good; so I bought a pocket dictionary, und that was such a job to go through, so full of breakneck words as no one never heard of before, that I give that up. Why, you ain't innocent after all. Would you mind trying me ? " " Mind I no," I cried ; " we could use either a slate or paper." " So we could, and do it with either a pencil or a pen. 1 say, come : fair and square, I'll teach you all I know if you'll teach me all you know." "That's agreed," I said. " Done for you," he cried, shaking hands. "And now my pipe's iiirs IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I lA^iM |2.5 •^ Ki 1 2.2 12.0 1^ 18 1.25 1 1.4 1 1.6 « 6" — ► I Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 £.•^4^ ^%^ w i.fWV 88 THE .STORY 01' AMTONY ORACE. i lii out, and we'll go and have dinner. Wait till I roll down my sleeves and get on my stock. Why, you and I will be as jolly aa can be here. It's rather a long- way to go to your work, but ycu must get up a bit earlier. Two miles ni^'-ht and morning won't kill you, and I've been tliinking what we'll do. You've "jfot your sovereign. We'll go to a place I know, and buy oneo' them little iron fold-up bedstead-^ and a mattress and pillow and blanket, and stand it there. It's breaking into your suv, but then you'll have the bit o' furniture, which will be your property, so the money won't be wasted. What do you say P '' I was delighted, and said so. " Well, then, lookye here," he continued, as he took great pains with his hair and wiiiskers before the glass, and then put on and buttoned up his uniform coat, to stand before me a frank, manly fellow of ahout thirty, " you're my company this week, and after that you shall put so much of your selery into the stock to pay for living, and we shall both be free and independent, and what's left you can shove in the bank." "In the bank?" " Yes, savings-bank. I don't mind telling you as an old f-iend I've got forty-four pun ten there." " Mary has thirty-seven pounds in a savings-bank," I said. r. " Now there's for you ! " he said. " Yes, she told me so; but perhaps I oughtn't to have told you." " Well," he said seriously, " I s'pose you oughtn't, because it was told you in confidence, but I'm glad you did. She never told me." " Did you ever tell her how mucli you had saved ? " "No, that t «lidn't, only as I was saving, so it's all fair. Look hero, youngster--! mean Antojiy,"he said, after standing staring in the glass for a few minutes, " I tell you what it is, you coming up has about brought matters to a head." "Has it, Bill?" " Y'^e^, it liayve, my boy. Po you know, I don't for the life of me know why we two liave been waiting; do you?" " No," I said shaking my head. " No> nor more don't Mary, I'll bet a sixpence. We got engaged to one another, and then we said as it wouldn't be sensi1)le, to get married at once, as we might both see some one we liked better, don't you see?" " Yes," T said, feeling puzzled all the same, " it was very prudent." "I could have got married lots o' times since, but I've never seen a girl as I liked so well, and I s'pose Mary hasn't seen a chap/ for she keeps on writing." " Oh yes ; and she thinks a deal of you. She's very proud of you." -. . . . ,^.. . . --... - , .-. . .--- -•• PLANS YOU THK ri'TURE. 89 '' Is she, though ¥ * he said, with a satisfied smile,and fri^i"^ ^^i^* head a shake in his stock. *' Well, then, I tell you what: I'll write and ask Mary tx) say the day, and then meet her at the station. Well take a little bigger place, and she'll come up and make us both comfortable. Wliat do you say to t hut ? " I clapped my hands, and he stood sinilin<r in an exceedingly simple way, and looking like a very biir overgrown boy, for a fp\\ moments, before turning himself round to me. *' See that," he said, in a quiet business-like way. " I was laughing at you for being soft and green just now, and I'm blessed if 1 dont feel as if I was ten times worse. Come along, company, it's ever so late, and my report suys hot mutton chop, a cup of ten, and some bread and butter." That evening, after a hearty meal, for whicli Ilevitts insisted upon paying, there was just time to make the purchases he pro- posed, which almost melted the whole of my sovereign, and then It was time for him to g^ on duty. " They've cost a deal," he said thoughtfully, " but tl. n you've still got the money, only in another siiape. Now, you get buck home and take in the things when they come, and then sit and read a bit, and afterwards go to bed. t wouldn't go out, if I was you." We parted, and I followed out his directions, being shrewd enough to see that he thought me hardly fit to be trusted alone. The next morning 1 woke to find it wus half-past six, and that Revitts had come home and was preparing for bed. He looked tired out, and waav^ry black and airty, having been, he said, at u fire ; but he was not too much fatigued to give me a friendly bit or two of advice as to getting my breakfast and going down to the office. " Have a good breakfast before you start, my boy, and get some bread and clieese for your lunch- -tluit's twopence. When you come back you'll find the tea-things out, and you can make dinner and tea too." In good time I started, leaving Revitts sleeping off his nig^ht's fatigue, and about ten minntes to ten I was at the door of the great printing-office, flushed with exercise and dread, but eager all the same to make a beginning. I hesitated as to whether I should go in at once or wait till it struck ten, but I thought that perhaps I might be some time before 1 saw Mr. Ruddle, so I walked straight in, and the num reading the paper in his glass case looked up at ine in a very ill-used way as I stopped at his window. " You again P " he said gruffly. " Well, what is it P " " If you please, I've come to work," I said. "WorkP W'^hy, it's ten o'clock. Why weren't you hero at eightP" , , ^11 / «> I'. 90 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. 1:4 W i |i 'i " Mr. Ruddle naid ton o'clock, sir, and I want to see him." ** Oh ! " he aaid gruffly, as if he were the gatekeeper of an earthly paradise. " Well, I s'pose you must pass in. Go on." I went on into the passage, feeling as if the doorkeeper was the most important personage there, and as if the proprietors must make a practice of asking permii^sion to go into their own rl 'ce. I went, then, nervously down the passage till I came to tne door of the room where I had seen Messrs. Ruddle and Lister. It was ajar, and there were loud voices talking, and though I knocked they went on. " Stern firmness is one thing, Orimstone," I heard Mr. Ruddle saying, " and bullying another.** " But you don't consider, sir, that I bully the men, do you P * said another voice which was quite familiar to ^ae. " You may call it what you like, Grimstone. There, I'm bus j now." There was a sharp step, and the door was flung widd open and closed, wlien my friend the overseer, who had been so rough to me on the previous day, came out and pretty nearly knoclua nM down. CHAPTER XVII. MT FIBST LITBRART BFF0RT8. I MAKX ANOTHBB FRIBND. Thb overseer and I stood in the dim light gazing at one another for a few moments, during which I seemed to read in his sharp, harsh face an air of resentment at my presence. " Hallo ! " he said, in an angry voice, and evidently rejoicing at havi:.<g encountered some one upon whom he could vent a little of the anger seething within him. " What, are you here again, you young vagabond P Didn't I tell you yesterday to ^ about your business P Be off with you, or I'll send for a policeman, aow dare you I What do you mean P" " But please, sir," I remonstrated. * Will you be off ? " he roared ; and I felt that I was about to be driven from the place, when the proprietor's door was sharply opened and Mr. Lister unpeared. " Confound it all, Grimstone," he cried, " what's the matter now P Look here, sir ; I will not have this bullying and noise in the place." " Your father never spoke to me like that, Mr. John, when he was alive." " My father put up with a great deal from you, Grimstone, . because you were an old and faitnful servant of the firm ; but that MY FIRST LITKHAKY EFT'ORTS. HI is no reiiann why I, his son, should submit to what id sometimes^ bordering on insolence." " Insolence, Mr. John ?" ' ** Yes, Grimstone, insolence." ^ " "What w the matter P " said Mr. Ruddle, comin^f out. "Mr. John says I'm insolent, Mr, Ruddle," 8uid the overseer angrily ; " was I ever insolent to you, sir, or his father P** " Well, if you want the truth, Grimstone, you often were verv insolent, only we put up with it for old acquaintance' sake. But what's the matter now r " ** I waa just speaking to this young vagabond, who persists In hanginff about the place, sir, when Mr. John came out and attacked me, sir?' " Don't call names, Grimstone," said Mr. Lister hotly. " This young vagabond, as vou call him, is a fresh bov whom Mr. Ruddle has taken on, and whom I desire you to treat kindly." " Why didn't he speak, then," said the overseer angrily ; " how was I to know that he was engaged P In Mr. Lister senior's time the engaging of boys for the office was left to the overseer." He stalked off, evidently in high dudgeon, leaving tlie masteis gazing at one another. " He grows insufferable," said Mr. Lister angrily. " One would think the place belonged to him." " Yes, he is rough," said Mr. Ruddle ; " but he's a good overseei-, John, and a faithful old servant. He was with us when we first began. "Well, my boy, you've come then ; now go upstairs to thu composing room, and ask Mr. Grimstone to give you a job; he'll be a bit cross, I dare say, but you must not mind that." "No, sir; I'll try not." " That's right," he said, giving me a friendly nod, and I hurrietl upstairs and walked right through the composing-room to Mr. Grimstone's glass case. He saw me coming, but, though I tapped softly at the door several times, he refused to take any notice of me for some minute.*, during which I had to stand uncomfortably aware of the fact that I had given terrible offence to this man in authority, by allow! n<^- myself to be engaged downstairs after he bad bade me go. He was busy, pen in hand, looking over some long, narrow pieces of paper, and kept on turning them over and over, making nis spectacles flash as he changed his position, and directing tlu) top of his very sh.^ny bald head at me, till at last he raised it, gave a start, and turned as if astonished at seeing me there ; but it was poor pantomime and badly done. "'V\"ell,whati8itP"he8aid. " If you plepse, sir, Mr. Lister sent me up*to ask you to give me • job." "Me give you a job," he said, in a menacing tone; "why, I tht: story of axtoxy cjuack. ii I I'l IP I i, 'I a thoiijflit you wouM lie liaiiger-on down Ih»1ow, uiul not come up into the office, where you'd get your niie white hands dirtied. Whut joh can I jrive you I' What can you do? What do you know : Here, Smith, take this boy, and give him a page of pie to die." The big, fat-headed boy came up from a distant part of the room, scowled at me, and led me to one of the desk-tike frames, upon which were four large open trays full of compartments of various sizes. " Here you are ! " he said, " lay holt ; '' and he thrust a little heavy square paper packet into my hands. " It's burjoyce" — so it sounded to me ; " look alive, and then come for another." He went away, leaving me balancing the heavy packet in my hbud. It was about the size and thickness of a small book, but what next to do with it, or how 1 was to do it, I did not know. Of course I know now that it was the petty, contemptible re- venge of a little-minded man to set nie, u totally uninstructed novice, to do that which an old practised compositor will shelve if he can, as aii uncongenial task. To " dis a page of burjoyce pie" was, ni fact, to distribute — that is, place in its proper compart- ments, or in the case — every large and small letter, space and point, of a quantity of hounfcois, or ordinary newspaper type, that had been accidentally mixed, or " pied" as it is technically termed. The distribution of an ordinary page or column of type is com- paratively easy, for the skilled workman reads it oft \ ord by word, and drops the letters dexterously in the compartment as- signed; but in " pie" the letters and spaces are all jumbled, and the tusk is troiil)1e.>om«> and slow. There was I, tlien, with about as easy a task as if I had been suddenly handed the various parts of a watch, and told to put them togetiier; and 1 felt helpless and ashamed, not daring to interrupt any of the busy men intent upon their work ut the various frames. An hour nni.Nt have elapsed before I felt that I dare venture to go towards M'* Grimstone's glass case, and I was about desper- ately <o tell iiini that I was ignorant and helpless, and quite untit to do what he had set me, when the dark, stern-eyed mai; I had seen on the previous day came round by where I stood. He gazed at me curiously, and ga^e me a nod, and was passing on, when I desperately exclaimed : " If you please, sir " " Eh f What is it, my boy P " he said. " I was told, sir, to dis'this pie," I said, fearful that I was mak- ing some absurd blunder about the word pie. " Weil, why don't you do it ? Get the sponge off the stone and give it a good soaking in a galley." it MY FIRST LIT'.KAKY El'KOIiTS. 93 "I'm TPrv Hoiry. •^ii"," I "^aitl. ►'iiooiirarMd bv hixfjiiiet, kind way, '•* but I don't know how." " Haven't you been in a printing-office before ?" " No, sir." " And never distributt^d type P " "No, sir." " How absurd ! Who get you to do it ? " " Mr. Grimstone, sir." " But does he know that vou have never handled type . "Yes, sir." " Ass 1 " Fie muttered. *• Here, come iilonor with me, my man. No; better not, perhaps. Leave that puckit alone, my boy. There, lay it down. .Stand hen* and try and Itiirn the case." " Learn the case, sir ? " I said, with my heart sinking within me at being given another impossible tusk. "Yes, it's very easy; only wants time," he said kindly. "Here, pick up one of these pieces of type," he C(»ntinued, dexter- ously taking up a little th n bit of black metal, " like this, and turn it in your fingers, and see what letter is s aniped on tlie end, and then put it hack in the same compartment of the case." " Is that tray the case, sir ? " " Yes, quite right, go on. You can come and ask me anything you don't Know." I darted a grateful look at him, and eagerly began my task, though in fear and trembling, lest Mr. Grimstone should come and find fault because I had not **dis'd the pie." Few people, I think, realize the sufferings of a sensitive boy at school, or at his first launching into life, when set to some task beyond his perception or powers. The dread of being considered stupid ; the fear of the task-masters, the strangeness, the uncon- genial surroundings, all combine to make up a stat(> of mental torture that produces illness: and yet it is often ridiculed, and the sufferer treated with cruelty for non-performance of that which, simple to the initiated, is to him in his ignorance an utter impossibility. It was with a sense of relief I cannot <lc«rrihe that I began to lift the metal types one bv one, looked at tliem. and |Mit them back; and 1 was not long in finding out that, while the ciipital letters in the upper of the two trays before me ran nearly rerrnluriy A, B, C, D, ana soon, and beneath them the : „'iires 1, 'J, 3, 4, etc., the lower esse was a perfect puzzle. The compartments were n(^t like those uJmivc, all small squares, and the same .'•ize, but some were very large, and some very small ; some were long, and some were square; hut I found that they were made upon a regular plan. For instance, there was one very large compartment nearly in the middle at the top of the lower tray, that was evidently six times as big as the small com- ! 94 THK STORY OF ANToNY HRACE. » h H li ! l" ill' 'i| I I ■? partinents; while below and bedidu it were many more that werA four tiinofl as big as thuHmall onen ; others being only twice as big. I naturally examined the large compartment first, and found it full of little thin slips of metal nearly an inch long, at the end of fach of which, and beautifully formed, was the letter *. There was no doubt about it, and it was evident that there were more e'A than anything el«e. Then under it* I found the compartment lull of A's, and away to the left, n» and m's; ^'s, cTs, u's, o's, a*$, and /• were in other large compartments, and it gradually dawned upon my mind that these letters were placed where they would be handiest for use, and that there was the largest number of those that would be most frequently required. My surmise was quite right, and with this idea as the key, I >oon found out that litrle-used r and z were in very small num- bers, in the most out-of-the-way parts of the tray, just as were the double letters tt and ee, etc. One compartment close under my hand, a^d very full, puzzled me the most, for the pieces of metal therein were short, and had no letters on the end: and at last, after trying in vaiu to understand their meaning, I determined to iisk the dark won next time he passed, and went on trving to master my task with the strange clicking noise made by the men going on all round. 1 hardly dared glance about, but in the casual glimpses I stole, I began to understand now that the men about me were picking up, letter by letter, the types, to form words, und arranging them ill little curiously shaped tools they held in their hands. I had been busily learning my letters for about half an hour, %vhen the big, fat-headed boy came up to me. ** Now then ! " he said, in a bullying tone that was a very good Imitation of the overseer's, "done that page? " "No!" I said. "You ain't?" " No ; I did not kn )W how." " Oh, you'll catch it, just, when Mr. Grimstone knows. You ttiu^t coming here to do just as you like ; and I tell you what it is ' " Well, what is it, boy ? " said a quiet, stem voice, and my lieart gave a joyful thump as I saw the dark man come up. •* Please, he ain't dis'd this here pie." " No ; he did not know how. I setuim to learn the case." " But Mr. (jrrimstone said he was to ** " Jem Smith, do you know you are a fool ? " said the dark man ■quietly. " I dessav I am, Mr. llallett, but Mr, Grimstone said as this boy ■was to " Ar ' if you don't go about your business I shall box your ears.' "No,you " ' •• • ' ^""' MV rii:sT LlTKiiAliY liKFoKTS. i)fi He did not tinisli his «ei>teiicH. for tlu'VH whs sonu'tliinjr in tli»* deep-w>t dark eyes which hud Huch an effect upon him thnt he weakud off, and I turned to my protector. "Would you pUase tell me why these little things have no letters on their endw, sir? " I said. " Because thev are spaces, my boy. Don't you remember in reading" a book tliere is a little distance between every word ? " " Yes, sir," I said e^iperly ; "and after a full stop there's a Mjrcrt'r space." "To be sure! "he said, sm ill n^r, una his pale face looked less stern and severe. "Look : thi^ie little things, as you cull them, but us we cull them, thick spaces, go between every word, and these square ones after a full stop. IIow are you getting on P " " I know that's e, sir." " Yes : go on." " And tliut's h, und that o, and u — m—a — r — i— * — o — n — *," 1 said, touching the boxes in tun\. " Good, very good," he said, " and what is that P " " That, sir P—rf." "No, it is/). And that?" " Oh, that is 6." " No, it is q. Now you know the meaning of mind your p's a?irl 7*8. You must learn the difference, and try to recollect this; all the letters, you see, are reversed, like a seal." " Like the motto on papa's seal. Ye«, I see, sir,"! suid eagerly. "That's right, my boy, he said looking at me curiously. " Go on, I am too busy to stny." " Now ! what 8 all thi.s ? "said Mr. Grii Jem Smith. " Please, sir," said the latter, " I telled him as he was to " " I found the boy unable to do whut was set him, Mr. Grinj- stone," said my protector quietly, "and toM him t(» goon with learning his case. The boy has never he«'n in un oificre before." " That was for me to know, Mr. IliiUett," cried tlie over.seer. growing red in the face. " What the dfvil do you mean by " "Interfering, Mr. (Jrimstone ? I did it b('cau.»je I wa.<» siir« you were too good a manager to wish time to be \va.»<ted in tl'i> large office. And I must n.sk you, please when you speak to nic. to omit these course exprei*.«<ion8." " Of all the insole-.ce " "Insoleni or not, sir," !<aid the dark man sternly, "have tin goodness to remember that \ always treat you with respect, and I expect the same from you. Excuse me, but a quarrel between us will not improve your position with the men." Mr. Grimstone looked at him furiously ; and turning redder in the face than ever, seemed about to burst into a tirade of angry Iviguage, but my protector met his look in a way that quelled imstone, bustling up with M THE STOiiV OK ANTONY GKAOE ft i III. I him, And turning upon rlie fut-licadtKl boy, who was looking on ')p(>n"ni()iithed, the ovpi.mht ^ave him a Houndinjj^ box on the ear. " \\ liut are you Htandiiig gaping there for, you lazy young M'oundrel P " he roared ; *' go and wash those galleys, and do them wi'll." Then, striding off, he went int^ his glass-case, while Jem Smith, ii) a compartm«Mit at the end of an avenue of cases, began to brush >4i>me long lengths of type, and whenever I glanced at him, he •'lirtok his fist, as he showed his inflamed eyes red with crying and his face blackened by contact with his dirty hands. My protector, Mr. Halle t, had left me at once, and I saw no more of him for some tm, as I worked away, sorry at having been the innocent means of getting him into a quarrel. At last, just as I was very intent in puzzling out the difference between //s and q'B I started, for the great lubberly boy came up close liehind me. " I'll give you a warming wlien you goes out to dinner, see if 1 • lon't," he whispered; but he shnlilcd off directly, as Mr. Ilallett tame towards me, saw that 1 was busy, and after giving me a friendly nod, went back, leaving )iis calm, strangelv stem face so iniprt'ssod upon me, that I kept finding myself thinking of him, his eyes seeming to stare at me from out of every box. But still I worked on, feeling each moment more and more sure of my way, and at last in a fit of enterprise I set to work and managed to find the letters forming my own name, and laid them >ide by side. I felt no little nervous dread as dinner-time approached, for Jem Smith's warming was in waiting; but as one o clock struck, Mr. Ilalletr came up to me while the other men were hurrying off, and said kindly : " Did that boy threaten you P " " He — he sa d somethii.,-, sir," I replied, hesitating. " I thought so. He's gone now, so don't go out to dinner, my man. I can give you a little of mine. I'll speak to him before you go to-night." CHAPTER XVIU. ^' IP V MY FBIBND JEM SMITH MAKVS MB AMBITIOUS. [ WAS receiving my first lessons in the fact that there is as much 2ood-will as ill-wlll in the world — in other words, that there really is, as has been so poetically expressed, a silver lining to every sloud ; and I gladly availed myself of Mr. Hallett's kind offer, fol- lowing him tc his frame, as they called the akeletoo desks that MY FRIEND JKM SMITH MAKES ME AMBITIOUS. 97 •upported tlie f-ns.M. nn<l \\wrv fitting' tldun rl«if»» by Mm to par- tnue of t^nu^' ItM'iiii iiiil iiicnt wlia-li lie l>r(MijIit nul (-iiri'fiillv wra pped in ii t'Ifiin w liit f !l)tliKill *' l)on*t Im afraiil, my lun,' Im- .""aid, *' iiuilu' ii (food meal; and I NhonM u(l\i.'»' \oii, for the jm'>«'Ht. to l>rii:,' y>\\v <lir .irr with you and eat it liero. |!.'U.i- th ail ^'oin.'r itiio ; lu* >rri'»>is. Ilt> tlit>n nU> Ills own diiii!< r <iiii('KI\, aiui wiilioiit taking the Hlijfhlfsl iifhici' of iin' Iryoiid sfeiii^; niict* that I had a ^l^lil•|»•lu•y of tho L;vad an! mout, i)iit tooK out aM ubloii^'- nirtiiorntidicn-hook, and l>egun biLsily drawi i^ and iinikin^ some cah-iilation. As he worked ut thi.<, I .-af ami li.iM a ^nod look at him, and I' .1 v.a-i coxereil wiih cii.sn dark could see that his h(!;,n'. tii;s.'i..i\ hair that was alread\ >|iuli!ly spiinkled with ^rt-y. Fi-oin I'ime to time he raised his t-vt ." li-oii; ;iif< hook to h)ok up, as if dixin, into the di.4taiu'e, or trviny to (M,<h some idea uiat was waiideriiiu- away froui him, and ut such mouiejjts his deeply set eyes had a curiously intense look about them, wliih- his forehead was deeply marked with thoughtful lines. I don't think he wu-s more than thirty, but he looked, so to speak, vigorously (»ld, or, rather, worn like some piece of steel that has been used hard, but has grown sharper and more elastic by that use. He was a tall, well-uuide man, but thin and spare, giving the idea of one who was ascetic in his habits and devoting himself to some particular end. lie did not speak to me again, and I was not sorry, for there was that in his face and ways that rather repelh'd than attracted, and I somehow felt that if he, in his quiet, Hrm way, were iiiigry with me, I should be more nhirmed than by the noi^y bullying of Mr. Grimstone, the overseer. Two o'clock was signalled by the coming back of the composi- tors, who resumed their white aprons and rolled up their sleeves, when the sharp clicking noise went on as before. Mr. Ilallett, at the first entrance of one of his fellow-workmen, had shut his book with a snap, and thrust it h ':o his breast, rolled up the napkin, and then, turning to me with a nod, — " Two o'clock, my boy," he sjiid "Get oji with your work." As he spoke he resumed his own, ond I went back to my case, I had haixlly been there ten seconds, and was dilitrt ntly nuiking sure which was the compartment containing the letter i^, which had a terribly strong resemblance to the letter n, when Mr. Grim- stone suddenly pounced on me from round the end of the case". I say pounced, for it was so wonderfully like a cat coming upon a mouse. lie seemed surprised and disappointed at fin<Hntr me there, though I did not comprehend his looks then, and afttr star- ing hard for a moment or two, he went away The hours glided away, and I was so interested in what J was doing, that I hardly noUced the lapse of time, while, long before r»s TIIK S'1uF:Y of ANTONY (IHACE. ir .' u tliu aftiM'tiooii wtis \ynn\, ilic work tint iuimi were enga^M upon srtMiit^d 8o uttructivu that i felt impelled to iiiiitatu them by trying to pick up the luttei-H forming vurioiiH wurdx, and then replacing them in tliedifTorent boxes. The HrM time it was rather ditririilt, but the 8econd time I got o!i pretty well, and I wan just hefriniiinjf for the third time, when Mr. lluUett came round my way and eauf^ht me in the act. I felt very guilty, but he Meenjed to approve, and walked away, to return directly with a little sliding t^teel thing, 8uch as the men were U8ing. *' llere'w u stick, my boy ; try and place the letters, nick upper- uwKst, in that." I took the NticU, an he called it, and found that as fast as I placed a letter ill, it .•'•ciiied to do its best to jump out again: then one litter got upon another, or two or three appeared to quarrel and join in a regular squabble, so tliat their awkwardness and utter relusiil to lie quietly side by side at last put me in a profuse per- spiration. I was l)u.-<ily fumbling about when Mr. Orinistone, whose voice I had often heard scolding difft'rent men, came round, saw what I \\a8 doing, and snatched the coinposing-wtick away. " Tcliali ! What waste of time! Come along here," he cried itnyrily, and I followed him to his glass oflice, where he sat down upon a worn stool. " Now then," he said, sharply, " I've decided to give you a trial." 1 remember thinking that he was very stupid to assume that he had full authority, when I knew that he had not, but, of course, I was silent. " And now mind this, sir: I am overseer here, and what I say I will have done, I have done. You hearP" " Yes, sir," I said. "And now we understand one anotlier." Saying this, he bounced down from his stool again, and led me to the end of the large room and through a door into a dirty place with a great leaden sink, water, and brushes, and a potcontaming some liquii', Jem Smith was there, having just brought in a long narrow tray containing a column of type. "Here, Smith, show this boy how to wash a galley: and see I hat he does it well." Jem Smith grinned at me as soon as we were left alone, and 1 saw plainly enough that he meant to have some compensation for the box on the ear he had received ; but 1 tried hara to contain myself, and meant to submit patiently to anything that might Follow. " Here, ketch hold o' that galley," he a&'id sharply, " and look bere, young man, don't you get trying to play the sneak here, and MY FKtENl) JK.'.r sMiTil '.:\K\:< MK AMlUTrol'S. I I ow see betfiu gelt iu^ old lliillHtt lo lakf your ])urt. il«>'i4only a mm iiK. aim every budy ltt>r(> hates liim 'raiist' \\v won'i take Win iffv. Vmi keep awuy from liiin, or it'll Ik* the wor.'*!' fur you. I'v** oiil\ ^'>i to tell the otluT hoys, uti*l tiny 11 iiiakf it m» warm for you a- you'll winh an ynud n»»ver coiuf hert*. Now, th»Mi, why don't you ketch hold o' that gull «'V " I don't know what a galley is," I said stnr<lily. " Don't know what a galley is," he said, imif.-ting my waN oi speaking; "you're u pretty sort of ftllow to foiii.- aixl get work m a printing-otKce. There, ketch holt, stoopid ; thuts tIm' gallev . put it here, and vou needn't he so pivcious fii^r'liu.iu.d ol i:»'ttiii, your fingers blacV. There's the hrush,diti it. and f^'tc-h ull that ink bflf." I took the brush, dipped it in the lirjiior in the pot, and mm brushing the surfac*^ of the tvpe found that the stmn^'- sohitini, easily brought off all the hlack ink ; (i<id 1 »'U>ied as instnu-ted, lis thoroughly rinsing the type atid phieiii;^ m to liivtin. This done, 1 had to wash >>"venil ui ».e ^mIIi-vs, with the ii'siiii that I was made tolerably black : ami to inak** matters worse. ni\ companion brought in a black ndler of souic soft uiateriul, an! dabbed it against my cheek. I plucked up ray spirit and felt nady to striki' <int. hut some- how 1 kept my anger down, and after washing ilie roller in turn. I was allowed to dry mv hands and clean tnv face, which .lem Smith persuaded mo to do with the .strong s'llutioii of ])oiash. making it tingle .smartly; and, hut f(n' tin- rapid application oi pure water, I believe the skin would ha\e been made >ore. This seemed to afford tlie yjun^ iuRum iutensf d.diirht, and taking up the brush, he dipped > in the poia>h and tried to bru>h my hair. I retreated from him as far as I could, hut he irot between nif and the door, and with the imili^nant pleisure f»di hy .some boy> in persecuting those who are weaker than tliemstdves, he caujlit me by the collar. "Just you call out, that's all," he said, " ail 111 half kill ynu. Hold still, you little sneak. You make so nnich noise as'll rcn h outside, and I'll jump on you " We were close beside the lead sink and thi' ])ot of solution lye, as the printers call it; and now a new idea seemed to com«' into the spiteful young wretch's mind, for, thiowinj^ down the brush, he seized hold of me with hoth hand.--, an<l as we struggled, be ii\g much the .stron/er, he oof hdiitid me, thrust his knee violently into my back, and hvouLjht me <lo\vn kn-eling before the great earthen pot. And now for tlie first time I saw what h«' intended to do, namely, to thrust my face and head into the black caustic solution, and, in spite of my resistance, he got it down lower and lower. 7-2 W) THE STOliV 01' ANTON V (J RACE. 4 9 4 ,,! , ,-1 V I l'!| I iiiiglit have shrieked out for help, and I might have cried for mercy • but, moved partly by his threats, partly by shame, I re- frained, and mude use of all my strength to escape, but in vain ; strive as I would, he forced me down lower and lower, and then by one quick effort placed a hand on the back of my head and thrust it right into the filthy water. Fortunately for me it was but a momentary affair, and the next instant he allowed me to struggle up and run blindly to the sink, where, perhaps, a little alarmed by his success, he tilled a bowl with clean water, leaving the tap running, as 1 strove to sluice off ! he blinding, tingling fluid. I was in the midst of this, and with soaked necktie and collar, kept on bathing my face and hair, when I heard Mr. Grimstone's voice at the door, and hastily throst my fingers into my ears to clear them. " What'8 he doing P" ^ " Washing hiss<^lf, sir." " Washing himself ? " *' Yes, sir ; he said it was such a nasty dirty job to brush galleys that he must have a good clean." " Where's the towel ? " I said blindly, for my eyes smarted so that 1 dare not open them, and they grew so painful that I hurried once more to the sink and batlied them w^ith clear water before pressing my hair as dry as 1 could, and then using my handker- tliief to wipe my face. I now opened my eyes, and saw thai, there was a very dirty jiirk-towel on a roller behind the door, to which I hastily ran. " Look here, sir," said Mr. Grimstone, as I hastily rubbed away at my head; "we can't have these goings-on here. What have you been doing ? " " I think he's been using the lye, sir," cried the young hypo- crite. " I told him it was only for the type." " It isn't true, sir," I cried indignantly ; when a compositor cume up to the door, and Mr. Grimstone was called away. Tlie moment he was gone. Smith darted at me, and thrust his <loubled fist hard against my face. " You say a word agen me," he said, " and I'll half kill yer. I'll smash yer, that I will, so look out." He went out of the place, leaving me hot and indignant, rubbing away at my tingling head, which I at length got pretty dry ana combed before a scrap of glass stuck by four tacks in a comer ; and when I had finished it was in time to see the men just return- ing from their tea and resuming their work. Not being told to do anything else, I went back to the case, and continued to learn the boxes, not much the worse for my adven- t ui'e, only feeling uncomfortably wet about the neck. At last the clock pointed to eight, and, following the examplle ^ ^-« (■mnv'iaxMWt'M* C>*lli9«*-W"*N»f» WILUAM HEVITTS «>N LKSSONS. I-'- of the rest, 1 hurried out of the jrre^^t otrict', en^er to pet lnu-k rn Mr. Kevitts before he went, on duty, for 1 wanted to ask him ii question. I got up to the street in Pentonville just as he wa? cominj^ oiii of the house, and in answer to his '* Halloa ! here you ar«, tl: mi." I caught hold of his arm. "Bill ! " I exclaimed, panting with excit me how to fight P" 'iteuient, " can you teach CHAPTER XIX. WILLIAM JREVITT8 OX LKSSONS. SoMK time passed before William iievirts leplied in full to niy question. He had, of course, at<ked nie what 1 meant, and 1 hmi explained to him the treatment I had nceived, hut hi» duiii-s und mine kept us a great deal apart. One ni^jht, however, when lie had returned to day-duty, he was seated in hit* shirt Hleeves talk- ing to me, and said all of a (>udden : " Yes, I could teach you how to fight, Antony." " And will you ?" I said eajr^'rly. " Give me my 'bacco and pipe otY tlie chinin«>y-pif»ce." I handed them to him, and waited patiently while he filled and lighted his pipe, and then all at once, alonp with a putf of smokf. he exclaimed : "No, I sha'n't. Fighting's all blacky nardi.<ni. as J know us well as most men. I've had the taking up of some of the beauties a> go in for it, and beauties they are. I don't say as if I was yon I wouldn't give that ^Master .lem Smith i\u awlid crack tor himselt if he meddled with me again; bur I should do it when I was in a passion, and when he'd hurt me. You'll hit as hard airairi then. and serve him right. Now let's have a turn at spellinn.' We did "have a turn at spellin;^." and 1 <lictated while Il^'vit - wrote, varying the task with l,i;s of advice to nie — al -'nd enou;i!i some of them, while others were sis slmwd and lull of eouini n sense. By that time 1 had rapidly he^uM to Hsli up o«ld.s and ends ot experience, such as stood me in good .stead, and. in spite of whai was really little belter than coiitem])tihle ptMst'cntion on the overseer's part, I was making som<' litile wax at the jiriutiiig- office. I shall not soon forget the feeling of pride with which on tlf first Friday night 1 heard my name called out hy a l)nsi'.es>-liK" clerk with a book, after he had summoned everxone in the rr«oni, and received from him a little paper-hag containing my wages. ! ; If hi : \>. S i. n- r 102 THE STORY OF ANTONY <>RACE. " You haven't been full time, Grace," he said, entering the sum paid in a book; " but the firm said 1 was to pay you for the week, as you were a beginner." As soon as 1 thought I was unobserved, I counted out seven Hhillings, a sum that showed that I was a little favoured, for honestly I believe that I was not worth that amount to my employers. Hardly had I made sure of my good fortune than I had a visit from Jem Smith, who came up grinning. ''Now, then," he said, "old Grim's gone for the night, and vouVe got to come down and pay your footing." I stared at him in my ignorance, but, fully under the impression t hat something unpleasant was meant, I resolutely determined to stay where I was, and I was saved from further persecution by Mr. Hallett coming up, which wns the signal for Jem Smith to sneak off. I asked Hallett what was meant, and he explained to me that it was a custom for working men on entering a new place to pay for some beer for their fellow-workmen. " But don't you pay a penny to the young wolves," he said, and I determined that I would not. I was well on in the second week, and during the intervening days I had been set to every dirty and ob ectionable task Mr. Grimstono could invent for me, but I did them patiently and well. I had seen nothing of my employers, and but little of Mr. Hallett, who seemed too busy to take much notice of me; but he somehow had a knack of turning up in emergencies, just when I required help and counsel,showing that he kept an eye upon me for my good. I noticed as I sat beneath a frame eating my dinner in the composing-room that he always employed a good deal of his time in drawing or calculating, and I found, too, that he was no great favourite with his fellow-workmen, who nicknamed him the steam- engine, because he worked so rapidly and did so much. It was very plain, too, that the overseer hated him, giving him the most dlffacult and unpleasant tasks, but they were always willingly done by Mr. Hallett, who was too good a workman to be spared. I had just completed the washing of some very dirty type one day, and, according to orders, made my way up to Mr. Grimstone's glass-case, very dirty and grubby-looking, no doubt, when I stared with surprise on seeing there before me a little cleanly-shaven man who, except in clothes, was the exactcounterpart of Mr. Rowle. Somehow or other I had been so occupied, and my mind so intent upon the task given me, that I had thought no more about asking to see him ; and now, here he was, Mr. Bowie's twin brother, in angry altercation with the overseer, while Jem Smith stood in the door. The latter had been let olf a good many dirty tasks of late, and I had succeeded to them, but the promotion he had received did not seem to have been attended with succesA. WILLIAM nEVITTrf ON LKSSONS. lO*^ "Now look here, Grimstone," the little man wns snyinjr, "von needn't bark at me, for I don't care a pinch of snuff for all yoiir gnarls. I asked you to send ma up the best boj you had, to read, and you sent me your worst." ** Air. Rowle, it is false, sir." "And I say it is true, and that you did it all out of your cra.ss obstinacy and determination to be as disagreeable as you can to everybody in the place." "I sent you up one of my best boys, Mr. Rowle." "And I say you sent me your very worst — as thick-head»Ml, stupid a dunce as ever entered the place. Look here,*' he con- tinued, flourishing a sheet of manuscript in one hand, a long aVi]) of printed paper in the other. " He can't read that plain piece ui' writin^j, and as to the print, why, he's little better." " No such thing, sir, said Mr. Grimstone, fumi» g. " Don't tell me * no such thing,'" said the little man fiercely. "Why, the biggest fool in the office would do better. Here, boy," he cried to me, as I stood there with my hands as black a.<< dirty type could make them ; *' come here." I went up to him. " He's no good," said Mr. Grimstone sharply. *' He has only just come." " Don't talk to me, sir," cried Mr. Rowle angrily. " You can't pick out a decent boy, so I must do it myself, f lere, boy, read that out aloud." I took the piece of paper with trembling hands, doubting my own power to read the lines of crabbed writing, and feeling that even if I could read it I should give dire offence to the overseer by so doing ; but I could not help myself, and raising th-> piece of manuscript written closely on a sheet of ruled foolscap, I saw that it was just such a legal document as I had often copied at Mr. Blakeford's. In fact, something of the old feeling of dread that I used to experience when receiving such a paper from him made a huskiness come in my throat, but clearing my voice, I began: "* And the aforesaid deponent also saitli that in such a case it would be necessary for the said lessor, hivS heirs, exfoiitors, ad- ministrators, and assigns, to make over and deliver, wluMiever and wheresoever the aforesaid lessee, his heirs, executors, adminis- trators or assigns should desire him so to do '" "Stop!" said the little man tightening his lips and taking a pinch of snuff. *' You did not read that exactly as it's written there." "No, sir," I said, "'executors, administrators, and assigns,' were all contracted." "There ! " he exclaimed, turning to the oyerseer triumphantly. "What did I say? Here's the first boy I meet, fresh from the !'. 104 THE SroVvV (U' ANION Y nRACE. j ; I 1 1 ; ( ! 1 1 r iir > 1 , 1 ' 1 1 ' ' Hi if' 1 ■ ; 1 i i; ' 1' 1 ' 1 1 1 !;l lye-tub, and lie reads it utraight off without a blunder, and better than you could have read it'voiirself. Here, boy, leud that." He took a letter from his pocket, written in a terrilly piuzliug hand, and placed it before nie. I took it, hesitated for a moment, and then bej^nn : *' * My dear sir, — I have given the most careful consideration to your proposal, and I am quite willing to — to — to — to " Jf you please, sir, I'm very sorry," I stammered, ** but J can't make "out that word." " No, boy, nor I neither. I don't believe the writer can. There, go and wash those dirty hands," he continued, snatching the letter from me. " No : stop ! " cried Mr. Grirastone wrathfully ; " I want that boy here." " Then you may take your great clever noodle, Jem Smith," said the little man. '' Mr. Uowle, I will not have my rules and regulations broken in tliis way, sir." " llang you and vour rules," said the little man. ** Have a pinch ? No ? Then let it alone." *' I cannot and will not spare tliat boy," cried Mr. Grimstone, motioning away the snuff-box. For answer the little man tightened his lips, snapped-to the lid of his snuff-box, hastily took a pinch, snapped lus finders in the overseer's face, and takinir me by tlie shotilder, marched me before him towards the door, and past Mr. llallett's frame. "Here, get your jacket, my lad,'* said tlie little num. "You can wash your hands upstairs." Mr. Hallett noddlnl to me and looked, as I thought, pleased as I passed him, and precedimr my new taskmaster, I went up to the next floor, where he led me to a glass-case, exactly like that occupied by Mr. Grimstone and the reader in his room, the sides being similarly decorated with slips of paper han;iing from nail^. He showed me where to wash, and, this done, 1 was soon by his side, reading steadily on to him varituis pieces of manuscript, while, spectacles on nose, he pored over and made corrections on the marguis of the printed slips of paper t liat were constantly being brought to him by a youth who printed them from the column galleys at a small hand-press. 1 got on pretty well, for my home training had made mamiscrip; easy to me. In fact, I had often copied pieces for my father, con- taitiing letters from various naturalist friends, while my sojoum a* ^Ir. Hlakeford's had made anything of a legal character perfectly clear. That night, when it was time to go, and I had had no greater uu pleasantness to contend with than several severe fits of sneezing brought OD when the little man used his snuff-box, X timidly WILLUM UEVITTS (JN LESSONS. 105 np! con- ourii ictlv lidlv asked Liiu if 1 was wanttvl the next duy. for as yet no oppor- tunity had served for muking known my knowledge of hit brotlier. **^V'antedl " he cried; "why, I h.i 1 serious thonrrhts of lorkini,' you up, boy, so as to make sure of you to-moirow. WantoH I Ves: I'va got you, and I nioim to keep yon: nnd if (rrimsfniip says another word — but only let him. Look li^re : you are verv stupid yet, but you'll soon improve; and mind this, come wit)i clean hands and face to-morrow, and clean apron." " Yes, sir," I said, and then I hesitatod. "Well, what is it P" " Please, sir, you are Mr. Jabez Rowle, are you not P" "Yes, and what then ? " he said shortly. " Only, sir, that Mr. Peter Rowlo, who is a friend of mine, said I might mention his name to you." " Oh, he did, did he ? V/ell, he need not have taken the trouble. There, be off, and mind you are here in good time." This was damping, especially as Mr. Jabez Howie took snuff viciously, and stood staring before him, tapping his box, and mut- tering angrily, in which state I left liim, and made the best of my way home. I was in good time next m<irning, but, all the same, there sat Mr. Jabez Rowle in his glass-case waiting for me, and as T entered and said " Good mor ung, sir," he just nodded shortly and pointed with the penholder in his hand to a piece of paper. " Go on ! " he said ; and, taking it up, I began to read. "Not quite so fast, and say par when you come to a fresh paragraph." I read on, making a good many blunders in my anxiety to be right, but, I presume, getting on very veil, for Mr. Kowle found but little fault, as he seemed to dart hU pen down at every error in the slip proofs before him — turned letters, p's where g*s should be, and as for d's; c's were often in the place of e's; and then there were omissions, repetitions, absence of spaces or points, a score of diflfereiit little omis.-ions on tiie compositor's part ; and, besides all these, the busy pen made marks and signs that were cabalistic to me. This had gone on about a couple of days, and I was reading away to him what I believfcl was a prayer in a chancery-bill, when Mr, Jabez suddenly laitl down his pen, took out his snuff- box, and said, looking me full in the face, " How's Peter ? " " I beg vour pardon, sir P " "I say, how's Peter?" " How's Peter, sir ? " "Don't pretend to be stupid, boy, when you're as sharp as a needle," he cried, tapping the desk angrily with his snuff-box. " Didn't you say you Knew my brother Peter P " It .1 ii mm 106 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. I .J III il " Oh yee, sir ! be was very kind to me, but I haven't seen him for some weeks, lie was quite well then." " Humph ! look old P " " He looks very much like you, sir." " Then be does look old. VVe're very fond of one another, boy, but we always quarrel ; so we never meet. * And your petitioner furthermore sayetb — '" " I beg your pardon, sir." '"And your petitioner furthermore sayeth * — get on, boy: go on. n I dashed at the manuscript again, for he hud resumed his workj and read on to t)ie en 1, for he made no further iur^uiries about his brother. I soon grew quite accustomed to reading, and found that Mr. Jabez Ilowle meant what he said about keeping to me, for I was regularly installed as reading-boy, and, as I have said, I was delighted with the change. I often met Jem Smith, and, from his looks, it was evident tliat he bore me no good will, and, to be frank, I felt rather revenp^eful for his treat raent. One day, during the dinner hour, I v-^nt down into the lower part before' the men came back, and, after getting some slips which Mr. Rowle had told me to have ready for him, my enemy pounced upon me, coming in at the door just as I was about to leave. " Now I've got yer, then," he cried, with a malicious grin, and, rushing at me, I hod only time to evade the first onshmght bv run- ning round the frames, when a hot chase ensued, ending in my being brought to bay, and receiving blow after blow from my stronger antagonist. I did all I could to defend myself, till, closing with me, he held me tight with one arm, and struck me so cruelly in the face, that It roused me to greater efforts, and, after a short -wrestle, I was free. It was but a moment's respite before he dashed at me again, and, in my rage and desperation, I struck out at him so fiercely that my fist caught him full between the eyes, making him stagger and catch at the first object he could to save himself, and the re- sult was that he pulled over a full case of small type. There was a crash, I uttered a cry, and some twenty pounds of type were scattered in confusion all over the floor. Before I hud recovered from my horror, the door was thrown open, and Mr. Grimstone came hurrving in. \ " What's this— what's this ? " he cried. " Please, sir, Grace was plaving larks with one of the oases, and he let it fall." " Then Mr. Grace shall soon find out what it is to destroy the property of the firm in this wanton way," he cried. " Indeed, sir " I began. WILLIAM KEV1TT8 ON LKS8UNS. 107 ** Not a word, sir — not a word ! " he cried. " Smith, go about your work. You, Grace, pick up every bit of that pie at once." " But please, sir, I did not knock it down, and Mr. llowle ip waiting for me." "Pick it up, sir." t "ButMr. Itowle * " Pick it up, sir." I was so hot and excited that I was about to declare anp'iJ\ that 1 would not, when I cauffi Mr. Hallett's eyes ^azinff fixedly at me, and without a word, but feeling halt'-cboked with ang-er and indignation, I fetched a galley and began to pick up the fallen type. I had not been engaged in my uncongenial task many minutes before Mr. Jabez Rowle came down to see wljere I was, and I noticed that there was quite a triumphant look in Mr. Grimstone's eyes as he said I ir.ust stay and pick up all the type, the mattt r being compromised on the understandinsr that as soon as the metal was picked up 1 was to resume my reading upstairs, and, by Mr. Grimstone'a orders, stay in every diuner-time and get to the office an hour sooner every morning till I had set up and distributed the whole of the pie. How I dwelt on the injustice of that task ! It was one which seemed to give Mr. Grirastone great satisfaction, for it took my inexperienced fingers many weeks, and I had to toil very hard. But all the same, it was no waste of time, for it gave me dexterity in handling type such as I should not otherwise have had. I had suffered a great deal from anxiety lest some morninu: Mr. Blakeford should step into the nffice and claim me ; for, un- pleasant as were my deuluigs with Mr. Orimstone, Jem Smith, and through the latter with several of the other boys, I thoroughly enjoyed my present existence. Revitts was very kind, una, in spite of his sharp abruptness, I did not dislike quaint old Mr. Jabez Rowle, who seemed never to be happy unless he was cor- recting proofs. My dread arose from the thought that Revitts might in some communication to Mary be the cause of her naming my wherr- abouts to the lawyer. Then I was afraid that Mr. Ruddle miglif write down and make inquiries. Lastly, t)iat Mr. Jabe?; Rowle might mention me in writuig to his brother. lUit I g^ew more reassured as it became evident that Mr. Ruddle had nut written, while Mr. Jabez Rowle said one day, just in the middle of some corrections : " Ah, I'm very fond of Peter, so I never write to hint," Then, too, I f ' and that Mr. Revitts never wrote to Mar}' with- out, in a h^lf-bashful way, showing me the letter. " Lookye here," he would say, " we said we'd help one another. 109 TIIK SloliV OK ANTONY uliA*!-: ! 1 1 i;i •; i ' ;i, ' i . 1 ' ii i t 1 ■f :* : i ' ' * ■ ■■ 1 m k : 1 1 ! lad. Some o* theM« dnyt* you'll want to write such n letter as tln.« here, and so vou luiiv as well nch how it's done. Then vou can iuflt shove your pen throiif^li where the .spellin' ain't quite wjuare, and ril write it out a^ain. [ don't know as it'8 quite riffht to let htr get tliinkinjf as I'm .such a. tip-topper at spellin', but she came tlie same ganic with me over the writing, making me think as she'd improved wond'Tlnl. when it was you: ao it's six o' one and half-a-dozen o' t'other. VV'hat do you sny ? " " 1 don't think Mary meant to deceive you, Hill," 1 said. " Poor •rirl, she had to work very hard, and her hands were not used to iiolding a pen. I don't siipposf slie ever thought of sayinsr who wrote for her. There's nothing to be ashamed of in trying to improve your spelling.'' " No, there ain't, is there, hid ? " * " Nothing at all. Mr. Ilallftt says we go on learning all our lives." ' • . ■ " Ilah ! I suppose we do. What would you do then P " " I should tell Mary I lielped you." " So I will — so I will," he saiil, in his quiet simple way; for as "lire as the subject Mary was in question, all William Revitt's >harp police-con.stable ways dropped off, and he was as simple and .smiling as a child. " Give my love to her, Bill," I said. Fie looked heavily and steadily at me for a few moments, and then in a very stupid way he began : " I say, youngster, do you think Mary is fond of you P " " I'm sure she is — very," I said. He fidgeted in his chair, and then continued : " And you like her " " " Very, very, ver\' much. She was horribly cross at first, but towards the la.st nobody could have been kinder." " I .say, how old are you .^ " '' Between thirteen and fourteen," I said. "Ah, to be sure ; of course, lad, so you are," he said, brighten- ing up and sliakinfi- hands. " Yes, I'll give your love to her. I say, boy, it won't be long first," he continued, rubbing his hands. " Won't it ? " 1 said, ea.-,wy divining what he meant. " No. not long now, for we've been engaged a precious long while." CHAPTER XX. THE WAYZEG008B. LoNa before the fallen type was sorted I had heard rumoiin of the annual holiday and dinner of the employSs of the firm ; and THE WAYZEGOUi'E. 109 on a delicious autumn morning I found myself in a great c o TWWi ^ - van, one of three conveying the large party down to J^pinf " Forest. According to old custom, the members of the firm did a great deal to encourage the affair, supplying a lurge proportion of the funds required, and presiding at the dinner at an inn in the forest. Boy-like, I was very eager to go, and looited forward to joining in a projected game at cricket; but, someho\> . when we reach cd the inn, after a drive made noisy by a good deal of ahsurd mirth, the result of several calls at public-houses on the way to give the horses hay ard water, the pleasure seemed to be taken a good deal out of the affair, and the prf^sence of Mr. Orimstone did not tend to make me feel upon >ie Iiighest pinnacle of enjoyment. Somehow or another the boys seemed to look upon me as a sort of butt, and, headed by Jem Smith, they had played several practical jokes upon me already, so that at last I was standing wistfully looking on instead of playing cricket, and wishing 1 was alone, when a handsome waggonette was driven by, and to my surprise I saw in it Mr. Ruddle, Mr. Lister, his partner, and the two young ladies whom I had met on my first diiy in JShort Street. As I started forward and took otf my cap, Mi«8 C'arr saw me, and smiled and nodded : and then as I stood gazing after the departing carriage, a change seemed to have come over the day, and I began to wonder whether I should see them again, and, if so, whether they would speak to me, when a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and turning round, there stood Mr. Hallett. " Well, my solitary little philosopher," he said, hi a quiet, half- cynical way, " what are you doing ? Not playing with the boys at cricket, and not drinking more beer than is good for you, according to the immemorial custom of a British workman taning a holiday?" "No," I said, " I was looking after that carriage." " Carriage .P Oh, that! Well, what was there in it to take your attention ? " " Mr. Ruddle and 'ir. Lister were in it, with Miss Carr and her lister " "What, in that? "he said. "Are you sure?" "Yes, sir, quite sure. Miss Carr nodded to me." " Nodded? to vou, Grace ? " " Oh yes, Mr. Ilatlett, it was through Miss Carr that I was engaged ; " and I told him how it happened. " And so you are not going to play cricket ? " he said dreamily, as he stood gazing wistful! in the dhection taken by the wag- gonette. " No, thank you," I replied sadl^. " I'd rather not." " Well, I'm going for a ramble in the forest. Dinner will not be ready for two hours. Will you oome ? " :i,l 110 TIIK SiuKV Ol' ANION V UlUCE. I U' •r ,, I t i i ** Oh ves, sir." •* Come uloiiur tht'ii, (jrnce, and we'll throw away the work for »iir day, uiid iiijoy tlu' jountry." I had iu'\»'r nt'vu him hjoic so bright u?id pleasant before. The xtern, coM, distant air was gone, and his eyes were bright and < iiger. Ho NU('in«'d to unbend, and it was delightful to hnd him liike so much in. '.rest in nie as he did. " Well," he exclaimed, as we turned right into the wood by the first narrow foot-path, "and how are you getting on with I lie pie?" ** Very slowly, sir," I said sadly. " Never mind, my boy ; patience, and you will do it all; and it u ill not hurt you." " But it was 80 unjust, sir. It was Smith who upset it," ' "Ah! and he said it was you P " " Y^es, sir ; and it was a lie." '* I thouglit as much; a young rascal! but never mind, Grace. I would rutlier be the lad who manfully bears an injustice like a iiiTo, than be the big successful blackguard whoescapes his punish- in cut by a contemptible lie." '' So would I, sir," I said, swallowing down something which temed to rise in my throat as I ga/ed in his bright, intelligent face. " Bah ! It was a pitiful bit of triumph fortlie voung idiot ; but iii'ver mind, my lad : work at it and hnish it like a man, and it will be a piece of self-denial that you may be proud of to the end of your days." — We walked on for some distance in silence, he evidently ihorouglily enjoying the beauty of the forest as we rambled ou, knee-deep in ferns and heather, and I feeling tliat the old days were coming back, such as I used to love when wandering with »ny father tlirongh one of our woods, botanizing or collecting bird and insect. Almost involuntarily as Mr. Hallett took oflf his soft felt hat to let the breeze blow on his broad white forehead, I be^an, as of old, to pick a specimen here and there, till, after being in a musing fit for ijome time, he suddenly noticed what I was doing, and became interested. " What have you got there ? " he said, pointing to a plant I had just picked. " Oh, that's a tway blade," I replied, "one of the orchis family." " Indeed," he said, looking at me curiously, "and what is this.P" "Oh, a very common plant — dog's mercury." " And this, Grace ? " he continued, pointing to another, with its bulbous roots in the water. •' Water hemlock, sir." ; .yt^M; • •• Why, Antony Grace, you are quite a young botanist,** he Mi<i, smiling and showing his white teeth, while I gazed up at I !i .vonderingly, he seemed so changed. THE WAY/Knoosi:. in ** I only know a little that pnna— I mean mv father, taught me. " ** He used to take yini for wulk«, then, my boy ? " "Oh, Buch deliciouH wulkp, sir." " And you learned a good deal P Lonk ! What a ffreut toad- stool ! Don't handle it, my boy, some of these thinj{.«» are very poisonous." "This is not, sir," I said eajierly; •* this is linletttJ* fduli/t, luA very good eat in p." ^ Indeed ; and pray what does lioletw* edn/i'* niean P " , "The eatable holetii^, sir. There is a family of fiin^yi calle'I the boleti,f<'\r, and vou ean ea*ily tell them, be<aiise they are all full of pores, or little holes, underneath, while the ordinary agarics have gills like this." I picked up one with a brilliant scarlet top as I spoke, an<l showed him the white gill.>* beneath. " And has that a name P " he t^aid. "Oh yes; that is a very poisonous and rather rare specimen : it is Biufsula emetica." " Why, Grace," he said, laying his hand on my shoulder, " you and I must come for country walks togt-tJier. You nnist take me for a pupil. Good heavens!" he muttered, "how one does live to find out one's ignorance." His whole manner from that moment was changed towards uw. He seemed to throw off his mask of cold reserve, and laughed and chatted; ran up banks to get rare ferns, and climbed a ;ree to look at a late wood-pigeon's nest, so that the time Hew by till, on referring to his watch, he found that we should have enough to do to get back to the dinner. "I would rather stay in the forest," he said. "So would I, sir," I replied rather dolefully. "But no," he continued, •* the firm are very kind, and we should be wanting in respect if we stayed away. Come along ; you sit beside me, and we'll slip off afterwards and have anotlie.' run." We hurried back just in time for the dinner, l)ut I did not get a place by Mr. Hallett; and as soon as this was over speech- making began. It did not interest me, for my eyes were fixed upon a kind of gallery above the heads of the people at the upper table, in which I could see INIiss Carr and her sister had taken their places, apparently to listen to the speeches made by Mr. Ruddle and Mr. Lister in turn. They seemed, however, to pay little attention to them after the first, and as I sat watching them, and wishing Miss Tarr could see me, to my disappointment I saw them rise to go, just as, after a good deal of whispering between Mr. Grimstone, Mr. Jabez Kowle and Mr. Hallett, the latter, evidently unwillingly, rose to propose the health of the firm. At the first sound of his voice I saw Miss Carr pause and stay .1 1 ^ < Hi THE STOllV Ul" ANTONY GRACE. Ill 1 I : ''i /I :! her Mister, anl hm he went om, jihe paid more niv! inor« nttentiim, leuiuii^ over the ruil to cuich eviTy word, while lie, quite uncon- ficiouM of tliu ^reitence uf mucIi lihteuurM, warmed to hiit ta^k, uod in wt>ll-chu8cii vigorous language, spoke in praise of the flrm, and, at the Hainu time, urf(ed his fellow-workmen to give them in the future their heat support as earnestly as they would promiae it upon this present day. He grew eager and excited as he spoke, and carried his eloquent Hpeecli on to such a climax that he sat down amidst a perfect tempest of clieeriiig, both Mr. Uuddle and Mr. Lister leaving their «eats afterwards tu go and quietly shake hands with him, Mr. Grimstone all the while apparently seeing in him a rival, for he scowled ominously, and Mr. Jabez Howie completely emptied his box of snutT. My eyes, though, were principally fixed upon the ladies in the little gallery, and I was near enough to see that Miss Carr's lips were parted, and her eyen looked ea^er and strange as she leaned forward more and more, till the speech was at au end. The next time I looked, she was gone. Soon after I felt some one pull my arm, and starting roand, there stood Mr. Ilallett, and hurriedly following him out of the hot, noisy room, we made our way once more into the forest. As we rambled on, delighted with the delicious coolness and the sweet scents of the woodlands, Mr. IJallett asked me a few questions about myself, soon learning my little history, while my re^*pect for him had increased as I found out more and more how different he was from the ordinary workmen nt the office. He was evidently a scholar, and seemed to have a great depth of knowledge in mechanical contrivances. "We must know more of one another, Grace," he said; "I am glad we have been together to-day. What do you do on Sundays P " I explained that when Mr. Revitts was off duty we went for a walk. " And pray who is Mr. Revitts ? " he said. I explained that he was a policeman, and had been very kind to me since I hud lodged with him in town. " I am quite alone in London, you see, Mr. Hallett," I said in an old-fashioned way at which 1 now can smile. He nodded, and seemed thoughtful for a few minutes. " Mine is not a very cheerful home, Grace," he said at length ; ** but if you will come and spend a Sunday — say Sunday week — with us, I shall be glad to see you. Will you come ? " " I should be so glad," I cried, and then 1 stopped short. "What is it?" he said. " Mr. Revitts will be off duty that day, sir; and he would be so disappointed if I were not at home, lie has been so very kind to me." IN TIIK IDUt.vr. 11.' Mr. llnllt'tt looked amusted, " Do you mind, sir P " I aakl. " No, Grace. You are quito ripht," he quietly Haid. ** Alwa> f be faithful to yourfrimidM. You f*hiill roiut; next Sunday instead,' he added, as we turiu>d into a ))t>uuiiful littln glude that looknl bright and gohU»n with the ««fttinjr sun. '* Never throw a trusted friend over for the sake of one you helirve to he " He fltopped flhort, for wt> had couie suddenly upon two ladies. one uf whom was Mitw Curr. CHAPTKIt XXI. IN TIIR FORKbT. MibsOarr Started sliphtlyon 8seit,g my con»pnnion,and it seemed to me that she coloured for the moment. I)ut iAw recovered ht^i composure on the instant, responded to Mr. Ilallett's salute witlj a quiet bend of the head, and turned at once to me, talking in ;i sweet grave way, as if there were no one else present, though Mr. Hallett stood close bv me, hat in hand. "Antoiiy," she said, laying her hand upon my shoukh-r, "I am very glad to see you aguin. Mr. lluddh' ttdl.s me that you are striving very hard, and that you have alnady nnide a .st»'|: upwards. Mind, though I do not see you, 1 ahvaNs hear how you progress, and, now that you have begun ao well, I have no fiar t'ti your future. Are you happy and comfortahle where you are y " "Oh yes, ma'am," 1 said, flushing red with pride and pha-in-f. as I gazed iu her face ; " and— and I have made such good friends." " Indeed! ** she said quickly. " I hope you are careful." "Oh yes, ma'am; Mr. Revitts is very good to me, and .Mr. Hallett, here." Miss Carr turned her face to him for the moment, and one* more there was a slight flush upon her cheeks ; then shi.! iseenieci very pale. " 1 am glad to hear it," she said, in a firm, dist inct tone : " and 1 hope your friend Mr. Hallett will remember your uuproteoted position, and advise you for your good." Mr. Hallett was about to speak, but she had turned from Lim and now laid her other hand upon my shoulder. " Good-bye, Antony," she said ; " you knnv wlu-re I live ; conit- to me if ever yoti should require help. .\nd miiid this, I shall expect you to fij;ht hard nnd rise. Tt is no (ii<::aee to be a, common workman" — she glaneed hastily, arid as if in apology towards Mr. Hallett, a.s she spoke — " My deud father was but f 3 t ,. 114 THE STORY OF ANTONY flRACfcl. t 1, ^ ( i 'ill i \ 1 l. \ i 1 ■ i ! :■ 1 workniuii, but he ro'se to a lii'^lmr |>'>.<!iiiuu iu life, aud I ihink thone who tight the battle well ana are self-made, are quite an worthy of honour and respect as those who are born to wealth. Good-bye." I could not speak, but I stood there gazing* in her bright animated face, and listened to the sweet grave voice, whose every word seemed to fix itself in my mind. I was only recalled from my dreamy state by those words " good-bj e," and the sight of the soft white hand that she hold out. It was from no sentimental feeling of pplitene-^s that I acted as I did, for I felt moved to my very soul, and the same feelings came over me that had animated me in the past days in my pleasant old home. I loved Miss Carr — loved her with the same sweet wholesome love that a boy feels towards a tender mother, and my eyes felt suffused, and things looked dim, as with quite a natural etTort I took the hand extended to me, kissed it, and held it for a moment against mv cheek. Then it seemed to glide from my hold, there was a faint rustle of silken garments over the heath and grass, and Mr. Ilallett and I were alone. I turned to speak to him, to find that he was still standing, hat in hand, gazing down the path by which the sisters had gone ; then it seemed to me that he drew a long breath as he stood look- ing at me apparently, but evidently recalling that which was post. "Oh, Mr. Hallett!" I cried enthusiastically, and with all the impulsiveness of a boy ; " isn't she beautiful ?'' " As beautiful as true, Grace," he said softly, and his manner seemed reverent and strange. " She was ao kind to me — spoke so kindly for me when I first came to the office," I cried. " Yes, my boy," he said in the same low, soft voice ; " you are very fortunate — you hare found a true friend." " And I will try," I cried. " She shall find that I have remem- bered what she told me." " Come and sit down here, my boy," he said, throwing himself upon a patch of heath and fern. '* Let's forget the smell of oil and steam and printing-ink for a time. Come and tell me all about your meeting with Miss Carr." I was eager to tell him, and I had s willing listener, and al^ I sat there at his feet I told him of the interview at the office, and all about how Mr. Lister seemed so attentive to Miss Carr ; what he had said, and how he seemed to love her. In my ignorance I dwelt at length upon even Mr. Ruddle's words of congratulation, talking rapidly and well in my enthusiasm — blind and ignortuit that I was — for I could not read then why the lines in Stephen Hallett's face grew deeper and more marked, nor yet why his eyelids should droop down, and then his head, till it rested upon IN THE FOREST. lir< all one hand, while the otlier plucked slowly at the strands of gras^ and scraps of heath. Once or twice I thought he was asleep, hut if I stopped he spoke to nie softly, asking some questions till I hud done, wlien he startled me again with inquiries about myself and my old life, gradually winning from me all I had to tell. The sun had set, and the soft evening shadows were descending as we still sat there drinking in the moist fresh air of the forest, till, as if rousing himself from a dream, Mr. IluUett rose hastily, and I too sprang to my feet. " Come, Grace," he said, with an effort to be cheerful, " \vr must get back to the inn, or we shall be left behind. One minute, though ; let us walk along here." I looked at him wonderingly as ho strode hastily to where we had met the ladies, and I saw that he had removed his hat an he stood ga^ing slowly around. It might have been from the heat, but I do not think so now ; and he was just turning away, when I saw him stoop hastily un<i snatch from among the ferns a grey kid glove. " Why, that must be Miss Carr's," I said eagerly. " Yes," he replied softly; " it is Miss Carr's." f{e stood holding it pressed in his hand ; and his brow was knit . and he stood gazing straight before him, struggling with himselt before saying, as he doubled the glove : " You must take it back, my boy. You will see her again ; perhaps I never shiUl." I looked at him curiously as I took the glove, for he seemed so strange, but the next moment his dreamy manner was cast aidf, as he clapped me on the shoulder. " Come, Grace," he said; "no, I will not call you Grace," lir added, laughing; " it sounds as if you were a girl, and you are rather too girlish, my boy ; I will call you Antony in future.'" " Yes, do, please, Mr. Hallett," I said ; though 1 flushed a littL- at being called girlish. "Come along, then. Our pleasant d;iy has nearly come t^ an end." ** Yes," I said with a sigh ; " pleasant days do so soon com% \o an end." " To be sure they do," he cried ; " but never mind, my boy : others will come." " Yes," I sighed ; " and miserable ones, too, full of Grirastoii , and Jem Smith, and pie, and mistakes." "Of course," he cried; "bitters, all of them, to make life thr sweeter. Why, Antony — no, Tony's better — why, Tony, if you could ^e always revelling in good things, such a day as tlii.s would not have seemed so delightful as it has." " And it has been delightful ! " I cried, as we walked on, my friend resting his hand almost affectionately upon my shoulder S-2 • I ■' ' ^ : % i; ,;i, :! ■; i |if i 1 Mi ' il ': i 1 it n% THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. " Yes," he said soft 1 y ; " a day to be marked with a white stone — a tombslone over the grave of one's brightest hopes," he .iiJded, very, very softly ; but I caught the import of his words, :uid I turned to him quite a troubled look, when there was a sound i)f cheering some distance away. " Come, Tony," he said cheer- fully, " there are our men hurrahing. We must join them now." " Do you know what time we were to start bacK, sir ? " I said. " Eight o'clock," he replied, taking out an old-fashioned jrold watch, and then starting. " Why, Tony, my lad; it's past nine. Come along, let's run." We started oflf, and ran at a steady trot till we reached the inn, to find that the cheering had been when the vans set out, " Y^es, they was a-theerin' away like fun," said our informant, a rather beerv-looking public-house hanger-on. " What, are you two left behind ? " " Yes," said xMr. Ilallp.tt. shortly. " How long have they been gone ? " " More'n quarter of 'n'our," said the man ; " and I say, they just was on — all of 'em. The driver o' the last one couldu t hardly hold his reins." " Wliat time did Messrs. Ruddle and Lister go P " "Who?" said the man. "The gentlemen witli the waggonette." " Wliat, with tliem two galsT Oh! more'n 'n'our ago. They wasn't on." " How can we get back to town ? " " Walk," said tlie man ; " 'less you like to take a fly." "It is very tiresome, Tony," said Mr. Hallett. "Are you a good walker ? " " Pretty well," I said. " How far is it P " " Twelve or thirteen miles. Shall we try it ? " " Oh yes," I said. '' It's a beautiful night, and we shall see ]tlenty of moths." " Come along, then, my boy," he cried ; and away we went. Our long rest since diimer had made me better able to manage the task; and I noticed that Mr Hallett did all he could to lighten the way by talking, and he could talk well. As, then, we trudged along the wide, firm road, he told me a little about liimself and his home; and so it was that I learned that he had an invalid mother and ;i sister, who were dependent upon him ; that his early life had been in tlie country, where his father had been a surgeon, and that on his father's death he had been compelled to come to London. " To seek your fortune, Mr. Hallett ? " I asked. " Well, yes, if you like to call it so, Tony," he said, laughing. " Ah, my boy, let me give you advice that I am only too Inth to take my 8elf---don't degenerate into a dreamer." . . %- - IN THE FOREST. ii: "Adreamer, Mr. Ilallett?" ^ " Yes, boy ; one whose mind is set on what people call nialtinp a fortune — that miserable style of enthusia -t, who i^^nores the pre- sent in his search for something that he may never find, and whir li. even if he does, he may never enjoy. Tony, my loy, don't hetl what people say about this being a miserable world and a valo c! tears ; it la a very beautiful and a very glorious world with heigh ; and mountains bright in the sunshine of truth. We all hav* to wander down into the valley sometimes, but there are other times when we are in the sunshine on the heijjhfs. When we are there, let's take it and enjoy it, and not sit down and grumble, and strive to climb to another mountain, close by, that seems higher and brighter than the one we are on. Take what fate sends you, my dear boy, and take it patiently. Use your strength to bear it. and — there, let's come bacK out of the imaginary into the real — go on setting up your pied type, and enjoy the pleasure after of having won a victory, or, in the present case, stride out manfully. Every step takes us nearer to London : and wlien we have got there, and have slept off our fatigue, we can lautrh at our adven- ture. Why, we must be halfway there now. But how you limp I " " I'm afraid it's my boot rubs my foot, sir I said, wincing. won't do. Sit down and "Tut, tut!" he exclaimed. "This have a rest, and let's think, Tony." "Oh, I can go on yet, sir," I said ha«itily. " No, no ; sit down, my boy, sit down," he said : and I sat down upon a bank. " I can't carry you, Tony," he said kindly. " 1 could manage you for a couple of miles or so; I don't think 1 could get you right up home. We are unlucky to-night, and- there is something turning up." "Where, sir? '^ I said. "On ahead, Tony. Yonder is a roadside inn, with a couple fif hay-carts. Come along, my lad, and we'll see if one of them cannot be turned into a chariot to convey us to London Town." I limped on beside him to where the hay -carts were standing by a water-trough at the roadside, tlie horses tossing their nose-bags so as to get at the oats at the bottom, and the carters just coming out of the public-house. " Can you give us a lift on to London ? " said Mr. Ilallett. " This boy has turned lame." " What'U you stand? " said the man heavily. " A couple of pints," said Mr. Ilallett. "All right; up you get," said the man. " You must lie atop o the hay. I only goes to Whitech.'Tu 1^ you know." "That will do, said Mr. Hal •. And together we climbed up, and lay down, twelve or fifteeji feet above the road, on the top of the sweet-scented trusses of hay; the carter cracked his whip, and away we went jolting over the road, with the starp , h ■i!> 'A : 1 ]■; H ■; )■' 118 TIIK S'li);:V OF ANTONY <iUACE. above us, and my coucli seeming delicious to my weary limbs, as the Bcent seemed to bring up my sleepiiigr-place by the bay-rick, when I ran away from Ilowford and my slavery at Mr. Blakeford'a houf-e. " That's one of the peculiarities of the true-bom Briton, Tony," , said Mr. Hallett, after a pause. "What is, sir P" " The love and reverence f o r beer. If I had offered that man sixpence or a shilling to givo us a ride, he would have laughed me to scorn. Two pints of beer, you see, carry us right to town, and another pint would have acted like a return ticket to bring un l>ack." " To bring us back ? " I said in drowsy accents; and, trusting to my companion to save me from a fall, I dropped into a heavy dreamless sleep, from which I was aroused by Mr. Ilallett, who shook my arm and told me that we were once more in town. r. , CHAPTER XXII. WILLIAM BEVITT8 IS ANGRY. » I Mr. Hallett saw me right to the door of my lodgings before he left me, shaking hands warmly as he said "Good-night," and altered it to " Good-morning." I was tlioroughly awake now, and somewhat refreshed as I ascended the stairs very gently, having risen now to the honour of a latch-key. It was Revitts' turn for day duty, and I was unwilling to disturb him, so I had slipped off my boots, and cautiously turning the handle of the door, I entered, to find, to my surprise, a liglit burning, and Mr. Revitts buttoned up in his uniform and with his heavy hat upon his head. "Oh, here you are, then," he cried roughly. . \\ "What, not in bed ! " I said. " In bed ? H^w was I going to bed ? I was just orf to the station to send word round as you was missing, and to make inquiries where the vans went from." " Oh, Mr. Revitts ! Oh, Bill, I am sorry ! " I cried. " Don't you Bill me, young man," he cried. "Now, lookye here. Was it an accident to the van as made you late .f* " "No," I said ; " it was " " There ! " he cried, bringing his fist down heavily upon the table. "I wcn't hear another word. I won't listen to you. Those vans was doo back at ten thirty — say 'leven, and it'i now two fortv-five." "Yes, Bill, \)Ut " ' ^ r. ^r ^ I ^1! I WILLIAM REVITTS IS ANGRY. 119 ** Don't Bill me," he cried ; and. running to the corner of the room, he caught up a black silver-topped cane, with shabby silk tassels. "Look here," he said ; " for the last hour or two I've been thinking whether, as your best friend, I oughtn't to give yoii a good wilting down, only you're such a man now that I can't 3toop to hit the feller as I've made my friend," "But will you listen to me, Bill ? " I rriwi angrily. "No, I won't," he said, throwing down the cane. " You've been up to your larks, you have, and I tell you what it is, I won't haye larks.'* ' " 1 haven't," I cried. " You have, sir, so don't deny it. What am I to say to my Mtry when she comes up, if she finds you going wrong ? I won't have larks, so there's an end of it, d'ye hear? Tln^re, you needn't look sulky, and you won't go and lodge somewhere else. You'll stay here and I won't have no larks. I knuw what it means; I've seen boys begin with stopping out o' nights, and I know what sort o' chickens they turn out. Stopping out mte o' nights an' larks means going to the bad ; and you ain't going to the bad if I know it." " I couldn't help it, Bill ; I've been along with Mr. Hallett." " Then I'll punch Mr. Hallett's head," he cried in a rage, as lie stamped up and down the room, till some one rapped at the ceil- ing of the floor below. " No, I won't. I'll pay hini a visit in full uniform with my bracelet on, that's what I'll do with him." " Don't be so foolish, Bill," I cried, as in imagination I sinv Mr. Revitts stalking along amongst the frames at the office, as if about to take Mr. Hallett into custody. " Foolish ? " he cried. " And look here, once for all, don't you Bill me. As for that Hallett, he's a bud 'un, that's what he is. and I'll let him know- carrying on larks with a youngster like ^ou." " Mr. Hallett's a«|^entleman,'' I said indignantly. " Oh, is he ? " said Revitts excitedly ; " then I'd rather be a pore police constable. Why, I never so much as took you inside a public to have half-a-pint o' beer, I was so particulur over your morals; and your precious gentleman takes you to dozens, and keeps you out till two forty-five. ^^ iiy, you make the whole room smell o' beer." " I don't, Bill," I cried ; " it's that hay. Look here, it's sticking to nay clothes." " llien, what ha' yer been sleeping under haystacks for, when here was your own bed waiting for you ? That's the way. That's the first step to being a rogue and a vagabond. Do you know, voung fellow, as I could have taken you and looked you up, and had you afore the magistrates next morning, if I'd found you lying under haystacks ? . 1. 120 THE .STORY OF ANTONY (JRACE. 1 i' ^ ii \ 1. 1: Hi: i. w : iJI 1 ■ II ! :. i tl r 1 1 I 1 ! ■ : ! i , 1 1' ■ 1 L kJI " What a dear old stupid you are, Bill," I cried, half angry, half amused ; for he had talked so fast aud beeu in 8uch a rage, that I could not get a chnnce to explain. "Am I ?" he cried, just as if I had added fresh fuel to the flame. " If I am — I'm lionest, so now th^n. That's more than your Mr. Ilallett can sav. Rut I haven't done with him yet." " Why don't you be quiet. Bill ? " I said. " Quiet, when you get out on larks ?" " lou won't let me ppeak." " Let you speak ! No, I won't, Here have T been worried to death about you, thinking all the chaps had got on, and that the van was upset, and all the timii it was your games." " We went strolling about the forest, Bill," I said, as I removed my stockings and bathed my sore feet, " and had to walk ever so much of the way home, and that's what made me so late." He snatclied up my boots from where I had set them, and found that they were covered with dust. "But you said you'd been sleeping in the hay," he said stub- bomlv. " Yes ; on the top of a hay-cart, coming up to Whitechapel, and I went to sleep. Revitts began rubbing his ear in a puzzled way ; and then, as if seized by a bright idea, he took out his note-book and pencil. " Now look here," he said, making believe to take down my words and shaking his pencil at me in a magisterial way. " Why should you have to walk nearly all the way home, because you went for a stroll in the woods witii that there Hallett ? " This last with a contemptuous emphasis on the name of my companion. " w hy, I told you. Bill. When we got back to the inn the last van had gone." " There ; now, you're shuffling," he said. " You never said a word about the van being jrone." "Didn't I, Bill? Well, I meant to say so. Mr. Hallett thought it would be much nicer to go for a walk in the woods than to sit in that hot room where the men were drinking and smoking, so we did, only we stopped too long." Revitts shut his pocket-book with a snap, scratched his head with the end of his pencil, wetted the point between his lips, and had another scratch ; then pushed the pencil into the loop at the side, replaced the book in his breast, and buttoned it up tight, as he stood staring hard at me. Then he coughed behind his hand, rubbed his ear again, unbuttoned his coat, buttoned it up tightly, cleared his throat again, and then said : " Well, it was circumstarntial evidence, cert'nly." " It's too bad. Bill," I said, in an injured tone ; "yon had no business to doubt me." MR. HALJ.KTT AT llU.MK. 121 "More I hadn't, old lad," he replied in a deprecating way. "But you know, Ant'ny, I had been a-sitting here wait-waft- waiting and thinking all sorts o' things." ', " Why didn't you go to bed ? " " I'd been thinking, old lad, that being a holiday, you might bo hungry, and look here." He opened the little cupboard and took out a raised pork pie and a bottle of pale ale. " I'd got the cloth laid and the knives and forks out ready, bur I got in such a wax about one o'clock that I snatched 'em all ofi and cleared 'em away." " And why did you get in a wax, Bill P " I said. " You ought to have known me better." " So I ought, old lad," he said penitently; "but I got thinliin^ you'd chucked me over, and was out on larks with that tlifn- Ilallett; and it ain't nice to be chucked over for a chap like that. specially when you seem to belong to me. " You'll shake hands, won't you, Tony ? " « Of course T will." "And I won't doubt you another time; let's have the pie, after all." We did; and in a dozen ways the good fellow strove to show me his sorrow for his past doubts, picking me out the best bits of the pie, foaming up my glass with the ale, and when I expressed my fears of not being awake in time for the office, he promised to call me ; and though he never owned to it, I have good reason for believing that he sat up writing out corrections in an old dictation lesson, calling me in excellent time, and having the breakfast all reapdy upon the table. CHAPTER XXiri. MB. UALLBTT AT HOME. no Punctual to the appointed time, I rang the topmost of four bells^ on the door-post of one of the old-fasliioned red-brick houses in Great Ormoud Street, and a few minutes after it was opened by Mr. Hallett, whose face lit up as he offered me his hand. " That's right, Antony ! " he exclaimed ; '* now we'll go up- stairs and see the ladies, and then you and I will have a walk till dinner-time." I followed him up the well-worn, uncarpeted stairs to the second floor, where he introduced me to his mothe», a stern, pale, careworn-looking woman in a widow's cap, half sitting, halt redinins" in a larrre ensv oh!»i". ■1 ^M THE STOIiV Oi' ANTONY' OUACE. '•' H. ■ h'il*'; i: If ^ "How do you do?" she said, wearilvi as she guz^ at me through her hulf-closud wyes. " You are Stephen's friend. I am glad to see you ; but you are very young/' she added in an ill- used i-one. " i:^'ot a very serious failing, mother dear,** said Mr. Hallett cliHHrfully. " No," said Mrs. Hailett, " no. 1 am sorry we have not a l)etter place to receive hira in." *' Tut — tut, dear," said Mr. Hailett. " Antony Grace comes to see us, not our rooms or our furnituri'." I had already glanced round the large, old-fashioned room, ' which was siiabbily furnislied, but scrupulously clean, while f very thing was in good tajste, and I hastened to say something about how glad I was to come. " Yes," said Mrs. Hailett wearily ; " it is very polite and nice of you 1o say so, but it is not the home I expected for my old age." " My mother is " " You always used to call me mamma, Stephen/' said Mrs. Hailett, with the tears in her eyes. " Did 1 love you any more tenderly then, dear P ** be said, bending over her and kissing her wrinkled forehead with reverent affection, and then placing his lips upon her hand. " No, Stephen, no/' she cried, bursting into a fit of sobbing ; " but — but we might cling to some of our old respectability, even if you will persist in being a workman and lowering our family by wearing aprons like a common man." ** There, there, dear, don't fret," he said cheerfully. " You are in Baiu this morning. I am going for a walk with Antony Grace, and we'll bring you back a bunch of flowers." "No, no, don't — pray don't, Stephen," said Mrs. Hailett querulously ; " you cannot aiford it, ana it only puts me in mind of happier days, when we had our own garden, and I was so fond of my conservatory. You remember the camellias P " " Yes, yes, dear," he said, passing his arm round her ; " and some day you shall have your conservatory again." " Never, Stephen — never, while you are so obstinate." " Come, come, dear," he said, kissing her again ; " let me put your pillow a little more easy, and we won't talk of the past ; it cannot interest Antony Grace. Where has Linny hidden herself P " '^ I suppose she is seeing after the cooking/ said Mrs. Hailett querulously. " We have no servants now, Mr. Grace." " No, Antony," said Mr. Hailett, laughing ; and I could not help contrasting the man 1 saw before me — so bright, airy, and tender in his ways — with the stern, rather grim-looking workman of the office. " No servants ; I clean my own boots and help with the cooking, too. It is inconvenient, for my dear mother here m a great invalid.** MR. HALLETT AT HOME. V2r^ () " Helpless for seventeen years, Mr. Grace," said the ]t(.(ti- uroman, looking at me piteously. " We used to have a cui ria^t*. but we have none now. Stephen is very kisid to me, only he will la- K) thoughtless ; and he is so wanting in ambition, clever as he \i*." "There, dear, we won't talk about that now," said Mr. llullett. •' Come Antony ; my sister will not show herself, so we'll fintl her blooming in flour, or carving potato rings, or handling a trun- sheon bigger than that •£ your friend Mr. Hevitts as she makes the paste. Oh, bore she is I " A door opened as he spoke, and I quite started as a bright , pretty girl entered, and came forward smiling pleasantly t<> shake hands. She seemed to bring sunshine into the room, and, damped as I was by Mrs. Hallett'^, reception and the prospoct of a dim, cheerless day, the coming of Miss Hallett seemed quite t change the state of affairs. " I am very glad to see yon," abe said, showing her little white teeth. " Stephen has so often talked about you, and said he would bring you home.'* " Ah, me, yes, home I " sighed Mrs. Hallett, glancing round the shabby apartment. Not that it seemed shabby any longer to me, for Linny, in her ti^ht, well-fitting, plain holland dress, white collar and cuifs, and with her long golden-brown, naturally curling hair, seemed to me to radiate brightness all around. For she certainly was very pretty, and her large, well-shaded eyes seemed to flash witli animation as she spoKe. " Antony Grace and I are going for a walk, Linny, and wf shall come back hungry as hunters. Don't make any mistake in the cooking." She nodded and laughed, and her fair curls glistened in the light, while Mrs. Hallett sighed again ; and it struck me that she was about to say something in disparagement of the dinner, but she did not speak. ** Come along then, Antony," said Mr. Hallett ; and, after kiss- ing the invalid, he led the way down stairs, and we strolled off towards Regent's Park. As we left the house, the shadow seemed to come down again over Mr. Hallett's face, and from that time I noticed that he seemed to lead a double life — one in which he was bright and merry, almost playful, before his mother and sister ; the other, a life of stem, fixed purpose, in which his soul was bent upon some pursuit. He shook off his gloom, though, directly, and we had a good walk, during which he strove Imrd to make himself a pleasant companion, chatted to me of myself, hoped that I made use of my spare time, and read or studied in some way, promising to help me with my Latin if I would go on. mm 124 THE STORY OF AN'TONY OKACK. -;i P: II 1 1 1 ! 1 ; '',r' 1 11 ii I "It wnnts nn ffFi-vt, \ntony," he said; "espoHnlly after • hard day's work at \hv (»IIi(M\" " Yes," I said, with a Hijrh ; " I do feel tired of reading when I get back." "Never mind," he said; "make an effort and do something. It is only the first start. You'll 8oon grow interested in what you are doin;2f ; and recollect this, my boy, learning is a treasure that no one can take away." " Yes, my father used to say so, Mr. Tlallett," I said thought- fully, as I glanced sidewise at my compuuion's face as we lay on the turf close by the water. "What an imitation of the country this is, Antony I " he said, with a sigh. " I love the country, l could live there alwavs." " Yes, I don't like T.ondon, Sir. Ilallett," I said ; •' but— but do you study anything in >our spare hours ? " He turned round U]ion me sharply, and his eyes seemed to look me through and through. "Did my mother say anything to you ?" he exclaimed. "Oh no ! of course not — you were not alone. Y»'s, Antony, 1 do study sometliing — a gi'eat <leal — in my spare hours." "Oh yes, of course. I know you do, Mr. Ilallett," I cried. " I've seen you take out your pocket-book and draw and make calculations." He looked at me again in a curious, suspicious way that set me wondering, and then, jumping up : "Come, Antony," he cried, with a forced laugh, " it is time we were otT. Liimy will he wanting to go to church, and we shaU be punished if we are late for dinner." He chatted merrily all the way bnck, and I had no opportunity of asking him what he studied. Dinner was waitiuo-, and a verv pleasant simple meal it was, only that Mrs. Ilallett would sprinkle everytliing with tears, I noticed that really, as well as meta- phorically, she dropped a few into her ghiss of beer, a few more into the gravy, of which s-he had the best share, soaked her bread with others, and still had a few left to drop into her portion of red-currart and raspberry tart. Nothing was nice, poor woman — nothing was comfortable; and while Liiuiy took her complaints with a pettish indifference, Mr. Ilallett left his place from time to time, to attend to her at lier little table in front of htr easy chair, waiting upon her with the tenderness of a woman, smootliing back her hair, and more than once kissing her on the forehead before resuming his place. "No, Stephen," she said, several times; "I have no appetite — nothing tempts me now. ' He Dent over and whispered to her, evidently in a tender, • ndearing way, but her tears only flowed the faster, and she shook •V head despondently. -t MK. IlAhLKiT AT IloME. IC? OP, of "Cheese, Steplicn ? " slie wuid in lier pctMi.sl. way, to\v».r«I.s tlic snd of the repast. ** You know my dif^i'Mtion is Much that it will not bear cheese. At leuwt," she mid, "you would have known it if you had had ambitiun enough to loUow your father's profession." " Ah ! I ouffht to have known betfMr, dear," he suid, smiling- pleasantly; "but doctors starve in J. ondon, mother. There arc too many as it is." " Yes, of course, of course," said the poor woman tearfully ; " my advice ia worthless, I suppose." "Pso, no, dear, it is not," suid Mr, Ilullett, getting up and laying his hand upon that of the invalid. *' Come, let me tul;e your plate. AVe'll have the thiiijis awny directly, and I'll ivad to yoi\ till tea-time, if Antony won't miinl." "Is Linny going out this utternoonF'" said Mrs. Mallet t querulously. " Yes, mamma, and 1 shall be late," said l^iiniy, colonrina. apparently with vexaticii, as she glanced at me, muking me IVcl guilty, and the cause of her disappointment. " We won't keep you, Linny,' exclaiined Ilullett ; "go and get ready. Antony, you will not mind, will you ? My sister likes to go to church of an nftonioon ; it is nicer for her than the evtuing." "Oh no, I won't mind," I said eugerly. " All right, then : be off, Linny. Antony and I will soon cleai- away the pie — eh, Antony ? " I laughed and coloured at this double entendre, which Mis. Hallett did not comprehend, for as Linny with a ;^ruteful look hurried oui> of the room, the invalid exclaimed fretiully : "I wish you would say i^flrr^, Stephen, my son. If you will persist in working as a mechanic, and wasting your time in truitle.vs schemes " " Hush, mother ! " said Mr. Hallett, with an uneasy glance at me " Yes, my son ; but 1 cannot, bear you to iojort jiU our oM genteel ways. We may be poor, but we can still be resncciable." " Yes, yes ; of course, dear," suid Mr. Hallett nastily, as he sjn\ that his mother was about to hhed tears. " Come, Antony, let's ]u- waiters." I jumped up to assist him, just as Tiimiy, loolcing very rosy ai '1 pretty in her oonnet and jacket, hurried out of a side room, ami kissing her mother, und nodding to us, hasteneil ilowiistairs. " Ah ! " said Mrs. Hallett, with another sigh, " wn ouyht not ti- be reduced to that." " To what, dear ? " said Mr. Hallett, as he busily removed thr dinner things. "Letting that young and innocent girl go about the stre't'f» alone without a protect ir, offering herself as a prey to every designing wretch who casts his eyes upon her fresh, f uir face." •■I I J p 1>6 THE STORY or ANTONY rrRACK i| li 11' '■ i .|j til; i i i i 1 1 . ' 1 'i ii iLi.^ " My dt'ur inothor," .-aid Mr. Ffallt^tt, laiipfhin^r, ** London is not <|iiit(' Hiich A HJiili of iiii(|uity ii8 you »iippom%uud you havu tutori'd lAnny too well for tli»'»e to bo any occtwion for fnar. There, iDine, lean hack and rest till we have done, and then I will read vuii one of your favourites." MrH. Ilallett allowed herself to be gently pressed back in her s"ut, and lay there .still conipiaining* that a son of hersshould have to stoop, and also a.sk his visitor tostoop^to such a degrading toil. " Oh, Antony doesn't mind, dear," he said cheerfully. " We lo worse thiijjjs than this at the ollice — eh, Antony P" " That we do, Mr. Ilallert," 1 cried, laughing. " Yes,* sa ill Mrs. Ilallett, "at the office. Ah, well, I suppose it is of no use to complain." She complained all the same, at everything, while Mr. Hallett liore it with a most patient manner that set nie wondering. He was never (mce irritable, but took every murmur in a quiet, re- signed way, evidently excusing it on the score of his mother's sntTerings. Then he got out a book to read to her, but it would not do. Then another and another one, supposed to be her favourite authors ; btit nothing would do but Dodd's " Thoughts in Prison," and the reading of this cheerful volume went on till Linny came l)aok, as I noticed, looking hot and flushed, as if she had been hurrying; and she glanced, as I thought, suspiciously at me, her hrother not raising his eyes from his reading. Then followed tea, and a walk with Mr. Hallett, and after that supper, when he walked nart of the way home with me. " Good-night, Antony,' he said. " I hope you have not found your visit too gloomy an one to care to come again." " Will you ask me again ? " I said eagerly. " To be sure. My poor mother is a little fretful, as you saw ; l)ut she has been an invalid now these seventeen years, and she iiii.sses some of <' e comforts of the past. Good-night, my boy." " Good-night, Mr. Hallett ; " and we parted — he to walk slowly away, bent of head and serious, and I to begin thinking of his un- wearying patience and devotion to his invalid mother : after which I recalled a great deal about Linny Hallett, and how pjetty and petulant she seemed, wondering at the same time that neither mother nor brother took any notice of her flushed and excited look as she came in from church. " Hullo ! got back, then P " said Mr. Revitts, rather grumpily, as I entered the room. " Had a pleasant day P " " Oh yes, liill, very 1 " I exclaimed. " Oh yes ! It's all very fine, though, and it'll be all Hallett soon. But you have got back in decent time. Well, I'm tired, and I'm off to bed." An example I followed directly after. - ' LINNYS SECKET. 127 ' . CUAPTEU XXIV. ■' L1NNY*B SBCRKT. My visit to Great Orraond Street was the first of many. In a short time the office labours with Mr. Jub(>z lt)wle were me: el the meclianical rounds of the day; and, like Stephen Ilallett, I seemed "^o live only for the eveninff, when I took my Jintiii exercises and translations to him, he coming down from the attic, where he worked at some project of his own, conceriiinjr which poor murmurinff Mrs. llallett and her daughter wen- forbidden to speak, and then returning, after making the cor- rections. 1 felt a good deal of curiosity about that attic, but Mr. Hallett had told me to wait, and I waited patiently, having, young as I was, learned to school myself to some extent, and devoted myself to my 8tudies,one thought being always before mv mind, namely, that I had to pay Mr. Hlukeford all my father's debt, for that I meant to do. I had grown so much at home now at the Halletts', that, finding the door open one evening, I walked straight up, knocked twice, and, receiving no answer, tried the door, which yielded to my touch, swung open, and I surprised Linny writing a letter, which, with a flaming face, she shutfied under the blotting-paper, and held up a warning finger, for Mrs. Hallett was fast asleep. " Where's Mr. Hallett P " I said. " lu Bluebeai*d's chamber," cried Linny playfully ; " I'll go and tell him you are here." I nodded, thinking how prettv she looked with her flusluvl cheeks, and she went softly to the door, but only to come baf!v quickly. " Antony, dear," .^he whispered, laying her hand on my shouMc , " you like me, don't you P " " Of course I do," I replied. " Did you see what I was doing ? ** she continued, busily read- justing my neckerchief, and then looking me full in the face. " Yes ; you were writing a letter." She nodded. " Don't tell Stephen," she whispered. " I was not going to." " He would want to know who I was writing to, and ask me such a lot of questions. You won't tell him, will you ? " " No," I said, " not unless he asks me, and then I must." " Oh, be won't ask you," she said merrily ; " no fear. Now I'll go and tell him." I sat down, w >ndering why she should want to keep things from her brother, and then watched Mrs. Hallett, and lastly began I: 128 THE oTuKY OF AiNTONY GIlACE. i->, j III '1 ! i f 1^ i J ■ • I* ; i' : ^1 ' , " ;,l J 1 1 ■ i If'' 1' i ': ' 1; i '' ^t i.rl HHiyu tl thinking about the room upstairs — Old Bluebeard's chatnbeT, m Linny playfully called it — and tried to puzzle out whtft Stephen Ilallett was making. That it was something to improve his poMiticn I was sure, and I had often thought of what hard work it must be, with so little time at his disposal, and Mrs. Hallett so (lead set against what she openly declared to be a folly, and luiserable waste of money. My musings were brought to an end by the reappearance of Linny, who came down holding her pretty little white hand to nie. " There, sir," she said, " you may kiss my hand ; and mind, you and I have a secret between us, and you are not to tell." I kissed her hand, and she nodded playfully. " Now, sir, Bluebeard's chamber is open to you, and you may go up." "Go? Upstairs?" " Yes, sir," she said, stroking her pretty curls ; '' the ogre said you were to go up." •* Are you — sure ? " I said. "Sure? Of course. There, go along, or you'll wake mamma.'* I went softly upstairs, with my heart beating with excitement, turning my head, though, as I closed the door, and seeing Linny <1 rawing ler letter hastily from under the blotting-paper. It was before the shabby door of a slop'ug-roofed back attic I hat I paused for a moment to knock, Stephen Hallett's clear, calm vo,ce uttering a loud " Come in," and 1 entered to find him seated before a large old deal kitchen table, upon which were at re wed various tools, pieces of iron and brass, old clock-wheeb, and spindles. At one end was titted a vice, and at the other end what seemed to be the model of some machine — or rather, a long, flat set of clock-woiks, upon which Ilallett was evidently engaged. " Well, Antony," he said, looking up at me in a weaiy, disap- pointed way ; " glad to see you, my boy." " Why, you are busy," I exclaimed, looking with all a boy's curiosity at the model, or whatever it was before me. " Yes," be said, " I generally am. Well," he added, after a pause, as he seemed to derive rest and amusement from my curiosity, " what do you think of my sweetheart P " " Your sweetheart ? " " Yes, my sweetheart, of which poor mother is eo jealous. There she is." . ' " I — 1 don't understand you,'' i said. " Well, the object of my worship — the thing on which I lavish so much time, thought, and money." " Is— is that it ? " I said. " That's L," he replied, enjoying my puzzled looks. ''What do you think of it ? " . i, I LINNY'S SECRET. 129 I was silent for a few moments, gazing intently at the piece of mechanism before I said : *' I don't knf)w." "Look her*', Antony," he said, riJ^ing ai d .nvfcping away sonu- files and piecfS of brass before si^atin^'" liitii.vlr npon the edge ot the table; " da you know why we are friends ;- " "No, but yon luive been very kind to me." "Ila\o if" he said. "Well, 1 have rnjoyod it if I have. Antony, you are a gtntlemau's son." I nodded. " And you know the meaning of the word honour ? " ** I hope so." " You do, Antony : luid it has given me great pleai.>nre to find that, without as>;uniirg »;\\ fine nir.", you have settled dnw,: steadily to your work iiii.<;-)i{j>t mu^^h boys and ignorant prejinjue i men without losing any of tlie teacliings of your eurly life." I looked at him, wondering what he wa.s about to say. "Now look here, Antony, my boy," he continued; " I am goiii^' to put implicit faith in your honour, merely wain in;:' you tluit il you talk about what you have seen here you may do me a very serious injury. You understand ? " "Oh yes, Mr. Ilallett," I cried ; "you may depend upon me." "I do, Antony," he said; "so let's have nomort of that formal ' Mr.' Let it be plain 'yes ' and *no ; ' and now, niind this, I am going to open out before you my secret. Henceforth it will be our secret. Is it to be so ? " " Yes — oh ves ! " I exclaimed, flushing with pride that a man to whom I had looked up .«>hould have so much confidence in me. " That's settled, then," he said, shaking hands with me. " And now, Antony, once more, what do you tliink of my model ?" I had a good look at tlie contrivance as it stood upon the table, while Hallett watched me curiously, and with no little interest. *'Ii''' a puzzle," I said at la.st. " Do you give it up ? " "No; not yet," [ said, leaning my ell^ows on the table. "Wheels, a brass table, a roller. Why, it looks something like a mangle." I looked at him, and he nodded. " But you wouldn't try to make a mangle," I said. " It miglii do to grind things in. May I move it h " " No ; it is out of gear. %Vell, do you give it up ? " He rose as he spoke, and opened the attic window to let in the pleasant, cool night air, and then leaned against the slopinj.-^ ceiling gazing back at me. " I know what it would do for," I said eagerly, as the idea came to me like a flash. "Wbat.P" I ' i I ;! I iij i^ iii 'V I 111 '3 ,■ I'! !. I i; ^1 r ' 1 Il , ' '■ i f !■■ ■ ■ 1 ' i ' , "1 1; ^ 'I!. ■ i i : i i 1 f :| I > 1 i 1 i I il J I'm THE sTo.i^- OF AXToNV (JRACE. '* Why, it is — it is," I rritjd, clapping^ my hands, as he leaned towards me ; " it's a printing machine." " You're right, Antony," he said ; " quite right. It is themodel of a printing machine." " Yes," I said, with all a boy's excitement ; " and it's to do quickly what the men do now so slowly in the presses, sheet by sheet." " Ye^ and in the present machines," he said. "Have you noticed how the machines work ?" "Oh, yes!" 1 said; "often. The type runs backwards and forwards, and the paper is kid on by boys and is drawn round the big roller and comes out printed. "Exactly," lie said. " Well, Antony, you have seen the men working at the presses ? " "Yes." "It is hard work, and they print about two hundred or two hundred and fifty sheets an hour, do they not ? " " Yes ; I believe so." " And the great clumsy machines print six or seven hundred an hour. Some a thousand." " And will your machine do more ? " I asked. " Antony," he cried, catching my arm in his — and his face lit up as wo stood by that attic v/iudow — "if my machine succeeds it win be the greatest invention of the age. Look, boy; do you see what I mean to do ? " " N— no," I said ; " not yet." " No ; of course not," he cried. " It has been the work of years to think it out, and you cannot grasp it yet, It has grown month by month, my boy, till it has assumed so great a magnitude that I shrink at times, half crushed by my own offspring. There seems to be too much — that I attempt to climb too high — and when I give up almost in despair it lures me on — beckons me in my dreams, and points to the success that might be achieved." I looked at him wonderingly ; he seemed to be so trausfo'^v'hid. " I began with quite a small idea, Antony," he coutinu. «'. ' I will show you. My idea was this. You see now, my dov ^h^t with the present machine tlie type is laid on a table, and it gots backwards and forwards under a ^reat iron cylinder or roller, grinding continually, and being worn out." " Yes, I know ; the type gets thick and blurred in its fine up- strokes." " Exactly,'* he said, smiling. " Well, Antony, I tried to invent a simple process of making a mould or seal, when the type was ready, and then " " Making a solid block of fresh type in the big mould, t know," I cried. " Right, my boy, right," he cried ; " and I have done it I " " But does it want a machine like that ? " M.NNV .V Lt4;.i, 131 w.d. , -^flat l(i. I "Oh no," he repiu''!: "rliitt ;irnw out of the idea. I was not Batisfied then with iii\ sulid Ulociv -.r t_\ j-i', wliith miyht l)t; useu and then uu'lt(-d down jinain. It .^Inuk nu*, Anlonv, Uiaf it would be better if I luude tliaf salid hlncli fm\ed, so as to Kt on a big cylinder, and let it go round instead of tiie paper. I could then print twice as matiy." " Ye— es,' I said, " but 1 liardly {i'>> it." " I will .show you presently, niv hoy," he replied. "Well. I worked at that idea till I leh .'■uti.'ilied that I euuld carry it oui.. when a greater idea came." He paused and wiped his forehead, gazing now, thou ;li, out iw the starry night, and .«peukiiig in a low en.rne.'it voic^'. " It seemed to me then, Antony, that I out^ht to do away wi li the simple, clumsy plan of nuikiug men or loys supply or lay-on paper, sheet by .sheet, as the muclinie wa.«* at work."' '• What could you do h "' I said. "Ah, that was the quf.^t.oi!. 1 was thinuinu it over, wln-ii going through St. Paul's Cliurchyard I saw m o i.- of tlie ;haper",-« shops a basket of rolls of rihlon, and the thing was dwnt." *' How? "I asked. "By having the paper in a long roll, a thousand yards upon a reel, to be cut off sheet by sheet as it is irinted between the cylinders." " But could you get paper made so long ': " "To be sure,*' he said : " the ]my.er-miir> nuike it. in long st)ip> that are cut up in sheets as !l,i\ a]e finished. In luy u'iul.iic they would be cut up only when piinlid. Now, what <io M.usay !' " It's like trying to read <ireek ihc first time, Mr. llalli-ti," 1 said. " My head feels all in a nniddle." "Out of which the light will c'>me in time, niv hoy. l^ni suppose I could make such a machine, Antony, wliar would you say then r " " It would be grand I *' I e.xclainu'd. "It would make a revoluiion in I'linting." hf- crit d entluisiiis- tically. "Well, will you lielj. nie, An'ony!'" he said, with a smile. " Help you ! May 1 Y " "Of course. 1 shall he glad; oid\. renioniher. it is our sccm-i.' " You nuiy trust me,'" 1 said. " ImU ii ujiisi he ]Milent<d."' "To be sure. All in 4r'><'>i 'inie." "It will make your fpitune." " I hope so," he said dii'.i!n:ly. "Fciv overs' sake more tha mine." " Yes," I cried : " and th"ii vo-i cM.iid Inve a ni^f ]>l;'.('" and a carriage for Mrs. Ilallett, and i) \v(<nld make ht-rsoniucli iiap]»ier " Yes," he said, witii a .-igh. " And you could he a geuthnian again." 9—2 B ^f 'I ! THE STORY OK ANTONY GRACE. I 'l h ! I [ i 1 i 1 '■: ; i ' I'l i ■1 i : ! P : - .1 lie started, and a curious look came over his face ; but it |)as8ed away directly, and I saw him shake his head before turn- ing to me with a smile. " Antony," he said quietly, " suppose we build the machine, the castles in the air will build themselves. I tell you what ; you ^hall work sometimes and help me to plan; but, as a rule, while I file and grind you shall read some Latin or German author, and you and I can improv<» ourselves as we go." " Agreed ! " I cried, and then the rest of the night was spent — a very short night, by the way — in examining the various parts ui the little model, Hallett seeming to give himself fresh ideas for improvements as he explained the reason for each wheel and spindle, and told me of tiie difficulties he liad to contend with for want of proper tools and the engineer's skill. " I want a lathe, Antony," he said ; " and a good lathe cost* many pounds, so I have to botch and patch, and buy clock-wheels and file them down. It takes me a whole evening sometimes wandering about Clerkenwell or the New Cut hunting for what I want." " But I can often help you in that way," I said, " and I will." We went down soon after to a late supper, Ilallett jealously locking up his attic before we descended. Mrs. Hallett had gone to bed andLinny was reading, and jumped up as if startled at our entrance. Hallett spoke to her as we sat down to supper, and I noticed that he seemed to be cold and stern towards her, while Linny was excited and pettish, seeming to resent lier brother's ways, and talked to me in a light, pleasant, bantering manner about Blue- beard's secret chamber. I noticed, too, that she always avoided her brother's eye, and when we parted that night Hallett seemed a good deal troubled, t hough he did not tell me why. CHAPTER XXV. SEVEN-AND-A-HALF AND A BONUS. ( y!!i It was the common talk at the office that Mr. Lister was going to be married soon to the rich Miss Carr ; and one day, when I was busily reading to Mr. Jabez Rowle — who, snuff-box before him, kept drawing in his breath, hissing viciously, and sometimes vsmacking his lips as he dug his pen into some blunder in the slips before him — Mr. Grirastone came bustling in, with his spectacles shining as much as his bald head, his scanty hair standing straight up, and, what was very rarely the case, a smile upon his face. ?^EVEN-AN1)-A-IIALF A\D A noNU3. l",;' times slips tacles aight •'Well, llowle," he said, rubbing his hands, "how is it li..- mpniinff P '* " Foiu — foul — foul," said Mr. Jabez, with a dub at a .stop 1' had miss t'd before. "Tlio.xe fellows of yours umku nxin* lit'r.i! everv day." "I'm always tellinfT thom of it, Itowh'. always." said .M > Grimstone, nodding hi.s head sharply. " How does this boy g- onP" •'Fairly — fairly," siiid Mr. Kowle, sere winy himself round U|M.r: Jiis stool, and gazing full in the overseui'a face. "Now, titr Grimstone, what is it ?— what's on the cards ? " "Oh, nothing — nothing. I only looked in. (^ive me a piiicli ! ' Mr. tiowle handed hi.s little brown box, and Mr. rFriuisfiuie v- freshed himself with a pinch before handi'ig l)a( K ^he .<nntf to .M ■ Rowle, who also took a pinch loudly, and witli a iltfiaiii tloiin^l . while I took up a slip and a pen, and beyuii t.. jiracti;*. remli i. and correcting, a thiny- Mr. Rowle always encouraged. Grimstone had evidently come in for a gossip, l)u.<!nes.s W.u rather slack, following a good deal of niyht-work and t iie finisli (.' an important order ; and after another pinch and an alhisi-'^ t»> the political topic of the day, they seenv.d tn foi;:et my prcsiiic-' and wont on talking. " When's the happy day to be ? " s.iid Mr. Grimstone. " What, Lister's P Oh, I don't know: soon, L suppose. Sr, n her?" "Yes, twice," said Mr. Grimstone, giving his lips a smack : "beautiful!" "So I hear," said Mr. Jabez Kowle; " plenty of money t«> .. i suppose." " £50,000, and more to come. I never had sucb luck." "I never wanted it," said Mr. Jabez llowle niih a gntwl. • I don't know why a man should want (o lie him.>cll' a]) lo a woman ' "Not with £50,000 and more to come, ehr"' said Mr. (inin- stone waggishly. "Might have tempted me twenty years a'.;o,'' growled M . Jabez ; " it wouldn't now." " S'pose not. You're too warm, Ji'wK' -much too warm. 1 say, tlu)ugb," he continued, lowering his voire, but quite ignoiin.^ me, "is a certain perso.n .-afe r "' " A certain person 'r '' " Yes, you know. Suppose, for instance, he quietly aski^i \ i to let him havo £500 for a few months al seven ini-a-half anl -a bonus, would vou,alwavsconsi<lei-nii: ilnit lu'sum touches L'oO.C '' and more to come, would you b-r bnn tiave it r " Mr. Jabez took a pinch ot siuitV :uiinidy. shut the box wi'ii i loud snap, and, evidently couif^leieiy ilnuwn of his guaru. - \- claimed : 194. THE STUKV OF AXToNV -rRACE. n ■ ;* ■f. 4 1 ji If] I i !lll i it* " Hang him for a fool ! Course me if ever I do so again." '' What do you mean P " flaid Mr. Grimstoiie, rulUiDg up. ** Do you mean to say I'm a fool P " " No, no : he is, to go and blab." "BlaL?" -T .. " Yes, to let it out to you." " I say ! What do you mean P " said Mr. Qrimstone affain. " Mean ? Why, you as good as said he told you I had let him have £500 at seven-and-a-half and a bonus. Lent on the strength of his going to marry a woman with £'50,000 and more to come." "I didn't." '*} "You did." ' ^ ■ ^ . " Whew ! " whistled Mr. Grimstone, snatching the snuflf-box out of Mr. Jabez Rowle's hand, taking a vigorous pinch, and scattering so much of the fine brown dust in the air that I sl.ou)'.i have had a violent fit of sneezing if I had not become hardened to its effects. The two stared at one another for a minute, and Mr. .labtiz now 'snatched the box back and took a hearty pinch, some of which went on to his shirt-front and some upon his sleeve. " Why, you don't mea to say that he has borrowed £500 of /ou ? " said Mr. Grimstone, in a whisper. " But I do mean to say it," replied Mr. Jabez. " How came he to tMl you P I never told a soul." "He didn't tell me," s&id Mr. Grimstone thoughtfully. ? "Then who did?" •" "No one." " . . " Then how came you to know ? " said Mr. Jabez, passing his box. " Why, you don't mean to sav he has been to you for five hundred P" Mr. Grimstone nodded. "And offered you seven-and-a-half, and a bonus of thirty pounds ? " Mr. Grimstone nodded again, and this time it was Mr. Jabez Rowle's turn to whistle. " He wanted it done quietly, and 1, after a bit, agreed to do it. But though we ain't friends over business matters, Jabez Rowle, I know you to be a man of strong common-sense and integrity, and I thought you would give me a good bit of advice. But this seems to alter the case. Would you lend it P " " Humph ! Two five hundreds are not much out of fifty thou- sand," said Mr. Jabez ; " but what does he want the money for P 'Tain't for the business." " No," said Mr. Grimstone, " because he said he didn't want Mr. Ruddle to know. I say, what would you do P I shouldn't like to offend Lister." -^ SEVEN-.VNL)-A-HALF AND A nONUS. !•»" 1.^.) Ido it. Lowle, r, and I seems thou- for? want kuldD't *• J>o P Well, I've lent the money," said Mr. Jabez, takina h savage pinch. " And would you do the same if you were me ? " replied Mr. Orimstone. "It's a lot of money; years of savings, vou know, and " He made some kind of gesticulation, and I fancy ho poinro ! with bis thumb over his shoulder at me. " Look here, Grace," said Mr. Rowle, " go downstairs and af»l< Mr. Ruddle to send me up Mr. Hendry's letter about his book." I got down off my stool, and left them together in the glas.s- caae, going straight dow i to the office, where, in place of Mr. KuddH), I found Mr. Lister, and told him my busine».>. "I don't know where it is,'* ho replied. " Leave it till Mr. Ruddle comes in. But look here, Urace, I wanted you. Mi.st. Carr was asking how you got on. Tuke this note there — yoii know where she lives — and give it to her I erseif. Hut before you go up there take this note to Norfolk Street, tJlruud. No answer." He took four writttn slips of stamped blue paper from his pocket, and I saw him write across them, blot them hii-stily, and refold and place them in a letter, which he carefully sealed. .\f ter which, I noticed that he tore off lind destroyed the piece of blot- ting-paper that he had used. I thought no more of it then, but it came up in connection with matters that afterwards occurred. I hurried upstairs, and told Mr. Jabez Rowle that .Mr. Li.ster wanted me to go out, Mr.Grimstoue being still iuclo:5e coufereuce with him in the glass case. " Where are you going, boy ? " said t he latter. " To Miss Carr's with a note, sir," I sai J ; and the two old men exchanged glances of intelligence. " All right, Grace," said Mr. Jabez, nodding ; " we're not busy. You can go." I hurried away, thinking no more of them or their conversa- tion; but 1 was obliged to go into the comj).ijiiiij^-room below, to hurry up to Mr. Ilallett's fnuue, where, .sterii-lioiiiri^'- und half- repellent, he was rapidly setting a piotv of uiiiiiii.-.cii[>i. " I'm going to Miss Carr's," 1 •.v!iis«jHue.i, wliilc my fate glowed with pleasure. "Indeed!" he said, startiiiu: : unl my briglit face miiHit have been reflected in his, such u chan :• parsed over hi.s .•^jit-alving countenance. '• I've to take a note frcm M;-. Li.-iler and to wait f(»r an answer," 1 said; and I feh staitlel at tlie ra«iil ditiiiie as he heard these last wunls. '• .\n' you ill r '' I crii'd .inxions v. "No — no," he saiii liasijly, and liis voice .soit:i(l.'»i iuird and harsh. 'Mjo away no.v. I am very mn^^h pressed for time." I left him, woridenn^', for I v^ould not read him then, and if* if } I M I I 'I 1.% THE STORY OF ANIONS' »tRACE. bounding down tbe stairs, I was soon in Fleet Street, and soon after in Norfolk Street, Strand. I quickly found the number and tbe door, witb a larcce brass plate tbereon bearinj? tlie name " Brandxheim," and in small letters m tbe corner *' Ground Floor." A boy clerk answered my knock, and I was told to sit down in an outer office wliile tli»^ clerk went in with the note and to s«e if Mr. Brandsbeim was at home. Mr. Brandsbeim was at home, and I was ushered into bis pre- ^4ence, to find him a dark, yellow-looking man with a wrinkled face and very keen eyes, lie quite startled me for the moment, for, though not in personal appearance in the slightest degree re- i^embling Mr. Jilakeford, there was a something about him that f'uggested that worthy and his ways. lie was dressed in the first style of fashion, a little exaggerated, lie might have been a slave of the great Plutus himself, for round his neck and lashing his chest was a thick gold chain: diamond rings were on tbe fingers of each liand ; a great opal and diamond pin was in his black satin stock ; at his wrists were jewelled sleeve- links that glistened and .sparkled when he moved. There was nothing sordid about him, fur he sat in an easy-chair at a polished secretary ; there was a Turkey carpet beneath his feet, and the furniture of the room was maj^sive and good : but, all the same, I had no sooner entered the place than 1 began to think of Mr. Blakeford and Mr.Wooster, and I involuntarily wondered whether this man could be in any way connected with my late employer, and whether I had unconsciously walked into a trap. As my eyes wandered about the room in search of tin boxed containing different people's affairs, of dusty parchments and sale bills, I felt better; for they were all absent. In their place were large oil pictures against the walls, hung, and leaning back, rest- ing on the floor. On a sideboard was a row of little stoppered bottles with labels hanging from their necks in a jaunty fashion, and in tbe bottles were richly tinted liquids — topaz, ruby, purple, aud gold. They might have been medicines, but they looked like wines, and I felt sure they were, as 1 saw piled upon tbe floor some dozens of cigar-boxes. Mr. Brandsbeim might have been a picture dealer, a wine mer^ chant, or an importer of cigars, for m those days I had yet to learn that be was a bill-discounter who contrived that his clients should have so much in ca.«h for an acceptance, and the rest in old masters, Whitechapel Ilavanas, and Hambro-Spanish wines. Mr. Brandsheim's words somewhat reassurea me, as he nodded pleasantly to me and smiled. " Sit down, my man," he said; " sit down, and I'll soon be ready for you. Let me see — let me see." He busied himself behind his secretary, rustling papers and SEVEN-AN1>^-HALF AM» A UONUtf. • • I ided jady and makiitg notes, and now aM then looking at mo and tapping- Ih.m teeth with a heavy gold pencil-case, while I furtively watcljed him and wondered how he managed to make his jet black hair no shinv, and why it was he spoke as if he liad been poking cotton- wool up his nose, till it suddenly occurred to me that he must be a German. " Ah ! " he said, at last ; " let me see — let me see — let me see— see— see. Mr. Lister quite well P " " Yes, sir ; quite well, thank you." " That's right. Let me see — let me — how's business P " " Oh ! we've been very busy, sir. The men have often had to stop up all night to get things finished." " Have they really, though P " he said, nodding and smiling ; " and did you stay up, too P " No, sir ; I read for Mr. Jabez Rowle, and he said he wouldn't sit up all night and u^set himself for anybody." " Mr. Jabez Rowle is quite right, my iad." " He said, sir, his work was so partieultu* that after he had been correcting for twelve hours his eyes and mind were exhausted, and he could not do his work properly." " Mr. Jabez Rowle is a man of business, my lad, evidently. And Mr. Lister, is he pretty busy P " " I think he comes to the office every day." " Have a glass of wine, my lad," he said, getting up and taking a decanter, glass, and a dish of biscuits from a cellaret. " No r Good sherry won't hurt you. Take some biscuits, then." I took some of the sweet biscuits, and Mr. Brandsheim nodded approval. " I won't keep you long," he said ; " but I must compare these papers. You are not going anywhere else, I suppose P " Yes, sir ; I am going up to VVestmouth Street, Cavendish Square." " Indeed ! Hah ! that's a good walk for you ; or, no, I suppose Mr. Lister told you to take a cab P " " No, sir," I said colouring ; " I am going to walk." " Oh, absurd ! Too far. Lawrence," he cried, after touching a bell, and the boy clerk appeared, " have a cab to the door in ten minutes." "Yes, sir." " That will pay for the cab, my lad," continued Mr. Brandsheim, slipping a couple of shillings into my hand. " I must keep you waiting a little while. Let me see — let me see — you didn't go to the races, I suppose ? " " Oh no, sir.^' " Mr. Ruddle and Mr. Lister did, eh ? " "Mr. Lister did, sir, I believe. Mr. Ruddle never goes, I think." il'L ; I . (' ' I U ♦ { / "' ^li . ■I I . w .;! 138 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. " Doesn't \w, though P How strange ! I always go. Let lao see — five hundred and sixty-six is — is So Mr. Lister's going to \)e married, eh ? " •' Yes, sir, I believe so." " That's right. Everybody should marry when the time comes. You will some day. I hope the lady's young and rich." ' ." " She's beautiful, sir," I said, with animation, feeling sorry, though, the next moment, for I did not like the idea of this man being so interested in her. " Is she, though ? " he said insidiously. " But you've not seen her." " Oh yes, sir, more than once." *' Have you, though ? Well, you are favoured. Let me sue/ he continued, consulting a little thick book which he took from a drawer. *' Seven hundred and fifty and two hundred and — er— er — oh, to be sure, yes ; I think I heard who it was to be. lieauti- ful Miss Wilson, the doctor's daughter. Let's see, she's very poor, though." 1 did not want to say more, but he seemed to lead me on, and get answers from me in an insidious way that I could not combat *. and in spite of myself I said : "No, sir, it is Miss Carr ; and she is very rich." " You don't say so ! " he exclaimed, staring at me in surprise. " You don't mean the Carrs of Westmouth Street ? " " Yes, sir." " Well, I am surprised," hn exclaimed. " Lister's a lucky dog-. Whv, I see, you dog ! " he s;nd, in a bantering way, " you carry t he love-letters backwards and forwards." " Oh no, sir, I " *• Hush^ hush, hush ! Not a word. I won't listen to you. Don't b«»i.ray your master's secrets, my h.d. You're a confidential messenger, and must clap a seal upon vour lips." " But, sir, 1 " *' No, no. How much ? " he said, with mock severity. " Don't .^peak, don't interrupt me ; I'm reckoning up. Let me see — let iiic see — ha! that's it exKCtly. There we are!" he continued, fastening down a note and l»undin«^' it to me. "Run along, my young Mercury, and if I were you I should make cabby drive tne to Oxfoi-d Street for a sliilling, and save the other. , Tliat's the way lo grow rich. Off you go. Take care of thL>s." He thrust a letter into my hands, and almost puslied me out of I lie room, so that I liad not time To speak ; and before I had quite ivcovered from my confusion, I was in the cab, and heard the boy I lerk say : " Put' him down at Oxford Circus." Then the wheels began to rattle, and the door to j«Qgle, and I F\*- feeling angry with myself for saying so much about Mr. SEVEN-AND-A-HALF AND A BONUS. 13^ Lister and Miss Carr, as I recalled William RevittV advice, often given, to " let otuer people talk while you make notes." The thought of where I wus going soon drove my interview with Mr. Brandsheim out of my head, and getting out of the ca!) at the Circus, I made the best of my way to the great imposing house in Westmouth Street, rang, and asked to see Miss Carr. The man-ser\ant look 'd at me rather dubiously, and asked ray name. Then, bidding me sit down in the great sombre-looking hall, he went up the heavy staircase, and came back to bid me follow him. I noticed as I went upstairs that the place was heavily hut handsomely furnished. There were pictures on the walls of stair- case and landing, and the stone steps were covered with a rich thick carpet. Tne wealthy look of the place, however, did not seem to abash me, for the atmospliere of refinement in which I found myself recalled old days ; and the thoughts of the past seemed strengthened, as I was ushered into » prettily funiished little drawing-room, all bright with flowers, water-colour draw- ings, and books, from a table strewn with which latter Mi»n Can arose to welcome me. And again the feeling was strengthened at her first words : "Ah, Antony!" For the printing-office, Mr. Revitts' shabby room, Hallett's attic, my own downfall, were forgotten, and. bright and eager, 1 half ran to meet her, and cauglit her extended hand. Her sad face brightene«l as she saw the eager pleasure in my eyes, and retaining my hand, she led me to a couch and seated herself by my side. "Then you had not forgotten me ? " she said. " Forgotten you ! " I cried reproachfully, " I have been so long- ing to see you again." " Then why did you not come ? " " Come ! " I said, with the recollection of my present 8tat»- flashing back ; and my heart sank as I replied, " I did not daie ; 1 am so different now. But I have a note for you, Miss Carr." I took Mr. Lister's note from mv pocket, an<l gave it to her, noticing at the time that she took 41 and laid it quietly down, in place of opening it eagerly. " I shall always be glad to see you, Antony, that is, so long as you prove to me that you have not been unworthy of my recom- mendation." " I will always try," I cried eagerly. " I feel sure you will," she said. '* Mr. Ruddle tells me you are rising fast." I coloured with pleasure, and then reddened more deeply as I saw that she noticed me, and smiled. '' But now, dome, tell me of yourself — what you do and how 110 TIIK SiDRY OF- ANTONY Uh'ACK. ' i ^" r t 1 \A 1 1 li , 1' f !: : ii 1 1 ■ -If ! 'l ■ ' •; '.' i i iji 1 1 1 1 iiii - you get on ;" and by (lff,nt.t.s, ulmost wif limit qucHtioniii^, 1 told ht'r all my proce«diii^r«). For Homeliow, it set'iiind tlie hi^heHt tit'light to me to ho once more in the wiciety ot u rittined ludy. Her looks, her touch, the very scent emanating lii.ju herdres-stind I he flowers, seemed so to bring buck tlie old days that I felt as if I were once more at home, chattitig away to my mother. And so the time slipped by till 1 imperct'])tibly found myself telling Mi>'s ''arr all about my old pursuits — our life at home and my favourite Itooks, she being a willing listener, when, suddenly, a clear, silvery- toned clock began to strike and dissolved the spell. The old irawing-room, the lawn beyond tlie French window, the scent of I he fluwers, seemed to pass away to give place to the great print- iiig-otiicH and mv daily work, and with a choking sensation m my iju'oai, f remembered what I was — the messenger who had for- jiMtttjn his errand, and I started to my feet. '* Wliy. Antony ! " exclaimed Miss Carr, " what is it P " "I hhd forgotten,"! said piteously ; "I brought you a note; Mr. Lister will be angry if I do not take back the answer." ri.e as])ect of Miss Uarr's face seemed to change from a look i t' a'lvioiis wonder to one of sternness. There was a slight contrac- i Ml of the handsome brow, and her voice was a ^«ttle changed, as »!iH <aid quietly — '• Sir down again. Antony; both you and I much to say •• Hut— the letter, ma'am P " I faltered. ''The letter can wait," she replied. Then, smiling brightly as slie took my hand once more, " You cannot take back the answer fill I write it ; and come, 1 am alone to-day; my sister is away upon a visit; you shall stay to lunch and dinner with me, and 'M»'ll read and talk till we are tired." "Oh ! " I ejaculated. ' - ' " Do you not wish to stay ?" she said smiling. I could not speak, for the old childish weakness that I had of laie nearly uiu-stered was almost conqueror again. It did get the itetter of my voice, but I involuntarily raised her soft white hand to my lips, and heki it there for a few moments ; while her eyes, <ven as they smiled upon me, seemed half-suflfused with tears. *' I will write to Mr. Lister presently," she said at last, " and •ell him I detained you here. That will, I am sure, be quite >iilficient; so, Antony, you are my visitor for the rest of the day. Vnd now tell me more about yourself." r could not speak just then, but sat thinking, Miss Carr watch- ing me the while ; but we were soon chatting away pleasantly till ! he servant came and announced lunch. 'T f- SUNSIUNE. 141 CHAPTER XXVI. ' BUN8IIINR. As we went down into the handsome dining-room I seemed to Ym> in a dream, in the midst of which I heard Aliss Carr's voice tell- ing the servant he need not wait ; and as the door closed f»he loi<! her hand upon my shoulder and led me to the front of a lnr^n> picture of a very beautiful woman, standing with her urm restinir upon the shoulder of a grey-haired muHNive-looking man, noi handsome, but with a countenance full of intelligence and force. We stood silently before them for a few moments, and then Miss Garr spoke : '' Can you tell who those are, Antony P " she said. *' Your papa and mamma," I said, looking from the picture to her face. " My dear father and mother, Antony," she said, in a low, sweet voice; and her lips moved afterwards while she stood gazing up at them, as if saying something to herself. I remember feelin|4 well satisfied that T had on my best clothes that morning. I had reluctantly taken to them, but my others had grown so bad that I had been obliged. Then, too, there was a feeling of gratification that my liunds were clean, and not stained and marked with ink. I remember feeling that as I tcx^k up the snowy table-napkin All tlie rest was so dreamy un«i strange, only that I felt quite at home, and troubled by no sense of awkwardness. Moreover, Miss Curr's behaviour towards ni. . as she intently watched my every pction, became more and more warm, till it seemed to me as if I were in the society of some very dear sister ; and a couple of hours later I felt as if we had known each other all our lives. Upstairs once more she played to me, and smiled with pleasii;>> as I picked out my favourite old pieces from the various operii>->; afid at last she swung herself round upon the music-stool, ani rose to draw my arm through hers, walking me thoughtfully wy and down the room. "What should you like to be, Antony?" she said half-plav- fully," a soldier P^ " There's something very grand about being a soldier," I said thoughtfully, " when ne fights to save his country; but no, I'm afraid I should be a coward." "A sailor, then?" " No, Miss Oarr," I said, shaking my head. " I should either like to be a barrister or a doctor. I think I should like to be n doctor.- No, I flhould like to bean engineer, and help Mr. Hallett with hi s ' ' 1 ■ ^ 'i' I ^' ''11' I '■ ji 'I ! , I' n ii "I m! j! !. r t h. 142 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. I .»rop])«(l ^Il<)rt and coloured, for I felt that I had nearly Ir. Hallett's I (Hi rayed luy friend *' \Vell ? ' i^he said in a strange, hesitating way, wl.at ? " '• Pleiist' don't think me ungrateful, Miss Carr," I said, " Imt I cannot tell vou. Mr. Hallett trusted to mo the secret of what he is making, and I cannot say vn^re. Yes, I may say that he ia hii.sy over a great invention. i fancied slie drew her breath as if it caught and gave her pain, bnt her face was like marble as she wont on, m ,,. " Antony, you are quite right," she said; "and if I had ever had any doubts about your being a gentleman's son, these words would hnve removed it. So you would like to be an engineer ? " " Yes," I said, " very much." She continued walking up and down the room, and then went on Is he " You lodge, you say, with a Mr. Revitts, a policeman, respectable and nice ? ' " lie's the dearest, best old fellow in the world I " I said with animation. "Old?" " Xo, no," I said, laughing. " I meant good and kind by old." " Oh," she said, laugiiing. " But tell me, Antony ; is he par- iii^iilar with you ? " " Oh yes ; he quite watches me, to make sure what I do, and where I go." " Would you like to go to different and better lodgings ? " '•' Oh no,'' I said, " He is going to be married soon to Mary, who was so good to me at Mr. Blakeford's, and thoy would be so • lisappointed if I left." " lie wutcHes over you, you say ?" '■■ < - • " '. " Yes, Miss Carr. He was very angry that night when I stopped out late with Mr. Hallett, when we had to walk part of the way back, ' " ,\nd — and this Mr. Hallett, is — is he a proper companion for such a boy as you ? " " Mr, IlaUett is a gentleman, although he is now only a common workman," I said proudly. " But a youth like you would be easily deceived." ;>| " Oh no ! " I cried: " don't think that. Miss Carr. I would not give up Mr. Hallett for anything. You don't know him," I said almost indignantly. "Why, when his father died, he, poor fellow, had to leave college, and give up all his prospects to gain a living anvhow. to keep nis poor sick mother and his sister.' ' "He has' a sister?" ' " Yes : so ver v pretty : Linny Hallett. I go there, and read Latin and Germtm with Mr. Hall<^tt, while he works at his — his - fil'NSHINE 11.1 great invention. Oh, Miss Carr, if you could se<> him, so good ami tender to his invalid comp'aining mother, you would say 1 oughi to be only too proud of my friend \ " She was pressing- my hand as siie hastened her steps up and down the room. Tlien, loo.'sinjr my hand suddenly," J'he \valke<? quickly to the window, and threw it open, to stand theie for a few minutes gazing out. "The room was too warm, Antony," she said in a quiet, com- posed way ; and her pleasant smile was back uiu»ri her face as she returned to me. " ^> hy, we were quite racing up and doAvn the room. So you read German, do you ? Come, yon shall read a bit of Goethe to me." "I'm afraid " "That you are not perfect, Antony ? " she said, laughing in a bright, eager way. "Neither am I. We will both try an! iitipT've ourselves. Have you well mastered the oM, cnii)l>y characters ? " " Oh yes," I said, laughing. " My mother taught me them when I was very young." " Why, Antony," she cried, snatching the book from my hands at the end of half an hour; " you ought to be my master. Hut come, it is nearly dinner-time, and we must dress." " Dress? " I said, falling down from the seventh heaven to the level of Caroline Street, Fentonville, and bouncing bmk to the second floor. " Well," she said, smiling : " you would like to wash your hands." The rest of that evening was still more dreamlike tlian the day. I dined with Miss Carr, and afterwards she encouraged me to go on talking about myself, and present and past life. I amused her greatly about Revitts, and his efforts to imprf»ve his -jpelling; and she smiled and looked pained in turn, as I talked of Miiry and my life at Mr. Blakeford's. " I. should like to know Mary," she said, laughing ; *' Maiy must- be a rough gem." "But she is so good at heart !" I cried earnestly, for I felt pained at the light way in which felie spoke of poor Mary. " I am sure slie is, Antony," said Miss Carr, looking at me very earnestly; and then I began to talk of Mr. llallett, and how kind and firm he had been. To my surprise, she stopped me, her voice sounding almost harsh as she said quietly : " You are learning through a rough school, Antony, and are fast losing your homelike ways, and childlike— well — innocence : but you are still very impressionable, and ready to take people for what they seem. Antony, my boy, you will make many enemies as well as friends. Count me always among the latter, and as yonv friend I now say to you, do not be too ready to make frieudshi: > %^ ii 144 THE dTORY OF ANTONY GRACE. |:!ii 4 .1 with men. I should rather see you with a good companion of your own age.'' " Yes, Miss Carr," I said ; " but if you knew Mr. Hallett " She held up her hand, and I stopped, for she seemed to turn pale and to look angry. " Antony," she said, as the tea was brought in, " you will soon have to go, now, and I have not written the answer to the letter yoU brought." '' No, Miss Carr," I said; and I could have added, ''neither have you read it." " It is too late, of course, for you to take an answer back, so I shall send one by post. Do not be alarmed," she said, smiling, as she divined my thoughts; "no one will be angry with you for staying here. It was mv wish." " And your wish would be law with Mr. Lister," I thought. " 1 shall expect you to write to me," she continued, '' and set down any boolcs you require. Do not be afraid to ask for them. I will either lend or buy them for you." She was pouring out the tea as she spoke, and I took the cup from her hand, wat<;hing her thoughtfully the while, for she seemed to have grown strange and quiet during the last few hours; and it set me wondering whether she would ever be so kind to me again. In fact, I thought I must have done something to offend her. That thought was chased away after tea, when we both rose, and she held out her hands to me with a very sweet smile, which .old me the time had arrived when I must go. " And now, Antony, you must come and see me again, often. Good-bve." I could not speak, but stood clinging > ler hands for a few minutes. " Don't think me foolish," I said, at last ; " but it has seemed so strange — you have been so kind — I don't know why — I have not deserved it." " Antony," she said, laying one hand upon my shoulder, and speaking very softly and slowly " neither do I know why, only that your simple little story seemed to go home to my heart. 1 thought then, as I think now, that when I lost both those who were near and dear to me, my sister and I might have been left penniless, to go out and struggle in the world as you have had to do. Once r. 3, good-bye. Only strive on worthily, and you shall always find that I am your friend." The next minute I was in the street, dull, depressed, and yet elated and joyful, while I ran over again the bright, sunshiny hours that haa been so unexpectedly passed, as I hastened north- ward to join Revitts, for it was one of his home nights. LINNY IJ> OU'l LA'lE,. CHAPTER XXVU. ~ UNNY IB OUT LATB. I NoncBD that there was growing trouble) at the HallettV, an<i more than once, when I went tip, I found Linny in tears, which, however, she hastily concealed. This was the ca.su on the night followinpr my visit to Miss Carr. whose words, " that 1 need be under no uneasiness,'' were verifieil. The fact that I had been sent out by Mr. Lister was sufficient for Mr. Jabez Rowie ; ait4 when, during the next day, I encountere ti Mr. Lister himself, he nodded to me in quite a friendly way, ami said, " How are you ? " Mrs. Hallett was asleep, and 1 went upstairs softly-, tapped ni Hallett's room-door, and went in, to find him deeply immersed in Lis task, over which he was bending with knitted brows, nn i evidently iu doubt. ** Ah, Antony," he said, " here we are, as busy as usual. How 4id you get on last night F " "With Rev itts?" "Yes; was it not your lesson-night ?" " Yes,'' I said; " but I thought perhaps you meant at Miss Carr's! " He dropped the file with which lie had been at work and stared at me. " Whei-e did you say ? " he exclaimed, " Mr. Lister sent me with a note to Miss (^arr, and she kept n.i; there all day." He drew in his breath with a hiss, caught up the file and wenr on working, while I chattered on, little thinking of the pain I was causing the poor fellow, as I rapturously prai.sed Miss Carr nn<l her home, and told him by degrees how I had spent the day. I was too intent on mv narration to pay much heed to ilalh'tt > face, though in fact I Iiardly saw it, he kept it so bent over li!< t^isk, neither did I notice his silence ; but at last, when it was ten o'clock, and I rose to go, Le rose too, and I saw that he was rathei- paler than usual. " Are you ill, Hallett?" I .^aid anxiou.«dy. " How white you look.'' " 111 ? oh no, Antony. I have been sitting too much over my model. You and I must have another run or two into th" country, and put roses in our ohet-ks," He looked at me with a smile, but there was a weary, haggard look in his eyes that troubled me. " Come, you must have a scrap of supper before you go," he- said ; and in spite of njy prote.-^t he led me into the sitting-room, where Mrs. Hallett was .seated by the .shaded lamp reading, and tlie supper-cloth was laid half across the table. " Yes/' she said, looking up, as she let fall her book; " it's tim»> 10 ■ I I ' I! ' 'k i 146 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. you came, iStepheu. It's very, very, very cruel of you to leave me alone so long.' " My dear mother," he said tenderly, " I did not know you were by yourself. Where is Linny ? " he said anxiously. " Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Hallett querulously. " You are r^lways either out or upstairs with your playthings. " For Heaven's sake, mother, be just," Hallett exclaimed, with a burst of energy, such as I had not seen in him before. " Don't goad me at a time like this. Where, I say, where is Linny P " " Goad you, Stephen ! No, I don't goad you," whimBered the poor woman. " I cannot help myself ; say jjivhat you will to me. You neglect me, and Linny is always running out." " Has Linny gone out now, mother ? " exclaimed Hallett. " Yes, yes, and I am left all alone — a poor helpless invalid." " Where has Linny gone, mother ? " " I don't know, Stephen. She said there was something to fetch. How can I tell ? " anii 3he burst into tears. " Mother, dear mother," cried Hallett, bending over her and kissing her, '' pray, pray don't think me unkind ; I am working for you, and Linny too. " But if you would only be more ambitious, Stephen — if you would only try your poor father's profession." " I cannot — you know I cannot, dear," he said appealingly. " No, no, no, sobbed the poor woman ; " always some low me- chanic's pursuit. Oh dear, oh dear ! If it would only please Ood to take me, and let me be at rest ! " " Mother, dear mother," whispered Hallett, " be reasonable. Pray, dear, be reasonable, and bear with what does seem like neglect ; for I am indeed working for you, and striving to make you a happier and better home. Believe this of me, and bear with me, especially now, when I have two troubles to meet that almost drive me mad. Linny, dear : think of Linny." " Shall I go now, Mr. Hallett ? " I said, for the scene waa terrible to me, and I felt hot with indignation at one whom I looked upon as the most unreasonable of women. " No, Antony ; stay, I may want you," he said sternly. " Now, mother," he continued, " about LJuny. She must not be allowe«i to go out at night like this." " No, my son," said Mrs. Hallett piteously ; " and if you had taken my advice the poor child would not have been degraded to such menial tasks." " Mother," said Hallett, with more sternness than I had yet heard him use in speaking to her, " it is not the mere going out shopping that is likely to degrade your child. The time nas come when I must insist upon knowing the meaning of these frequent absences on Linny's part. Has she gone out to-night on some neoessaiy errand P " ^- >'.».... LINNY IS OUT LATE. 14? " I — I don't know, Stephen ; she said she must po." "Tell me, mother — 1 beg, I insist," he exclaimed, "what yon are keeping from me." "Nothing, nothing, Stephen," sobbed the poor wonum. " You'll kill me with your unkindness before you've done." "Do vou mean to tell me that you do not know where Linnv has gone, mother? " " Yes, yes, Stephen ; I do not know." - " Has — has slie gone to meet anyone ? ** "I don't know, Stephen; I tliink so." " Who is it, mother ? " exclaimed JIallett. " I don't know, Stephen ; indeed I don't know. Oh, this is vn \ . very cruel of you ! " " Mother," said Hallett, " is this just and kin<l to uie, to kvt-y. such a secret from my knowledge ? Oli, shame, slianie ! Yon !»• that weak, foolish child keep appointments witli a stranger, nixl without my knowledge — without my knowing it, who stand to her in the place of a father. It must be stopped at once." "Let me go, Hallett, please," I whispered. " Yes ; go, Antony ; it is better that you .should not be her when Linny comes back. Good-night — good-night." 1 hurried downstairs, and let myself out, feeling nu.»ierable w, ' the trouble I had seen, and I was just crossihc" <^ueen Squir. f when I saw Linny coming in the opposite direction. ■ She caught sight of me on the instant and .spoke, " Where did you leave Stephen ? " she said liusiily ; and I saw that she was flushed and panting with haste. " With Mrs. Hallett," I said. " W^as he scolding because I was ouv ? " "Yes." She gave her head a hasty toss and turned away, lookiii- prettier than ever, I thought, but I fancied, as we stood beneaiii a lamp, that she turned pale. Before she had gone half-a-dozen steps 1 was by Iier side. " Well ? W^hat is it? " she said ; and i.ow 1 saw iluit she wa- in tears. "Nothing,"Ireplied;"onlythatIani goin^ 'o -cryoii.'^afe home." " Yoa foolish boy," she retorted. "As if I could not take carr of myself." " Your brother does not like you to be out alone at night," ! said quietly : " and I shall walk with you to the (io<tr." "Such nonsense, Antony! Ah, well, just as you like;" and she burst into a mocking laugh. I knew this was to hide from me the fact that she was in tears; and I walked beside her in silence till we had nearly reached the door, when we both started, for a dark figure 8ud4enly came up to us. - - 10-2 * US THE STOUY or ANTONY GRACE. "Oil, Steve, how you frightened me ! " exclaimed Linny with a forced laii^-h. " Did I r " he said cahnly ; and then he held out his hand to me and pressed mine. He did not speak, but that pressure of his hand meant thanks, I thoujrht, for what I had done ; and once more I set myself to reach Caroline Street, thinking very seriously about Linny Hal- lett, of her mother's Aveakness and constant complaints, and of the way in which Stephen Uallett seemed to devote himself to them both. ' : I IV ii' : il :!,■ I I' 1 I i !| CHAPTER XXVni. WB COMPLETE THE MODEL. Matters did not improve at Great Ormond Street as the months rolled on. There was eviilenily a serious estrangement between Linny and Stephen Ilallett ; and in my frequent visits I saw that she was as wilful as she was pettish, and that she was setting her V)rother at defiance. Mrs. Hallett was more piteous and com- plaining than ever, and her son grew haggard and worn with care. Once or twice, when Linny went out, Ilallett had insisted upon going with her, when she had snatched off her hat and jacket, exclaiming : " It does not matter; I can go when you are away. I am not a child, Stephen, to be treated in such a way as this." He stood looking down at her, more in sorrow than in anger, and beckoning me to follow, he went up to his attic and turned to his model, but sat down thinking, with his head upon his hand. "Can I do anything to help you, Hallett .P" I said anxiously; and he roused himself diiectly, and smiled in my face. " No, Antony," he said, " nothiii^. I could only ask you to follow lier, and be a spy upon her actions, and that would degrade us both. Poor child ! I cannot win her confidence. It is my misfortune, not ray fault. 1 am no ladies' man, Antony," he continued bitterly. " Here, let us try the model. I meant to have finished to-night : let us see how my mistress behaves." He often used to speak in a laughing way of the model as his mistress, after Mrs. Hallett telling him one day that it was the only thing he loved. It was then about nine o'clock, and putting aside reading for that evening, I helped him to fit together the various parts. The framework had been set up and taken down and altered a score of times, for, as may be supposed in such a contrivance as this, with all its complications, it was impossible to make every part WE CO^rPLETE THE MODEL. 149 at first in its right proportions. In fact, 1 found out that t'>r ?uite a couple of years past llallett had been slowly and puiu- uUy toiling on, altering, re-niukiug, and re-modt'Uiiig his ph;iis. It was always the same. No sooner had he by patient enterprise nearly finished, as he thought, than he would tind out tlint soiiu> trifle spoiled the unity of the i\rhole machine, and he had hud t<< begin nearly all over again. " There, Antony," he said, on the night in q^uestion, as he laiH down the last wheel, one that he had hud specially made for the Jmrpose, " I have got to the end of my thinking to-night. I havo ooked at the model in every direction ; I have tried it from everv foint of view, and if it is not a success now, and will not work. shall throw it aside and try no more. What are you smiling! at, boy ? " "Only at you," I said, laughing outright, for we were now. when at his house, on the moat familiar terms. " And why ? " he said, half amused, half annoyed. ** I was thinking of what vou so often say to me when T am discouraged and can't get on. " What do you mean ? " "* Never say die ! ' " I replied, laughing. '* I know you'll ti\ again, and again, till you get the thing ri-'i.i and make it go." " Should you P " he said, looking at me curi«^usly. "Of course I would," I cried, with my chetivs Hushing. •* I never would give up with a puzzle at home, and this is only a Mj.' puzzle. It seems, too, as if we always get a little bit iitMirer i success." " Yes," he said, nipping his lips together; "that's what ni;il.« • it 80 enticing. It seems to lure me on and on, like a will-o'-ti •- wisp in a marsh. You're rijjht, Antony, my lad ; never say die I I must and will succeed." ** Hurray ! " I cried, pretending to throw up my tap. " Sucte.'^ to Hallett's great invention ! Patent, of course 'r " " Yes," he said, with a sigh ; " but wh"re is the money to come from for the patent ?" ^ "Suppose we finish it first," 1 said, Innp-hing. f* Right, my young wisepate." he crv^d : " but, good heavenj* I it's eleven o'clock. Come, «ir, pack off home to your lodcfing." • " Why, I thought we were to set the model going to-night r ' I said, in a disappointed tone. " Yes, I did mean it," he said, fitting a couple of cog-wheels on • into the other. " But it is too hite now." « " Let's try for another hour," I said eagerly. Mr. " No, no, my boy. I don't like you to" be out so late. Revitts will be annoyed." " He's away on duty," I said. ** Just another hour, and then you can walk part of the way home with me." IfiO THE STo;:Y nV ANTONY GRACE. I !il " Well, just an hour," he said, with his pale face flushing with iileaHure ; and we Met to at once, he fitting together, whil« I polished and oiled wheels and spindles, and handed them and the various screws to him to fit in their places. The model was as intricate as a clock, and there were endless little difficulties to combat; but there was something so fasci- nating in the task as the bright brass wheels were placed in order, nnd it begat such an intense longing to see it in motion, etecuting in miniature the great desire of Hallett's life, that we forgot all about time, and kept steadily on till there were only a few screws to insert and nuts to tighten, and the task would be done« Hallett looked up at me as ne re-trimmed the lamp by which we worked, and I across the table at him, laughing at his puzzled face, for we had unconsciously been at work over three hours, and it was past two. '' This is dreadful, Antony," he exclaimed, with a comical look of chagrin on his face. " I seem fated to lead you into all sorts of dissipation. What are we to do ? I cannot let you go home so late as this. You must lie down here." ' " I'm not a bit sleepy," I said, " but I am hungry." " Then you shall have some supper," he said dreamily, and with his eyes fixed upon his model, forgetting me the next moment, as with* ^ is dexterous fingers he tried the action of one or other of the wheels. " It's a pity to leave it now," I cried. » " Yes, yes," he said with a sigh ; " it is a pity : but it must be left. I dare " He ceased talking, becoming completely abstracted in his task (»f screwing on a nut, and without speaking I helped and watched and helped until quite an hour and a half more had glided by, when with a look of triumph he stood erect, for the task was done. *• She's finished, Antony," he cried, and in the elate eager face before me I seemed to see some one quite different to the stem, 7uiet compositor I met daily at the great printing-office by Fetter ^ane. I was as delighted as he, and together we stood gazing down at the bright, beautiful bit of mechanism — the fruit of years of toil and endless thought ; but as I gazed at it a strange dull feel- ing of anxiety came over me, and I glanced timorously at Hallett, for the thought flashed across my mind : . " What will he say now if it fails ? " I literally trembled with dread as this thought forced its waj home, and with a choking sensation at my throat I watched his eager, elated face each moment becoming more joyous and full of {tride ; and the more I witnessed his pleasure, the more X feared est his hopes should be dashed. :.i : ^ si^f% WE COMPLETE THE MODEL lAl "Wby, it's dAvbreak, Antony," he said, drawing up the blind. "My poor boy, what a thoughtless wretch I am. It is cruel to you. Come and lie down directly." " No," I said eagerly, '' I want to see the model going." "And so do I, Antony ,"Jie cried passionately ; '* but now the time has come, my boy, I dare not try. I feel a horrible dreud of failure, and I must cover it over with a cloth, and leave it till I feel more calm." He took up the large black cloth with which he had been in the habit of covering it from the dust, and stood gazing down at the bright brass model which had begun to glisten in the soft pure morning light now stealing in from amidst the London chimuey- pots, while a couple of sparrows seated upon the parapet set up a cheery chirp* I felt that I dared not speak, but as if I should have liked to lead him away from the infatuation of his life. Somehow I knew that it would break down, and the anguisih he must feel would be somethmg I could not bear to see ; and yet, combined with this, I shared his longing to see the model at work — the beautiful little piece of mechanism that was to produce a revolu- tion in printing — turning easily, smoothly, and svell. As I gazed at his eager, anxious face, the pale light in the sky changed to a soft warm flush ; bright flecks of orange and gold sent their reflections into the dingy garret, and seemed to illu- mine Hallett's countenance, as with straining eyes and parted lips he stood there cloth in hand. " Antony," he said, in a low hoarse voice, " I am a coward. I feel like a gambler who risks his all upon a stake, and dare not look upon the numbers — upon the newly cast dice. No, no, I dare not try it now ; let it rest till to-nifj^ht." As he spoke he covered it carefully with the black cloth, but on!y to snatch it away, apostrophising ir the while. " No, no," he cried ; " it is like covering' you with a pall and saying you are dead, when, you, the birth of my bruins, are ready to leap into new life — new life indeed— the life of that wljich has had no existence before. Antony, boy," he said exult iugly, " what time could be more htting than the birth of a new day for my invention to see the light 'f Throw open the window and let in the glow of sunshine and sweet fresh air. It is unsullied yet, and it will give us strength for our for our " He hesitated, and his exulting tone changed to one of calm re- signation. It was as if he hud felt the shuluw of failure coming on, and he said softly : "Our triumph, Antony; or, God help me, fortitude to bear our failure!" I had opened the window, and the soft, refreshing morning air floated into the room, seeming to bring with it a suggestion of \:>'2 THE s>l{jd\ oi ANiuNV UUACK. 5 '^ 1 lit" scents of the sweet, pure country : and now, in the midst of ilio silence, brokt'u only by the chirping of the sparrows, and liiH distant rattle of the wheels of sonio market-cart, I saw I liilLitt's countununce ^row stern as he placed a little reel of thin |i .per, narrow as u ribbon, upon a sfiwMilc, and then, motioning I rae to g-o to the handle which was to net the model in motion, ii ' 8tood there with set teetli, and I turned. There was a clickitifr. liumminp noise, the whirrinjf of wheels, ■Mid the rattle of the little co^s ; the ribbon of paper be^an to run (f its spool, and pass round a tiny cylinder ; and at that moment < lie little model seemed illumined by a brilliant ray of sunshine, viich darted in at the open window. Then the light Sv'emed to i' j^lorifying Ilallett's face, and I was about to utter a cheer, when I I't'lt a jar, and a shock from the fingers that held the handle run • ght up my arm. There was a sharp, grating noise, a tiny, piercinj> « itiek as of tortured metal ; and in place of the busy glistening. hirring wheels an utter stillness. A cloud crossed the rising III, and with a bitter sigh llallett stooped down and picked up le black cloth, whicii he softly and reverently drew over the reck of his work, as I stood with dilated eyes looking at him ; i^liast. '■ Poor model," he said softly, "dead so soon!" and with a • .1, weary air of resignation as he smiled at me: "it was a "ry short life, Antony. Let us go down, my boy. You must • wearied out." [ followed him on to the landing without a word, and after he ;id locked up the attic he led the way softly to the sitting-room, ^■. here he lit a Hre and we had some breakfast, for it was too late o think of bed. Shortly afterwards we walked down together ! () the oflice, and I saw him no more till the day's work was Joue. CHAPTER XXIX. ANOTHER WAKRFUL NIGHT. SpKPHKN Hallett was in too much trouble to speak to me about the model that evening. Mrs. llallett was in tears, and full i)f repinings, and Linny was out, it seemed, when her brother had it'turned. I soon found that he did not wish me to stay, and being tired o;it, I made the best of my way back to Caroline Street, and n'ent to bed to sleep heavily, dreaming that Hallett and I were working away at the model, but as fast as ever we got it nearly to perfection, Mr. Blakeford came and stood by to throw in the ANOTHEH WAKEIML MdFIT. lijn 5d id re ly le pieces of the stick with which he had )it't>n l)fat(>n by Mrt Woo9t»>i . and every timb he did so the little niotU'l Avn»< luoken. Theu the whole scene of the flo^^ing sei'ined to tukt* the plan* itl Hollett's attic, and I saw Mr. Blulieford sit down in achuir, pnti; ing, bloody, and exhausted, and he kept on saying in a low h ja\ ^* voice, " Antony, lad, water ! '' It was very terrible to see him sitting there by the li^^ht of t!.- office gas, for though I wanted to help him, thr pow»'r \\at> ini there, and, strive how I would, I could not gt?t to his hide, or fti* h what he asked for. " Antony, lad, water ! " His voice sounded like a groan, and I knew he must be \ • \ bad: but still I could not help him, and the bitter immn win: which he appealed to me seemed to cut me to the heart. *' Antony, lad, water ! " There it was again, and I started up to find myself in bed,witi a candle burning in the room, and Kevitt^*, with liis hut on t).' floor, his coat torn open, and his face besmeared with the hhuu\ flowing from a cut in the forehead, was seated closy beside his l»e<;, evidently half fainting. "Antony, lad, water!" he moaned; and lea))ing out of bed and hurrying on some clotlies, I tried to give liiin wl.at liel^ I could, but in a strangely confuj^ed way ; for I was. as it were, in a dream, consequent upon the deep sleep succeeding a nijrht wiil- ■vjut my usual rest. I held a glass of water to his lips, how ever, from which he drank with avidity. And then, awakening uioie to the state in which he was, and realizinjj that it was not a dream, I set to work and sponged and bound up the cut with a handkerchief, to find, however, to my horror, that there wt:,- another terrible cut on the back of his head, which wa.<4 also bleeding profusely. My next idea was to go for a doctor, but T refl» tted that I ought to first bind up the other wound, and this I did, leaving: him in the chair, with his chest and head lyiii^jf over <jii llu- bed, looking so white that a chill of horror shot througii ine, for I fancied that he was dying. I knew tliere was a doctors two streets oflF, and I ran to where the red bull's-eye in the lamp shone out like a danger signal; rang the night-bell; heard a window above me open, and, after explaining my business and what was the matter, the medical mat) promised to come. I ran back to find that Revitts had not moved, but that my at- tempts to bandage his wounds had proved to be inefTectuiil. 1 did what more I could, though, and then sat horror-striek^'n and silent, holding the poor fellow's hand, speaking to him at intervals. but eliciting nothing but a moan. It seemed as if the doctor would never come, and I was about to f 1 ; h' 1 ,'i 1 i' I. i" t 1 •■ ■ ( I Pif III ilr :![ m i' 154 THE HTORY OF ANTONY GRACE. rouse upiome of the people in the houM when I heard the bell, and ran to admit him. He looked ruriously at me as I stood there, candle in hand, and us I clo.sed the door he said gruffly : " A drunken fall, I suppose P " " Oh no, sir," I said hastily. " Mr. Revitts never drinks.* ** Humph ! " he ejaculated ; and I led him up to where Kevittssat. " Policeman, eh ? " said the doctor ; " this is a job for the .sure-eon to the division, my man. ' Mustn't leave him to bletd to death, tlinuffh." He slipped olf his coat, and, exerting his strength, lifted poor Kevitts on to the bed, after which he removed my bandages and made an examination. " Hold the candle nearer, boy, nearer still. That's right. You won't siiij/e his liair. If you do it won't matter, for I must clip it off Hliort. Ilumpli ! some one has «ven him a prettv topper with a thick stick, ana he must have fallen with his head on tne edge of a step. Terrible cuts ! " " But will they kill him, sir P " I faltered, feeling quite sick at the aijfht of the wounds. ' We won't let them, my man. Come, hold up, you mustn't let that turn you faint." " 1 — I won't,, sir," I said. "That's ri^jlit, my miv Nothing like a little will and deter- mination. VVe men must leave fttintin;< to the girls. Thatlf* right; lasin and sponge and tow.'l. We'll soon put him straight. \ov that «ase ovt of .ly pof*ket. That's woU. Hold the candle uciiier. Noanutfei'sP Well, use your fingers. Dirty trick, but handy — fingery, 1 ought to .' uy." He kept on talking — haif-playfully, while with his bright scissors he clippod the hair away close from Revitts's forehead, and then, cuttino- up some plaister in strips, he rapidly bandaged the cuts, after bringing" the edges of the wounds together with a few stitclies from a needle and some silk. '' Poor fellow ! he has got a sad knocking about," the doctor said kindly, for now the annoyance at being called out of bed was over he was deeply interested in his case. " T wonder some of his fellow-constables did not take him to ths hospital. Where did you find him ? " I told him how I was astonished b> tind'a^c Revitts at my Ijedside. "Ah yes, T see," he said. "Hurt and half-in3ensible, and nature inteivones. Education says, Take him to the hospital; instinct bids him, aniinal-like, creep to hia hole to die." " To die, air ? " I cried, catching his hand. " Die P No : nonsense, boy. I was only speaking metaphori- cally. Don't you see ? " I , ANOTHER WAKEFUL NICIIT. l:.- <* Yei, sir," I Mid. "No, you don't, you young humbug," he ret«^ted Mhurpl\. ** You don't know what a metaphor is." " Yes, sir, it's a figure of speech in which one idea is usctl instead of another." " Hallo ! " he said ; " why, how do you get your living P " " I'm a reading-boy at a printer's, sir." *' Oh 1 Are you P I should have thought you were reading-)^ >> to a professor of language. Well, we musn't forget our patient. Give me a glass, boy." "Will a teacup do, sir P" ** Oh yes, and a teaspoon. That's right," he said ; and, empty- ing a little phial into the cup, he proceeded to give poor Kevitts some of the stimulus it contained. " There," he said, " he's coming round, poor fellow ; but I dare- say he'll be a bit shaky in the head. He mustn't get up, and vou must give notice at his station as soon as it's light, or to the nrnt policeman you see." " But you don't think he'll die, sir P " " Die, my man P No. A great stout fellow like that is not likely to die from a crack or two on the head." I drew a long breath of relief, and soon after the doctor left, bidding me not be alarmed if I found his patient slightly delirious. It was no pleasant task, sitting there alone, watching bv my poor friend, and many times over I felt so alarmed at his condition that I rose to go and rouse up some of the people of the house ; but whenever I reached the door the doctor's reassuring words came back, and, feeling that he must know what was right, I sat by the bedside, holding Revitts' hand till towards morning, when he began to move uneasily and to mutter and throw about hi.s arms, ending by seeming to wake from a troubled sleep. " Where am I P " he said sharply. " Here at home, in bed," I said. "Who's that P" " It is I, Bill, don't you know me P " " Yes, yes, I know you ! " he said. " Oh, mv head, my head I " " What was it ? How was it done ? " I said. ' There was a pause, and then, in a weary way : " I don't know — I can't recollect. Everything's going round. Yes, 1 know : I heard a little girl call out for help, and I saw u fellow dragging her towards an open door, and I went, at him." " Yes, Bill. Well ? " "That's all. I don't know anything else. Oh, my head, my head ! " • ' " But did he hit you P " I asked. •(■' r ** Ye8| I think so, and I wnt down," he groaned ; " and I don't ( i h III ,:■ ■ i % 1 ^.! 1 1 !■ ■J J: : i jl I; * [1 41 ^ * h i i ', i i ' H : 1 1 '■ i ; ' 1 n 'll ' i m ■| m ^k^^Jl ' ' iff f 166 THE STORY OF AN'iONY GRACE. more, but I sliould know that fellow out of A He's man, You know ar. ' — any thousanCk, and " He began muttering to himself, and as I bent over him I fancied 1 made out tlie word "staff," but all else was unintel- liffibJe, and tlie poor fellow sank into a heavy sleep which seemed hkely to last. Soon after seven I ffot the landlady to come and sit with him while I ran to the police-statioU; and told the inspector on duty about Revitts' state. " There," he exclaimed to another officer, " I told you so. too steady a fellow to have gone wrong. All right, my V\l send ou the surgeon, and we'll see what's to be done, don't know how it w^as ? " I told him all I knew, and then ran on to Ilallett's to ask him to get me excused at the office. I found him looking very pale, but Linny was not visible; and then 1 told him about lie vitts' state. " It's very strange," he exclaimed. " Linny came home in trouble last night. She said some man )iad insulted her, and when she called for help a policeman ran up ; and she left them struggling together while she macie her escape and came home." " Then it must have been Revitts who helped her," I said ; and I then told him that I wanted to stay with the poor fellow. " I'll arrange all that for you, Antony," he said quietly ; and I made the best of my way back to Caroline Street, to find that poor Revitts had not moved, only kept on muttering where he had been laid by the doctor ; and I took the watcher's place, made tea for him, and spoke to him again and again, but without result. The police surgeon came soon after with the inspector I had seen, asked me a few questions as he examined the injuries, and th»?n I saw him tighten his lips. *' Hadn't he better be taken to the infirmary, sir ? " the inspector asked. " No," w^as the reply ; " he must not be moved." Then, turning to me : " You had better get some one to come and nurse him, my lad," he said ; " mother, sister, or somebody. I'll call in again in the evening." I knew from this that the poor fellow must be seriously hurt, and had I wanted confirmation, I had it in the delirious mutter- ings that now came from his lips. I sat by him in great trouble, wondering what I should do, when the doctor I had fetched called in, who, on learning that the divisional surgeon had been, nodded his satisfaction and turned to go. •* Pleas« tell me, sir," 1 said, " is he very, very bad P " • .:'. ** Well, bad enough, mj lad ; yo|^see, he ho^ got concussion of ANOTHER WAKEFUL NIC.UT. 157 the brain, and 1 daresay he will be ill for some time, but I do nor anticipate anything serious. He must have a nurse." As soon as he had gone I sat and thought for a few minutes what I ought to do. Miss Carr was very kind and generous. If I asked her she would pay for a nurse ; but no, I would not ask her without first consulting Hallett. He would help me in my difficulty, I felt sure, especially as it was probable that Linny war the girl poor Revitts had protected. But Hallett would not be oack till evening, and then perhaps he would — no, he would be sure to come in. I sat thinking, and the landlady came up, full of bewailing^ about her injured lodger, and in her homely way promised to come and wait on him from time to time. Then a bright thought occurred t« me. I would write and tell Mary that Revitts was hurt, for I felt that she ought to know, and hastily taking pen and paper, I wrote her word that my friend was very ill, and asked her to tell me the address of some of his relution^, tliai I might send them word. I did not forget to add a postscript, urging her to secrecy as to my whereabouts, for my dread of Mr. Blakeford was as great as ever. Seizing my opportunity when Revitts was more quiet, I slipped out and posted the 1 )tter, running back panting to find that u lady had come — so the landlady said — during my absence, and, rushing" upstairs I stood staring with amazement on finding Linny in the room taking off her jacket and hat. " You here, Linny ? " I exclaimed. « Yes," she said quietly. " Why not ? " "Was it you, then, that poor Revitt.o helped last night ? " " Yes," she said, with a shiver, and she turned white. "Yes, poor fellow. It was very brave of him, and I have come to help nim in return." " But does — does Stephen know P " " How can he," she said meekly, " when he is at the office ? " " But I am sure he would not approve of your coming," I said •toutly. " I can't help that," slie replied quietly. " Tie will think it his duty to find fault, and I think it mine to come and help to nurse this poor fellow who wa.s hurt in serving me." " But your mother— Mrs. Hallett ? " " I have arranged for some one to go in and wait upon her till I go back," said Linny quietly. " Now, what liad I better do P " 1 could think of nothing better than to sug^'-est some beef-tea, and she snatched at the notion, running out to fetch the material ; and soon after having it simmering by the fire, while she tidied the room in a way only possible to a woman ; and as she busied herself in a quiet, quick fashion, I could not help noticing how pale and subdued she seemed. It was very evident that her 'SI ■' W< l:r^- :> 1:1 !! 'I ! il I , ,1 .* I!' II ' - - .4' - yi li IfiS THE StORY OF ANTONY GRACE. f-.crves liad had a severe shock on the previous night, and as 1 >> iivied at the pretty, soft little face and figure, bending themselves s>> earnestly to the task in hand, I could hardly believe it was the siniH giddy, coquettish girl who caused her brother 00 much concern. Th i day wore slowly by, and in spite of my efforts and real iiiixiHty, I could not keep awake, but caught myself dozing off -(iraetimes to start up, feeling horribly guilty, and ready to excuse iiiNself to Liuny on thn plea that I had had hardly any sleep for I wo nights. '' The more need for me to come, Antony," she said quietly, and !)idding me lie down for an hour or two, she took out her work Mid seated herself by the sick man's pillow. She woke me up at last to have a sort of tea-dinner with her, after I had seen that Revitts remained perfectly insensible, and then tlif evening wore on, the surgeon came and nodded his satisfaction a I ilnding a nurse there, said that the patient wao going on all i-iglit, but must have time, and took his leave. At half-past eight, just as I had anticipated, Hallett arrived, find smarted witli surprise on seeing his sister. " You here ? " he said, with an angry look upon his brow. " Yes, Stephen," she said quietly ; " I have come to help nurse him." '* It was an ill-advised step," he said sternly. " You did not Know that this was the man who protected you." " 1 felt so sure of it that I came to see," she replied. " Don't be iiiigry with me, Stephen," she whispered. *' I owned to yo'i last niy^ht that I was in fault, and meant to do better." *' Yes, and refused to answer my questions," he replied. " You do not tell me whom you went to see." " Is it not enough that I have promised you 1*11 go no more ? " she replied with quivering lips. " Yes, yes, my child," he said tenderly, as he took her in his (trms and laid his cheek against her forehead. " It is enough, and I will not press you. Dear Linny, indeed I strive for your good." " I know that, Stephen," she cried with a wild burst of tears, on 1, flinging her arms round his neck, she kissed him again and again. " Aly own brave, good brother," she said ; " and I've been so ungrateful and selfish ! Oh, Stephen, I'm a beast — a wretch ! " she sobbed. " Hush, hush, little one," he said; and then, starting, he held her at arm's length and gazed full in her eyes. " Why, Linny," he exclaimed, as a light seemed to have Hashed across his mind, " it was that man — you went to meet — who insulted you." She turned away her face, and hung her head, shivering as he spoke, and weeping bitterly. REVITTS' NURSE ARRIVES. 109 " It was," he cried ; " you do not deny it. The villain ! " "Please, plea% don't, Stephen," she sob' ed in a low, piteous voice. " Linny ! " he cried hoarsely ; and his *c. i looked terrible. " If I knew who it was, I believe I should kill aim ! " " Stephen," she wailed, " pray — pray ! We are not alone." " There is only Antony Iiere," he said, " and he is like a brother." Tlien, making an effort over himself, he strained the little panting figure to his breast, and kissed her tenderly. " It is all past, my darling," he said to her softly, and he smoothed her hair with his hand, as if she had been his child. " I'll say no more, dear, for you have promised me." " Yes ; and I will keep my word, Stephen." He kissed her again, and loosed her, to stand with brows knit with trouble. " I do not like your coming here, Linny." he cried at last. " Why not, dear ? " she said, laying her hands upon his shoulder. " It is an earnest of my promise. He came to me when I was in trouble." " Yes," he said ; " you are right," and after looking at the patient he sat down and talked to us in a low tone. " le ;t not nearly time for you to go back, Linny ? " Hallett said at last. " Back ! " she said ; " I am going to sit up with Antony ; the poor fellow must not be left. The doctor said so." Hallett took a turn up and down the room, and then stopped. " You have had no sleep for two nights, Anton}-," he said. "Lie down. I will sit up with my sister, and watch by poor Revitts' side." I protested, but it was in vain ; and at last I lav down in my clothes to watch the faces of brother and sister by the shaded lamp, till my eyes involuntarily closed, and I opened them again to see tl two faces in the same positions, but without the lamp, for there was the morning light. CHAPTER XXX. REVITTS NURSE ARRIVES. Hallett left quite early, to see that Mrs. Hallett was properly attended to, and he moreover undertook to speak to either Mr. Ruddle or Mr. Lister about my absence, as, joined to my desire to stay with poor Revitts, Hallett wished me to bear his sister company. Our patient was on the whole very quiet, but at times he moved V(i i; i; my THE STUiiV oK ANTONY (HiACE. > 1 i i I 11'. 1 1. 1 1 Jit Jl i " 11' iLi LJ::! hi^ head to and fro and talked loudly, much bein^ unintelliffibley hut 1 saw Linuy's countenance change several i inies as she board liim threaten the man he looked upon as an enemy. " Can I do anything for you P"said Linny to him on one occasion, ;is he tried to raise himself upon his arm and stared at her wildly. " 'Taint as if I'd got my staff out to him, you know," he said in u whisper. " He's a coward, that's what he is, and I shall know him again, and if i do come acrost him — ab I " Linny shrank away, with her eyes looking wild and strange, so that I thought she was frightened by his words, and J interposed and put my arm under the poor fellow's head. " Lie down, Bill," I said. " Does your head hurt you ? " "I don't mind about my head," he muttered, "but such a • o ward ; treat a little bit of a girl like that. Where's my not«- Wi»ok? Here, it's time I went. Where's that bov ? ' he cried iiigrily ; " I know what London is. I won't have him stop out of n night." He sank back exhausted, and as I turned from him to speak to Linny, I saw that she was in tears. " He frightens you," I said : ** but you needn't hn afraid." " Oil no ! I'm not," she cried ; *' it's only because I'm low and nervous. I shall be better soon." The surgeon came twice thar day, and said the case was serious, l>ut that there was no cause for alarm. " He gives no clue, I supp(J^e, to who struck him, my boy ? " he said. " No, sir," I replied ; " he talks about some man, and says he would know him again." " Th<3 police are trying hard to find out how it was. If they could find the girl it would be easy." I was just going to say, " Here she is, sir I " when I happened to glance at Linny, who was pale as ashes, and stood holding up her hand to me to be silent. This confused me so that I hardly understood what the surgeon said, only that he wanted a stronger and more mature person to attend to Revitts ; but when I told him that the landlady came up to help he was satisfied, and left, saying that he .should come in again. He was no soonergone than Linny caught me by the arm. " Oh, what an escape ! " she cried ; " Antony, you know how^ wilful and cruel I have been to poor Steve ? " " Yes," I said, nodding my head. " And you know how I have promised him that I will always do as he wishes ? " " Yes, T know that too," said ; " and I hope you will." " I will — indeed I will, Antony," she wailed ; " but please promise me, pray promise me, that no one shall ever know besides us that it was I whom Mr. Revitts here — a — protected." REVITT.^' NUPvSE ARRIVES. 161 ley [ayfl baae ides ** But the wretch of a fellow who behaved so badly to you, and beat poor Uevitts like this, oug^ht to be punished." "No, no — no, no!" she cried excitedly; 'Met it all pass uow. Antony — dear Antony, for my sake." " I like you, I^inny," I said ; " but I like dear old Uevitts, too. He has been the best of friends to nv\ and 1 don't see whv ji hiui like tliis." friend of yours should escape after serving " lie— lie is not a friend of mine now,' she said, half hysteric- ally ; " but, dear Antony, I could not bear for him to be punish<^<!. It was in a fit of passion. I had made him angry first. PleasM, please don't say any more — 1 cannot beiir it ! " She sank down on the hea;fl;-:.i^-, tDverin^ her face with her hands and sobbing bitterly, while I felt, boy-like, powerless to say anything to comfort her, till I exclaimed : " Well, I won't tell or say anything I know, Linny, if you will keep your word to Stephen." "I will — indeed I will, dear Antony," she cried, starting i\v and catching both my hands. " I was very, very foolish, but 1 know better now, and it — it — it is all past." She said those last words in such a piteous, despairing way, looking so heart-broken, that my sympathies were now all on her side, and I promised her again that I would not tell KevittvM or the police that she was the girl who had been in (Question. I re]tented of my promise later on, but at my time of life it was not likely that I should know how ready a woman who loves is to forgive the lapses of him who has won her heart, and of course I could not foresee the complications that would arise. I'he surgeon came again, as he had promised, and after tlie examination of the patient, ordered some ire to be obtained to apply to his head, and directly he had gone I started off to fetch it, thinking as I did so that Ilallett would soon be with us. I was not long in getting a lump of bright, cold, clear ice, and on hurrying back, I heard voices in the room, when, to my surprise and delight, there stood Mary, but looking anything but pleased. She had thrown a large bundle on the floor, her large Paisley shawl across the foot of the bed, her umbrella on the table, and a basket crammed full of something or another was on a chair. As for Mary herself, she was standing, very red in tlie face, her arms akimbo, her bonnet awry, and a fierce angry look in her eyes, before poor Linny, who was shrinking away from her, evidently in no little alarm. ** Oh, Antony ! " she cried, " I'm so glad you've come ! Who is this woman P " " Who's this woman, indeed ! " cried Mary, now boiling over in her wrath ; " ' this woman,' indeed ! Perhaps you'll tell her that Fm a poor deceived, foolish, trusting creature, who left her plac^' at • moment's notice to come and nuss him, and then find as I ain' U m THE STOIIV OF ANTONY GTIACE. 1 'II 4- ::! 1 ;,;i ■ ill r i i i ■ 1 1 i I • ^iii i .1 ' i t 1 IS Ii ' J '11 II • ii ii M WiintH(l, and tluit hen already got his tine dull of a madam to wait )ii him." " Oil, Mary ! " I cried ; " you dear foolish old thing ! " " Yes, of course, that's wlmt I said I was. Master Antony, ani even you turn agen me. IJut I might have known that such i fellow as William Ilevitts would have half-a-dozen tine madann ready to marry him." This was accompanied by pantingi, and snorts, and little stamps of the foot, and a general look about poor Mary as if she were pfoing to pull otT her bonnet, jump upon it, and tear down her hair. ** Oh, you foolish old thing ! " I cried, tlying at her and literally liugging her in my delight at seeing her so soon, in the midst of my trouble. " He quiet, Master Antony," she cried wrathfully, but throwing i)ue arm round me as she spoke, in reply to ray embrace. " But I won't stand it, that I won't." " But, my good woman," faltered Linny. " Don't you * good woman ' me, slut I " cried Mary furiously •' 1 was going to give up and let you nurse him and kill him, foi aught I cared, but I won't now. He's engaged to me these foui years, and he's mine, and this is my place and room, and out yoB go, and the sooner the better ; and — as for B — B— B — Bill — dc •ake your hand from before my mouth. Master Antony ! You're a bov and don't understand things. Now, then, madam, you pack'! " " Mary, be quiet ! " I cried ; " this is Mr. Hallett's sister, who kindly came to help nurse poor Bill till you could come. Bill does not know her ; he never saw her before, but once." " Only once ? " said Mary suspiciously. " No, and then only for a minute. How could you be so foolish ? " " Because — because — because " said Mary, bursting out into a passion of sobbing, " because my heart was half broke about my boy, and I only stopped to pack up a bundle and came — and then — when I found that pretty »larling here, I — I — oh, my dear — my dear — my dear ! " she cried, tlinging herself on her knees at Linny's feet, clutching her dress, and burying her wet face in the folds; "please — please — please forgive me, and don't take no notice of my mad, foolish words. I've — I've — I've got such a temper ! It's a curse to me — and I was nearly distracted. Some day, p'r'aps, you'll feel as bad and jealous as I did. Please — please fcn'give me ! " " Oh, yes, yes, yes ! " cried Linny, whose tears now began to rtow, and who, kneeling down in turn, drew poor Mary's face to 'ler breast, and the two remained thus, while I went and looked Mit of the window. "Please — pray — forgive me !" sobbed Mary. - RLvriTs Mi.M: AKiaviv !::•? "Oh Ves, yes, I do, indeed ! " whifp^red liinny. " Antony is right ; I never saw Mr. Kevitts but once, und 1 Ijeiiev** he is a ven good man, and loves you dearly." " That he is, and that he does," cried Mary, raij^inir lur re<l face, »nd throwing back her hair. ** Thoufrh 1 don't know why In should care for such a crooked-tempered, rough-ton>?ued thing its 1 am." I thought I could understand why, as I saw Mary's lit-up Ti: »■. with her bonnet fallen back, and in spite of lier distress looking quite as handsome as she was warm-hearted. " Hut you do forgive me, dear ? " f*hi' faltered, ki>,-;iiig Linus > hands attain and again. " Forgive you ! " cried Linny, kissing her ruddv dieek, " oi course I do ; you couldn't help making tiie mistake.' And, as if feeling that she was the cau^se of the trouble, Li?iii\ gave her such a look of tender syniputliy that poor Miny was obliged to crouch down quite low on tiie floor again, and hiig herself tight, and rock to and fro. Immediately after, though, she was hastily wiping her eyes on the silken strings of her boimet, whi(;h she tore olY and sent flyini; to the other end of the room before dashing at me mikI ^^iving nir a hug, and then going down on her knees by Kevitts' pillow, and laying her cheek against his bandaged forehead. " My poor old boy," she whispered softly, '* as if I could stay a minute from him ! " The next moment she was up, and giving a great gulp, as if In swallow down the emotion caused by Kevitts' app.'aiiuiee, she forced a smile upon her face, completely transiunning it. and quickly but quietly dashed ut her basket. " I hadn't time to do much, my dears," she said to Linny an<l me collectively : " but I thought a pair o' soles and a chicl:f'i must be right for the poor boy. Now, if you'll only tell nie a\ heie he keeps his pepper and salt, and the frying-pan and saucejians, 1 can get on. My sakes, poor boy, what a muddle he did live in, tn be sure ! " We had to stop Mary in her culinary preparations by assining her that the doctor had ordered only Ijeof-tea. " Then he may have chicken-broth, my dears," she said ; " I'm an old nus.: you know, though 1 wouldn't attend to Mr. iU.iket'oriJ — eh, MastCi Antony? — for fear I shoidd give him his lotion for outward application inside. But I can nuss, and n(jt a stc}) do I stir from this floor till I've made my poor old l>ill well. Oli, if 1 only knew who done it ! " she cried, with a flash of lierce iiigc ; and as she glanced at Linny, the latter shrank away guiltily. Mary read her action wrongly, and plumped herself once more at the poor girl's feet. " Don't you mind me, my dear ! " she cried kissing her hands 11—2 k I: !! .( !| ■' ;■ 'ii ■ ! H 164 Tlir STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. Rud her dref^s. " I'm a stupid, rough, jealous thing, and I was al* on fire then, but I'm not now, and I humbly ask your pardon ; a>. I says, God bless you, for coming to help my poor dear boy ! " There was another burst of sobbing here, and another embrace, when Mar^ jumped up again, all smiles, to apply a little fresh ice to the patient's head, and gently coo over nim, as if he were a baby. After which, and having satisfied herself that the chicken-broth was progressing favourably, poor Mary felt it her duty to plump at Linuy's feet ag-ain, but she jumped up in confusion, as she heard the stairs crack as if some one were coming, and then she looked inquiringly at me, as the door softly opened and Hallett came in. " Mr. llallett," I said, " this is my atar old Mary, Mr. Revitts' friend, and she's come up to nurse him. Mary, this is Miss Hallett's brother." " Which I'm glad to see him,'* said Mary, making a bob, and then growing redder in the face as she glanced at Linny, as if afraid that her late ebullition would be exposed. " And I'm very glad to see you, Mary," said Hallett, smiling and holding out his hand, which Mary took after interposing her clean pocket handkerchief, on the score that she had been cooKiog. " Antony often talked to me about you." " Have he, though P " said Mary, darting a gratified look at me. " Often, of your ^reat kindness to him. x our coming has helped us out of a great difficulty." " And your dear sister's coming's put my heart at rest, for I didn't know, sir, what gin-drinking wretches might be neglecting my poor boy." " And how is the patient P" said Hallett, going to the bedside. " The doctor says he is going on all right,' I replied. " Is he a good doctor ? " said Mary sharply. *' He is certain to be an eminent man, said Hallett quietly ; and his words partiallv pacified Mary. " Because if he ain t, said Mary, " money shan't stand in the way of his having the best in London." " Mary," said Hallett, in his quiet telling way, and with a look that made poor Mary his firm friend, " a good surgeon will tell you that he can do much, but that the recovery of a patient prin- oipally depends upon the nurse. I see that Mr. Revitts is safe in that respect, and I shall be only too glad to hear of his getting well." Mary seemed to have a ball rising in her throat, for she could not speak, and this time she forgot to place her pocket handker- chief over her hand, as she caught that of the visitor and kissed it. " You can be quite at rest, Antony," Hallett said then. " Mr. Ruddle said he was sorry to hear about your friend, and be HOW MARY BROKE DOWN. irr. should leave it to your good sense to come back to work as soon Bs you could. Mr. Lister is away — ill." I fancied that he knit his brows as he spoke, but it may have been fancy. Then, turning to Linny, he said : *' I am glad you are set at liberty, Linny. Our mother is very ■unwell. Shall we go now ? " Linuy nodded her assent, and put on her hat and jacket ; but before they went Mary found it necessary to go down on her kne»'s again, and in a whisper to ask Linny's pardon; all of which Hallett took as an expression of gratitude, and shook huud^ Warmly as he left. I went with him down to the door to sav good-night, and as we parted I asked him not to think I was neglecting him, now lie was in such trouble with his model. " I do not, my dear boy ; and I never shall think ill of yrni for being faithful to your friends. Good-night ; the model is Imi ied for tiie present. When you can come again, we'll try once more to bring it back to life," I stood watching them as they went together beneath the street lamps, and I was glad to see Linuy clinging trustingly to her brother's arm. " Poor Liimy ! " I thought to myself. " tr'he's very fond of somebody who behaves badly to her. I wonder who it can be." CHAPTER XXXL HOW MARY BIIOKR DOWN. could idker- I kissed "Mr. id bo Few as the minutes of my absence had been, Mary had dono a good deal towards tidying np the room, and as I entered I (oiild see her bonnet and shawl hanging lovingly np against the wnll, side by side with poor Bill's hat and grcauoiH, ju>t as if ihey had newly entered hito the holy state of matrimony. There was beginning to be an appetizing ddour of chicken in the room, the bundle was tucked out of sight, the chairs in order, and it was plain to see that a clever houseA\ ife had been at work. "Oh my, how you have growed, my dear!" whispered .Mary ecstatically. "I never did see a boy improve so. And mmIv to think of your running away from old JUakeford and hndiiig oui my pore iiill, bless him ! " She ran here to the bed to see if her sweetlieart was all right, and tlien turned to me with open arms. " Give us a kiss,dear," she cried, and in a moment I was hugjrcd tight in her arms and kissed and tondled again nnd again. " I am glad to see you, you can't tell tiow glad," she cried softh , ii .1. mm I'! I Ihl III "I! I f i m I HE STOKY OF .INTONV aRACl-!. " and it was prowl of you to write. No soonnr did I (fet your lotter, than I ups and tella Mrs. lilakeford as I was going away directly, because my friend in London was ill." ** But you did not say I wrote, Mary P " I cried in acony. " Do you think I was such a sill^, my dear ? No, I'd got the letter safe in here," slie said, thrusting her hand inside tier dress. " Well, as I was sayinj^— «,top a moment — let me look at the broth." She raised the lid, shut it again, had another look at Revitts, and then went on : " Who should come in but old Blakeford, and he said g^ufflv that they couldn't spare me, nnd, ' Can't spare me ! ' I says ; ' well, you jest must, for I m going.' " * Thtn we shan't pay you your wages,' says old Blakeford. * Then I will make you/ says I, ' So now then. I'm not going to have people die for want of help, to please you.' ♦' ' Who is it then as is dying ? ' says Mrs. Blakeford. " ' It's my sweetheart, mum, if you must know, I says. " * Then all I can say is, that it's very indelicate of you, a young unmarried woman, to go up and nurse a single man.' " ' No more indelif^ate, mum,' I says, ' than for you to want me to nuss Mr. Blakefo when he was ill.' " * But you didn't do it,' she says. " ' No, mum,' I says, ' but you wanted me to, and what's more, if the whole world and his wife come to me and told me it waan't right for me to go, I should go ; so now then.' " ' But when will you come back then, Mary ? * says Mrs. Blakeford. "'Not at all, mum,* I says, *for after going and nursing a single man as is dying for aught I know, I shan't be fit company for the folks in this house. I'm going now directly, mum, and I shall leave my box and send for it and my wages too.' " Here Mary had another look at the pationt and the cooking. " I wasn't long getting off, I can tell you, and glad enough I was to get away. I'd ha' left long enough ago, only I didn't want to make any more changes till the big one, and there was only one as I minded leaving." " And that was little Hetty," I said, ds I understood her big change to mean her marriage. " Yes, my dear, you're riglit — little Hetty ; and she came and sobbed and cried ever so, with her dear arm- round my neck, till I told her that perhaps I might see you. and nsked her if I might take you her love ; and she sent it to you, and said she a'ways wore your brooch." " And is she quite well P " I said, with sparkling eyes. " Yes, and grows the neatest, prettiest, best girl that ever was. And now, my dear, I'm come to nusa my pore William till he's well, and then " HOW MARY HliOTCE DOWN. ** Yes, Mary f " for she had pauHod. '* I thall get a place somewhere in London : forlslian't j,(» biick." Then, after another look at the pati<^nt, »Iie ( .m»? buck to me. " Could vou drink a cup o' tea, deui- 'f " 8h»' said. "Yes, Alary, and you must want something." ""Well, my dear, I do bepin to feel a bit faint, for I liadn't only fust be^un my breakfast when your Irtter cainn, ai'.d T haven^t had nothin^^ since." The result was that the kettle was soon made to boil, and Miirv seemed quite delighted to be pouring out for me and m kiii^ (he toast. " Lor*, my dear, now it do seem like old ( imes ! " she critKl. " Only you've grown to look so hanflhonn' and wi-ll, Mary," I said. "Do I, my dearP Well, I am glad. Not as 1 c»r« myself, but some people might. liut, Lor', I never looked well down at old Blakeford's. Mv ! what a row there was because vou run away." "Was there P" I said with a shudder, half pleasure, half delight. " Warn't there ? " snid Mary, who kept running to the bedside at the slightest movement " liless your 'art, old Jihiiiclord was nearly mad, and Misa Hptty 'most cried her eyes out, till I told her you'd be happier away, and tlinn she cried 'em out more than ever, for fear her par should catch yoii. lie was out days and days, until his leg got so bad he wa.»^ rt'iiliy oi)liged to go to bed. The dog bit him, you know, the nighi you run away. Then there was the upset before tlie nuigistvates, and that Mr. Wooster somehow managed to get the day, Iterause master - I mean old Rlakeford — hadn't got the right witness. An** tliat made master — I mean old Rlakeford — worse. An^ now T don't. think I've anymore to tell you, only you ain't half eating your toast. My sakes! it do put me in mind (., old tinas, for it was precious dull when you was gone." " Were you cross with me for running away, ^Ii'.ry ?" " I was then, for not telling me, but I soii got t.i think it was quite right.** " I hope it was, Marv," I said; " but did vou ever see old Mr. Rowle?*' " WHiat, that yellow little man? oh, oftens : he used to c(»n)e and talk to me about you, and wlu>n I said you w as \ery uiiuiate- ful for ruuTiing away, he used to stick up for you. He didn't come very often, thougli " continued Mary, "because he couldn't snntke in my kitchen, have come every night to talk about you." A slight moan from poor Revitts took Mary to the bedside, an I very soon after she insisted upon my lying down and going to correct lUij- hci-elf. else 1 btlie\e he'd ^.l M. 16S THE STOJIY OF ANTONY GRACE. sleep a bit, and when I awoke the next morninfj^, Marj' was Inok- inffOH frefih and wakeful as ever. I don't know to this day how Mary managed, for she never heemed to close an eye, but to be always watching' over lier " pore boy," When I talked about her ffo'mg to bed, she oidy liiuglied, and said that " a good nuss never wanted no sleep." " And now, my dear, you've been kep' away from your work," she said ; " so, as soon as you've had your breakfast, you he off. I ran manage till you come back. I don't hold with neglecting nothing." She would not hear of opposition, so I left her the field, and went down to the office, wliure I saw 3Ir. Ilallett looking very pale and stern, and soon after I was at my old work, itudiny to Mr. Jabez Howie, wlio seemed very glad to see me back, com- ])limenting me on my reading, by saying I was not quite so stupid as my substitute had been. When I returned to Caroline Street, I found Mary in consulta- tion with the landlady, who then descended, and, to my great delight, Kevitts waa, if anything, better. Mary was very glad to see me back, and began to unfold her plans, to wit, that she had found that the front room waa to let furnished, and she had taken it of Mrs. Keswick, the land- lady, for my use. " It will be bettor for all of us^ my dear/' she said, " so just you hold your tongue." I sat up late with Mary that night, and the next, and the next, talking about the past and the future, and still she seemed to get no sleep ; but she always laughed about it, and declared that she went to sleep with one eye at a time. Be that as it may, a moid patient, untiring nurse man never had, and right through poor Revitts' weary state of delirium she was always by bis pillow, always smiling and cheerful through the worst crisis, till, one night, when I returned to be met by her on the stairs; and, linger on lips, she led me into the front room, to fall on my neck, and silently sob as if her heart would break. "Oh, Mary, Mary!" I said, "he's worse; and I thought he seemed so much stronger this moraing." , " No, no, dear," she sobbed, " he's better. He opened his eyes this afternoon and knowed me, and said : ' Ah, Mary, old gal, is that you?'" Poor woman ! The pent-up suffering that had been longing to burst forth, and which had all been hidden behind her mask of smiles, had come pouring out, and for the next half-liour Mary sobbed and wept in a quiet way till I was in despair. Then, to my surprise, she got up in a business-like manner, wiped her eyes and smiled once more. " Thete I "she exclaimed, " I'm better now," COMING OFF. l» 11, to ber CHAPTEU XXXIL COM I NO OFF. With Revitts better there was no occasion for me to f<top in of an eveniiip-, and as soon as I could I went on to the Ilalh-ttw', where 1 was warmly welcomed by the whole family. Mrs. llallett had a strinjf of troubles to tell me, and interHpersed with them I had narratives of how different matters used to be. Linny was very affectionate and kind, but I could see that she looked pale and troubled. Her pretty face lighted up thonph, whenever her brother spoke, and I noted the air of satisfaction in Hallett's face ae he realized how his sister was keeping to her promise. " Well, Antony," he said cheerily, as soon as Mrs. Hallett l;ad retired, which was always before nine, Linny going away to attend upon her. " What do you say : shall we go and look at the model?" " Yes," I said eagerly ; " Tve been longing to have another tUM at it." " Vou are not wearied out then? " " Wearied out ? " I cried, laughing ; " no, and 1 never shall be till I see it a success." He sighed, but there was a smile upon his lip at tha same time ; and leading tlie way upstairs, we were soon busy over the modol. I saw at a glance that it had remained untouclied, covered with the black cloth, Bver since that unfortunate morning, so that I did not need hi<" < uri'irming words as he spoke : " T taoupflit [ ^^ould leave it till you came." Tow ivf>\'i bid many more were taken up in separating and 1 ipr.'riiig .sj broken parts of the little piece of meclianism, ai"^ '. oty. canx '. ' e difficult task — how to contrive so that it should i;-i ::gii?.\ an r k down. The days flew by and brcame weeks, and the weeks months, but still the problem was not solved. Experiment after experi- ment was tried without effect, audit seemed as if llallett's clever brain could only bring the work up to a certain point. Then it required the powers of a second bruin to curry it on to perfection. Meanwhile Revitt? hnd gradually recovered, and more than once related to Mary and me how, on that unfortunate night, he had been attracted by a 8lifjlir scuffle and a woman's cry ; that he had run np, and the woman had clunir to him, whicli so enraged the man that he had struck him with the htiavy £tick that he carried, and that was all. . , . < ». 170 TJIK .SiOitV i»F AN ION i' oR.iOE. '* Should you know the woman again 't " I a^ked, feeling vert guilty as the possessor of Linny's secret. " No," he said. *• She was only a little thing, quite a girl, and she liad her veil down ; but I should know the man, and if ever I do get hold of him, if I don't give him u wunner my name ain't Revitts." He was still too ill to resume his duties, but he used to go out for a walk every day, leaning on Mary's arm. Alary herself now taking to the room that had been engaged ostensibly for me. " It's a-coming off, Antony,' ^aid Kevitts to me one night, when I had returned from the office in high glee ; for I had received a note from Miss Carr, saying that she wished to see me the next day, she having just returned to town vith her sister from a long round of visits, following a tour on the Continent. " Coming off ? " I said, looking from him to Mary and back. " Don't you take any notice of his nonsense,*' cried Mary, run- ning her arm up to the elbow in one of Revitts' stockings. " 'Tain't nonsense," said Revitts, rubbing his hands softly; "it's a-coming off soon as ever I'm quite well." " 'Tain't," said Mary tartly, " I'm going to take another place as soon as ever you're tit to leave." " Yes, my dear, so you are," said Revitts, smiling at me in a soft, smooth, sheepish way ; " a place as you won't never leave no more." " It's all stuff', Master Antony, and I'm not," cried Mary. " Tantrums won't save you from it now, my dear,'' said Revitts, shaking his head and pointing to the wall. " I says to myself as aoon as ever I began to be able to think agaii, and see that there shawl and bonnet a-hanging so comfortable- like up again my great- coat and hat — I says to myself, I says, she's hung up her bonnet now and give in, and it can be Mrs. William Revitts as soon as ever I like." '' It's all stuff and nonsense, I tell you. Don't listen to him, Master Antony." " That ain't a real tantrum," said Revitts, rubbing his hands ; "she's give in — slie's give in." " I declare I wouldn't have come a-nigh you, Bill, if I'd knowed you'd go on like that before Master Ant >ny," cried Mary, who was perfectly scarlet. " Master Antony's a gentleman," said Revitts,. '* and he bears witness thav' you've give in ; and, tantrums or no tantrums," he cried, bringing his hand down upon the table with a bang, " you don'', go away no more. Look at that ! " He took a blue official envelope from his pocket and opened it, took out a letter, and smoothed it upon his knee. " That's dictation, that is, Antony. That's v hat that is," he cried, holding up his chin, and giving his head an official roll, as if to settle it in a stock that he was not wearing. I HAVE ANOTHER LESSON IN LOVE. 171 ** Why, where did you get that letter ? " cried Mary. ^'Brought me this afternoon while you was out shoppinff," said Revitts triumphantly. "Look liere, Antony, that aint </iret'ted to P.O. Revitts, that ain't;" and he handed me the envelope, which I read aloud : "'To Sergeant Rfvitts, VV Division, Caroline Street, Penton- ville.'" "'Sergeant Revitts!'" he said, ri«inj^ and huttoning up his coat, but pausing to leach down his stiff, shiny stock and buckle it on. "'Sergeant Revitts,' if you please; and if,"' he said, walking up and down the room exciteflly, " it ain't Inspector Revitts some day, and after that Sooperintendeut and a swoid, my name ain't Bill." " Hurrah ! " I cried ; " I am glad ; " and then I caup-ht his arm, for, poor fellow, he was very weak yet, and needed the chair Mary placed for him to sit down. " And you so ill and weak still, and talking about sucli stufT,' she cried hastily, " I'm getting round fast enough," said Revitts ; " it was only the * sergeant ' took my breatli uway a bit; that's .ill. It's ail right, Antony, It's a-coming oflF, ain't it, Mary, my dear ? " " I am glad, Rill. But they couldn't have made a better man a sergeant if they'd tried," said Mary evosively. " I said it was a-coming off," said Revitts. '• ain't it? " He leaned forward, and looked at Mary ; she, with the stockiiiji on one arm, and the long darning-needle in her hand, held it a.«* if to keep him off. I saw Mary's scarlet face gradually raised till her eyes met his, and then a soft, foolish-looldiig smile hegaji to dawn upon one corner of her lips, pass over to the other, ;in<l gradually make them open to show her white teeth, before run- ning right up, and half-closing her eyes. The same kind of smile. but much larger, appeared on Revitts' face ; atul there they flat. smiling at one another, till I took up mv cap and went out— even my exit being unnoticed— for another good servant was veritably lost to society. Mary's " tantrums " were at an end. I," he ill, aa CHAPTER XXXiri. ' I HAVE ANOTHER LESSON IN LOVE. I FELT rather nervous about asking for leave, but sumnionitij np courage the next day, I knocked at the principal's door, and Mf. Ruddle's voice bade me come in, " W^ell, Grace," he said, nodding to me pleasantlv, " I wanfe-l to see vou." . I 172 TIH: .s'ii).n' OF ANTONY (JiLlCE. 1 looked at him woiuleriufflv. < ,. ., "Only to say how glad I was to hear such a good account of you from Mr. Kowle." " Thank you, sir." ■ ' ^ " But Mr. Grinistone doosn't give you much praise," he con- ok m his eves : " so I'm af rai aid yon Well, what do yon tinuod. with rather a droll look ara a very ordinary sort of boy after all. want "r " " 1 had a note from Miss Carr, sir, saying she would like to .-see me to-day. Can I be spared ? " '• Oh yes, certainly —certainly," said the old gentleman. " And look here, ray man, you've made a good friend in that lady. Try aiid deserve it — deserve it.'* " I will try, sir," I said. " That's right," he said ; " and try hard. — Well, Grimstone, what is it ? " The overseer looked from me to his principal and back again, before rustling some papers in his hand in an ill-u.^ed way. " It's verv hard on me, sir, that more attention isn't paid to the business, llere are you and me toiling and moiling all day long to keep the customers right, and Mr. John at races and steeple- chases, and Lord knows what — anything but the business ! " *' You're always grumbling, Grimstone," said Mr. Kuddle testily. " Here, let me see. — You needn't wait, Grace, you can go." I thanked him and hurried off, leaving the two immersed in .some business matterS; and thinking of nothing else now but my visit. There was a warm welcome for me at Westmouth Street, and Miss Carr's eyes looked bright and satisfied, I tliought; but I could not help seeing that she was paler and thinner than when I saw her last. "Well, Antony," she said, after seating me beside her; "it seems an age since we met. What have you been doing ?" I told her— busy at the office, and also about Mr. llevitts. " Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I was in the neighbourhood of Rowford last month, and 1 " " You were down there ? " I said eagerly. " Yes, Antony, and I had a long chat with the old clergyman there, when he visited my friends. He knew your father and mother." *' Oh yes," I said, as a flood jf recollections came back. '• And he asked me very kindly about you, saying he thought Mr. Dlakeford had behaved very badly to Mr. Grace." • ' mean to pay Mr. Klakeford every penny my dear father ••« i liim," I said, flushing, and getting up from the couch. " He • mI: -,ot dar? to speak ill of the dead." .Vi.-.-i ":':n r lookwl at me curiously, and I thought her manner I HAVE ANOTHER LESSON IN LOVE. was more tender to me as she took my hand and once more drew me to her side. " About this Mr. Revitts, Antony," she said ; " I think the time has come new when you should have different lodgine-s." "Oh, Miss Carr ! " I exclaimed, "he has been so kind to me, such a good friend; and now poor Miiry has come up, and they are going to be married, and Mary would be terribly disappointed if I went to lodge anywhere else. He's Sergeant llevitts now: he has been promoted." "If Mr. and Mrs. Revitts set up a home of their own, that would be different," she said thoughtfully. " But in your new position, Antony, you ought to be better provided for than wliil*^ you were at the office." " In my new position ? " I said, hesitating. " Yes," she said, smiling; and as I gazed in her face I thought what a happy man Mr. Lister must be. " You said you would like to be an engineer, when I saw you last." '*0h yes," I said, " and then I could help Mr. HalletL with his model." There was a little spot of colour in each of her cheeks as I spoke, and a slight knitting of her brows ; but she wont on : "I have consulted Mr. Ruddle, who lias spoken to the pro- prietors of a large engineering firm, and they have engagea to take you as a pupil." " Oh, Miss Carr !" I cried. " But understand, Antony, that it is not merely sitting in an (^ e and handling pen and drawing instruments: as I under- stand, the pupils liave to learn to use lathe and tool, so as to thoroughly understand their profession. Shall you mind that ? " "Mind it?" I said. "Do you think I mind dirtying my hands P Why, my father had a regular workshop, where we used to make and mend. Besides, if I learn all that, I can help Mr. Hallett." " Antony," she said, in a weary, half-annoyed way, "don't talk to me of Mr. Hallett. My dear boy, you must not be a hero- worshipper." " I don't know what a hero-worshipper is," I said, feehng hurt; "but Mr. Hallett has been so good to me that it would be ungrateful if I did not love and respect him." The two little spots of colour came in her cheeks again, and there was a strange twitching of her brows. " Kinder to you than Mr. Revitts ? " she said softly. "Oh, he's not like William Revitts," I said eagerly. quite explain it ; he's so different. I like Revitts, but seem to have to teach him. Mr. Hallett teaches me, Miss Carr. I think he will be a great man." "You foolish boy I" she cried, in a nerroivi, excited way. "I can't I always >f li It 174 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. " Tlicre, tln'ii : it i.s >dtle(i. You will ^o and see Mr. Girtley, at his ollice in Great George Street, Westminster, and you may bid adi'Hi to tlie print ing^-olKce, and make your first start towards being a professional man as soon as ever you like."' •* 1-1 can 7iever be grateful enough to you, Miss Carr," I said, in a tremblii;g voice. " Oh yes, my dear boy, you can. Work on and succeed, and you will mce tlian repay me." "Then I snail soon be out of debt," I said joyfully. " I hope so, Antony," she said sadly ; " but don't be too sanguine. — Yes ? " ** Mr. Lister, ma'am," said the servant who had entered. "He would be glad if you would see him for a few minutes." " Did —did you tell him I was not alone ? " said Miss Carr, whose face seemed to have turned cold and stern. " No, ma'am, I only took his message." " Show Mr. Lister up," she said, in a quiet dignified way ; and, as the footman left the room — "Go in t here, Antony, and wait until Mr. Lister has gone. He will nov stay long." She pointed to the folding-doors that opened into a larger drawing-room, followed me, and pointing to a table covered with books, returned, leaving the door ajar. The various illustrated books were no little attraction, but the thought of becoming an engineer, and perhaps being of service to Mr. llallett, kept me from looking at them, and the next moment I heard the little drawing-room door open, and Mr. Lister's voice, every word being perfectly audible. "Ah, my dear Miriam!" he exclaimed; "why, my dear girl, you look quite pale." I felt very guilty, and as if I were listening purposely to the words passing in the next room ; so, taking up a book, I tried to read it, but in spite of my efforts every word came plain and clear, and I lieard all. " 1 have been a little unwell," said Miss Carr quietly. " My poor girl ! " he said tenderly. " Ah, you have been away too much ! Miriam, dear, I want you to listen to me to-day. When am I to make you my prisoner, and keep you from these errant ways ? " There was no reply, and a dead silence seemed to fall. "Why, Miriam, darling," said Mr. Lister, in a tender voice, " you are more unwell than I thought for ; why not Lt.v9 advice ? " " No, no," she said hastily. " I am quite well, indeed, John." " Then why are you so cold a'id strange and distant ? Have I offended you, darling ? " " Oh no, John ; indeed, no." •"I could not visit you more frequor.tl'r Mu'iiun T could not / 1 HAVE ANuTlil-.I: ..>.N JN LDVE. i7n join yon abroad, for, as yon know, my circumsfance.s are only njodt-rate, and 1 have to ke('}» very, very close to t)ie ^nsine.*^?*. Ruddle does not spare uit- ;nut'h. Are you annoyed because you think I slight you i-" " "Oh no, no, John — tndef><l no." " Yes, tl)at is it,'" he cried ; "yon fliink I oun-ht to have come down when you were staying- at l{!iwtV)rd." "Can yon not believe nie, .lolm," slie said coldly, "when I tell von that there are no grounds for such a clnirper' You (niglit to know me better now." "I do know you better, my own, my beautiful dailir.g-," he cried passionately; "but you drive me nearly mad. ^V<' have been engag^ed now so many weary months, and yet T seem to occupy no warmer position in your heart tlian when I first met you. It is dreadful! " I heard him get up and walk about the room, while she sat perfectly silent. "You rebuff me," he cried angrily. "You are cold an<l distant; my every advance is met by sonu' chillv look. (Jood hcavuisl Miriam, are we engaged to he num and wife, or not 'i " " You are unjust, John, in your anger," said Miss C'arr in her low, sweet voice. "1 do not rebuff you. and 1 am never inten- tionally cold. Indeed, I try to meet you as the man who is to be my husband." "And lover?" he said, witli an almost imperccptiljle sneer. " As my husband," she said quietly; "a ludiei-, greater title far than tbat of lover. We are not girl and hoy, Joim Li.-ter, and T do not think that yoti would love and respect me tlie more for acting like some weak, silly school-girl, who does not know her own mind." " She would at least be warmer in her love." "But not nearly so lasting," said Miss Carr, in a low, almost pathetic voice. " I look upon our engagement as .so sacred a thing that I think we ought not to iiurry on cur marriage as you wish. Besides, was it not utiderstood that we should wait awhile ? " "Yes; that was when some tattling fool told you about my losses over that race, and I suppos<> made out that T was in a hurry to win the heiress, so as to make ducks and drakes of her money." " Y'ou hurt me," she said softly; "no one ever hinted at sucli a degrading idea." "Just when a fellow had gone into the thing for once in a way. Of course I was unlucky, and a good job too. If I had won I might have been temp'ed to try ag-ain. Now I have done with racing and betting aiid the rest of it fen- ever." " I had not thought of tbat affair, John, when T spoke as I 176 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. '! did. I promised you i wouild forget , and I had lorgottwi it, believe lue." " (Jh yes, of course," he said bitterly. " I am speaking frankly and openly to you, John," continued Miss Carr gently : " and I want you to think as I do, that, in taking so grave a step as that which joins two people together for life, it should be taken only aa one makes a step from which there is no recall." " Miriam ! " he exclaimed, and he seemed to stop short in front of her, " I am a hot, impetuous fellow, and I love you passion- ately, as you know, and have known since the day when first we met. Have I ever given up the pursuit ? " "No," she said, nalf-laughingly. "You did not let me rest, nor did our friends, until we were engaged." "Of course not. There, come now, you look more like your own dear self. I want to ask you a question." "Yes, John. What is it P''^ He cleared his voice and hesitated, but only to speak oat firmly at last. " Do you think— have you ever thought me such a cur that I wanted you for *he sake of your money P " "John, tliis is the. second time that you have brought up my fortune to-day. There is no need to answer such a question." " But I beg — I desire — I insist upon knowing," he cried passionately. " You have your answer in the fact that you are standing before me talking as you are. If I believed for an instant that you had such sordid thoughts, our engagement would be at an end. I would sooner give you the money than be your wife." " Of course, yes : of course, my own dear, noble girl 1 " he cried excitedly. " Then why all this waiting — why keep me at arm's length ? Come now, darling, let us settle it at once." " No, John," she said calmly. " I cannot yet consent." " Your old excuse," he cried, striding up and down the room. " I never held out hopes to you tliat it would be soon," she replied ; and I felt that she must be looking at him wistfully. " But why — why all this waiting, dear ? " he said, evidently struggling with his anger, and striving to speak calmly. "1 have told you again and again, dear John, my sole reason." " And what is that ? " he said bitterly ; " it must have been so trifling that I forget it." " You do not forget it, indeed," she said tenderly. " I ask you to wait, because I wish, when I marry you, to be sure that I am offering you a true and loving wife." "Oh, if that's all," he said laughingly, "I'm satisfied as you are : and on my soul, Miriam, I wish you had not a penny, so that all ideas of self-interest might be set aside 1 " I HAVli ANOTHER LEbSON IN l.OVli. 177 "They are set abide, dear John," she said calmly. " Well then, love, let there be an end to this miserable ^vaitiug and disappointment. If I did not know thoroughly your sweei disposition, and that you are so far above all silly coquettish ways. I should say that you were trifling with me, to make me movf eager for the day.'' " You know me better." "I do, my darling," he said in a low impassioned voice, which I heard quite plainly, though I had gone to the window and wa?. looking out into the street. " Then let us settle it at once. lam in your hands, Miriam, as I have boon from the day I first set eye** upon you. At present I am wretched — miserable — my whole thoughts are of you, and I feel at times half-mad — that I cannot wait. Do you wish to torture me ? " " No." " Then be my dear honoured wife in a wee'.i's time — a fortniglit I" What, still shaking your head ? Well, then, there : I am the most patient of lovers — in a month from to-day ?" " No, no, I cannot," she said ; and in place of being so calm she spoke now pa&sionately. " You must wait, dear John, vou must wait." " Then there is something," he cried, in a low, angry vo'ce. " Some wretch has been maligning me." " Indeed no." *'' You have been told that I am wasteful and a spendthrift ? " " I should not have listened to any such charge." "Then that I am weak, and untrustworthy, and gay P " " I should have told anyone who hinted such a thingthat it was a lie." " Then," he cried hoarsely, " there is some one else ; you have seen some one you like better ! " " John ! Mr. Lister ! You hurt my wrist." " You do not answer me," he cried, his voice growing more hoarse and intense, while I stood tliere with my heart palpitating, feeling as if I ought to run to Miss Carr's help. "I will not answer such a question," she said angrily; " but I will tell you this : that 1 have looked upon myself as your be- trothed wife ; do not make me think upon our engagement with regret." " Forgive me, Miriam, pray forgive me," he said in a low, plead- ing voice. " It is my wretched temper that has got the better of me. Say you forgive me, Miriam, or I shall be ready to make an or.d of myself. There, there, don't take away this little hand." " Leave me now, I beg of you," she said in a low, pained voice. " Yes, directly, sweet," he whispered ; " but let there be an end cf this, my darling. Say — in a month's time — you will be my wife, and then I shall know I am forgiven." 12 178 THE «T()KY UF ANTONY (iRACE. " I forgive you your cruel, pussionato words, John," slie said, in .•«uch a tone tlint I hi-guu once more to look out of the window, wondering whether Mrs. John Lister would be as kind to me «a Miss Carr. " And, in a month to-duy, you will make me a happy man P " " I cannot promise tliat,'' .she said after a pause. •* Yes, yes, you can, dearest — my own love ! " he cried ; and I felt now as if I should like to open the window and step out on the Italf'ony. " No, I cnnnot promise that, John," she repeated. " You must we must wait.*' " Then it is as I say," he cried, evidently sprinffing up from her i"»'et, and stamping up and down the room. " i ou are a cruel, cold, heartless girl, and I'll come begging and pleading no more. < )ur engagement holds good," he said bitterly ; " and you shall name the day yourself, and we shall be a happy pair, unless I havv^ Ijlown out my brains before we're wed." I heard the little drawing-room door close loudly, descending Ntiips, and then the front-door shut almost with a bang, and from where I stood I saw Mr. Lister, looking very handsome and well liossed, with a bouquet in his button-hole, stride hastily down the street, cutting at imaginary obstacles with his cane, and as he I iirned the corner I heard from the next room a low moan, and Miss Carr's voice, saying : " God help and teach me ! I am a wretched woman I How >haU I act ? '^ CHAPTER XXXIV. I TAKE THE NEWS TO MY FBIBN08. " \^* RETCHED ! " I thought, " in the midst of wealth, and loved ly that passionate, handsome man." Then I recalled how 1 had ' if ten heard of lovers' quarrels, and supposed that this was one that would .soon be made up. 1 felt very uncomfortable, and wondered what I ought to do. riiere was a deep silence in the next room that became painful, and £ wondered whether Miss Carr had gone ; but dirertjy after I lieard such a low bitter sobbing that it went to my lieart, and, unable to bear it longer, I went to the door, looked in, and saw !ier half-lying on the couch, with her face buried in the pillow, weeping bitterly. I nesitnted for a moment, and then went in unheard over the soft thick carpet, and kneeling down, I took the inert hand hang- ing down, and hissed it. I TAJiE THE NEWS TO MY 1-KIENDS. 17tt the ng- In a moment she stood up with pale and angry face, flinging me oflf as if I had stung her. " Ch, Antony, my boy ; is it you P " she cried ; and fliii^-^ing lier armf round me, she let her head fall upon my shoulder, and wept passionately and long, while I tried to utter some feeble plutitude to soothe her. The storm passed off suddenly, and slie wiped her swollen eyes. *' I had forgotten that you were there, Antony," she said. " I have had a great ti*ouble. She spoke with, her face averted, and slie was trying now to remove the traces of her tears. " You c<tuld not hear what was siiid P " she asked. " Yes, Miss Carr. I did not wish to, but I heard every word." "Oh!" She turned her wild eyes upon nie, and her pale face flushed crimson as she rose to leave the room, hurrying away and leaving me wondering whether I ought to ^o. I had iust concluded that I ouglit, and, taking up a sheet of faper, I !ni«l written a few lines saying how very sorry I was that had be.?n an unwilling listener, when she came back with her hair re-arrange«l, and looking pale and calm. " Were you writing to me, Antony ? " she said. " Yes, Miss Carr." " Let me see." She rejid that which I had written, and smiled sadly. Then, tearing up the note, she took my hand and led me once more to the couch. " I am sorry that you heard what passed, Antony," she said ; " but since I have known you, I have gradually grnwn to look upon you as a friend as well as a prot6ge ; you have told me your little history, and every time I have seen you, you have shown me the fruit of the teachings of those to whom you were very dear. I feel quite happy in knowing that you, as the .son of a gentleman, Antony, will hold all that you have heard quite sai^red." " If you will only believe in and trust me," I cried. *' I do believe in and trust you, Antony," she said warmly. "Now I am going to ask you to leave me, and come agsin to- morrow, after you have been to the engineer's office. 1 am not well, and I should be glad to be alone." \ I rose, and as she held out her hand I took it and kissed it reverently — so reverently, that she drew me to her, and touched my forehead with her lips. "Go now, Antony,"' she said, " and T think it will be better that you should not return to the printing-office. I will arrange with Mr. Ruddle about that. A letter from me will be sufficient. And look here, Antony : you will come here to me everj' Saturday, and 12—2 \v n W) THE STORY 01' ANTONY GRACE. i If • : ' I'l i ii ''^ i 1 ^ ^1 'k 1 ; M 1 : 1 Sunday too, if you like. You nend stand upon no ceremony — but come. You will not be sorry to Icuve the office ? " " Oh no," I said ; " but I shall regret leavinj? Mr. Ilallett." I thoup-lit it was fancy then, as I seemed to see a spasm shoot through her. She buid no moru to me, but pressed something into my hand, and I w»Mit downstairs. I felt very promi as I made my way along the streets, wonder- ing what was in the packet Miss Carr had given me, and longing for an opportunity to open it. The piirk seemed the most suitable place, and, making my way there, 1 lay down on the soft turf in a secluded place, opened the packet, and found in it a letter and a purse containing two five- pound notes. The letter was dated the night before, and it was very brief: " My dear Antony, " I have thought that you may need several things in commencing your new life, and as I wish you to appear as a ^gentleman's son who means to work earnestly, I should provide serviceable clothes. I leave the rest to your common sense and discretion. " Yours affectionately, "Miriam Carr." " My dear Antony," " yours affectionately," I repeated to my- self; and as I lay tliere, after safely placing the note and purse in my pockets, I wished earnestly that the dead could know and thank one who had so evidently my welfare at heart. Mary soon knew of my good fortune, but did not seem at all surprised. '* No, my dear, it's nothing more than nateral," she said, as I partook of tea with her; and in her affection for me she tried very hard to make me bilious with the amount of butter in which .she soaked my t^^ast. *'* You being a gentleman's son, and having had a par and a mar, it was no more than one might expect, for gentlefolks to take notice of you. That Miss Can's a real lady, and I shouldn't wonder if she was to leave you no end of money when she died." " Oh, Mary ! " I cried, " just as if I wanted Miss Carr to die and leave n|e her money. I mean to earn some for myself, and when I get 'rich, you and Revitts shall come and live with me." " That we willj" said Mary. " I'll be your cook, Master Antony, and Bill shall be— shall be " *' Bailiff and steward." " Or else gardener," she said. " So you're going to buy soma new clothes, are you ? " ., '. = " Yes, Mary; I must go well dressed to the engine^T's." . • I TAKE TIIK NEWS TO MY FRIENDS. HJ "Then I should buy two more suits," said Mary (itgeily. *' Have 8 good dark blue for Sundays, with gilt buttons, and toi every day have invisible green." I shook my head. ** No, I must have black still, Mary, and grey," I said. "I wouldn't dear ; I'd have blue, and as for invisible green, y( ti wouldn't know as it wasn't black." However, Mary came to my way of thinking, and my choic*' ' t new things was in no wifo outrS. I seemed to be plunged into a perfect atmosphere of love ju>i then, for I left llevitts smiling foolishly at Mary, whose fuce le- flected the lover as perfectly as a mirror, and went on to Ilalh-tt V, where I unconsciously found myself mixed up with anoth»'r trouble of the kind. I have grown wiser since, but in those days it was a puzzle tn me why people could not be friends and fond of one anotlier witli- out plunging into such heart-breaking passionate ways, to tlu-ii own discomfort and that of all wliom they knew. I was rather later than usual at the Ilulletts', and on going uy- stairs, full of my good news, I found that Mrs. Ilallett was in btti, and Linny with her brother. I ran up, tapped, and went in according to my custom, and tliii: drew back for it was evident that something was wrong, bin Hallett called me to stay. " We have no secrets from you, Antony/' he said excitedly. " You know what has taken place from the first, and you are u^ much Linny's friend as mine. "Then if he is," cried Linny, stamping her little foot, " I'll appeal to him." " Why, Linny," I said, " what is the matter ? " " Matter ! " she cried, sobbing passionately, " have I not givi i up to him in all he wished ? have not I obeyed him and been more like a prisoner here than his sister.'' And now he is noi satisfied." " I am satisfied, my child," he said kindly. " But go on : whut have I done P " " Done ? " cried Linny ; "wounded mo where you knew my bean was sore; looked upon my every act with suspicion." "No, mv child, he said quietly, as he watched the pretty, wilful little thing more in grief than anger. '* You know how happy we have been, these last few weeks, since you have had confidence in me, and listened to my words." "Happy!" she cried piteously, and with her hand upon h»» heart. ,^, " Yes," he said ; " happy till this letter came to-day — ^^a letter that has swept all your promises to the winds, and sown dissen- sion between us. Once more, will you show me the letter P ** IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I UiiZA M2.5 |50 "^ ■■■ ■^ 1^ 12.2 ^ Mi IIIIIM 18 1.25 1 U 1.6 4 6" ► p» > '> ,-i^. * ^CV > O / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ \ V .^^ A \ vV ^ <> 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 <» <b^ 182 THE STOWY OF ANIOWV OJUCE. hit |>i'>|.n i <i '' OncK nioro," cried Linny passionately, " no ! You esaame too much. Even if you were my father, yuu could do uo more." " I 8tand to you, my dear child, in the place of yoitf dead father. Your honour is as dear to me as it would have bean to him.** " My honour 1 " echoed Linny. " Steplien, you degrade me, hj talking in this way before a comparative stranger." " Antony Grace is not a comparative stranger," said Hallett quietly. " If he were your own brother he could not have acted better to us both. I sneak out before him, because I look to Antony, boy though he oe, to help me to watoh over you aad pro- tect vou, shice vou are so weak." " To act as your spy r " '' No," he said sadly, " we will not degrade ourselves by acting as spies, but you force it upon me, Linny, to take stem measures. You refuse to show me this letter ? " " I do. I would die first ! " cried Litmy. '^ My poor child," he said sadly, " there is no need. I can read it in your transparent little face. You thought, I believe, in the first hot sting oi your wrong that nit^ht, that you had plucked this foolish love from your breast ; and so long as he remained silent you were at rest. But now he writes to you and says " " Hush, Stephen ! You shall not before Antony Grace," ** Why notP " he cried. " lie says in this letter that he has been wretched ever since ; that he bogs your pardon for the past ; that upon your forgiveness depends his future ; and he implores you, by all you hold sacred, to grant him an interview, that he may be forgiven." "Stephen! " cried Linny, but he went mercilessly on. "Ana the foolish, trusting little heart, unused to the wiles of this world, leaped at the words, forgave him on the instant, and a brother's word.s, her own promises, the vows of amendment, all tire forgutteu," he said angrily, as his face now grew white and his liands clenched, " and all for the sake of a man who is an utter scoundrel ! " " How dare you ! " cried Linny, and the hot passionate blood flashed to her little cheeks. Her eyes flamed, her teeth were set, nnd, in an access of rage, she struck her brother across the lips witli the back of her hand. " How dare you call him a scoun- drel 't " she cried. " Because," said Hallett — while I stood by, unutterably shocked by the scene, which was the more intense from the low voices in which brotler and sister spoke, they being in unison on the point that Mrs. Hallett should not hear their quarrel — " because," said Hallett, " his conduct is that of a villain. While professing love for you, he insults you. He tells vou you are more dear to him than life, and he skulks like a thief and does not show his faca. H he loved you " I BUILU A CAlVlLE IN I'llE AIR. IS". ** Lore I What do you know of love P " cried Linny pawion- ately. " You — ^you cold-blooded groveller, without soul to woi- •hip anything greater than that ! " As she spoKe, she stood with her head thrown back, looking tl ■-■ picture of acorn and rage, as she contemptuously pointed at pooi Hallett'a raodel ; while he, weak, nervous, and overwrought, stuii^ almost to madness, caught her sharply by the shoulder, and iu her fear she sank on her knees at his feet. "My God!" CHAPTER XXXV. rf I BUILD A CASTLB IN THB AIB. If ever words were uttered with a wild intensity of fervour, it was that awful appeal; and, in the interval tliat followed, I t'eit my heart beat pamfullv, while Hallett, with the ^reat drop.s standing on his knotted brow, clutched the little shoulde., so tliut Linny mnched from him. "I oold-blooded — I know naught of love!" he whispere.l hoarsely; "when, for a year past, my life has been one lonj- drawn agony! ! know naught of love, who have hud to cninli down every thought, every aspiratior , lest I should be a truitof to the man whose bread I eat ! LoveP Girl, my life has been a torture to me, knowing, as I did, that I was a groveller, as you »a \ , and that I must grovel on, not daring to look up to one so fur above me, that — Heaven help me, what am I saying ? " he cried, looking from one to the other. ** Linny, for our dead fatheiV sake — for the sake of that poor, pain-wrung sufferer below, lei there be no more of this. Trust me, child. Believe in mo. I know so much of what you must suffer, that if he, whoever he be. prove only true and worthy of you, he shall be welcome here. Rut why raise this barrier between us? See, I am not angry now. It is all past. You roused that within me that I could nut uuell,but I am calm again, and, as your brother, I implore you, tell me wh(j is this man P '^ " I — I cannot," said Linny, shaking her head. " You cannot ? " " No," she said firmly ; " I gave my promise." "That you would not tell me — your owu brother? Youi mother then ? " " No, not now," she said, shaking her head. " After a time T wm." Without another word she turned and ran from the room, leaving Hallett gazing vacantly before him, as if suffering from «ome sttock. m THE STORY OF ANTOiNV (iRACE. I u h i\ mi m ''^ PI' I went up to him at last. " Can 1 help vou, Hallett f " I raid ; Atid he turned and gazed at me as if he had not understood my words. " Antony/' he said at length, "a time back I should hare thought it folly to miiLe a friend and confidant of such a boy as you ; but 1 have no man friend^ I have shut myself up with those two below th«»re, and when I have not been with them my hours have been spent here — here," he said, pointing mockingly at the model, "with my love, and a strange, coquettish jade she ifr— is she not P But somehow, ray boy, we two have drifted together, and we are friends, badly coupled as we may seem. You have heard what Linny said. Poor child, she must be saved at any cost, though I hardly kn(.w what course to pursue. There," he siiid wearily, " let it rest for to-night ; sometimes, in the thickest wilderness of our lives, a little path opens out where least expected, atid something may offer itself even here." " I am very, verv sorry, llallett," I said. " I know it, my l)oy, I know it," he said hurriedly ; " but forget what you heard me stiy to-night. I was betrayed into speaking as I did by a fit of passion. Forget it, Antony, forget it." I did not answer, and he turned to me. " I meant to have had a good work at the model to-night, but that little scene stopped it. Now about yourself. You are getting II sad truant from the office." He said it in a hesitating manner, and turned his face away directly after, but only to dart round in surprise at my next words. ** I am not coming back to the office any more— but don't think me ungrateful." " Not coming back ? " " No, Hallett ; Miss Carr sent for me — she has been away — and I am to go at once as a pupil to an engineer." he turned his back to me, and I ran to his side : • ' " Oh, Hallett," I cried piteously ; " don't be angry with me. I told her I was sorry to go, because you were such a good friend." •' You told her that, Antony ? " ^ ■ i .i " Indeed, indeed I did ; but I thought in being an engineer I might be some day such a help to you, and that it was for the best ; and now you are vexed and think me ungrateful." He was silent for p few moments, and then he turned to me and took my hands, speaking in a low, husky voice : " You must not heed me to-night, Antony," he said. •* You saw how upset and strange I was. This affair of Linny's, and her letter, trouble me more than I care to own. No, no, my dear boy, I am not vexed with you, and I do not for a moment think you ungrateful." I BVIU) A CASTLK IN THE AIR. flB " You do not ! " I cried joyfully. * *' No, no, of course not. I rejoice to find that you have so gootl and powerful a friend in — Miss Oarr. She must be — a truly goo'l — woman." '* She's everything that's good and beautiful and kind," I crii-<i, bursting into raptures about her. " I'm to have books and to pi th<jre every week, and she trusts to me to try and succetnl well in my new life. Oh, Uallett, you can't think how I love her," He laid his hand on my emoulder and gazed with a strange light in his eyes upon my ea^er face. "That's right," he said. " Yes — ^love her, and never give her cause to blusTi for her kindness to you, my boy." He sat listening to me eagerly as I went on telling him her words, describing her home, everything I could think of, but the one sub- ject tabooed, and of that I gave no hint, while he, poor fellow, sat drinking in what was to him a poisoned draught, and I unwit- tingly kept on adding to his pain. " Im only afraid of one thing," I said with all a boy's outspoken frankness. «« And what is that, Antony ? " " I'm afraid that when she is married to Mr. Lister — —** His hand seemed to press my shoulder more tiglitly. " Yes," he said in c. whisper, " she is to be married to Mt . Lister." " Yes, I knew that the first day I came to the office." "It is the common talk there," he said with knitted brows. " And what is your fear, Antony ? " "That when she is married to Mr. Lister she will forget all about me." "You wrong her, boy," he said almost fiercely ; and 1' starts! at his strange display of excitement, for I had not the key th«»n to his thoughts, and went on blindly again and again tearing open his throbbing wound. " You wrong her," he said. " Antony, Miss Carr is a woman u< have won whose esteem is to have won a priceless gem, and h. who goes farther, and wins her lo<re, can Iook but for one great«'r happiness — that of heaven." He was soaring far beyond my reach, grovelling young niol.- that I was, and I said in an uneasy way that must have .souiide^l terribly commonplace and selfish : " You don't th»nk she will forget me, then P " " No," he said siemly. " There is that in her face which seeni> to say that she is one who never forgets — never forgives. Slie is no common woman, Antony ; be worthy of her trust, and think of her name in your prayers before you sleep." I gazed at him curiously, he seened so strange ; and, noticing my UBBMy looks, he said in a cheerful voice : 186 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. " There, we will not talk so seriously any more. You se«; how I trust you, Antony, in return for your contidunce in me. "Sow let's talk of pleasant things. An en^^Mueer, eh P " " YeM," I said, delightea at the change in his conversation. " I rvni glad of it — heartily glad of it," he said with kindling ■ v»>-<. " Llnny is right ; I do love and idolize my model, and you ' all share her love, Antony. Together we will make her the- 'tii(HM) of models, and if in time, perhaps years hence, I do perfect litr nay, if we perfect her — there, you see," he said playfully , "I I i\t' no p»'tty jealousies — you will then be engineer enough to !r;:l\i' tlio dru^ingH and calculations for the machines that are to : (.w from the model. Is it a bargain, Antony ? " •' That it is," I cried, holding out my hand, which he firmly (I. I sped ; and that night I went back to Kevitts* walking upon air, v\ <<h my heud in a whirl with the fancied noise of the machinery iMiidu by Ilallett and Grace, while, out of my share of the pro- t t'fds, I was going down to Rowford to pay Mr. Blakeford all my lather's debt; and then — being <]uite a man grown — I meant to 'hU him he was a cowardly, despicable scoun^el, for behaving to :nu aa he did when I was a boy. . . , CHAPTER XXXVI. MR. JABBZ BOWLF/s MONBT MATTERS. » SoMBTHiNO like the same sensation came over me when I made my way to Great George Street, Westminster, as I had felt on the inorniTig when I presented myself at the great printing-oflHoe. I!ut my nervousness soon passed away on being received oy Mr. • iittley, a short, broad-shouldered man, with a big head covered with crisp, curly grey hair. "Ah," he said, speaking in a great hurry, "you're Antony rnaco, our new pupil, are you ? " " Yes, sir." " Miss Carr's voung friend. Knew Carr : clever, wealthy man.** "Indeed, sir P" " Yes, only had one fault — died twenty years too soon. Been ti millionaire and a modest man combined. Itara avi«, eh P Ha. Iia, ha ! Tom ! " ... " Yes, father." The answer came from an inner office, and a good-looking youth, wonderfully like Mr. Girtley, came out with a pencil across hii inouth, a pen behind his ear, a scale in one hand, and a pair of compasses in the other. ** This is Antony Grace ; you take charge of him and 9how bim t* MR. JABEZ ROWI.F/S MOKEY MATTEHS. 1H7 •bout. Take it coolly. Feftfina iente, you know. I way, Antony Grace, wLat does rara avis nieun P " " A rare or straiifj^e bird, sir." "Good lad. Xnd festina lentef ** ' " Hasten slowly, sir." "Good lad. You're all right with your Latin, then. I wasn't when I began. Had to learn it after I was twenty. Well, I'tn bu^, Tom; you understand ; hell be a bit nervous and strung**, so don't worry him. Let him take in spoonfuls first. He'll leuni to drink big draughts later on." " I'm very busy over those syphon plans, father." " Ah, the new syphon. Yes, that must be done. Well, I'll w\ Browninffto do them." " I'd— -rd much rather finish them myself," said the youth. "Of course you would. Well, then, I'll give you a fortnight s •xtension ; then you can finish them and have plenty of time for Antony Grace as well. Take him round the works, and then you can go down the river for a run. And, by-the-way, Tom, go in one of the new boats, and tip the engineer. Have a good look at those fresh oscillating cylinders, and see whether you think they beat ours. I'm off. You were quite punct ual, Antony Grace, or you wouldn't have seen me. Always keep your appointments exactly. Good morning; glad to see you. Hope you'll get on and like the business. A^^rk hard at it, and mind this — steady application wins. Bring him home to dinner to-ni^ht, Tom. Eh ? yes." " Mr. Williamson to see you, sir," said a clerk. " My compliments to Mr. Williamson, and he must make another appointment. He is an hour after the time he named. and I am engaged for the rest of the day. I^esson in punctuality. Antony Grace, he said, nodding. " I'm off." The door closed after his retreating figure, and Tom and I stoo*! staring, probably thinking the same thing, whether we should like one another. The result of the scrutiny was satisfactory to me, for there was something very pleasant in the young fellow'.s frank open countenance, and I longed to meet with a companion nearly my own age. " \Vell," he said quietly, " suppose we have a look round. I shan't work any more at my plans this mornin<r. This is my place," he continued, taking me into the inner office, \vhf»re a grem oroad mahogany desk was covered with papers. " You'll have that one; it was Bailey's; he was father's pupil; he's gone out to India on the Great Central." I said, " Has he ? " but I bad no idea whether tlie Great Central was a ship or a great engine. "There are my plans for a self-acting syphon. Those part^ coloured red are where the vacuum valves will come in, and, ot course, this lower part takes the place of a steam-pump." 188 THE STORV OF ANTONY ORACE. I, r i " Does it P " 1 ttuid, luiipliing. *' Hut I don't und<TMtnnd it a bit." " No, of course not," \\v said, lan^liing too. " Well, youll soon learn. You'll like father, and we'll like you if you'll work well. Hailey and lie did not fH't on at all." " Didn't Bailey work well P " I said, as a vision of the. idle iipprentice came before my eyes. " Father used to say he was like an engine with a bad stoker. I le was either racing, or there was no steam up. Ile'd work furiously for two days, and then he'd idle for a weea." .^, ^ " Mr.'Girtley 'u fond of work, then P " " Father says everyone was meant to work, and life's too >hort for all we have to do. But he likes piny, too. VVe'htive a cricket-field at home, and a billiard-table, and bowls — ^^all sorts of ^nimes. Father plavs at all of them when he's at home and isn't unirdening. He calls it oiling his machinery and slackening his l)ands. Come along, I'll show you the factory, and our workshop, where you and I will have to work, making models, and then we'll oil our machinery. *' Shall we have to make models P " I cried eagerly. " You will, of course. I'm going to be a lawyer. Father ihinks the man who is a good enhancer i.s sure to have to invent, and if so, he ought to be able to take the tools out of his men's hands, and show them how they nliould be used. Shall you like ihatP It makes vour hands black." " Oh, I shan't liiind that," [ said, laughing. " I shall like it." We went over the olHce, and then, taking our caps, he showed fue the way over Westminster Rridg«' to the great works in Lambeth, where steam was putHn^ and panting, v'heels whirring, iind iron and steel were shrieking w tliey were being tortured into shape. It was a confusing place, and, after passing the timekeeper's box at the entrance, we seemed to plunge into a kind of Pande- monium, where fires glared, and wliire-hot ma8.<*es of metal were being drag^.n'd out and beaten till they sent sparks of brilliant fire flying in all directions. From there we ascended to a floor where wheels were whirring and great machine.** were at work, with men tending them, and pouring oil in the wounds made by mighty steam-worked chisels, or bored in pieces of black iron. In one place, shavings of iron were curling off before a plane like so much soft wood ; and on touching them I found them rigid, and hot with the friction nece.ssary to tear them away. Next we were in a hi^'lier .^hop, where lathes were at work, and iron, steel, and brass were being turned like so much ivory. Out of this great floor was a smaller workshop, whose walls were covered with tools : and on shelves around were dozens of strange models, which took my attention strongly as I thought of Hallett's patient ^ork, and longed to begin at something on the spot. MR. JABEZ ROWLK'S MONKY MAITERS. Here, too, there were lutlies, victs, and nil the iiorrsanrv paraphernalia for the construct inf( enjrineers, and I left the plm-f unwillingly to join young Uirtley in his run down the river, where, the rijrlit Mteanier being chosen, we hud ou»" ride; the 08(M|ating engines were examined, and we were buck and down at Dulwich in good time for dinner and a look round the spacious grounds afterwards. I returned to Caroline Street full of my day's adventures, nixl ready to tell Mary of my progress towards prosperity, but, to my disappointment, slie seemed in nowise dazzled. It was quite n matter of course to her, only a question of time before I should Ix- a great engineer, and in that faith she was a strong believer. Time glided on, and the half-work, half-play »<ysteni, up i: which I had commenced business at Great George Street had i . the course of a month settled into regular hours, but the woii did not trouble me, for I led so pleiisaiit a life with Tom (jirtl»*\ . and found his father so >uger ana willing a teacher, that [ quit- enjoyed the toil. There was the one idea, too, always before ni\ mind that some day I shuuld be able to help Hullett, whom I joined nearly every night, to pore over and try to'scheuie sonir- thing new for the macliitie. I could see that matters were in anything but a happy state n* the Halletts' — Mrs. Hallett being more complaining and (lueruloii- than ever, and, it seemed to me, rather disposed to side witii Linny in her rebellion against her brother's authority. For they were not at one: Linny was pule, excitable, ami troubled : Hallett, loving, kind, and tirm. But from hints he 1< t drop, I found that Linny was as obstinate as ever, and tiiat sin was still carrying on a correspondence with her unknown udmirti One night, after leaving Great George Street, I made my wii\ to Hallett's, but he was out, and Linny assured me that he wouM not be back for hours. She evidently wantinl me to ^o, and rln* reason was plain — she was busy writing a letter; and as I wen away, wondering where to go, 1 betliought me of Mr. .labt , Kowle, who lodged ia the neighbourhood, and as it would be hi- time for being home, I determined to go and see him. 1 easily found his lodgings, at a little grocer's shop in a b • street, where he had the first floor, tlie front window b«Mng turiif! into quite a garden with flowers, and some scarlet-runners twinii:- ap strings on either side. I heard the familiar snap of his snuff-box us I tapped at tli»' door, and in reply to hi8"C(»me in," I entered, to find the oM ffentleman taking his leisure by poring over a lon^ slip, and, p-n in hand, darting in corrections with a grunt of satisfaction. " Ah, young Grace," he cried, **you here ! I thought you wen- lost. Qlad to see you, boy. Here, sit down — no, stand up ; catcli bold of that bit of manuscript, and read it to me — only a dozen iwo THK .STOR^ OF ANTONY riRACfi. 'i 1 :i I '1 i Hides." And to my frreut astonit^hmt'tit I found myself reading away to him in the old Rtyle for quite half-au-hour before he i-eaclied the bijttom of the 8hp proofs and laid his pen down with aNatLslied grunt and took a pinch of snuff. ** Quit* a treat, O race — quite a treat," he cried. "Sit^wn. I haven't had a bit of copy rend to me like that since you left. iV)y [Ve got's a fool, and 1 could knock his head against the walL .Shake hands. How are you P " I replied that I was quite well, and could see that he was. •* No, I'm not," he said tartly. "Much bothered. Money mat- ters ! " and he took another pinch of snuff. " So you've called to atik me to say a word for you to come back to the office, eh P Well, I'm gla^, boy — I'm glad ! Take it as settled. You can come back to-morrow morning ! I will have you, or I'll know the reason why." I stared at him aghast. " Oil no, Mr. Uowle," J said, " I only came to see yo»\ I rhought I should like to. I'm getting on so well." " Are vou, thouj^^h ? Engineei Ing, eh ? Well, I'm sorry for il No, no : I'm {iflad of it, my lad. I hope you will get on. But I liked you for a reading-boy. You were the onlv chap I ever had who could stand by me when I took snuff without sneezing all over the slips, and that's a great thing. Have a pinch P " he said, offering me his box. " No, no : of course not, I forjt'nt. Glad you came to see me, Grace — very glad. Here, Mrs. pfennings," he cried, goin^ to the door, and shouting down the stairs ; " I've got a young friend here : bring up Aome sugar-candy and biscuits and cinnamon ; anything nice you've got." " I really don't want anvthing, Mr. Jabez," I said. "Oh, yes, you do, boy. tio, hi I Mrs. . Jennings, brin^ up some figs." He toddled back to his chair, but whs up again directly, to shout down the staircase- " Bring up some almo.ids and raisins, and candied peel, Mrs. Jennings." " Lor' bless the man, do you want the whole shop P " shouted a sharp voice. " No, I don't,** said Mr. Jabez grumpily, as he toddled back. "I was an out-and-outer for candied peel when I was a boy," he said, rubbing his hands. " Those dried apples, too, that look as if they had been sat upun by old women, Grace. Ah, I spent a lot of pennies on them when I was a boy." A red-faced woman here made her appearance with a plateful of the sweets that Mr. Jabez had named, and she rather scowled at me, and banged the plate down hard enough almost to break it as she whisked out of the room again and slammed the door. " Now, Grace, fall to, as they say in copy about feasts. See that woman P " MR. :.iBt:z how Mrs :\ioney matters. 10] " Yefl, Mr. JuIh-z." "Sh»''i« u Tartar, she i». I live here becauno tliat woman act^*a^ a lighthouse to me.'' " A li^'ht house, sir P Becatiiv she lias prot such a red face P " "Get out I No, you young joker. .\ warnings a beacon, a htll- buoy, a light-ship, to warn mo off the rocks and slioals « f matrimony. I should have married, Orace, years ago, if I hadn't seen what a life a woman can lead a man. She haa nearly nindf her hu<<band a lunatic." " Indeed, Mr. JabezP" "Well, say iml)ecile. Peg nway, my boy,** he contimiMl, laughing; " these tig« are beautiful. IVel's good, too." So it fleemed, for Air. Jabez was tVaMtiii^ away with great gii'f' , and eating two of everything to my one. " Yes, sir, I should have been married and a poor man, instead i-f' comparatively rich- -at least, was. Money matters are rath«'r awkward just now." " I'm very sorry to hear it, Mr. Jabez," I said. " I'm sorry to feel it," said Mr. Jabez, with a fig in one ham I and a piece of candied peel in the other. "Come, you don't ♦a!. By Jingo, there's Orimstone," he cried, as a step was heard upon the stairs; and in his excitement and dread of being seen engaged in eating sweets, he stuffed a fig into one breeches-pocket, some peel into the other, and snatched up his snuff-box, while I felt terribly discomposed at the idea of meeting my old tyrant. " Is it Mr. Grirastone ? " I faltered. " Yes, but you don't eat. Take another fig," cried Mr. .Inhiv. as, without knocking, Mr. Grimstone entered the room. " Hallo," he said, without taking off his hat, " what the dem .• are you doing here ? " " I've come to see Mr. Jabez, Mr. Grimstone," I replied. "Oh, have you? So have I. How long are you going in stop?" "Oh, hours yet," said Mr. Jabez. "Sit down, Grim. II. doesn't matter ; speak out. He doesn't belong to the shop i.ou. Well : what news P " 'Bad!" said Mr. Grimstone, throwing himself into a chair. " Here, boy, take my hat." I took it quite obediently, and re.oumed ray seat, while Mr. Grimstone wiped his bald head with a bright orange handkerchi* . . " You don't say so P " said Mr. Jabez uneasily. "Yes,! do," said Mr. Grimstone, taking the box out of th" reader's hand and helping himself to a pinch; "I said it quite plain." " It's a bad job." " Have you just found that out ?" t?narled the overseer. " Pretty pair of fools we've been. Look here, send that boy away." " No, uo ; nO| no. Sit stilly Grace. Eat some more tigs, boy. I {12 THE STORY OF ANTONY ur.AOE. ,1 ', |: •! I'll call Mrs. JenningM when you've eaten them. There, go on, ( Srim. Antony Grace ian't a chatterer." *' Ju8t as you like," said Grimstone. " Well, if he doesn't get niurried to that gal right off, and bank her naonoy, the game's up, atul vour £'500 and my £750 are gone to the deuce." " Is it £750, Grimstone ? " " Ves, curse him ! he got round me with all sorts of promises." •' Of bonus, Grim, eh P " '' Yes, I suppose so," growled the overseer. " That bill^is- iMiiinter chap, brandy sheim, or Brandy man or something's, corner- 10^ him. He was at the office to-day, and there wa« a regular -liine." "Was Ruddle there P" " No, but I hear that Brandysheim threatened to come down • I hir.i if he wasn't paid." ••And what thenP" " What then P " growled Grimstone, with a show of his teeth ; "why, Lister's smashed up — bankrupt, and you and I may sit •itid stare at each other for a pair of fools." •' But it won't hurt Ruddle. " " No, only bother him. If Lister's bankrupt, he's partner no Ioniser, and Ruddle will have to find out what share he has in the liisiness." •' Yes, that's what I thought," said Mr. Jabez dolefully. •' And we shan't get a penny ! " •' Not even interest," said Mr. Jabcz. . , . , s " Not even interest," .echoed Grimstone. ; " Not even bonus," said Mr. Jabez. " Not even bonus," echoed Grimstone again. '' What's he done with his money, that's what I want to know P " -■Hid Mr. Jabez. " Wine — women — horse-racing — foolery ! He's been carrying on like mad, and what I suspect is this — Miss Carr begins to smeU ii rat, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if the wedding didn't (•ome oflf." Mr. Jabez stared dolefully at Mr. Grimstone, and the overseer kept on taking pinches of snuff till the box was empty; and, after searching round with finger and thumb, threw the box impatiently down. *' Well, I don't see that we can do anything," said Mr. Jabez at last, " except wait." '' No," said Grimstone, " unless we can see the lady, and make her consent to pay us our £1,'J50." " And interest," said Mr. Jabez. ., - • . " And bonus," said Grimstone, " down on the nail." "Which we can't do," said Mr. Jabez, shakincr his head. "Of ooune we can't," said Grimstone. '- .\11 I wish is that I 19 AN ANGRY PARTING. lOJ htdn't let you per8u;id«« run into lt>n>lin)( him Mviiif]^ of a whole litV." "Oh, 1 like that ! " **ai«l Mr. .InlM-z. i'"»hing up uiakinpf a mark OM if he w.'iv (••irret'Ciiiy ' I sforie. "Like it or n(»i, I don't care/' said <ii... 8toDe, ' the money — the a pen, aixl there it is. Here! bov, mv lini. • 'M*ninj^P"Haid Mr. .Iiihez. "(Joitifrl *»f course I'm ^uiii^. Think I'm going to stop iuthit* dog-hole, (imelling of red-herringe and oil P " " Won't you take somethinjr)' Try u fig." Mr. Urimstnne snatclifd hiri hat from my handfi, gn/ed at m<> us if he would have liked to .set me t«; ylS. up pie, nn 1 bounci'd om of the room. "I don't know which \h most unpleasant, Grace," Maid the oltl man, "Grinistoneor his m .vs. Well, he's gone. Of cnurs", ynii won't talk about what you've heard, it's a very bad jt)b, thoujfli. fjr me — very — very. Hi ! Mrs. Jonniiij:.'*," he cried at the top u; the stairs, " half an ounce of best Scotch and Uappoe." He tapped with his box on the handrail as he spoke, and having had it replenished, he came back to sit and take pinches, becomini,'^ ID abstracted and ill at ease, that I rose to go when he M'as a quarter through the half-ounce. " Going, Grace P " he said. "Ah, I'm bad company to-night, but come again. Let me see, though," he said, fumblii.^- at some letters in his breast-pocket, *• I've got a letter here from that bad boy, Peter. Just the same as usual. Tut— tut — oh, hero it is. * Uemember me to that bov ' — ah, blunder: call it bov — * Antonv Grace. Tell him I shall come to see him if ever I get two London.' There's a fellow for you," said Mr. Jabez, " spells 'to' like the figure 2. But he always did want a deal of correcting, did Peter. Good-night, good-night." And I went my way, sadly troubled at heart abf^ut Miss Carr and Mr. Lister, and wondering whether she would, after all, refuse to be his wife. CHAPTER XXXVII. at I AN ANOltY PABTINO. I HAD four days to wait before going to Westmouth Street to receive my usual welcome — at least, not my usual welcome, for though she seemed to grow more sad and pale, Miss Carr's recep- tion of me increased each time in warmth, till at last, had I been a younger brother she could not have been more kind. I WM t good deal troubled at heart about what I knew, and 13 hi f r*"-' i ,.) VM THE STOliY OF ANTONV GUACE. [(U/,/u'(J myself as to my dulies in the rase. Ought 1 to take All . llallc^t into my confidence, and ask his advice, or ought 1 to ell Miss Carr herself? It was hard to wttle, and I have often ihought since of how stranj^ely I was brought at so young an age into tbo consideration of the weighty matters of life of thfjse with whom I vas in contact. It seemed to me that my ratroness ought to know what people said about Mr. Lister, and that if it were true she ought not to marry him. Certainly, at the intifivview at which I was an 'inwilling listener, there had appeared to be no T>robability of the Aodding taking place soon, but all the same, Miss Carr had seemed 'o me terribly cut up, consequent upon the parting with Mr. Lister. I was so strange and quiet that afternoon that Miss Carr noticed ii, and had just asked me what was the matter when the servant brought up a enid and I saw her change colour. " Sliow him up, Ec'waid," she faid quietly ; and though I did not see the card 1 felt sure from her manner that I knew who had come, and I looked up at Miss Carr, expecting to be told to go into the next room, but to my surprise she did not speak, and the next moment Mr. Lister came in. "Ah, Miriam!" he exclaimed; "how well — You here, drace?" " Yes, sir," I said, feeling very much in the way, as I stood where I had risen. "Sit down, Antony," said Mi.-s Carr quijlly ; and as T obeyed i saw an angry flush cross Mr. Lister's countenance. " Will you give me a few minutes in the next room, Miriam 'iear ? " he said in a low voice. " In my last answer to your letters, John," she replied, " I i (egged that you would nor. come to see me for a month or two. Why are you here now ? " *' Why am I here now ? " Le said in a low, deep voice. " Can you aek me P Because I want to speak to you — particularly — come in the next room." I could not help looking hard at him as he spoke, and thinking about what I had heard concerning liis affairs, and as I thought that he was to marry Miss Carr to nay off his debts, a strong leeling of resentment against him maue me almost determine to utter some word of warning. '* lie is so handsome, and has such a way with him," I thought, '• that she \vill do just as he wislies her; " but as the thoughts were in my mind, I was sui"prised and pleased by finding Miss Carr take quite a firm standing. "You can have nothing more to say to me, John, than has been .-aid already. I have told yon that at least six months must elapse before I can consent to what you ask." AN' A^'!;l:^■ r.Vi.iiNi.. 10- )een Ipse '* Will yon come into the np\t ivM>ni, or »»»»"1 awnv thut bov "r " he said in a low vdIch, hut one which shi-w^-a that he was i"»i> lofinj? his temper. " No,"8he -aiil firmly ; " and nfter my hist 1 tier I think it rrii< i of you to pnss me." " T onnnot help whetlier it is cruf! or in!," he snid. pfrowin;: white with iinfr^T nt her f)pposition. ** an I you are for<"iiiir ihp tc speak before tlii.« l»oy." " I leave that to vour common sense, John," she said <j(l:iiK. and with no little diii'nitv in l:e'- mnniiHr 1 don't know that I wish to hide anything fron) Antony (Jrmv. He kiiu\v.-< of engaprenunt." von mnd, Mirii.m r '* he rrifd, linahlf to cctnrniii hii (•111 <( Are nsi on v)if:c up a no' ! and indirectly venting hi^ spleen upon me. boy out of the gutter, and yon take him and miilcf him your ho-o!:i friend and confidant." Miss Carr caught my hand in hers, iis I started, stniiii ti tl,<' quick and mortifitd by his words. "Shame, John T^istt-rl ' sh^> aid, with a look that should l,;i\" brought him to his senses. •* Shame I flow ciin yon spi aK il- that in Antony Grace's presence, and to me 'f " "Because you make me desp- rate," he CTi»d ;;i",'rily. ** I cm bear it no longer. I will tiot he hiHed with, h'or mr)nths now you have treated me as a child. Once more, will you sctid a\vii\ this boy, or come with m»» into another room Y " "Mr. Lister," sh*- .said, rising, "you are iingry and e.vci'eil. You are saying words now which yon will iiftcfwanls 'jrieve ove ■, as much as I shall regret to have heard theiM ,-«]>Ml.:ri!." "I can't help that," he e.vclaimed. " l)ay after day T !ii\.' come to you, begcring you to liste-i to me, l>nt I have alw,i\^ been put off, until now I have grown desperate." " Desperate ? " she said wonderingly. " Yes, desperate. I do nut wish to speak before this boy, Imh you force me to it." "What is there in our enga;;'ement thai I should le a.>li;nii to let the whole w-orld hf^"r?",-he siid proudly, " Why. ii f listened to j'ou, it would be published to every one who would lie;ir. " Mr. Lister took a few strides up atid down the room. " Will you hear me, Miriam I*' " he cried, m.iking an inetfectiial effort to command his temper. "John Lister," she replied, " I have given yon your answer. Come to me in six months' time." " Am I to take that as final y " he sai<l hoarsely. " Yes. How can T reply otherwi.se to yotir violerce P " "Violence! It is enough to drive a man mad! Htit, once more, Miriam, give me your verbal answer to the note I sent you this morning. Yes or no. Pause before you answer, for yc)n iln It 196 THE .STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. \i : not know how much depends upon it. You have made me ae§- ])(Tate. Don't leave me to repent of what I liavt. done." " John, dear John ! " she said softly, " I am alone in tht world, with none to guide me, and I have prayed for help that I m^^ght <,ave a right answer to your request.' " Yes, he said, with his lip curling, " and it is ** " It is for both our sake.s, John," she said softly ; " I could not in justice to ua both say yes, now ; it must be no ! " He did not speak, but stood glaring at her for a few moments; then, looking very white, and drawing in his breath with a long, low hiss, he turned upon his heel and left the room. For a few minutes Miss Carr sat gazing at the door through which he had passed, and then, turning and seeing my hot, flushed face, she seemed to recall Mr. Lister's words about me, and she took my hand, sitting very quiet Iv for a time. " When people are angry, Antony,' she said quietly, " they say things they do not intend or mean. You must forgive Mr. Lister his words about you — for my sake," " I will do what you wish," I said, and then I began wondering whether I ought to tell Miss Can- what I knew about Mr. Lister s affairs, for it seemed to me that the words I had heard must be true, and that this was the explanation of his g'sat anxiety to fix the day, A dozen times over the woi-ds were on my lips, but I felt that it would seem as if I took advantage of my position, and were trying to blacken Mr. Lister to gain her favour. More likely, I thought, it would make her bitter and angry against me, and, reflecting that she had determinedly insisted tnat he should wait six months for her answer, I remained silent. Miss Carr strove very hard to make me forget the unpleasantry of the early part of my visit, but she was at times very auiet and sxbdued, ana I believe we both looked upon it as a relief when 1 he time came for my departure. CHAPTER XXXVm. ▲ WBDDINO TBIP. * You'rb getting such a fine gent now, Ant'ny,'' said Revitts to me one morning ; " but, if so be as you wouldn t mind, Mary and me's made up our minds to have a bit of u trip out, a kind of s'rimp tea, just by way of celebrating my being made sergeant, ana getting well again." " Why, my dear old Bill," I cried, " why should I mind your having a trip P Where are you going P " A WjiDPINT; iniP. 1?' " Well, you see, it's a toss up, Aut'ny ; (Jravesend's best fo. arimps, but Hampton Court's the ulcer suiter place for a day, uiii! Mary ain't never been." " Then go to Hampton Oouit," I said. " Hampton Court it is, Mary," he said. " That settles it." " And 1 hope you'll both enjoy your.s«'lves." " What, won't you come ? "said Ke\ itts blankly, "Come! what — with you ? " I said. ** Why, of course, Ant'ny. You don't su[)pu8e we should cur about gomg alone. Won't you come ? " " You didn't ask me." " Oh, come now ; that I did ! " he exclaimed. *• That you did not," I said stoutly. *• Did hp, Mary ? " ■ " He meant to, Master Antony," said Mary, looking up witli n very red face, end one hand apparently in a ^rev Ixtxing-glovi though it was only one of Revitts' worsted >tuclaugs, in need ot another dam. " Well, I'll ask you now, then," exclaimed Revitts. " Will you come along with us P " "When.P" -, " Sat'dav next, being your half-holiday." " Yes," t said, " but I must write and tell Miss Carr I'm not coming till Sunday." *' That's settled, then," said Revitts, holding out his big liand fi>; me to shake ; and I could not help n(jticiu<< how tliiu and .sot'i i; was; but he was fast recovering his strength, and was again <i ; duty. We walked down from Pentonvillo together, and as we we t along, he introduced the subject of his accident for the first tinit for some weeks. " You wouldn't think as I'm a-trying hani lo conjure out win it was fetched me that crack in the head, Antony ?'" " No," I said ; " I thought you had forgotten all uhout it." "Not I," he said, .shaking liis head. " What, me, a sijrge.- just promoted, and lot a ca.se like tliat vo h\ witliont conjuriiiif • out! Why, it couldn't be done ! 1 .should feel a.s if I was n d - grace to the force. That's spvikirt): 'iicially,'' he siid. " No.« . speaking as a man, I've got rhi.-* here ro say, that I shan't r. >' comfortable till I've put .'<oni>'Tiiin<.'' on that tliere t'ellow'.s wfi.>.!>.' " And shall vou know him a^ain ': '' I a.^-ked. " Know him ! Out o' ten thouj^and — out o' fen millions o' ine:». I only wish I knew the gal. It would be .^iich a ihie." " It's no use to be revengeful, lUU," T tiaid. " J^et it go. It brought Mary up to town." " Yes, it did : didn't it?"' he said, with the sheepish, soft look coming over his face for a moment. Jiut it wa.s gone directl\, •od he was the officer once more. " 'Taint revengeful," he said : 11)8 THE STORY Oi- AMoNY ailACii. ■ 1 't • . !; '.:■, ♦> i I'i ; i; ■ « " it's dooty. We ciurt Int outrageous outrages like that tako place in the main streets. No, Antony : I feel as if my repitation'a at stake, to find out who did that, and I shan't rest till 1 do." We parted then, and the rest of the week passed swiftly away. 1 told Hallett that I was ^oing to spend the afternoon out on the .Saturday, oo that most likely I should go to Miss Carr's on the Sunday, and he was not to expect me for my usual walk with him, one which had grown into a custom; and being thus clear. T went off in the morning to \\'estminster, it beingr understood that I was lo meet Ilevitts and Mary at the White Horse Cellar. Piccadilly, und go down to Hampton Court ut midday by the omnibus. Punctual to my time, I went across the park and up St. James's Street and saw Uevitts and Mary, long before I reached them, by the show they made. Mary was hi white book muslin, with a long black silk scarf, and a bonnet that I could not pretend tf) describe, save that over it she carried a blue parasol shot with red : and Kevitts was in blu( k frock-coat, buft waistcoat, and white trousers, with a tremendous show of c<.)llar standing bolt out of a sky-blue watered-silk i!>tork, while his hat shone as if it was a repetition of the patent leather of his shoes. I instinctively felt that something? was the matter as I drew ntar them, and, but for my genuine love and respect for them lioth, I believe I should have run away. I rebuked my cowardly ^hame directly after, though, and went up and shtwk hands. There was not a vestige of tantrums left in Mnrv's countenance, for it had softened itself into that dreadful smile — the same that was playing upon Revitts' face, as he kept looking at heV in a satisfied, half-imbecile way, before giving me a nuage with his elbow, covering his mouth with his hand, and exclaiming in a loud whisper, — " We've been and done it, Ant'ny ! Pouf ! " This last was a peculiar laugh in which he indulged,while Mary cast down her eyes. " Done it ! — done what ? \V hat does he mean, Mary ? " Mary grew scarlet, and became puzzled over the button of one of her white kid gloves. " Here, what do you mean. Bill P " I said. "Done it. Pouf!" he exclaimed, with another laugh from behindiiis hand. " Done it — married." " Married ? " I echoed. "Yes. Pouf! Mrs. Sergeant Revitts. White Sergeant. Pouf!" " Oh, Mary," I said, " and not to tell me ! " " It was all his doing, Master Antony," pleaded Mary. " He would have me, and the more I wanted to go back to service, the more he made me get married. And now I hope he's happy." There was no mistaking William Revitts' happiness as he helped his wife on to the outside of the omnibus, behind the coachman — he sitting one side of Mary, and I next him; but ttj A WKDDING TRIP. 1'.' in a from as I would, I could notfeel as happy. I felt vext^dmid ini»i-titie.i ; for^ somehow, it deemed an if it wus printed in large letters u^mi the backs of my companions—" Married this morning," aud tlii^ announcement seemed reHected upon me. I wouldn't have cared if they could liave sat still and tn!!<i(l rationally; but this they did not do, for every now and then il.»\ turned to look in each other's faces, with the same weak.'hun- imbecile smile, — after which Mary would cast down her eyes nn i look conscious, while Revitts turned round and smiled at ui. . finishing off with a nudge in my side. At times, too, he had spasmodic fits of silent laughter— silen. except that they commenced with a loud chuckle, whicli he nuu.- marily stifled and took into custody by clapping his great haiul over his mouth. There were intervals of relief, though ; for when, from his coig^ of vantnre, poor Hill saw one of hi** frnier- nity on ahead — revealed to 1 im, perhups, by a ray of sunshine flashing from the shiny top of his hut — for, of course, this was lon^ before the days of helmets — the weak, amiable look was cha>«ed off his face by the official mask, and, as a sergeant, though of a different division, Revitts felt himself hound to stare very hard a: the police-constable, and frown severely. At first I thought it was foolish pride on my part, that 1 was being spoiled by Ml s Carr, and that I was extra sensitive ahom my friends ; but I w^ s not long in awakening to the fact that tliey were the objects of ridicule to all upon the omnibus. The first thing I noticed was, that the coiiductor and drivr: exchanged a wink and a grin, which were repeated several t'v.xv> between Piccadilly and Kensington, to tht great amusement •• several of the passengers. Then began a little mild chaff, sprinkhu by the driver, who started with — " I say, Joey, when are yoti going to be married ? " " Married ? oh, I dunno. I've tried it on sev'ral times, but i ,i parsons is all too busy." The innocent fit was on Revitts just then, and he favouit ! Mary and me with a left and right nudge. " Doadone, William," whispered Mrs. Sergeant ; and he grinn • ' hugely. "Shall you take a public, Joey, when you do itP" said ilit driver, leaning back for another shot. "Lor', no; ii; won't run to a public, old man," was the reply. "We was thinking of the green and tater line, widi a cella: under, and best Wallsend one and six." I could feel that this wa.« all niei.nt for the newly wedd^il couple, and sat with flaming c'l- Ic-i. " §ee that there wedding in I'lckydilly, last week. Bill ? " Revitts pricked up his ears, and was about to speak, but the driver turned half round, and shouted — 1 J il'-V ■ n 200 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. '* What, whure they'd got straw laid down, and the knocker tied up in a white kid glove ? " " No — o— o ! " shouted the conductor. " That wasn't it. I i.u-an clost ter' Arfmoon Street, when they was just going off." " Oh, ah, yes : I remember now." •* See the old buffer shy the shoe outer the front winder P " u No^o— o ! " " He did, and it 'it one o' the post-boys slap in the eye. Old l>oy had been having too much champagne." " Did it though ? " , r • " Yes. I say. Bill." " Ilal-low ! ''^ " It's the rijrht card to have champagne on your wedding morning, ain't it ? " " Ah ! some people stands it quite lib'ral like, if they're nobs ; : liem as ain't, draws it old and mild.'' I had anotlier nutJ^e from Kevitts just then, and sat feeling as if I should like to ji' r^p down and run away. " Drop o' Smith's cool out o' the cellar wouldn't be amiss, Joey, would it ? " " No, old man. I wish we could f«»,ll across a wedding-party." A passenger or two were picked up, and we went on in peace for a little while: but the cliaffing was commenced ugain, and kept up to such an extent that I longed for the journey to be at an end. " 'Member Jack Jones ? " said the driver. " Ah ! what about him ? " said the conductor. •' He went and got married last year." r " Did he ? " " Yes." " AVh'o did he marry ? " "That there Mrs. Simmons as kep' the 'Q'leen's Arms' at Tunnum Green." " Ah ! " " Nice job he made of it." « Did he ? " " Yes ; he thought slie was a widder.** " Well, warn't she ? " " No ; she turned out a big-a-mee ; and one day her fust husbati comes back from 'Stralia, and kicks Jack Jones out, and takes his place ; and when Jack 'peals against it, Mrs. Simmons says it was ail a mistake." " That was warm for Jack, wasn't it ? " " Hot, I say." " Well," said the conductor ; " when I makes up my mind ngain, and the parsona ain't so busy, I shall have the missus croas- examined." A VVEDDINU TIUP. 201 •■ " What for, Joey P " ^ " So as to see us she ain't a big-a-mee." Revitts, who was drinking all this in, looked very serious here, as if the conversation was tending towards omcial mattert. Perhaps it occurred to him that he had n 3t cross-examined Marv before he was married; but he began to smile again .snon aft»'T. for the conductor took a very battered old copper key-bugle from a basket on the roof, and, afte** a few prelinnnarv toots, began to rattle off " The Wedding Day . ' The driver shook t he reins, thu four horses broke into a canter, and as we swept past the green hedge-grows and market-gardens, with here and there a pretty villa, 1 began to enjoy the ride, longing all the same, though, for Revitts and Mary to begin to talk, instead of smiling at each other in such a horribly ijappy way, and indulging in what was meant for a secret squeeze of the hand, but wliich was, however, generally seen by half the passengers. The air coming to an end, and the bugle being duly drained, wiped, and returned to its basket, the driver turned his liead again : " Nice toon that, Joey." " Like it ? " " Ah, I was going to say ' hangcore,' on'y we're so clost to Richmond. What was it—' Weddin' Day ' ? ^' " That's right, old man." " Ah ! thought it was." Revitts sent his elbows into Mary and me again, and had a silent laugh under one glove, but pricked up his ears directly, a.s the conductor shouted again : " Ain't that Bob Binnies ? " " What, him on the orf side P " said th»! driver, pointing with hie whip. « Yes." ' "Well, what of him?" " What of him ? Why, he's the chap as got married, and had such a large family." " Did he, though ? " said the driver seriously. " Ten children in five years. Bill." " Lor' ! with only five-and-twenty shillings a week. How did he manage ? " Revitts looked very serious here, and sat listening for the answer. "Kep' him precious poor; but, stop a moment, I ain't quite right. It was live children in ten years." Revitts made another serious assault on my ribs, and I saw Mary give herself a hitch ; and whisper again to her lord. There was a general laugh at this stale old joke, which, like manv more v/ell-worn ones, however, seemed to take better than the keenest wit, and just then the omnibus drew up Li front of an inn to change horses. |i: .! Wi, THE STORY OF ANTONY (iRACE. The driver unbuckled and threw down his reins, previous to «'»'.soendinj^ to join t\u^ conductor, who waa already off his perch. Several of the pansengers jjfot down, and after bidding Mary and niH keep our pluceo, llevitts prepared to descend, rather more >l()wly though, for his wcdiling ganner.fs were not cominndioas. " Don't drink anything, William dear," whimpered Mary. " Not drink anything to-day ? " he said, lauirliing. " Oh, come, that won't do!" Ho jumped off the step, and I Haw him join the driver and con- ductor, who laughed and nodded, and, direct ly uft«r, each man had a foaming pint of ale, which they held before putting to their lips, till Ilevitts came round to our side with a waiter bearing two glasses of wine and another pint of ale, the driver and con- ductor following. " Oh, I don't wan't anything," said Mary, ratlier shnrply. " It's only sherry wine, my dear," said Revitts ningiiiKcentlv ; and, as if to avoid remark, Mary stooped down and took tlie glasses, one being for me, Revitts taking nis shiny pewter measure of ale. " Here is long life and happiness to you, mum, and both on you," said the driver, nodding in the most frien<ily way. " Aforesaid," exclaimed the conductor, '* and a bit o' chaff on'y meant as fun. Long life and a merry one to both on you. Shaver, same to you." I was the "Shaver,'' and the healths being drunk in solemn silence, and I accommodated with a tumbler, and some water to my sherry, the driver mounted again, the conductor took out his Key-bugle, the streets of pretty Richmond echoed to an old- fashioned air, and the four fresh but very dilapidated old screws that did the journey to Hampton Court and hack to Richmond were shaken into a scrambling canter, so that in due time we leached the royal village, the cliaff having been damped at Richmond with the ale, and ceasing afterwards to fly. We learned that a return omnibus left the " Toy " at seven o'clock, and then started for our peregrination of the palace and grounds. Hut somehow that pint or .»!'" seemed to have completely changed poor Revitts. The late injury to his head had made him so weak t here, that the ale acted upon him in the strangest manner. He waa excited and irritable, and seemed to be brooding over the remarks he had heaixl upon the omnibus. The gardens, of course, took our attention first, and there being few people about, and those of a holiday class, the gay costume of my companions ceased to excite notice, and T began to enjoy our trip. There were the great smooth gravel walks, the closely shaven lawns, the quaintly clipped shrubs, and old-fashioned Hower beds to admire. The fountain in the centre made so much spray in the pleasant breeze that from o^^ point of view there was a A WEDDING TRIP. -y r. was a miuiature rainbow, and when we walked down to the iron railin^r?', and ffased at the long avenue of the Home Park, with ita brign. canal-like lake between, Mary was enraptured. "Oh, do look, dear!" she exclaimed; "isn't it 'evin^'h. William P" " Yes," he said stolidly, as he took hold of the railinfi^ with hi.- white kid glove; " but what I say is this : Fjvery mnn wlu* cnf» r» into the state of wedlock ought fust to make sure as the womnn li»- marries ain't a big-a-mee." Here be unbuttoned his waistcoat, under the impression thai ii was his uniform coat, so as to get out hio notebook, and tliei . awakening to his mista)' ', hastily buti'oned i( nguin. "Haven't got a pencil and a bit o' paper, have you, Ant'ny 'r " he said. "What are vou talking about, William P" exclaimed Marv "Don't be so foolish. Now, take us and show us the ornngts Master Antony," she said. This was on the strength uf my having invested in a guide- book, though both my cotupanions seemed to place theniMtmes in my hands, and looked up tu me as being cmmmed with a vuist amount of knowledge about Cardinal Wolsey. Henry VI IT., and those who had made tlie palace their home. So I took them to see the Orangery, which Hevitts, who seened quite out of temper, looked down upon with contempt. " Bah ! " he exclaimed ; "call them oranges ! Why, I couKl go and buy twice as good in Cray's Inn Lane for three a penny. That there woman, Ant'ny, what was her name P " "What woman?" " Her as committed big-a-mee P " "Oh, do adone with such stuff, William dear. Now, Muster Antony, what's next ? " " I know," said Hevitts oracularly, " Mrs. Simmons. I nay wlie ought to have been examined before a police magistrate, and after proper adjournments, ^nd the case reg'larly made up by the sergeant who had it in charge, she ouglit to have been committed for trial." "Oh, William dear, do adone," cried Mary, clinging to his arm. " Cent. Grim. Court " * "William!" "Old Bailey--^" "William dear!" " Before a jury of her fellow-countrymen, or, — I say, Ant'ny ain't that wrong ? " " What P '; I said, laughing. "Oh, it ain't a thing to laugh at, my lad. It's serious," he said, taicing off his hat and rubbing his bead, exhaling, aa be did 80, a strong smell of hairoil. it II ■ ii m\ ■.1 ■' 1 1 1 ;'i (?04 TFIK MORV f)K ANTONY (iKACK. 1' •* What is NHfiousf' " [ wiid. ^ » .., .,„ ** Why, that," replinl Uevitts, " I uin't i-iuro, in a case like that, ii oughtn't to b»» a jury of matrons." " Oh do, prav, hurry him uloii((, Master Antony," crit'd Muvy iteously. ** NVluitcver is tliu matter with you to-<lay, William P " I'm married," he said severely. " And you cion't wish yon weren't, William, don't say no, Mleaae," exclaimed Mary pitifully. •' [ don't know," said Kevitts stolidly. "Go on, Ant'ny." He went on, himself, lowardn the Vii.ery, Mary following With me, and looking ut me helple«*sly, as if asking what she should do. The sight ot the great bunches of grapee in such enormous numbers seemed to change the course of William lievitts' thoughts, and we went on pretty comfortably for a tinic, Mary's spirits rising, and her tongue going more freely, but there were no tnore weak, amiable smiles. At last we entered the palace, and on seeing a light dragoon on duty, lievitts pulled himself tofretlier, looked severe, and marched by him, as if belonging to a kin Ired force ; but he stopped to ask questions on the grand staircase, respecting the paintecl ceilings. " Are them angels, Ant'ny ? " he said. " 1 suppose so,' I replied. " Then I don't believe it," he said angrily. " Why, if such • vidence was given at Clerkenwell, everybody in the police-court would go into fits, and the reporters would say in the papers, • Loud laughter, which was promptly repressed ' ! or, * Loud hiughter, in .vhich the magistrate jomed.'" " Whatever does he mean, Master Antony P I don't know what's come to him to-day," whispered Mary. '* Why, that there," said l?evitts cojitemptuously. " Just fancy a witness coming and swearing as the angels in heaven played big liddles, and things like the conductor blew coming down. The painter must have been a fool." He was better pleased with the arms and armour, stopping lo carefully examine a fine okl mace. '* Yes, that would give a fellow a awful wunner, Ant'ny," he said ; " but it would be heavy, and all them pikes and things ain't uecessarf. A good truncheon properly handled can't be beat." Old fiirniture, tapestry, and the like had their share of attenticm, l)ut Revitts hurried me on when I stopped before some of the pictures, shaking his head and nudging me. •• " I wonder at you, Ant'ny," he whispered. His face was scarlet, and he had not recovered his composure when we reached another room, where a series of portraits made me refer to my guide. " Ladies of Charles the Second's Court," I said," painted by Sir Peter Lely." WILLIAM REVITTS IS ECCEN'iliir. 2(A " Then he oiiprht to have been oflhnincd of himsolf," 8nid Hevitf h sharply; and drawing Mury's arm thmu^li hin, he luirrifd me oi\, evidently highly disapproving of the style of bodice ihwi in vogue* CHAPTEU XXXIX. WILUAM RRVITTS 18 ECCENTRIC. Thx dinner we had at the inn was not a success. The v/nilcrs evidently settled that we were a wedding-party, ni;d clmr^ ■<! accordingly. Mary tried hard to keep llevitts from taking aiiv more to drink ; but he said it was necessary on a day like that, ami ordered wine accordingly. He drank slowly, and never once showed the sli^jhtest lrM(«' of intoxication; but the wine also produced a Ntrang^ irritalwhtN . which made him angrv, even to being Herce at tinievs, und over and over again I saw the tears in poor Mury's tyes. Ever and again that bigamy case — real or ima^Miiary - of whii li he hod heard as we came down kept cropping up, mi*i the mor Mary tried to turn the conversation, the more eager he became to discuss it. The wedding-day, his wife, my remarks, all wen- forgotten or set aside, so that he might explain to us, with a vn^t amount of minutiae, how he would have got up nucIi a case, beginning with the preliminary inquiries and ending wi:.h tlic culprit's sentence. We had it over the dinner, with tlie waiters in the room : we had it in cu/ls-<f«-«ac in the maze; and we Iiad it over a^ain in Bushy Park, as we sat under the shade of a great chestnut : after which Revitts lay down, seeming to drop asleep, and Mary said to me, piteously : " I do believe, dear, as he's took it into his head that I've com- mitted big-a-mee ! " The words were uttered in a whisper, but they seemed to galvanize Revitts, who started up into a sitting posture, and ex- claimed sharply : " I don't know as you ain't. I never cross-examined you before we was married. But look here, Mary Revitts, it's my dooty tr tell you as what you say now will be took down, und may be used as evidence against you." After which oracular delivery he lay down and went off fast asleep, leaving Mary to weep iu silence, and wish we had never come away from home. I could not help joining her in the wish, though I did not say .80, but did all I could to comfort her, as Mr. Peter Howie's moral af^borisms about drink kept oomipg to my mii^d. Not tb%t poor IN J j t i I ' t 'i\-/\ *m rm: STOltV OK ANTONY < J HACK. !•' '\ittiH liail, ill tli(> Mli;^)it('Nt dr^rue, excet'tled ; and we joiiind in >ayin^ tliat it was all diit; tu ovi'r-excittMUHMt cuiihequent upon bin llillKSS. " (f I could only K^t him honi«) u^min, poor boy, I wouldn't I are," said Mary; aiul wo then comforted ourselves with the hope iliat ln' woiiM he bettor when he awoke, and that then we would JO to one of the many places offering, have a quiet cup of tea, wliicli would be Niire to do him good, and then go back borne, jiiietly, inside the omnibus. Itevitts woke in about an hour, evidently much refre.shed and liter, but still he seemed strange. The tea, however, appeared to do him good, and in due time we mounted to our seats outside i lie omnibus, for be stubbornly refused to go within. He did not i^ay much on the return journey, but the bigamy ca«« \v)iH evidently ninnin^r in his head, from what he said : and'once, III a wliisper, poor Mary, who was half broken-hearted, confided lo me now, sitting on herotherside, that she felt sure poor William was regretting that they had been married. '' And I did so want to wait," she said : ** but he wouldn't anv . (iiger. •'Are you two whispering about that there caaeP" he cried !i;iiply. " " No, William dear," said Mary. " Do yoa feel better P " '• Better P " he said irritably. " There isn't anything the matter with me," He turned away from her, and sat watching the side of the road, nutterin;^ every now and then to himself in a half-angry way, while poor Mary, in place of going into a tantrum, got hold of my land between both hers, and held it very hard pressed against the front of her dress, where she was protected by a rigid piece of bone or steel. Every now and then, poor woman, she gave the hand a convulsive pressure, and a great sob in the act of escaping would feel like a tlirob against my arm. So silent and self-contained did Revitts grow at last, that poor .Mary began to pour forth in a whisper the burden of her trouble, •vhile I sat wondering, and thinking what a curious thing this love must be, that could so completely transform people, and yet give them so much pain. " It wasn't my doing. Master Antony dear," whispered Mary ; ' '' for I said it would be so much better for me to go back to ^ service for a few years, and I always thought as hasty marriages meant misery. But William was so masterful. He said it was 1 10 use his getting on and improving his spelling, and getting his promotion, if he was always to live a weary, dreary Dachelor — '< them was his very woi-ds. Master Antony; and now, above all times, was the one for us to get married." f' He's tjured, Mary," I said ; " that's all." WIM.IAM f;rMTT- Is r.' ii:\':i:ic. !*•: "TIint*8 i»II P All, my tltur ! it'x a very jjrr»'nt ull. Il« 'fttinMl m me, thatH wliut be i»; uiul J abuU never for^^ive iiiy>tU tor beii.,. so rH^b." " Hut you biive born »MipHp»'d several yeat-H, biiven't you. Mnry !- * " Yes, my (b-ar , biif years ain't !< ti/ %vben you're husy at •! always bani at work. I les-'ay tbey're a loii^' time to i:»-iiib'fM||.« as bns to wait, liut it nt>ver seeineti ioii^ to me, an<l I've dnnt' :i very rasb tbin<r; but f «li«ln't tbink ibe J)uni^lln^»*^t was eouiin- quite so soon. " "Ob, noUM-nse, Mary ; Hill will be all ri^bt ajfaiiisooti," I >a;'l. ns I could see, by tbe Iij,''bt of a^as-bimp we |)M>se(l, tbat tbe po< i disappointed woman bad been crying till sbe bad Hoaked aii<' s])oiied ber sbowv boniiet-sfrings. " No, my dear, I don't tbink so ; I feel ns if it was all a })nni>li- ment upon me. and tbat 1 ou^bt to bave waited till be was (jui''' well and str(»nj(." It was of no u\ail to try and ni. on, so I contenteil m\>tl, witb sitting still and pves.xin^ ]iooi- Mary's rounb bonest baii<I, while tbe horses ruitlcd merrily alorg, an<l we yiadiially neuml the j^roat city. I was obli;.'ed to own tbat if this was a specimen of a weddin^''- day, it was anythinp but a joyous and fe.stive time ; and it seemed to me tbat tbe day tliat bad beyun so unsatistaetorilv was to be kept in character to the end. For, before reaching Ilanunersmitb, one of tiuf borses sbied and fell, and those at the pole went v\\i\\\ upon it btilore tbe omnibu- could be stopped, with tbe consequence tbat tbe vebicle was ?U'ai 1\ upset, and a general shriek aro.^^e. No harm, however, was done, and in a quarter of an hour we were once more under weinh. hut Mary said, witb a si<jli and a. rub of the back of my band a^ainsi ilie buttons of lier dre.ss, thai it was a warning of worse things to (ome ; and tbouub very sorry for her, I could not help longing for our journey's end. "Just you come over here, Ant'ny," said Uevittssuddeidy ; atnl I had to change places and sit between him and bis wife, of whom he seemed not to take tbe sliglitest notice. " Are you better. Hill H " I said. " Better P" he said sharply; "what do you mean by better ^ I'm all right." "That's well," I said. " Of course it is. Now look here, Ant'ny, I've been thinking :i ffood deal about tbat there big-u-mee as we conje along, and I'll ]U8t tell you what I should have done." I heard Mary give a gulp ; but I thought it better not to try and thwart him, so prepared to listen. " You see, Ant'ny," be said, in a very didactic manner," when a fellow is in the force, and is always taking up people ai.d getting' 208 THE ST<)RY OF ANTONY GRACK. up eases, and at tending at thy police courts, and Old Hailey sessions and corot.ers' inquests, he picks up a deal of valuable information." " Of course, Bill." " He do ; it stands to reason that he do. Well, then, I ought to know just two or three things." " Say two or three thousand. Bill." " Well," he said, giving his head an official roll, aa if settling it in bis great stock, " we won't say that. Let'j put it at 'undreds — two or three 'undreds. Now, if I'd had such a case as that big-a- mee in hand, I should have begun at the beginning. — Where are we now ? " he said, after a pause, during which he had taken off Ms hat, and rubbed his heaa in a puzzled way. " You were talking about the case," I said, " and beginning at the beginning." " Don't you try to be funny, young fellow," he said severely. " I said, where are we now ? " * " Just passing Hvde Park Comer, Bill." " Yes, of course,'^ be said. " Well, look here, my lad, there's no doubt about one thing : women, take 'em all together, are — no, I won't say a bad lot, but they're weak — awful weak. I've seen a deal on 'em at the police-courts." " I suppose so," I said, as I heard Mary give a low sigh. " They're not what they should be, Ant'ny, by a long chalk, and the way they'll tell lies and deceive and cheat's about awful, that it is." " Some women are bad, I daresay," I said, in a qualifying tone. " Some r " he said, with a short, dry laugh ; " it's some as is good. Most wcTien's bad." " That's a nice wholesale sort of a charge," said a passenger behind him, in rather a huffy tone. " You mind your own business," said Revitte sharply. " I wasn't talking to you ; " and he spoke in such a fierce way that the man coloured, while Mary leaned forward, and looked im- ploringly at me, as much as to say, " Pray, pray, don't let him quarrel." " I say it, and T ought to know," said Revitts dictatorially, "that women's a bad lot, and after hearivigof that case this morn- ing, I say as every woman afore she gets married ouglit to go thr.)ugh a reg'lar cross-examination, and produce sittifikite of character, and witnesses to show where she's been, and what she's been adoing of for say the last seven years. If that was made law, we shouldn't have poor fellows taken in and delooded, and then find out afterwards as it's a case of big-a-mee, like we heerd of this morning. Why, as I was a-saying, Ant'ny, if I'd had that case in hand eh ? Oh, ah, yes, so it is. I'll get down first. I didn't think we was so near.'^ For poor Bill's plans about the bigamy case were brought to ■\ HALLETT'8 new 8. .J09 on end by the stopping of the omnibua in Piccadilly, t.n.1 [ gnvr a sigh of relief as we drew up in the bright, busy thoroughfare, after a look at the dark sea of shining lights that lay spread fo the right over the Green Park and We.-'tniinHter. Carnages were passing, the pavement was thronired, and ii being a hne night all h.r.ked very bright and cheery- after what to follow offering my hand to poor, sad Marv, when just as nu back was turned, Kevitts called out to me : ' " Ant'ny, Ant'ny, look after my wife!" and as 1 turned sharph 1 just caught sight of him turning the corner of the street arid' be was gone. \ CHAPTER XL. ,.., HALLETT's NEWi), I WAS 80 Staggered by this strange behaviour that I did not think fu ^i"!S"*' ,^'^^/7«^» I was in the act of helping poor Murv i,. the ladder placed for her to descend, nhile she, poor thino- mi\r vent to a cutting sigh, and clung tin I tl ,• to m v hand " ' As we stood together on the pavement, our Vves met, and tloiv was something so piteous in the poor woman's face, that it rons,.,| me to action, and catching her hand, I drew it ihronuh mv arm «T ^«^*«.?0"e to get a glass of ale, Mary," I said cheertulK Let s see it we can see lum. "i^?v' ®^^ f'^^^ huskily; ''he has gone; he has left me to, good. Master Antony, and I'm a miserable, wretclu-d woman " «S^' °°u^®"'.V-^ """"'f- " ^°™« a^o"^- ^^^" «^'all find h.m WO, she said, m a decisive way : "he has gone. He's b-.-n regretting it ever since this morning." « Uon't, pray ; don't cry, Mary," I whispered in alann,for I was airaid of a scene in the streets. • u^^J.?^,"^^^^' 1°,"'* y^*^ ^^ *^''*»^ "^ ^^<' «l'e said, with a si^h. • 1 11 try and bear it till we get home; but 1 won't pro- mise for any longer. ^ "Don't you be foolish, Mary," I said sharplv. "He has n.^t lett you. He s too fond of you. Let's see if he is in the har " Mary sighed; but she allowed herself to be led where I pl.ase'l and for the next half-hour we stood peering about in .m t iv liii, iv place for the truant husband, Imt in vain: and »i list, forhn.- tha'i It was useless to search longer, 1 rehictantlv turn, d t'. p.,nr, patient Silent Mary, wondering greatly that she'had n<,t hurst out into' a tantrum, and said that we had better go home " Go where P " she said dolefully. 14 [\:f JIO THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE, I I. Ii-' '^1 'i I ; '^tyUfi, '■HH H ■ 1' 1 1 1 1 ' " Home," I replied, " to your lodpiiifr.s." "My lodgings, Master Antony," she wailed. "I have no lodgings. I'm a poor, helpless, forsaken woman ! " " Oil, what non8en}>e, Mary," I cried, hurrying her along ; "don t be so foolish ! " — for I was in mortal terror of a violent burst of tears. " Come along, do. Here I " I shouted ; " cab ! " — and I sighed with relief as I got her inside, and gave the man directions to take us to Caroline Street, Pentonville. But even in the cab Mary held up, strivinj? hard, poor woman, to master her emotion — her pride, no doubt, helping her to pre- serve her calmness till she got to the happy home. " I dare say we shall find him upstairs," I said, after giving the cabman a shilling more than his fare; but though there was a light burning, and the landlady had spread the table, to make the place look welcome to the newly wedded pair, there was no sign of Kevitts, and we neither of us, iu our shame, dared to ask if he had been back. On the contrary, we gladly got to the rooms — Revitts' one having now expanded to three — and once there, Maiy gasped out : " blaster Antony dear, shut and lock the door — quick — quick!" I hastily did as she bade me, and as I turned, it was to see poor Mary tear off her bonnet and scarf, throw herself on the little couch, cover her face with her hands, and lie there crying and sobbing in a very passion of grief, miserv, and shame. It was no noisy outburst : it was too deep for that ; but the poor woman had to relieve herself of the day's disappointment and agony, and there she lay, beating down and stifling everv hysterical cry that fought for exit, while her breast heaved witL the terrible emotion. I was too young then to realize the full extent of the shame and abasement the poor woman must have felt, but all the same 1 sympathized with her deeply, and in my weak, boyish way did all I could to console her, but in vain. For quite an hour the outburst continued, till at last, quite in despair, I cried out : " Oh Mary, Mary ! what can I do to comfort you ? " She jumped up into a sitting position, then ; threw back her dishevelled hair ; wiped her eyes, and looked, in spite of her red and swollen lids, more herself. **0h, my own dear boy," she cried, "what a wicked, selfish wretch I am! " and, catching me in her arms, slie kissed me very tenderly. " There," she said with a piteous smile ; " it's all over now. Master Antony, and I won't cry another drop. You're a dear, good, aflfectionate boy — that you are, and I'll never forget it, and you're as hungry as a hundred hunters, I know." In spite of my protestations, ahe hastened to make that balm for all sorrows — a cup of tea, , nALLETT'S NEWa »^l "But I don't want it, Mary," I protested, " and I'm not hungry. "' " Th«^n I do, and 1 am," she said, smiling. " You won't mind having- a cup with me, I know, Master Antony dear. Just like old times." "Well, I will try," I said, " nnd I dare say Revitts will be back by then." Mary glanced at the little Dutcli clock in the comer, and saw that it pointed to eleven ; then, shaking her head, she said sadly : " No, I don't think he'll come back." " But you don't think he has run away, Mary ? " " I don't know what to think, my dear," she said; " 1 only hope that he won't come to any harm, poor boy. It's his poor head, and that's why l.e turned so strange." " Yes," I said joyfully, as I saw Jhat at last she had taken the common-sense view of the case, " that's it, depend upon it, Mary ; and if he does not come soon, we'll give notice to the police, and they'll find him out." " No, my dear, don't do that," she said piteously ; " it would be like shaming the poor boy ; for if his mates got to know that he had run awav like on his v/edding-dav, he'd never hear the last of it." I was obliged to a^ree in the truth of this remark, and I began to realize then, in spite of poor Mary's rough exterior and ignor- ance, wliat a depth of patient endurance and thoughtfnlness there was in the nature of a woman. Her first outburst of uncontrollable grief past, she was ready to sit down and patiently bear her load of sorrow, waiting for what more trouble might come ; for I am fully convinced tliat the poor woman looked forward to no plea- sure in her married life. In spite rtf her belief that her husband's strange conduct was in some way due to his late accident, she felt convinced that he was regretting his marriage, and, if tliat were so now, she had no hope of winning him to a better state. We were both weary, and when the tea had been finished, Mary carefully washed up the things, saw that there was a suiticiency of water, and kept it nearly on the boil. Then she reset the tea things in the tidiest way, ready for Revitts if he should like a cup when he came home, and, on second thoughts, put out another cup and saucer, " It will be more sociable like. Master Antony," shp said, by way of excuse ; " for, of course, I don't want no n:ore, though I do bless them Chinese as invented tea, which is a blessing to our seek." These preparations made, and a glance round the sitting-room having been given, Mary uttered a deep sigh, took up her work- basket, placed it on her knees, thrust her hand into a black stocking, and began to darn. I sat talking to her in a low roice for some time, feeling sio* li~2 IIV 1^ i! :; iv 'i 1 '.afiiiiv ; Wi' f raj: 111 212 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. (> cerely sorry for her, and wondering what could have become of Uevitts, but at iabt, in spite of my honest sympathy, I begau to iiud, and the various objects in the room grew indistinct. " Hadn't you better go to bed, my dear ? " said a voice near me; iiiid 1 started into wakefulnes8, and found Mary standing near me, with the black stocking-covered hand resting on one shoulder, while with the other she brushed my hair off my forehead. " Bed ? No ! " I exclaimed, shaking myself. " I couldn't help l( eling sleepy, Mary ; but i shan't go to bed." •* But it's close upon twelve o'clock, dear, and you must be I ired out." '' Never mind, Mary ; to-morrow's Sunday," I said, with a yawn ; and I went on once more talking to her about the ' ngineer's office, and how I got on with young Girtley and his t itlier, t ill my voice trailed off, and through a mist I could see Mary with tliat black stocking upon her hand poking about it with a great needle. Then the black stocking seemed to swell and swell to a moun- tain's Bviii, till it was like one hug« mass, which Mary kept jittaeking and stabbing with a long, bright steel lance, but without avail, for it still grew, and grew, and grew, till it seemed about to verwhelm me, and in my horror I was trying vainly to cry to her to stab it again, when I started up into wakefulness, for there was the faint tinkle of a bell. Mary, too, had leaped to her feet, and was clinging to me. " Once ! " «he wliispered. There was anotlier tinkle, very softly given. " Twice ! " wliispered Mary. Then another very faint ring. " Three I " whispered Mary ; " it's Joncd." " It's ilevitts come home ! " I said joyfully. " No,'' she said, still clinging to me. " He has the latch-key." " Lost it," I said. " Let me run down and let him in." " No, no. Wait a moment," said Mary faintly. " I can't bear yet. There's something wrong with my poor boy." " There isn't," I cried impatiently. " Thisre is," she said hoarsely ; " and they've come to bring the news." She clung to me spasmodically, but loosed me d'rectly after, as she said quietly : " 1 can bear it now." I ran down softly, and o^^ened the door to admit the wandering husband ; but to my astonishment, in place of Kevitts, there stood Stephen Plallett. ... " Hallett ! ' I exclaimed. " Yes," be said. " I saw a lig'nt in the rooms. Is Beyittt there?" "No;"lsaid. "Notyet." ;. /v a >. -^ .-..., ,./. it HALLETT'S NEWS. 21 « On duty P" " No ; he was married to-day.". " Yes, yes," he said, in a strange tone of voice. " I remember now. Who is upstairs ? " " Mrs. Revitts— Mary." - " Let us go up," he said ; " I'll step up quietly." I was the more confused and muddled for having just awakened from a deep sleep, and somehow, all this seemed to be part of tlu> dream connected with the great black mass that had threatentMl to fall upon me. 1 should not have been the least surprised it I had suddenly awakened and found myself alone, when, afte;- closing the door, I led Hallett upstairs to the little front room where Mary was standing with dilated eyes, staring hard at tht> door. " You, Mr. Hallett P" she exclaimed, as he half staggered in. and then, staring round, seemed to reel, and caught my hand a.s I helped him to a seat. " Tell me," gasped Mary, catching at his hand ; " is it very bad ? " He nodded, " Give me — water," he panted. " I am — exhausted." Mary rushed to the little cupboard for a glass, and the brandy that had been kept on Revitts behalf, and hastily pouring some into a glass with water, she held it to him, and he drained it at n draught. "Now, tell me," she exclaimed. " Where is he — what is it - have you seen him P " "No," he cried hoarsely, as he clenched his fist and held it before him I " no, or I should have struck him dead." "Mr. Hallett! " she cried, starting. Then, in a piteous voin'. " Oh, tell me, please — what has he done ? He is my husband, mv own dear boy! Pray, pray, tell me — he was half mad. Ol'. what have — what have I done ! " " Is she mad ?" cried Hallett angrily. " Where is her husbanii — where is Revitts ? " " We don't know," I said hastily. '' We are waitinr? for him." " I want him directly," he said hoarsely. " I could not go to a strangrer." " What is the matter, Hallett P " I cried. " Pray, speak out . What can I do ? " " Nothing," he said hoarsely. " Yes ; tell him to come — no, bring him to me. Do you hear P " "Yes," I faltered. "At any hour — whenever he comes," said Hallett, speakin;: now angrily, as he recovered under the stimulus of the brandy. " Then there is something terribly wrong," I said. " Wrong P Yes. My God!" he muttered, "that I should hftTe to teu it — Linny has goti* t " fvAh. ••■ I ■ V : £. :* 214 THE STOWY OF ANTONY GRACE. CHAPTER XLI. THE nniDEGnOOM's RKTUBM. f > r/ .» 'J ; " Oh, Hallett ! " I cried, cElchinjf bis hand, as the poor fellow sat. blankly gazing before him in his mute despair. "It is a mistake ; she could not be so wicked." " Wicked ! " he said with a curious laugh. " Was it wicked, after all her promises — my forgiveness — my gentle, loving wordsP I was a fool. I believed that she was weaning herself from it all, and trying to forget. A woman would have read her at ». glance ; but 1, a poor, mad dreamer, always away, or buried in that attic, saw nothing, only that she was very quiet, and thin, and sad." '' Did she tell you that she would go, Hallett ? " I asked, hardly knowing what I said. " No, Antony," I replied, in a dreary tone. . ■ - ' " Did you have any quarrel P " " No ; not lately. She was most affectionate— poor child ! and her heart must have been sore with the thought of what she waa about to do. Only this evening, before I went up into the attio to dream over my invention, she crept to my side, put her little arms round my neck, and kissed me, as she used when she was a tiny child, and said how sorry she was that she had given me sq much pain. Antony, lad," he cried passionately, " I went up to my task to-night a happy man, thinking that one heavy load waa taken off my shoulders, and that the future was going to be brighter for us both. For, Antony, in my cold, dreamy way, I love her very dearly, and so I have ever since she was a little wilful child." He sat o-azing at me with such a piteous expression in his faee that his words went to my heart, and I heard Mary give quitci a gulp. " But, Hallett," I said, " you are not sure ; she may have gone to some friend's. She may have come back by this time." " Come back ? " he said fiercely. " No ; she has not come back. Not yet. Some day she will return, poor strayed lamb I " he addea, gazing straight before him, his voice softening and his arms extending, as if he pictured the whole scene and was about to take her to his heart. " But are you sure tliat she has really gone ? " I cried. "SureP Read that." I took the crumpled paper with trembling fingers, and saw at a glance that he was right. In illrwritten, hardly decipU^rable words, the poor girl told her brother that she ooulii bfl^ it n^' tHE BRIDEGROOMS RETURN. longm*, but that she had fled with tho man who possessed her heart. I stared blankly at poor Hallett, as he took the note from tny hand, read it once more through, crushed it in his hund with u fierce look, and thrust it back in Iiis pocket. " Is it — is it your poor dear sister who has ^;one ? " said Miirv excitedly. " Yes," ho cried, with his passion mnsterinjr him once more : and his hands opened and simt a« if eamT to se-ize some one by the throat — "yes; some villain has led her away. Hut let me stand face to face with him, and then " He paused in his low, painful utterance, gazinf^ from me tt> Mary, who stood with her hand upon his arm. "And I thought my trouble the biggest in the world," slic sobbed; "but you've done right, sir, to come for my William. He'll find them if they're anywhere on the face of this eartli, and they shall be found. Poor dear! and her with her pretty girlish gentle face as I was so jealous of. I'm only a silly toolish woman, sir," she cried, with the tears falling fast, " but I may be of some good. If I'm along with my William when he finds 'em, she may listen to me and come back, when she wouldn't mind him, and I'll follow it out to the end." "You're — you're a good woman," said Flallett hoarsely, "anil may God bless you. But your husband — where is your husband 'r f We must lose no time." "Master Antony!" cried Mary, and then, as if awaken intr once more to her position, and speaking in tones of bitterness — " Oh, what has come to my Willia-n ? He must be found I " "Send him on to me," said Hallett. "I'll go back now. Antony, will you come ? " " Why, there's your poor mother, too," cried Mary, " and all alone ! I can help her, at all events ! " As Mary spoke, she hurried to get her work-a-day bonnet and shawl, while Hallett stood gazing at her in a dazed and helpless way. " Your pore sister did come and help my pore bov when he was bad, and Oh!" Mary uttered a fierce, angry cry. Bonnet and shawl fell from her hands, her jaw dropped, her ruddy face grew mottled with patches of white, and her eyes dilated. Her whole iispect was that of one about to have a fit, and I took a step towards her. She motioned me fiercely bark, and tore at her throat, as if she were suffocating. "I see it now!" she cried hoarsely, " I see it now! Oh, the wretch, the wretch ! Only let me find him again ! " " Mary ! " I cried, " what is itP " " I see it all now ! " she cried ag4in. " Then L was right. She K. I'Iti ,i: ^'£VM THE .STORY 01' ANTONY GRACE. come — she come here, and poisoned him with her soft looks and ways, and he's left me — to go away with her to-night I " Mary made a clutch at vacancy ; and then, tottering, would have fallen, had not Hallett been clost' at hand to catch her and hel,j her to the couch, where the poor woman lay perfectly insensible, having fainted for probably the first time in her life. " What does she mean ?" cried TIallett, as he made, with me, ineffectual efforts to restore her. "She was angry and jealous the night she came and found Linny here attending on Revitts," I cried in a bewildered way, hardly knowing what I said. " And now she thinks, because ho has left her to-night, that he has gone away with Linny." " Poor fool ! " he said sadly. ** Revitts was very strange to-day," I said, " and — and — and, Hallett — oh, forgive me," I said, " I've kept something from vou." " What 1 " he cried, catching me so fiercely by the arm that he (■au.sed me acute pain. " Don't tell me that I have been deceived, I oo, in you ! " " No, Hallett, I haven't deceived you," I said. " I kept some- thing back that I ought to have told you." "You kept something back!" he cried. "Speak — speak vt once, Antony, or — or — speak, boy ; I'm not master of myself I " " Linny begged me so hard not to tell you, and I consented, on condition that she would mind what you said." "Then — then you knew that she was carrying on with this man," he cried savagely, neither of us seeing that Mary had come to, and was watching us with distended eyes. " No, no, Hallett," I cried. " I did not— indeed, I did not; I only knew it was he who so beat poor Revitts." " Who wa? he — >7hat's his name ? " cried Mary, seizing my other arm, and shaking it. " I don't know ; I never knew," I cried, faring badly between them. " Linny begged me, on her knees, not to tell that it was* her friend who beat Revitts when he interfered, and when she promised me she would always obey you, Hallett, I said I would keep her secret." "Then Linny was the girl poor Revitts saved," said Hallett hoarsely. "Yes!" cried Mary. "The villain! he likes her pretty face. I was right ; and I've been a fool to faint and go on. But that's over now," she cried savagely. " I'll wait here till he does come back ; for I'm his lawful wife ; and when he does come — Oh I " Mary uttered that " Oh ! " through her closed teeth, and all the revenge that was in her nature seemed to come to the surface, while Hallett walked up and down the room. . v . ** You have no idea, Antony, who he is f " .'»;.;: THE BRIDEGROOMS RETURN. 217 Ithe rface, ** No, on my word, Hallett," 1 cried ; " I never knew. Prav forffive me ! 1 thought it was for the best." "Yes, yea, lad," he said; "you did it from kindness. It hns made no difference. I could not have borne it for yv\i to deceivr me, Antony," he said, with a sweet, sad smile lighting his face as I cauffht his hand. "Come, let us go. Marv, my good soul, you are labouring under a mistake. Good-night ! " "No, you don't 1" cried Mary, setting her back against the door. " You don't go till he comes back. " He'll come and brinp your sister here. Ana you moy take her home. I'll talk to him. What P " she cried triumphantly ; " what did I say ? " She turned, and threw open the door; for just then a heavv step was heard below, and, as if expecting some strange scen(>, Hallett and I stood watching, as s^'^p after step creaked betioatii a heavy weight, till whoever was coming reached the landing and staggered into the room. « Vou " Mary's sentence was never finished ; for her husband's look, u» he strode in with Linny in his arms, seemed to crush her. " I couldn't get him, too, but I marked him," he said, panting, "and I've stopped his little pame." " Linny ! " cried Hallett to the half-insensible girl, who seemed to glide from Revitts' arms, and sink in a heap at his feet, while I stood gazing in utter amazement at the turn things had taken. "Mary, my lass I a drop of something — anything — I'm about done." Mary's teeth gritted together, and she darted a vindictive look at her husband ; but she obeyed him, fetching out a bottle of gin and a glass, which he filled and drained before speakin^r. "Not so strong as I was," he cried excitedly. " Glad you're here, sir. I ket<;hed sight of him with her from the 'bus as we come in. I'd a known him from a thousand — him as give it me, you know. * Look arter Mary,' I says to Master Antony here, and I was after him like a shot, hanging on to the hansom cab he'd got her in, and I never left 'em till it stopped down at Richmond, at a willa by the water-side." " Richmond ? " said Hallett blankly. " Richmond, as I'd been through twice that very day. When the cab stops — I'd made the man ri£,'^ht with half-a-crown, and telling him I was in the police — my gentleman gets out, nntl I liaii him like a shot. I migtit have got help a dozen times, but I wanted to tackle him myself, as I alius swore I w'ould," cried Revitts savagely ; " but he was too much for me again. Tn* stronger than him. but he's got tric^ks, and he put me on my back after a good tussle — just look at my noo things! — and nfore I could get up again, he was off, running like a coward as he is. But I brought her back, not knowing till I bad her under the M \t 14 ^ > . * f 218 THE SlUiiV OK AN ION V iiltACE. f^as-lamp m it wns IMasfwr Anf'ny's friend and vour sister, and Hlie'd told ine who slu^ \vji8, and unkt'd me in a curious crying way lo take her buck to Maiiter Ant*ny, as stie said was the only one who'd help her now." " You — you brought her home in the cab P " cried Mary (lojirsely. " Yes, my lass, and it's cost me half-a-sov. altogether ; but I've spoilt his f^ame, whoever he is. Poor little lass, she's been about mad ever since I got into the cab, a-clinging lo me." *' Yes," hissed Alary, " And crying an! sobbing, and I couldn't comfort her, not ft !>it." " No ! " said Mary softly, through her teeth. ** It was rather rough on you, Mary, Jny gal," said Revitts ; '* but you would marry a police-oHicer, and dooty tnust be done." Mary was about to speak ; hut he held up his hand, for Linny spt'med to be coming to, and Hallett was kneeling on the floor by her side. " Mary — Rill," I whispered ; for the right thing to do seemed t«) be suggested to me tlien. " Let us go and leave them." " IMu'lit you are. Master Ant'ny, and always was," said BiU hoivs'lv; and, passing his arm round Mary's waist, he drew her into fh»> otlier room, by which time the scales seemed to have tiillen from poor Mary's eyes, for the fir«<t thing she did, as soon us we were in the room, was to plump down on her knees, clasp those of her husband, lay her cheek against them, and cry, ready to break her heart. Probably the excitement of his adventure had had a good effer^ upon Revitts; for the strange fit of petulance and obstinacy had passed awav, and he was all eagerness and smiles. " Why, what a gal you are, Polly ! " he exclaimed. " Don't cry, my lass ; I was obliged to go off. Pleecemen ain't their own masters." "Oh, Bill dear," sobbed Mary, " and I've been thinking sich things." " Of course you have, Polly," he said ; " and I've been wishing myself at home, but I knew Ant'ny would take care of you. Poor little lass ! I've had a nice job, I can tell you. I say, Ant'ny, is she quite riffht in her head?" "Oh ves." I said. " Well, she don't look it then, poor little woman. One minute she was begging and praying me to take her home, the next she was scolding me for interfering. Then she'd be quiet for a few minutes, and then she'd want to jump out of the cab; and it'i my belief that if I'd let her go, she'd have throwed herself into t he river." "Poor soul!" murmured Mary. ' - '^ ■ ' ^ r; ;'o:'i T tm A QUEbTlON OF LA^V. iD "Then she'd take a fit of not wanting- to go home, sayiuff tliut •he daren't never go there any more, and that I waMii't to take her home, but to jrou, Ant'ny ; and that sorter thing's been ^oing on all the time, till she seemed to be quite worn out, and I was so puzzled as to what to do, tliat I thought I would bring her on nere, and let Mary do what she thought best." " Did you think that, Bill P " said Mary eagerly. . " Of course I did. I don't understand women-folk, and I hate having jobs that puts 'em in my care. ' Mtiry '11 settle it all right/ I says, 'and Know what's best to be done.' " " Antony," said a voice at the door just then, and I went out to find Hallett looking very pale, and Lmny lying insensible upon the couch. " Oh, Hallett I " I exclaimed. " Shall Mary come ? " " Yes— directly," he said hoarsely ; and there wiis something rery strange about his manner. " Shut the door, boy," he con- tinued. "Look here, Antony ; this note was inside the nsck of her dress, as I opened it to give her air. You need not read it ; but look at it. Tell me whether you have ever seen the hand- writing before." I took the letter from him, and looked at the bold, free, rather peculiar hand, which I recognized on the instant. " Oh yes ! " I exclaimed, '• often." " "Whose writing is itP" he said, pressing his hand upon his breast to keep down the emotion that seemed ready to choke him. " Don't speak rashly, Antony ; make sure before you give an answer." "But I am sure," I exclaimed, without a moment's hesitation. ** I have often seen it — it is Mr. Lister's writing. What does it mean P " " Mean P " cried Hallett, in a low, deep voice, as if speaking to some one across the room, for he was not looking at me. " My Qod, what does it not mean, but that John Lister is a villain ! " CHAPTER XLII. A QUESTION OP LAW. Stephen Hallktt's model was still at rest; for, poor fellow, he had now a fresh trouble upon his hands. The excitement had been too much for Linny, and he got her home to find her delirious ; a severe attack of bruin fever came on, and her life was, for many days, hanging by a t?iread. I ^as there every evening, to find that Mary had installed herself head nurse, and whenever Hallett spoke to her, she was always ready with the one reply : I( I f i i I P ■I , ,1 J; I I II iii^i' [""Wt? . 1 Ili 1 WK ' la BwBm 'i m^m 220 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. •' Didn't ali« come ttn<l ti'inl mv por« Bill ? " , • ThiM went on fur a time, hut itullett insisted, and Mary provioff obdurate, he talktKl to Itevitts about remuneration. "(Ml, never mind about that," said the hlnff follow. "Shesavs .she's got plenty of time on her hands, and we've both saved a bit, and as long an she gets what I want, and is at home wlien I come, it don't ititi'ifere with mo ; and bless your heart, Mr. Hallett, what would life be if one on us wouldn't do a good turn to another?" " Yes, but I cannot feel satisfied to let your good wife work for me for nothing.'' " Ah," said Bill sagely. '* That's the worst of eddication, it makes a man so uppif«)). No ofTence, Mr. flallett, sir, but you being a highly eddicated man " ' " Tut— tut ! nonsense I" said Hallett, smiling. " Oil, but you are, you know," said Revitts. " Ant'ny says you are, and it's wonderful what a power o' stuff that there young chap's got in his head. I come the top-suwyur over him when he first come up to London ; but, Lor' bles-s vou ! I give in to every- thing out o' tlie ornerary in no time. Its on'y nat'ral that eddi- cation should make a man uppisli. I've felt a deal more so since Ant'ny's give me a lift in spellin'. I always was a good writer, but my spellin', Mr. Hallett, sir ! Ha — ha —ha ! " he cried, burst- ijig out in a guffaw ; " I know now when I looks back at some of my old book.x, it was a rum 'un. Them big words was just like so many forty-burred gates to my gett ing promoted." "I suppose so," said Hallett; "but about payment for your wife's services ? " " Why, you do pay me," said Revitts sturdily. " She gets braxfuses, and dinners, and teas — no end." , " Ym, but that counts for nothing." ^ " Oh, don't it," said Revitts, laughing. " You ask Ant'ny about that, and how liim and me used to dodge to make the money run to good meals. Look here, Mr. Hallett, sir, I'm only a humble sort of a chap, biii you've always been kindly to me, and I hope it ain't no di-sreHpect to you to call you a friend." " I'm only too glad to call you * friend,' Revitts," said Hallett, holding out hi.s hand, which the other gripped like a vice, " and I thank Antony Grace for making me known to two 3uch good hearted people as you and your worthy wife." " Thanky, sir, for Mary— thanky," exclaimed Revitts, nodding his head. " She's a good one, and no mistake ; and as for her bit of temper, Antony," he said, speaking as if he W3re very much moved, as he turned to me, "tliat bit of rough is like ballast to her, and keeps her down ; for, if it wasn't for her tantrums, I believe she'd nave been an angel long ago, and then — what should I have done P Lor' bless you both, they call ua pleecemen lobstezsi A QUKSTION OF lAW. 21'! faw lubstfrs, to di»tiiij:iii.sh ii« from th«' soMiern, «nd lu'cnuso >%»•>»• dark blue and so hard: but I'm soft enough inMidts nnd that woman knows it, too. VVfll, sir, about this remooiU'i-Hticm — as you call it. Look licre, she won't take no money, so I'll tell you what you do by-and-by when she's nuiH»'d Mi-^s Linny buck lu health — as she will, you murk my words if she don't — better than »ny doctor. It's a treat to be ill under her. Lord's truth!" cried the great fellow, smilinp and looking: us silly aa a fat boy, ** the way she'd wash niv face and neck, and ^n in an' out o' my MTs with the sponge nnd towel without hurting, waa 'eavenly." Hallett could not forbear a smile, and I roared. " Ah, you may grin, Ant'ny my lad, but you'll sue, some du\ when you're on your buck, she's' the best nuss that ever livfil. There 1" "She is, indeed, Revitts," cried Hallott, "and — Heaven biffed her 1 my poor mother lias not been so well for montb.s as she hun been since your wife hu.s tvinhul iier." "There, Ant'ny, hear that! " cried Revitts. "She's a woman to be proud on— that she is." "That she is, Bill," I echoed, chipping the dear old fellow on tlu shoulder. " Well, as I was saying," he exclaimed, " ju-^t you give her a noo gownd, something bright and with some c«iinur in it, nn<l if so be as she isn't at home when I get bark, p'raps you woukhi't mind mv coming in for a snack here, for if I don't get my corn reg'lar f'm nowhere." " My dear fellow, I shall never be able to thank you enough,' cried Hallett. "Oh, that's all right among friends, ain't it, Ant'ny? I It- knows me better, and Mary, too, tlmn you do, so let's drop ull that, sir ; and now I want to talk serious to you abo\it this h»M»' affair. I feel, sir, as a sergeant of police, that I oughtn't to re.st till I've brought that chap to justice. I saw Hallett start and change colour. Then, getting up, he began to walk up and down the room, ending by coming und lay- ing his hand upon Revitts' shoulder. " Revitts," he said, " that man has done you a very serious injury." "Never mind about that, Mr. Hallett, sir; I dare say I nlmll put that square. I was thinking about you." " Yes, and he has done me a deadly injury," said Hallftt, in a low, dreamy voice ; " but I cannot retaliate. You will think me strange and weak perhaps ; but I cannot take any steps towards punishing this man." Revitts looked disappointed. " I'd been hoping, sir," he said, " that you'd got to know who it was, and could give me a hint or two, so that I could put my hand upon him. You know who it is, sir P " I rr 11 ' i; ? J r '^' ! ;^ ' r. 1 M 1 M - \ 1 i: ' 222 THL STORY OF ANTONY CrRACK. Hallett looked at him searehingly, and a deep frown came upon his forehead. " Yes, " he said, " I know who it is ; but for many reasons I cannot stir in the matter. Besides, what could I doP He has committed no punishable offence against me." " No, tiiat's true," said Kevitts quickly ; " but he lias agamst me. Assaulting the police is 'most as bad as high-treason, and if youll give me his name, sir, or put me in the way of getting a hand on him, 111 give him a twelvemonths' imprisonment." Uallett shook his head. " No, Revitts," he said, "I look upon him as my most deadly enemy, and some day I may take the scoundrel by the throat, but I cannot help you here." " Now, that's where you're wrong, sir, if you'll 'sense me. A man mustn't take the law into his own hands. You think better of it, sir. You can't punish, though he richly deserves it, but I can ; and if ever I get a chance, I will." llevitts soon after rose to go, Mary having announced her in- tention of sitting up all night with Liuny, and Hallett and I were left alone. ** No, Antony," he said, looking me in the face, just as if I had spoken to him on the subject. " My hands are tied : John Lister must go free. I can do nothing." " He deserves flogging ! " I exclaimed, " and I feel that I ought to tell Miss Carr." He started, and half turned away. " Have you told Miss Carr, Antony ? " " No," I said, " I can't be so mean ; but she ought to know, for she believes him to be very true and honourable. I wish some one would tell her. Can't you P " "IP Tell Miss Carr ? Antony, are you mad P " he cried, with a show of excitement that I could not understand. " No, I could not tell her. What would she think of me ? " " Yes, she is so high-minded and good," I replied, "that she would think anybody a miserable talebearer who told her what a scoundrel Mr. Lister Lb. I don't think she would believe it, either." " No," he said softly, " she could not believe such a cuing of the man she loves." " Do you know," I said, innocently enough, " I don't think she does love Mr. Lister very much." His eyes flashed as he looked at me ; but he made no reply, and only sat gazing before him in a wistful, saddened way that I did not comprehend then as I went on chatting to him. " No, I «hall not tell her— I couldn't," I said. " It would be too mean, and yet it would be horrible for her to marry such a man as that, ilave you seen him, since, Hallett P " A SCENE. "Seer, him F — Since P Xn, Antony, I have not been to th»» office since that night. I could never go there again." I looked at him anxiously, for his ways and looks were very strange ; but I attributed everything to anxiety on Linny's behalt, and wa very soon chanfj^ed the topic : ar.d after hearing the lust account about Linny, T rose to go, Hallett coming downstairs, ami out into the starlit street, walking a few hundred yards with nii' towards my lodgings, before finally taking his leave, and goinL,- thoughtfully away. her in- * I were CIIArTEll XLIII. A SCENE. I HAVE often thought since upon the magnanimiiy of Pallet t's character. Loving Miss Carr, as he did, with a pas ionate, hopeless love, he knew her to be engjiged to John Lister, and feeling bound in honour to be just tu the man he served, he crushed down his passion, and hid it in his breast. Hopeless he knew it was, from his position ;► but, however hopeless, it must have been agony to him to hear of his rival's success. How much greater, then, must his sutl'erings have been when he found that the man to whom the woman he adored had promised to give her hand was a scoundrel of the basest kind ! He loved her so well that her future happiness must have been his constant thought, and now he learned that she was bound to the man who cured so little for the trc^asure of her love that he was ready to engage in any intrigue ; while tlie very fact that the object chosen for this cruel intrigue wi^s Hallett's own sister must have been maddening. He must have felt fettered by his position, for he could nr.t accuse ^ohn Lister to the woman he loved. He felt tl)at he was too full of self-interest, and besides, how could he speak words that would inflict such a sorrow upon the peaceful life of Miriam CarrP No : he felt boiuid in lionoiir to be silent, and, crusiiing down his love and his honest indigiuition against John Lister, lie son^la employment elsewhere, and spent his leisure in keeping wauli over his home. He took one step, thoufrh, that I did not know of till lf>n;' afterwards; he wrote to John Lister, telling him that his perlidy was known, and uttering so fierce a waniinjr against him if hf pursued Linny, or even wrote to her again, that the raretnl watch and ward kept over the house in Great Urmond Strei \ prov3d to be unnecessary, for the sensual tiger, foiled in hii» spring, had slunk away. . , . , . ■ 4 i I I f f'< it 4 'i' lu :'if4 234 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. On the day after my talk with llallett, and Kevitts' visit to the house, I made my way after office-hoiirs to Miss Carr's, to lind my welcome warmer than ever; for she flushed with pleasure, and sat for some time talking to me of her sister, who liad written to her from abroad. , " Now, Antony," she exclaimed, " you and I will dine together, and after that vou shall be my escort to a concert at St. James's Hall." " A concert I " I exclaimed eagerly. '' Yes ; I was about to send the tickets away, but jou have fome in most opportunely." I was delighted ; for I had never heard any of our best singers, and we chatted through dinner of the music we were to hear, after which I was left in the drc'ing-room, to amuse myself, while Miss Carr went up to dress. I took up a book, and began to read; but the thoughts of Liiiny Hallett and Mr. Lister kept coming into my head, and I Jisked myself whether I ought not to tell Miaa Carr. No ; I felt that I could not, and then I begat wondering whether the engagement tliat had been extended might not after Jill come to nothing, as I hoped it^would. It was horrible to me now, that John Lister should be allowed to keep up ties with my imtroness, knowing what I did of his character; and yet I felt L could not, I dared not, tell. At last, in the midst of my contending thoughts, some of which were for telling, some against, I forced myself into reading the book I had taken up, striving so hard to obtain the mastery over self that I succeeded —so well that I did not hear a cab stop, nor the quick step of him who had occupied so large a share of my thoughts. " Ah, Grace," said John Lister cavalierly, as he entered the room unannounced, completely taking me by surprise as I started up from the book. " You here again ! Well, how's engineerinsr? Like it as well as printing, eh P Why, you are growing v^te the p-entleman, you lucky dog ! I suppose we must shake i =v *:■; now." I felt as if all the blood in my body had rushed to my face, and a strange sensation of rage half choked me as I drew back. " Why, what's the matter with you, boy P " he exclaimed. " Hold out your hand." " I'll not, I exclaimed indignantly ; " how dare vou ask me ! " " Dare I ask you — puppy ! " he exclaimed, with an insolent laugh. " Why, what do you mean ? " " How dare you come here?" I cried, my indignation getting the mastery of me. " Dare I come here 1 " he exclaimed, frowning. *' Why, you insolent young upstart, what do you mean P " A SCENE. 22" face, drew "I mean thut you oiifrht to be asbMiiR I to show your face here ■gain after vour behaviour to Mr. Ilallelt's Mister." "Hush!'* As he uttered that word he eauj;ht nie by Mm* throat', thruNt his face close to mine, and I saw that he was dt-aily pale. "You dog!" he whispered; '* if vou dare lo utter uhoiIki word, I'll— —" He did not finish, but ^ave me a vindicti\e look that was fiiil of threatenings of ill. But unfortunately for him. he had hurt me severely as !;<• caught me by the throat, ainl rli** |»:i,n. instead of cowinjir nif. filled rae full of raye. W iln o.k- (^uitii wrest 1 was i'rte, Jiixl turning upon him Hercely, I exclaimed: "1 will speak in spite of what you say. Vou are a cowaid. and treacherous, and no gentleman ! " "Silence, dog!" he cried, in a hoarse whisper. "Have you dared to tell Miss Carr lies about me ? " " I'm not a tell-tale," I cried scornfully, and I'm not afraid ol you, Mr. Lister. I would not tell Miw tJarr, but 1 dare tell yon that you are a coward and a scoundrel I " He raised his fist, and I believe that he would have struck me, but just then his hand fell to his side, and his lips seemed to turn blue as he stared straight over my shoulder, and turtdng hastily, I saw Miriam Carr standing white and stern in the doorway, dressed ready for the concert. "Ah, Miriam," he exclaimed, recovering himself; and he forced a smile to his lips ; " Grace and I were engaged in a dispute." She did not answer him, but turned to me. ** Antony," she said sternly, " repent those words you {u.^^t said." "No, no; mere nonsen.«e," exclaimed John Lister playfully. " It was nothing — nothing at all." " Repeat those words, Antony (trace," cried Miss Carr, without seeming to heed him : and she came towards where I stood, while I felt as if I would gladly have sunk throujih the floor. For a few moments I hesitated, then a feeling of strength seenaed to come to me, and f looked up at her firmly as I said ; " Don't ask me. Miss Carr ! I cannot tell." " Antony ! " she exclaimed. "My dear Miriam " began John Lisfer ; but she turned from him. "Antony," she cried imperiously, and her handsome eyes flashed as she stamped her foot ; " I insist upon knowing the meaning of those word.'^." I was silent. "It was nothing, my dear Miriam," exclaimed John Lister. Then in a low voice to me, " Go : I'll cover your retreat." 15 M '■4m i'^ mm TUK STOitV <)l ANTONY GRACE. f>(), and run off like a cowanl ? No; that I felt I could not "n, and I looked indignantly at him. " If you value my friendship, Antony," cried Miss Carr, " tell iiH), I insist, what you meant In' thjit accusation of Mr. Lister." " I do — I do value your friendship, Miss Carr," I cried passion- i.Udy, " but don't, pray don't ask me. T cannot — T will not tell." " I command you to tell me," she cried : and to my young eyes ho looked queen-like in her beauty, as she seemed to compel in<' to obey. Mature thought tells me that she must indeed have seemed f'ven majestic in her bearing, for John Lister looked pale and i laggard, and I saw him again and again moisten his dry lips and I'ssay to speak. " I cannot tell you," I said : " Miss Carr, pray do not ask me ! " i cried piteously. " Tell me this instant, or leave my house, ungrateful boy ! " <\ni exclaimed passionately; and, casting an imploring look at lu'r, I saw that she was pointing towards the door. [ would have given the world to have obeyed her ; but there sKcmed to be something so cowardlv, so mean and despicable, in standing there and accusing John Lister before the face of his iiifianced wife, that, with a piteous look, I slowly turned towards tlic door. [t was terrible to me to be driven away like that, and I felt my h 'art swell with bitterness ; but I could not speak, and as I once more looked in her pitiless eyes, she was still pointing at the door. Tlie handle was already in my hand, and, giddy and despairing, I should have gone, had not Miriam Carr's clear voice rang out loudly: "Stop!" Then, as I turned: " Come here, Antony I " and the pointing finger was there no longer, but two extended hands, which I ran across the room and seized, struggling hard to keep back the emotion that was striving for exit, for I was but a boy. " My dear Miriam " began John Lister once more. " Mr. Lister," she said, and her voice was very low and stern, as >iit' placed one arm round m_\ waist and laid her right hand upon Miy shoulder, "will you have the goodness to leave my house ? " " My dear Miriam, pray be reasonable ! " he exclaimed. " That I'oolish boy has yot some crotchet into his head It is all a silly blunder, wliich 1 can explain in a few words, I assure you it is all a mistake." "If it is a mistake, Mr. Lister, you have nothing to mind; I now wisli to be alone." " Rut, Miriam, dearest Miriam, grant me a few minutes' con- versation. J assure you 1 can set myself right in your eyes." r AM F<)K(;IVK\. »*m0 i /I " '' ».V,®*1* * mistake. Mi; Lifter, whv did v..u threaten Anton'- Urace, if he dared to tell me the words 1 hiurd r " ♦' liecause I was angry with him for makiii<; such a blunder, an*! i teared that it would upset you. Let me speak lo vou alone. .M irian, dear Miriam, you force me to speak to vou like 'this before Anton- Grace. I tell you," he cried, desp^^rateiv fr\ino- to catch h.v hand, I swear to you— what he said is a tissue of lies." "And I tell you," she cried soornfullv. "that Antony Orac • never told an untruth in his life. Mr. Lister, 1 am a woman, an^i unprotected. I ask you now to leave mv house. " "I cannot leave you with that hov! .iimI no (.-..portunitv To; defending myself. I must have a counspllor." "You shall have one, John Lister." she said in a lo\V, d, I! voice. " I will be your counsellor when he acnises you." " Jleaven bless you ! " he exclaimed excitedly. " Your lo\ in • heart will take my part." " My womanly duty, John Lister, and mv pli-hted faith wi![ join to defend you from this grave chaige." "Let me stay and plead my own cause, dearest Miriurn " I.. cried, stretching out his hands and tixini- his ev.s npoj hers; but her look was cold, stern, and pitiless, and fur answer she pointeii to the door. He made another appeal, but she seemed to be ansolute, fn master him, and at last, trembling, white with passion and dis- appointment, he turned and left tlie room, slirinkino- from tlia' stern, pointing finger, and half-si augering dowri the stairs. ] heard him hurry across the hall, and tlie door closed .so loiidK that the house seemed to be filled with echoes, while bis steps were perfectly audible as he strode along the street. .-•-^ CHAPTER XLIV. I AM FORGIVE X. «^?'?l''^ Can-," I cried at last, as I broke the painful -ilence, " what have I done ? " She did not answer for some moments. Then, leading me to the couch, she threw off her opera-cloak, ajid sat Irx.king at me for a few moments before passing her hand across my forehead to brusii aside the hair, and kissing mo on the brow. "What have you done, Antony .'^ Shown me that T was not mistaken in you when I thought you all tliat was honest and true. I could not speak; only sat gazing at her face as she fouo-ht hard to conquer her agitation. 15-a 228 rin; story of antonv urace. ■ [ ;■ h ,1^' )>• " Ifirif,'- tlit> hnll, Antony," she said at last. "You must bear with me to-night, and not be disappointed. Do not let James enter the room, hiir meet him on the lauding-, and say that I shall not want the carriage." I hastened to obey her, and then T returned, to stand before her, anxious and sick at heart ; but she pointed to the seat at her side. " Antony," she said, after some time had elapsed, " why did you not tell me this — this piteous story at once? Was I not worthy of your confidence ? " " Yes, ves," I said : "but how could I tell you P I dared not." " Dared not P " " I felt tliat it would be so cowardly and mean to tell tales of Mr. Lister, and I hoped that you might find out yourself that he was not so good a man as you thought." She drew a long, deep breath. " But you might have caused me the deepest misery, Antony," she said. " }ki\ what could I do P " I cried passionately. " I wanted to tell you, and then I felt that T could not ; and I talked to Mr. Hallett aljDUt it, and he said, too, that 1 could not speak." " You mil: t lell me now, Antony," she saJd, as she turned away her face. "Tell me all." I diew a breath full of relief, and proceeded to tell her all, referring to Linny's first adventure and Revitts' injuries, and going on to all I knew of Linny s elopement, to the end. " Hut, Antony," she exclaimed, as I finit-h'r'd, and she now turned her face towards mine, " can this be true ? Is it certain that it wr.s Mr. Lister?" " Ye.^," f said ; " certain. His letters to poor Linnv show all that ; and she talks about him in her delirium, poor girl ! " " I cannot believe it of him," she said ; " and yet How long is it since your friend was hurt P " I told her the very night, from my pocket-book. " His hands were injured from a Struggle, he told me, with some druiikHn man," she said half to herself. Then aloud, " Antony. 'Ii»l you see either of these letters P " " Yes ; Mr. llnllett asked me to look at them, to see if I knew the handwriting as well as he ; and, besides, in one of her intervals of reason, poor Tiiuny climg to her brother, and begged him nev^r to let Mr. liister see her again." " Did she say why ? " asked Miss Carr hoarsely. " Yet ; she said he had such power '^ver her that she was afraid of him." A half-hysterical sob seemed to rise to Miss Carr's lips, but her face waH very stern and unchanged. Then, rising quickly, as if a sudden thought occurred to her, she 1 AM FOIICIVKN. •lot) CTO^yned the room to a little Japane.Hemlm.Mt.nii.l N.ok out n slmri thick coi-d, OB It .H„me.i to me ; hut, as .l,i, ^.laced it li, ,nN hu.ul.' 1 «uw that It wu« a short iiuir waich-Kuanl, hnished wiili ^..Ide.l swivel and croiis. »""*'» . She placed it in my hand.«^ without a word, In^uvr at n;.. intently the while, as if quest ioninii me with her e\>«4 '' '' rhut i« Linny llaliett's chain,"^ J .<uid. '' She made that ^uard herself, ot her own hair, liow did it come here > ' «/.':^^« ^r':^^*^^!^'""PPfd i^ 1 «upp...se,- .she .aid,' with a hok ol scon. Hasaing trom her eyes. -It w... f,,u )d h> oa • .A m^ jervantH in the hall after he wa.s gone, and hix^uyht iu mi- I l,a forgottenit, Antony, until now." " There vvas again a deep .sih-nce in the r..(.in. but ni l^t s' .. broke It with an eager qnesition. "Tell me about this Linny llHllett,' .he suid. - Vou h.ue or'.e,, told me that she 18 pretty. I« slie f^ood !' " "Oh yes, 1 am sure sh^ is," 1 .sauf; - but .she is ueak i.n ] uili,,! and she must have loved Mr. Li.ster very mucii to tuii^ ...s .„,. . ,1 from so true a brother as Mr. llallett." ' «. 1 ;V"*^7~,*^^''- ^l"ll«tt— is he ;i gaod bfoi lier to Iier ? " Good brother!" I excl.imed, mv a-lmi-ntion for mv frie.ni c^irryiMg me away; -he is all that is-nol,le ...d patient and uo , i loor lallett! he is more like a father t., Li.u.v thai, a l.r. i,mm' aiJd then his patience with his poor molhei .' Uh. Aii.ss (w, .' wish you knew him, too ! '* » » v .m , . She darted an inquiiing look at me and tlien turned aui,v h.-r h^»ad, speakiiig no more, but li.stening int,en;!v a.s [ to!,i 1,.,- „! poor llallett s patience und.-r misfortune, iviat;-..' ::„> s o' \ „ -,;„ Of his noble sacrifice of self to keep tl:.,.s.. who -.veu- .Jear I., hi -, of the anxiety Linny cau.^ed him, and of his teudeine.s.s ..r ,j.p un- reasonable invalid he made ids care. Then, being thus set a-goiiig, I talke.l, too, of the ni'dM .,.1 our labours and again of my ambition t., gel to be an e„u.n '., , , order o help him, httle thinking h<,w I h. I tun.ed ni.M.r special pleader to the advanceuu-nt of mv poor fii..ii.l-.s', an At last, lialf-ashamed of mv eanu'sincss. I lool III. (I a lolvt .,1 l|M' i my companion'.^ face, to Hnd"thar she was" U.suMiing jnt.'i.'i/ . .i'| she looked up at me as 1 ceased. • in'M^l'^' P^ nr^^'"i V^'^"'- ' " '•'" ^^^''^ '^'^'^y^ "'" HMlia workMiiiM m Messrs. liuddle and Lisiers empK.v - ' '*Oh/?o.' Mis.sCarr," 1 exclaimed : - he (old n.e it., c...;' I pv- en er the place again, and that he d.nvd M„t tM,.-: i,i:,i.s..!!",o ..,.;. wili grtW n^ow.""" ''' '^^ "^^ '^^^" '^^'^-^ -'^-^''-"^ •' • - ' Mis^ Can- .seemed to breathe more fr,.,.lv ,i< i sai i i.^ese wor Is Wd ^l»en there was atiother interval of .sI.mko ' ' le Mr UalJett poor ? " she asked then. ' ; *' ',' 1 "; i 1».30 THE 8T0RY Ol' ANTONY GIlACK. ¥.'>' il ••Oh ye8,very poor,"I 8akl. " lie ha.s been obliged to stop his work over his invention sometimes, because the money has to ^o to buy wine and little choice things for poor Mrs. Hallett. She is always repining and talking of the days when she had her conservatory and carriage, and, worst of all, she blames poor Hallett so for his Avant of ambition. Yes, Miss Carr," I said, repeating myself to willing ears, " and he is one of the truest and best of men. He was not always a workman, you know." " Indeed I she said ; and I saw that she belt her head lower as she listened. " No/' I said enthusiastically, as I, in my heart, set up Stephen Hallett aa the model I meant to imitate. " His father was a surgeon in Warwickshire, and Mr. Hallett was at college — at Oxford, where he was working to take honours." Miss Carr's lips parted as she still sat with her head bent. " He told me all about it one eyening. He was sent for home one day to find his father dying; and, a week later, poor Mr. Hallett found himself with all his father's affairs upon his hands, and that he had died heavily in debt." Miss Carr's head was slowly raised, and I felt proud then to see bow I bad interested her. " Then," I continued, " he had to try what he could do. He could not go back to college; for it took everythhig, even the furniture, to pay off his father's debts, and then, one day. Miss Carr, he had to sit down and think how he was to keep his widowed mother, and his sister, and himself." Miss Carr was now sitting with her head resting upon her hand, her elbow upon her knee, listening intently to all I said. "Mr. Hallett and his father had some type and a little press in one of the rooms, with which they used to print poems and little pamphlets, and Mr. Hallett had learnt enough about printing to make him, when he had taken his mother and sister up to London, try and get employment in an office. And he did ; and he says he used to be horribly afraid of being found out and treated as an impostor ; but by working with all his might he used to manage to keep up with the slow, lazy onrs, and then, by degrees, he passed them ; ana now — oh, you should see hiin I — he can set up type much faster than the quickest man who ever came into the office." " And does he keep his mother and sister now ? " she said dreamily. " Oh yes," I said ; " Mrs. Hallett has been an invalid ever since Mr. Stephen Hallett's father died." Miss Uarr had sunk back in the corner of the couch, closing her eyelids, and I thought I saw a couple of tears stealing- down her cheeks ; but directly after she covered her face with her hands, remaining silent like that for quite half-an-hour— >a silence that I respected to the end. ork buy rays lory biB if to He ower jpben ;vas a e— at home jr Mr. bands, a to see o. He ven tlie ty, ^^^^ eep bis pon ber said, press in lid little [nting to London, says be as an manage ^e passed rpe much ;e." she said U-er since losing ber Jng down IWitb i»er -a si'ence HALLE'n « ^EVV L.\.Ni)LOl:i'. •-' ! At last she rose quietly, and held out her hund. "Antony," she said softly, " I am not well to-night. Forgivt' me if I have disappointed you. Another time we must make up for this." " Oh, Miss Carr," I said, " you have been so grieved." " Yes, greatly grieved, Antony, in many ways — not least thai I spoke to you so harshly as I did." " But you are not angry with me ? " 1 said. " You forgive n>' f t not speaking out P " "forgive you P " she said softly — "forgive you, my boy!--- yes. But go now ; I do not feel myself. Good-night, Antcmx , my dear boy ; po." To my surprise, she took me tenderly in her arms and kiiSM-t! me, leading me afterwards to the door, and laying her c-lut l> against my forehead before she let me out. " Come to me to-morrow, Antony ; come again to dinner ; perhaps the next day I may be leaving town." CHAPTER XLV. HALLETT8 NEW LANDLORD. A YEAR slipped rapidly away, ^11 of changes for somo people, no doubt ; but to me it was very uneventful. I worked away at my profession steadily, liking it better every day, and for nothinir more strongly than that it gave me knowledge that I felt would 1», of advantage to Stephen Hallett, with whom I grew more intiuui;r than ever. The home at Great Ormond Street seemed now less sonibie and desolate ; for since her serious illness, from wliich poor Linny had been literally nursed back into life by Mary and Ilallett, the girl was completely changed. As she began to mend, I used to find a great deal of time to go and sit with her; for her return to strength was very slow, and the poor worn face would light up and the irreut staring eyes brighten whenever I went into tlie room with some lift It- offering or another that I thon^'-ht would please her. .Si)iiiet,ime.s it would be flowers, or fruit, or any little delicacy that I thou<iht she would fancy ; but the greatest pleasure I could give her was to take some fresh book, and sit and read. She used to lie upon a couch near the window, where shf could look out upon the sky, and when I was not there I sup- pose she would lie like that, thinking, for hours, without speaking a word. Mary had grown to be quite an institution at the place, and » ri 1^' '■ ! I . . r ' A I 232 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. much of her time, consequent upon an that ■ ao- " The tenants of this How will the two invalidH at last took up so scheme was one day proposed oy me nouncement made to me by Hallett. " We shall be obliged to leave," he said, house are going away." " But it will be terrible work, Hallett," I said l.inny and Mr«. Hallett bear the change ?" "I hope patiently and well," he said quietly, and the subject dropped; but on idea had occurred to me which I hastened to put in force. My first step was to write to Miss Carr, whom I had not seen for many, many months, as, directly after the meeting with Mr. Lister, she liai gone on the Continent with her newly-married lister, whose husl)Riid had an official appointment at Marseilles, and had resided with her ever since. I was grievously disappointed at having to part with so good a friend ; but she promised to write to me every week, and gave me the strictest injunctions to send to her for advice or help when- ever I should find myself in need. I had no hesitation whatever, then, in asking her in my weekly letter for help to carry out my plan, and that was to tind Revittg and Mary the moiu-y to buy the lease of the house in Great Or- raond Street, so that Mary would be better able to attend to her friends, and, while acting as their landlady, supply me with better rooms as well. I broached the subject to Kwvitts and his wife that very evening, and the former nodded. " How much would it take, Ant'ny ? " he said. " The lease would be a hundred pounds," 1 said. " Then the rent is eighty." " That>* a deal of money, my dear," said Mary ; " and then there's the rates." " Yes," I said ; " but then look here, Mary ; I should like a sitting room as well as a bfd-room now, and I could pay you twenty-five or thirty pounds a year for that. I know Mr. Hallett pays twenty-six for what he has, and you could, as you often said you would like to, let another floor ; for it is a large house. I think you would live rent-free." " There," cried llevitts, giving the table a slap. " What do you think of that, Polly P" " Think of what ? " she said tartly ; for the seriousness of the .subject unsettled her. ''What he says. D'ye hear his business-like way of reckoning it up: so much for this here, and so much for that there ? He coumn't have talked like that when he come up to London first, as green as a bit o' gp*a8s. That's my teaching, that is. I knew t could sharpen him up." 1- < ■A HALLE'lT'H NEW I^NDLOliD. " Don't be so conceited, Bill/' she exclaimed. " But a largt* house means lots of furniture, Master Antony. No, I don't think it would dr. We haven't enough." "But I've written to Miss Carr, to ask her to let me have tlu' money for you." Revitts got up out of his chair, where he was partaking of ton and bread and butter in a rather wholesale style, pulled him^elt together, buttoned up bis coat, took a couple of official strides t<> where I sat, and, taking my hand, began shaking it up and down for some moments. Then he gave Mary three or four wags of the head and nods, and went back to his tea, unbuttoning the while. " That's very nice and kind of you, Master Antony," she said ; " but that money would be only borrowed, and it would have to be paid back again, and sit upon us like lumps of lead till it was " " Oh, nonsense, Mary, I don't believe Miss Carr would ever want it back — I think she'll give me the money. And besides, I mean to furnish my own roonis, so that will be two less." " Hark at that now ! " said Uevitts, giving his head a wag. •' I don't want to seem conceited, but I sliould like to improve my room, and have a place for my books, and be able to bring a friend home to have tea or supper with me when I liked." " That's quite right," said Kevitts approvingly ; "but we should want close upon two liuiidred pounds, Master Ant'ny, you know." " Yes, you ought to have two hundred and tif ty pounds." Mary shook her head, and seemed to tighten up her face, but- tering the bread she had before her the while. " Here, I say, come, Polly, I know we should have to begin saving," said Kevitts, in tones of remonstrance ; " but don't begin to-night. Stick a little more butter on that there bread." Mary complied, the meal went on, and I left them at last to talk the matter over, thoroughly upset by my proposals. They opposed them for some days to come ; but when, at last, I received a kind letter fron^ Miss Carr, bidding me tell Mary how glad she was to hear of hS plans, and that they were to be sure and include a comfortable bed and sitting-room for me, the day was carried, especially as thr letter contained a cheque for £'260 ; though they would not take all this, the steady, hoarding couple being able to produce between them enough to pay in full for the lease, which was duly assigned and placed in Kevitts' hands by Tom Girtley, who was progressing fast with the firm of solicitors to whom he had been articled. The first intimation that Ilallett received of the change was from lievitts himself, who called one day on his way home to announce with suppressed glee that he was the new landlord, and to ask if there was anything that Mr. Hallett would like done. ™^l ,! * !i,l 1 ! 2.M TriK STOUy OF AMTONY OttACL. FItillRtt HtiirRd in nstoniNhmenti and then turned sharply to me-— "This in your doing, Antony," he said. F plt'uded g-uilty. " VV»»U, what could be better? " I said ; "I'm ffoinp; to have two CO )ni.s, and Mary will be always at hand to attend upon us, and soil will not have to turn out. " Hut the money ^ " he said, looking at nin Nearchinffly. " llevitts and his wife have been savinj^ people, I replied, " and they had their savings to invest. I don't think they could have done better." Hallett did not seem satisfied, but he was too much of a gentle- man to push his Questions home, and the matter dropped. The old tenant, of the house moved out at once; Mary had a rriar- woman at work for a general clean up, and ended by dismissing lier for smelling of gin, and doing the cleaning herself ; and het'oit) ti fortnight was over the change had been madt>, and I was able to congratulate myself on a capital arrangement. " You think it is now," I said, " llallett, don't you P " " I do now, Antony," he said, ** for more reasons than one." " Wliat do you mean ?" 1 said ; for he looked very peculiar and stem. " I have seen that man hanging- about here once or twice." "Mr. Lister P" ' . ,.. .• He nodded. " Oh, but surely that is all over. He would nev. i aare." " He hates me, I am sure, Antony," he replied, " and would do anything to injure me ; and, besides, such a man as that would not lightly give up his plans." " But Linny dislikes him now, I am sure," I said. ♦ " I am not,^' he replied sadly ; and no more was said. ' ' ' CHAPTER XLVI. , t LINNV AWAlAs. jUtt those words " I am not," male no little impre.«i8ion on me, and a day or two later, wlien I had taken Linny in some flowers, I was thinking very deeply about them, and perhaps my thoughts may have influenced the mind of the poor girl, for she suddenly laid her thin white hand upon my arm and said : " Antony, do you ever see Mr. Lister now ? " ' " -i " No," I said ; " I have never seen him since the day of that scene with Miss Carr." , , j. . " Tell me about it — all about it," she said sharply. I stared at ker aghast, and tried to excuse myself, biit her eye^ UNNY AWAKE8. 2»V. ijrhts lenly that «y6d looked At me ho imploringly that I folt compelled, and related nil that I had heard and seen. She lay with her eyes half-closed during my recital, and when it was ended the poor, weak, wasted girl tuck one of niv huinl^ between both of hers, and held it to her breust, cures.siiig i. silently the while. " Oh, Linny, dear," I said, " what have I done ! I ought no; t" have told vou all this. You are going to be worse. Let me riill Stephen ! " No, no, no," she walled. " Hush, hush ! You must not wake poor mamma ! " " Let me call up Mary." * "No, no," she sobbed; "sit still— sit still, Antony dear ; yon have always been to me like a brother, and you have known iil> I have no girl friends of my own age, but I can talk i( u V OM you. " No ; let's talk of something else," I said earnestly, must not think about the past." " 1 must think about it, ur 1 shall die,'* she said, adding pathetically," no, no, don't get up. I shall be better now. Then , you see, I have leit off crying."' She seemed to muk'- an effort over herself, and in a few minutes she looked up at me smiling, but her poor face was so wasted and thin that her smile frightened me, and I was again about to cull for help. " No, no," she said ; " I am better now. Antony dear, I con! I not get well, but felt as if I was wasting away becuuMe 1 could utit see nim. Oh, Antony, I did love him so, and I telt obliged t«. ob'jy him in all he wished. lUit it was because I thought liini so fond and true. I have felt all these long months that lie loved int- very dearly, and that if I could only see him — if I could only lay my head upon his arm, and gc to rest, I should wake np well. I always thought that he loved me very dearly, and that some du\ he would come and say I was to be his wife. Stephen thought i hated him for his cruel ways, but I did not, I could not. 1 du not even hate him now. I am only sorry."' " But you don't want to see him again, Linny ? " I said. " No, no : not now," she replied with a shudder. " I know now that he never loved me. I never understood it all before, Antonv I pray God 1 may never see his face again." There was something very impressive in her words, and, closing her eyes, she lay back there so still that I thought she was asleep, but the moment I tried to withdraw my hand she cliing to it the more tightly, and looked up at me and ^nliled. " Antony," she said suddenly: and there seemed to be • new light iu her eyes as she opened them wildly, " I am going to get well now. I could not before, for thinking about the paat." . H, msmmiKmmmmmmmmm If m^i IP lit ''ivW^'. 1 '!^*itl V - ! liPi '' j lui 2;J6 THE srORY OF AN TON V -iiAi "T hope and prny tli.it vdii will,'' I said, with a 8tran<»e 8»Misntion of fear cree])!!!!,' throiiyli inc. *' I sluill," she suid qiii/kly. *• I cun f»'»'l it now. La'*t v eek I thought that I was jroiui) t<i die. Now talk to lue about Mi.st» L'aiT. Im ahe very lit'ciiiiiful r " '' Ves, I said «>a^''erly, ** very beautiful " " .Mfire haii(lf<(Miie than I u.««ei to be?" slie said, Inop-hing. "Oh, she's very different to you, Linny," I said, flu^hinfr. ''Sli** is tall and noble-lool\ii;g-, and durk, wjiile you are little and fair. One could not compare yon two totretiier." "It was no WDuder, then, that .Mr. Lister should love her." "Uh no," I said. "Any man who saw her would be sure to love her." She sighed softly. " Is she — is she a good woman ? " "Good?" r cried enthusiastically; "there could not be a better woman." ".\nd -and " .she faltered, moistening her dry lips, "do you think she will marry Mr. Lister!" " " I am sure she will not," I .viil indignantly. "IJut she loved lilm." " No." I said thou -htfullv; " T don't think .she did much." " But he loved her." " Ye — es, I suppose so," I snid; " but he cnu'il not have loved her much, or he would not have beha\e(l jis iie did." There was a pause then, during which Lin .y lay playing with my hand. " Antony," she cried suddenly, " 3Iiss Carr will forgive him some day." " Forgive him ! " T said. " Yes, she is so good a womnn that I dare say she will forgive him, but everything is over between them now." " 1 am very ulad," she SHi«l dreamily, " for I should be sorry if anything else took place." " What I should you be je.dous, Liiniy ? " " Xo," she said decidedly, " only very, very sorry for her. Oh ! .Vntony," she said, bursting into passionate tears, " I was very ignorant and very blind." " Linny, Linny, my child, what is the matter? " cried Hallett, entering the room, and tiying with all a woman's solicitude to the couch, to take the light waited form in his arms. " Heaven !:elp me, sha's worse. Tlie doctor, Antony, quick ! " " No, no, no," cried Limy, throwing her arrat» round her brother's neck; "I am better, Steve, better now. It is only irrow that I have be:?u so blind." j«o: "So blind, my darling ? " ** Yea, yes," sue soHbwl iexcitedly, pressing her hrotTiBt's dark IJNNV AWAKE" 237 •ry if Oh! verv darlc hair from his forehead, and covering liis face \\\\\i her kisses, " that I was so blind, and weak, and young. 1 did not know who loved me, and who did not : but it's all over now, Steve dear. Dear brother, it's all over now." " My darling,'' he whispered, '* let me send for help ! " "No, no," she cried, " wltat for? I am bettHr--sf) much better, Stephen. That is all taken off mv mird, and I have nothing to do now but love you, h, .'e you all, and get well." Poor little thing ! She lay there chif^ped in her brother's strong arms, sobbing hysterically, but it was as if every tear ^he shed washed away from her stricken mind a portion of the canker that had been consuming her day by day. It was more than I could bear, and if it had not been that I was called upon to speak to and comfort poor, weak Mrs. Hallett, who had been awakened by Linny's passionate sobs, I sliould have run OJit of the room and aWay from the houj;e; but somehow T had grown to be part and parcel of that family, and tlie weak invalid seemed to love me like her own son. At last, to my inexpressible relief, I saw liinny calm gradually down and sink to sleep in her brother's arms, like some weary, suffering child. Hallett did not move, but sat there fearing to disturb her, and as the evening v/ore on, his eyes sought mine inquiringly ngain and again, to direct my attention to her look : and as I watched her in that soft evening glow — a mellow light which titld of a lovely evening in the country lanes — a sofi, gentle calm seemed to have come upon the wasted face, its old liard anguluritj- had gone, and with it that wistful air of sulTeiing and constant pain. Her breathing was faint, but it was soft and regular as that of a sleeping child, and at last there was a restful 8n>ile of content upon her lips, such as had not been tliere for years. "What had you been saying to her, Antony P " whispered Hallett sternly, as I sat there by his side. "She asked me questions about Lister and Miss Carr," I said, " and I think that she woke up for the first time to know what a rascal he is." Hallett looked anxiously at his sister before he spoke again, but ghe was evidently plunged in a deep sleep. " You are very young, Antony, but you are getting schooled in nature's secrets earlier than many are. Do you think that is over now?" " I am sure of it," I said. ** Thank God ! " he said fen'ently, " for I was in daily dread." "^he would never — —there," t said excitedly; "she prayed hftryi^ that she might never see his face again." "^t they say women are very forgiviiig, Antony," he said ifith in tinge of bittemese ; and then, with his brow fi^n^wing ■iW Tin-: STDRY OF ANTONY (JRACK. w,- liut a eyni'-ul smile upon his lip, he said, ** We shall hear next that Mis8 Chit Iihh forgiven him, and that they are married." " For shjune ! " I exclaimed indignantly. " You do not know Miss Cair, or you would not speak like that." He Inilf closed his eyes after glancing at where his mother lay back in her easy chair, asleep once more, for so she passed the greater part of her time. •* No, he said softly, " I do not know her, Antony." I don't know what possessed me to say what I did, but it seemed iis if I was influenced to speak. " I wish you did know her and love her, Hallett, for she ia He started as if he had been stung. " Are you mad ? " he exclaimed an<^rily. " No," I said quietly, " but I think she likes vou." ** • " How could she ? " " 1 have talked so much about you, and she has seemed so interested in all you do." " You foolish fellow," he said, with his face resuming its old calm. " You are too young yet to thoroughly understand such matters. When you grow older, you will learn why it was that I could not play, as you seemed to wish, so mean a part as to become .lohn Tiister's accuser. It would have been contemptible in the extreme. " " 1 could not help feeling that Miss Carr ougL^- to know, Hallett." " Yes, my lad, but you shrank from telling her yourself." He was silent for a minute. " Ah, Antony," he said, " Fate seems to have ordained that I am always to wear the workman's coat ; but T . oiisole myself with the idea that a man may be a poor arti?^ t d still at heart a gentleman." "Of course!" " My father was a thoroughly honourable man, who left us poor solely from misfortune. The legacy he left to me, Antony, was the care of my dear mother and Linny." He looked down tenderly on the sleeping girl, and softly stroked lier hair ; the touch, light as it wad, waking her, to smile in his face with a look very different from that worn by her countenance the day before. CHAPTER XLVn. MISS CARR HEARS THB TRCTH. .; T WAS surprised one morning by my weekly letter from, '^^ia8 (^rr containing the welcome news, that she was coming back ; \ »» Ml8?i CAliii 11EAR.S TiiK Y,;l IM. J.:o in fact, that she wa.« rollowinpr the letter, nml it expressed a wisli that I should meet her at the terminus and s»n' lier lionic It was with noHmall feelin<f of pride tliiit I found myself cho.sen for this duty, and quite an hour before it v. us pot<>silile for ihf train to come in, I was wiiiti:!^' at the station. iSoon after I saw the c'airii:;ie drive up, and at last. nftiT lookii;:. endless times at the clock, I saw tlie train come gliding in, ami the next minute I was hurrvinjr along- the platform, ]')oki!)jj- eagerly at each carriage in turn, when I found myself liiusliin<j by John Lister, who started and scowled at me as \ passed. Just then T caught sight of Miss Carr, looking from oi.e of the carriages, an I hanaing a bundle of wraps to her maid. I ran eagerly up, but onl}* to find myself ru lely tinusf aside i)y Jolin Lister, who, in his excitement, studied nothing so that he could reach her first. " At last," he whispered passionately. " Let me be the first to . welcome you back." Flutihed and angry, my fists involuntarily clenched, and I felt ready to strike him as I started forward once again. I had my recompense, though, directly, for I saw Miss Can- draw down her veil, and, completely ignoring the extended hands, she beckoned to me, and, summoning up as much importance as I could, I said .sliarply : " Will you liave the goodness to stand aside ? " He was so taken aback by the determined refusal of Miss Carr to renew their acquaintance that he stood back involuntarily, recovering himself though, directly, and approaching once moie ; but he was too late: Miss Carr had taken my arm, and T led her to the carriage, the footman, who had seen her, taking the wraps and a case or two from the maid, whom lie ushered to a cab, which was then being loaded with luggage, as I sprang ie. beside my patroness, and gave the word to the coachman. " Home I " I was too young not to feel excited by the importance of my fosition,and as the horses started and the carriage moved forward. think now that I must have been mort? tlian hmnan if I lia<I not darted a look of triumph at John Lister, as he stood there jiist beneath one of the swingiiig lamps, his brow furrowed and a, furious look of disappointment and malice upon his face. I heard Miss Carr draw her breath as if with pain, but tlie next moment her hands were in mine. " My dear Antony,'' she exclaimed, " I am very glad to get back. Why, my dear boy, what a dilTerence one year has madi' in you." " Has it P " I said, laughing. Oh, yes! Why, Antony, you will soon be growinf^ into a it I man. II I' '• I ( > 1 -i! ,1 Bi *'p 240 THE STORY OF ANTONY' GRACE. " I hope so, xMiss Carr ; bat I don't think you look well." "No^' " You look thin and careworn." '' Marseilles is a very hot place, Antony," she said evasively, '' and does not suit English people. Of course, you are mj pro- perty this evening, Antony. You have no engagement P " *'' No," I said, smiling. " I should have gone to spend the evening with Mr. HLallett if I had been alone." Her hand gave a slight twitch as I said these words, and her \ oice sounded a little hoarse as she continued : *' You must come and dine with me, Antony, and we will have a long, long chat. It seems like old times to oe with you again.** I was delighted to have her back, and chatted on in the most unreserved way, until we reached Miss Carr's house, where the door flew open as the carriage stopped. I jumped down, and was in the act of holding out my right ' • hand and the carriage-doo'" Dpen with the left, when I started with surprise ; for a swift hansom cab had brought Johp Lister there before us, and he stood on the other side, holding out his hand. " I must speak to you, Miriam ! " he exclaimed in a low voice, when, seeing her shrink back in alarm, and with an unmistak- able look of horror in her face, boy as I was, I felt some sense of manhood flush to my cheek, and, feeling no fear of him for the moment, I placed my hand upon his chest, and thrust him with all my might away. " Stand back, sir ! " I cried, " or I call thr police." Ere he could recover from his astonishment, Miss Carr had lightly touched my hand, stepped out, and hurried in, while I, with my heart beating fast at my temerity, slowly closed the brougham-door, and stood facing John Lister. " You insolent dog ! " he cried threateningly ; and I thought he was about to strike me, but at that moment, as I stood before him with my teeth set, I would hardly have run in to save my life. " How dare you insult Miss Carr ! " I exclaimed. " Insult ! oil, this is too much ! " he muttered. Then, half- raising his hand, he let it fall once more, turned upon his heel, and strode away. The coachman seemed disposed to speak, but the field being now my own, I walked — very pompously, I'm afraid — into the hall. Miss Carr coming out of the dining-room as soon as the, front-door was closed, to catch my hand in hers, and look eagerly in my flushed face. " You have grown brave too, Antony," she whispered, as she led me upstairs. " Thank you, thank you ; I did not know that I could look for a protector in you." I had calmed down by the time Miss Carr had dressed; and MISS CARH IIKAJ{.s THE TKI TH. 241 and then followed one of those, to me, delighiful evenings. W'e dined together ; she chatted of her life hi Southern France, and at laMt, over our tea in the drawing-room, as she was sitting back in her lounge-chair, with her face in the shade, she said, in what was meant to he a perfectly calm voice : " Well, Antony, you have not said a word to me about your friends." ^ I did not answer lirectly, for I felt a strange hesitnticni in so doing ; and a similar emotion must have been in my compntiidn's breast, for she sat there for some minute."* in silence, till I tiui<l : " Linny Hallett seems to have quite recovered now, and is bright and happy again, though very much cliairijed." Miss (^arr did not speak. "Mrs. Hallett is precisely the same. 1 do not tiiink she ha» •altered in the least since I have known her," Miss Carr seemed to turn her face more away from me, or else it was the shadoV, and now, instead of speakinji of Stephen Hallett, something seemed to prompt ine to turn otT, and talk of Revitts and Mary, and of how admirably tlie arrangement had answered of their taking the house in Great (.h*mond Street. There seemed to be a slight impatient movement as I prattled on — I can ca!l it nothing else. It was not from a s]iirit of mischief, but all the time 1 seemed to feel that she must want to know about Stephen Hallett, and somehow I could not mention his name. " It is quite droll. Miss Carr," I said. " Mrs. Hallett say.s that it is such an admirable arrangement, having a police-constable on the premises, and that she has never before felt so safe siiice .'^he has oeen in London." " You have not spoken to me yet of your friend— Mr. Hallett." I started, for it did not sound like Miss Carr's voice, and when I looked up I could not see her face. "No; not yet," I said. "He is toiling on still as patiently and enduringly as ever." " And the invention, Antony P " "The invention," I said bitterly, "lags behind. It is impossible to get on." " Is — is it all waste of time, then ? " "Waste? No," I said. "The invention is one that would carry all before it ; but, poor fellow, he is tied and fettered at every turn. He has nearly got it to perfection, but, after months of constant toil, some wretched part breaks down, and the whole thing has to be done af^ain." '^- " But is it likely to succeed p " "Likely ? " I said : " it must succeed ; but it never can until it has been made and tried. It should be carefully constructed at •ome large engineering ostablishment like ours." 16 / 243 THE MTORY Of ANTONY ORACK H i * f . ; %;»•■• 'I; •! ti^'l '* Yes," slie said, evidently llHtening intently. " But how can it be P Poor llallett earns about two pounds a week, and the demands upon liis pocket, through his mother's and sister's illness, have been terrible. He is heavily in debt now to the doctors." " Why do you not help your friend, then, Antony P " she said in tones of reproach. " Because he will not let me," I replied quietly. " He is too proud." Miss Carr was silent. " What amount would it take," she said at last, in a strange tone, " to perfect the machine ? " " Amount P " I said eagerly ; " an awful deal. It is impossible to say how much. Why, the patent would cost nearly a hundred Poor fellow I I wish sometimes he would give it up." " Why P " she exclaimed softly. " Because," I said, " it is breaking his heart." " Is — is he so constant in his attentions to ir ? " " Oh yes. Miss Carr. Whenever he can spare a minute, he is working or dreaming over it ; he calls it his love — his mistress, in a half-mocking sort of spirit. Poor fellow, it is a sad life." There was again a deep silence in the room. " Anton v," she said again, " why do you not help your friend P" " I do," 1 said eagerly. " I have worked at it all night with him sometimes, and spent all my pocket-money upon it — though he doesn't know it. He thinks I have turned some of the wheels and spindles myself, but I set some of our best workmen to do it, and cut me the cogs and ratchets." " And paid for them yourself P " '' Yes, Miss Carr. I could not have made them well enough." " But why not help him more substantially, Antony P With the money that is required P " " I help him ? " I said. She did not answer for a few moments, for a struggle was going on within her breast, but she spoke at last. Her pride and femin- ine shrinking had given way before the love that she had been striving these many months to crush, but which was sweeping all before it now. " Antony," she said softly, " I can trust to you, I know ; and I feel that whatever 1 help you in will be for the best. You shall help your friend Mr. Hallett. My purse shall be open to j'ou, and you shall find the means to enable him to carry his project to . success." " Oh, Miss Carr ! " I cried ; and in my new delight I caught and kissed her hand. She laid one upon my shoulder, but her head was averted still, and then she motioned me to resume my seat. , ^ , f ' a ' MLS8 CARK HEARS THE TRUTH. 24:: and I shall u, and ect to "Does that satisfy you, Antony P " she said. << Yes— no," I cried, getting up and walking up and down the room. " He would not take the money ; he would be a great deal too proud." " Would not take the money, Antony ? Why P " . , " Because he would know that it came from you." " And knowing that the money came from me, Antony, would he not take it ? " " No, I am sure he would not." "Why?" " Because — because Miss Carr, should you be angry with me if I told you the truth ? " She paused again, some minutes, before she replied softly, but in so strange a tone : " No, Antony. How could I ? " " Because, Miss Carr, I am sure he loves you : and he would think it lowered him in your eyes." She turned upon me a look that seemed hot with anger, but the next moment she had turned her face away, and I could see that her bosom was heaving with suppressed emotion. A, great struggle was evidently going on within her breast, and it was some time before she could master it. At last, however, she turned to me a face that was deadly pale a..d there was some- thing very stern in her looks as she said to me : " Antony, we have been separated for a year, but can you speak to me witli the same boyish truth and candour as of old, in the spirit taught you, my dear boy, by the father and mother you have lost ? " " Oh yes. Miss Carr," I said frankly, as I laid my hand in hers, and looked in her beautiful eyes. " Yes, Antony, you can," she said softly. ** Tell me, then, has Mr. Hallett ever dared to say such a thing as — as that to you ? " "Never, Miss Carr." "Has—has my name been made the subject of conversation amongst your friends P " "Never, Miss Carr." " Or been coupled with hia P " "Oh ! no, no," I «ied, "never. Mr. Hallett has rarely men- tioned your name." "Then how can you — how can you dare to make such au assertion as you did ? " " I don't know," I replied thoughtfully. " I could not tell you how it is, but I am sure he does love you afl much as I do. Miss Ca^r." " I bdieve you do, Antony," she said, bending forward and kic6ii)g^ my forehead. " But, you foolish boy, drive that other notion fvatn your lievd, and if you do love me, Antony— and I 244 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. ' ' ■ ■il ': t I would have you love me, my boy, an dearly as you loved her who has gone — never speak to your dearest friend of our words to- night." " Oh, you may trust me for that," I said proudly. " I do trust you, Antony, and I see now that your ideas are right about the money. Still, I should like you to help your friend." " So should I," I said ; and I sat thinking dreamily over the •natter, being intensely desirous of helpinj^ Hallett, till it was time to go, when an idea occurred to me which I proposed to Miss Carr, one which she gladly accepted, joining eagerly in what was, perhaps, a deception, but one most truly and kimlly meant. CUAPTER XLVIII. AX INVITATIO.V. " Hallo, young Grace," said Mr. Jabez Rowie, as I was showu up one evening into his room, to find him, snuff-box on the table and pen in hand, reading away at his paper, and, as I entered, {^miling with satisfaction as he pounced upon a literal error, and marked it in the margin. " How are you P " I said I was quite well, and he pointed to several pen marks at the side of the column. '* There's reading," he said contemptuously. " I'm ashamed of these daily papers, that I am. Well, how are wheels and lathes and steam-engines, eh P Bah ! what a contemptible young sneak you were to leave so good a business for oil and steam and steel- ifilings. I give you iip now. Glad to see you, though ; sit down. Have a pinch of snuff P " * ' "No, thanks," I said, smiling. * Humph ! how you grow, you young dog ; why, youll soon be a man. Better have a pinch ; capital bit of snuff." I shook my head, and he went on, smiling grimly at me the while. " No business to have left me, Grace. I should have mode a man of vou. Well, how are you getting on ? " " Capitally," I said. " Don't believe it. Better have stopped with me. Heard from Peter P" " No," I said eagerly. " Have you P " " Yes. Just the sar ' a usual. Down at liowford still; amok- ing himself to death. Ha . ! capital pinch of souff this," he added, regaling himself again. " Sent his love to you, and said I was to tell you — t*ll you — where the dickens did I put that letter P " h« continued, pttliing a. buiidle of slip-proofs out of hia breaab-packst, AN INVITATION. 246 1 condescend to call, young eng-ine- it happens, I'm not busy to-night. and hunting them over — ** said I was to tell vou~ ah, here it is — to tell you Ah — * Tell young Grace I shall come up to town and see him some day, and Til give you a look up too.' hah ! Don't want him : won t have him. We should be sure to quarrel. He'd come here, and sit and smoke all day — where's my— oh, liera it is." He took a couple of pinches of snuff in a queer, excited way. and snapped his fingers loudly. ** I shall be very, very glaa to see him when he does come," I said warmly. g^ " Ah, yes, of course you will. He's got some papers or som^ thing, he says, for you. "HaaheP" " So he says. Hang Peter ! I don't like him, somehow." There was a comical look of chagrin in the old man's face as he spoke ; but it was mingled with a dry, humorous air that refused to be concealed, and I seemed to feel in my heart that if the brothers met, Mr. Jabez would be thoroughly cordial. "Well, I'm glad you did " driver," he said at last ; " as You won't take a pinch of snuff ? " I shook rav head. "What will you have, then ? Have some almonds and raisins ? Figs P Some oranges ? Well, some sweetstuff ? They've got some capital cocoa-nut candy downstairs ! No ? Well, have some candied peel P " " No, thank you, Mr. Jabez," I said, laughing. " Why, what u babyyou do think me." "Well, so you are," he growled. " You don't want me to ask you to have beer, or grog, or cigars, do you ? " *' Oh no !" I said, laughing. ' " Good job, too, because you wouldn't catch me giving them to you. WeU, how's your policeman P " "Quite well." "Ever see Hallett now P " " Every day nearly." " Humph I Decent fellow, Hallett ; sorry he left ua.- Cleanest proofs I ever had. That man always read his stick, Grace. You alw^s read yours ? " " 6ut you forget I am not a printer now, Mr. Jabez." "No, I don't, stupid. Can't you see I was speaking in meta- phors P Always read your stick, boy, through life. When you've done a thing, go over it again to see if it's right ; and then, at th<' end. you'll find your proof-sheets of life are no half so foul. Tell BaUett, when you t>^ hijfi again, to give me a look up. I rather liked him." " Why, yi^u flev«r 8«ienied to like him, Mr. Jabez," t iaid. / •J46 THE STORY y>l' ANTONY (JKACK *• i 'm •* Well, what of that, boy ? Can't a man like anybody without ulwayH going about and grinning P " He took another pinch of snuff, and then nodded and tapped hi» box. " How's Mr. Grimstone P " I said, smiling. »'• ' f "Oh, hard as a nut, and as awkward. Oives me a deal of trouble." , J, " And is Jem Smith with you still P " -.'■■. '' With me P No ; but he's in a house close by, the great atnpiid l^t ! He's got whiskers now, and grown more thick-beaded than e^r. Orimstone had a sharp illness, though, over that affair." " What affair P " I asked. '♦ " Why, when the partnership was broken up — you know P " " No, I said, wonderingly. " Why, you must have heard. When John Lister was bank- rupt. He was dead in with the money-lenders, and he had to give up, you know." . *.,i ,, " \V liat ! was he ruined P " ** Ruined P yes, a gambling fool ; and if Mr. Ruddle hadn't been pretty firm, the rascal would have ruined him too — pulled the house down." ■ 'jn'i " This 18 news," I said. " Yes, and bad news, too," said the old fellow. " Five hundred pounds of my savings went — lent money — for him to make ducks and drakes ! " "Oh, Mr. J abez," I said: "I am very sorry." " Don't deserve it," be said, taking another pinch ; "served me ri^ht for being such a fool. I don't mind now ; I never cry over spilt milk, but it nearly broke poor old Grim's heart. Five hun- dred of his went, too, and it was very nearly being more." " I remember something about it," I said. " You were spealt- ing on the subject once before me." " Ah, so wo were. Well, it was a warning to me, Oraee. Temptation, you know." "Temptation?" ... ^ .v •>» " Yes, to get bonus and high interest. Playing usurer, rhy boy. Serve us both right. Don't you ever be led on to lending money on usury." " I'm not likelv ever to have any to lend," I said, laughing. " I don't know that," he said, making anotlier reference to his snuff-box. "Peter said in one of his letters that he thought there was some money that ought to come to you." /cr "I'm afraid not," I said, laughing. "I've a long debt to pay vet." " You I — you in debt, you yotmg rascal ! " he exclaimed angrily. " I always said I would someday pay off my father's del>t«, JVv. Jabez," I said; and then my woras brought up audi a flbAd^bf AN INVITATION. 2»: *ad recollections, that I was about to eagerly chan(re the Mubioct, when Mr. Jabez leaned over to me and took my hand. " Good lad," he said, shaking it up and down. " Good lad. I like that. I don't believe you ever will pay them, you know ; but I like the sound of it all tfie same." He kept on shaking my hand some time, and only left it to take another pinch of snutT. " And has Mr. Lister quite gone from the hrm P " " Oh, yes. Quite, my lad. lie was up to his eyes in debt, and when he didn t many that girl, and get her money to pay biniftulf off clear, he went smash at once. Lucky escape tor her. I'm afraid he was a bad one." " And what is he doing now P " " What, Lister ? Set up a rival shop on borrowed money ; doing all he can to cut. down his old partner, but he'll do no jfood. Can't get on. Hasn't got a man on the premises who can roud." " Indeed 1 " I said. " Not a soul, Grace. Why, you wouldn't believe if, my lad," he continued, tapping me in the shin -front with hi.** siuitT-box, "but I had one of their Chancery bills in the othL-r duv big quarto, you know, pica type — and there were two turned «'s for M*8 in the second page." " Never ! " I said, to humour him. " Fact, sir, fact," he said, taking another pinch of snuff and snapping his fingers triumphantly. " Why, I'd liaidlv t<^rgivH that in a daily paper where there's a rush on, and it s got ti]) in the night ; but m a thing like a Chancery bill iVn inexcu.sable. Well, now about yourself, CJ I ii ■ I'm glad you are getting on, boy. Never mind what I sai.i , it's better than being a reader, and growing into a snufiFy cantankerous old scarecrow like me. Read your stick well, my boy, and I hope— no, I'm sure you'll get on. But I say, what will you have to eat 't " " I'm not hungry, Mr. Jabez," I said ; ** and, look here, I haven't delivered ray message to you." "Message? To me ? ' _ " Yes, sir. Miss Carr wished me to ask you if you would come and dine with her to-morrow." " Me? Dine with Mi.>s Carr — Carr — Curr :- \\ n \ , that's the girl Lister was to have married." " Yes— Miss Carr," I said. "But me dine with her ! Why, she hasn't fallen in love with me now, has she ? " " Oh no," I said, laughing. " She wants to see you on business." "See me on business ? Why, Grace," he said excitedly, " T was to be paid my five hundred out of her monev, and wasn't paid. Is she repentmg, and ^oing to give it to me P '^ ** No," I said ; " I don't think it's that." , \ 348 THK STORY OK ANTONY OllACE. " No, of course not," he said thoughtfully. " Couldn't take it if were. What does she want, then P Do you know P " I nodded. • What is it, then P " " I am in Miss ('arr's confidence," I sai*! ; " and T do not feel at liberty to speak ahout the matter till after you have seen her." " Let me i*ee," said the old man : *' hIio's very pretty, isn't sheP" " Beautiful ? " I exclaimed enthusiuf<tically. " Humph ! Then I don't think I shall go, Grace." ' "Not go? Why not?" " These handHOtne women can wheedle a man out of anything. I've lost five hundred over Lister, and I don't want to be wheedled •ut of any more." " You needn't be afraid, Mr. Jabez," I said, laughing. " Think not P " " I'm sure not. Miss Carr want« to advance some money to help some one." " Well, then, let her do it." " She cannot well do it herself, and she asked me if I knew anyone, and I named you." *' Hang your impudence, then," he said, taking snuflf fiercely. " You know I was fool enotigh to advance money to Lister, so you recommend me ua an easy oii'^ to do it again." "No, no, Mr. .Tabez; you don't understand me," I said, laugh- ing. " Miss Carr wishes to find the mone} but she wants it to seem as if it came thro"^b you." "OL!" Here he refreshed himself with his snuflf, looking at me sus- piciously the "vvhile. " Look here, young Grace," he said ; " I'm not fond of doing things in the dark ; so, as we are old friends, suppose you make a clean breast of what all this means. You know, I suppose ? " " Yes, I know everytliing," I replied. " Well, then, out with it." " That I cannot do without being guilty of a breach of confi- dence, Mr. Rowle," I replied. "If you will come up to Miss Carr's to-morrow evening at half-past six, you uiav oe sure of a warm welcome, and I shall be there <o meet you.' " Phee — ew ! " he whistlei, *' Jiow fir, » we Lavo got to be, Grace. Do we dine late every day, si • ? " " No ; nonsense," I said, laiigbing. " Miss Carr is very kind to me, though : Rud she v ished lue to be there to meet you." " Well, but, Grace, you know," aaii the old man, " I'm such a ?ueer, rough sort of a fellow. I'm ncf used to that sort of thing. 've read about it often enough ; but I suppose oh, you know, I couldn't come I " MR. JABEZ UNDEHTAKKs A (OM. MISSION. 'J4V ** I sbftU tell Miss Carr you will," I Naid, riHing ; and after a f«w more wordi, the old man promised, and I went away. CHAPTER XLIX. MB. JABEZ UNDBRTAKB8 A COMMISSIOir. Mr. Jabxz was got up wonderfully for his visit to Miss Carr. His white waistcoat might have been carved in marble, and his white cravat was the stifFest ever made ; but there was a good deal of the natural gentleman in the old man, and he took Miss Carr down to dinner with all the ceremony of the rid school. Everything was expressly arranged to be very simple, and in a very few minutes Mr. Jabez was quite at his ease, while after a glass of sherry the old man became pleasantlv chatty, und full of anecdote, but always treating his hostess witfi the most chivalrous respect, making a point of rising to open the door for her when she quitted the room, and we were supposed to be left to our wine. ** llah, Grace," he said, coming back to the table, and taking a long pinch of snuff; "now I feel a man again. I'll just have three more pinches, and then we'll go upstairs to that angel. Good heavens ! " " What is the matter? " I said, as, in>tead of sitting down, he began to walk up and down the dining-room, taking pinch after pinch of snuff. " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed again. " Is anything the matter, Mr. Jabez P " I exclaimed. " Good heavens ! I sav, Good heavens ! " he repeated. " "What do you mean r " I said. " Good heavens I Only to think of it, Grace ! " Another pinch of snuff. "Only to think, my lad, that he might have had that woman — that lady ! A girl as beautiful in her mind as .she is in her face. Why, Grace, my boy, I'm an old snuffy bachelor becrmse my opportunity never came, but if I could have mai'rie<i sucl) a woman as that — Hah ! some men are born to be fools ! " " And you think Mr. Lister was a fool ? " "Fool, sir? He was ten thousand times wors»\ But there! the sun don't shine on me every day, my boy ! ^^'e'll go upstairs at once, and let it shine upon me again." I never liked Mr. Jabez one-half i*o well before. It was delight- ful to me, who quite worshipped Miss Carr, to see the old man's genuine admiration. He seemed quite transformed^ and looked younger. In fact, no sooner were we upstairs, where Miss Carr 250 THE STOHV OF ANION Y (iliAGK i, ! i; ■ J ' el i ;, ^J-Pl f 1: I'?-. 11 t:V. . ■ . 1 !t::-i! lij lili K .r,i was sitting with the urn singing- on the tea-table, than he relieved me of a difficulty by opening the question of business him- self. " My dear young lady," he said, as he sat down, and began rub- bing one thin little leg, " I know you'll excuse me Tor upeakiug so familiarly, but" — he smiled- " I'm over sixty, and I should think you are not more than twenty-five." Miss (!!arr smiled, and he went on. " Our young friend Grace here tells me that you would like me to perfortn a little commis.sion for y. u. I only wish to say that you may command me in any way, and to the best of my ability the work shall be done.'" "Thank you, Mr. Rowle," said our hostess. "Antony Grace said he felt sure I could not have a more suitable and trustworthy JlgtMlt." *' I thank Antony Grace," said the old man, bowing to me cere- moniously, and taking out his snuff-box, which he hastily re- placed. '* The fact is," said Miss Carr, hesitatin^x, and her voice trembled and her face flushed slightly as she spoke, " I — oh, I will be plain," sjie said, as if determined to cast off all false shame ; "Mr. Kowle, I trust to you not to put a false construction on this act of mine. [ am rich — I am my own mistress, and I will do as I please, what- ever the world may say." '* You are rich, you are your own mistress, and you have a right to do as you please, my denr young lady, whatever the world may say," assented Mr. Jabez, taj,ping the lid of his snuff-box, which seemed as if it would not keep out of his hand. '* The fact is, Mr. Rowle, continued Miss Carr, " there i£ a gentleman — a friend of Antony Grace here, who is struggling to perfect a new invention — a great invention." Mr. Jabez bowed, gazing at her animated countenance with open admiration the while. " To perfect this invention, money is wanted," " Exactly," said Mr. Jabez, tapping his box softly. " Mon y is always useful." " I wish this gentleman to have that money — as much as is necessary." " You are rich ; you are your own mistress ; you have a right t o do as you please, my dear young lady, whatever the world may s!iy," said Mr. Jabez, harping upon her words once more. ** It is tiisily settled. Give it him. " No," said Miss Carr, speaking with animttion, " it is not easy. • You forget what I say. This inventor is a gentleman." " And would be too proud to take the money ? " said Mr. .1 abez quickly. " Yes," said Miss Carr. " He would not stoop to be under turb MR. JARfclZ UNDERTAKES A COMMISSION. 251 tn oblipfation. He would feel insulted — that he \vh» lowering himself. I wish to help him," she suid excitedly. " I would do anything to help him ; h*i* my hands are tied." , " Humph 1 " ejaculated Mr. Jabez softly ; " and you want me to help vou ? " " Y •? oh yes ! And you will ? " cried Miss Carr. 1' " Ci course I will, my dear young lady," said the old man ; ** but this requires thought. Would you excuse me if I took just one little pinch P " "Oh, my dear Mr. Rowle," cried Miss Carr, " pray do not use ceremony here. 1 asked you to come to me as a friend. Pray consider that you are one." - " Hah ! " sighed Mr. Jabez. *• Now I can get on. Well, my dear young lady, surely we can find a way. In the first place, who is the gentleman P " Miss Carr lodted at me. ■ " Mr. Hallett," I said, coming to her help. « What P Our Mr. HaJlett P " said Mr. Jabez. ; "Yes, Mr. Rowle." "Hum! Well, I'm not surprised," he said. " Ke certainly always did seep to be a gentleman, and I was very sorry that he left our place. So he is working on a great invention, eh ? Well, be is just the man who would. Then, the first thing is, how is it to be done P '' " Antony Grace thinks, Mr. Rowle, that as you have the ireputation of being a wealthy man " " Wealthy ! why I lost five hundred pounds slap the other day by Dear me ! Bless my soul! Oh, tut — tut — tut ! What an ass I am ! " he muttered, taking refuge in a tremendous pinch of suufT, half of which powdered his white waistcoat and cravat. " I am very sorry to hear that," said Miss Carr quietly. " Oh, it was notliing. Pray go on, my dear young lady." " Antony Grace tliought that you might seek him out, and get into his confidence a little, and at last, after a show ff interest in his work, ask him to let you become a sharer in the affair, on condition of your finding tlie necessary funds." "Of your money P" said the old man, with a slight show of suspicion. "Of course, Mr. Rowle. Then, if he would consent, which he might do, thinking that he was favouring you, the mutter would be settled." " To be sure. Of course," said Mr. Jabez thoughtfully. " And how far would you go, my dear young lady — forty or fifty pounds P " " As far as was necessary, Mr. Rowle. As many hundreds as he required." ' ' Mr. JabejE tapped his box, and sat thinking, ga 'sing wonderingly ■ ' r I ' 'ft i •f4 I' :hl' 'I MM % ! 252 THE STORY OF ANTONY (.rRACK. and full of admiration at the animated countenance before him, as he softly bowed his head up and down. " And you will do this for me, Mr. Rowle ? " she said. " If you will trust me, Miss Carr, I will be your steward in this matter," he said quietly. " And keep my secret ? He must not know." " I will be as silent as the grave, my dear, and I thank you for placing so much confidence in me." A few preliminaries and the thing was settled. Then, after tea, Miss Carr sang to the old man a couple of old-fashioned ballads, and he left soon after, I walking home with him, after arranging that I was to take him to Great Ormond Street the following evening, as if after a casual meeting and a desire to see Hallett again. The rest was to be left to chance. The old man was very quiet and thoughtful, but I noticed that our leave-taking was a great deal warmer thait it had ever been before, and I went back to my lodgings hopeful and eager, feeling that thy sun was about to shine at last upon poor Uallett^ Ventura, i especting which I, with him, would not own now that there could oe such a thing as failure. CHAPTER L. MR. BOWLE BEGINS HIS TASK. Poor Mrs. Hallett was, no doubt, a great sufferer ; and as I grew older and knew her better, the annoyance I used to feel at her unreasonable ways dropped aside to make room for pity. One thing always struck me, and that was, that though she was constantly murmuring about Stephen's wasting time over his schemes, and the wretched way in which he was constantly plodding (|P, instead of ambitiously trying to rise to some pro- fession, it was dangerous for anyone else to speak of sucn a thing. At the appointed time I called upon Mr. Jabez, and he accom- panied me to Great Ormond Street, looking brighter and younger than I had ever seen him look before. His snuff-box was in constant use, and ne on the way, after vainly trying to stand treat, as he called it, by stopping at the various grocers' windows, and wanting to buy me a box of candied fruits or French plums, went on talking about Mies Carr. " Antony Grace," he exclaimed ; " that fellow will wake up some day." " What fellow P " "LiiPter. The fool! the idiot! the ass! Why, an earthly MR. ROWLE BEGINS HIS TASK. iJTvl heaven was open to him, and he turned his bad upon it. There's ft life of repentance for him." " I can't understand it," I said. "Humph I No," he continued; and he jpt glancing at me curiously, as if eager to say something — to ask me some question ; hut he refrained. " I'm glad you liked Miss Carr," I said at last. " Liked her, boy ? " he exclaimed enthusiastically ; and he stopped in the centre of the pavement. '• There, I suppose I'm f rowing into an old fool, but that's no business of anybody, hat young lady, sir, can command Jabez Howie from this moment. Here, come along ; the people are looking at you." I thought they were looking at Mr. Jabez, but I snid nothing, only kept step with him, as he thrust his arm through mine and hurried me on. " Of course, what I say to you is in confidence, Antony Grace," he continued. " Of course," I replied warmly ; " and let me beg of you, Mr. Rowle, to be very careful. Pray don't let Ilallett have any suspicion of how your interest has come about ; and, above all, he musi not think that I have talked to you about his model." " Hold your lonprue, tomtit," he exclaimed merrily, " trying to teach a croaking old raven, getting on towards a hundred. You leave it to me. But look here, boy, I'm not blind. This is all in confidence, of course. I can see as far into a mill-stone a.s most Eeople. Have Ilallett and Miss Bah, what am I saying ? " e muttered, checking himself suddenly. " It's all in confidence, and I shall be as close as an oyster. I've got my part by heart, ftnd you shall see what you shall see." He gave my arm a tiglit nip, and soon after we reached the door, which I opened with my latch-key, and took him into my rooms, \N h which the old man seemed much pleased. " Why, you reckless young hypocrite, this is the way you live, is it? Books, eh ? And what are these whee's forr'" he con- tinued, picking up a couple from the chimney-piece. " The model," 1 said quietly. " Now, what shall we do ? Ask Hallett to come down here, or go up ? " " Send up word that you have an old friend with you, and ask if you may bring him up." I took the hint, and Mary came back in a few minutes to say that Mr. Hallett would be only too glad to see us. "We went up, and I saw at once that Hallett had come down from the attic. Mrs. Hallett was asleep, and Linny, looking very pale and thin, but still restful and better, was in an easy-cliair with a book. " Ah, Hallett, how do P " said the old gentleman, in his abrupt way. '' Your servant, ma'am," he added, with a profound bow. 254 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. J- I I I Hallett looked stern and displeased, and his greetinj? was cold. " My sister, Mr. Kowle," he said. " She has been ill." " So I see," he replied. " I hope you are getting better, my dear child. You must take plenty of fresh air. I came to see my young friend, Antony Grace here, and he suggested that as we were under the same roof, I should come and see you. Sorry you ever left us, Mr. Hallett." Hallett bowed. ♦' Ah," he continued, taking the chair coldly oflFered, "lots of changes since. I suppose vou know the partnefship's disfiolved P " *' Yes, I had heard so, replied Hallett, glaDcmg uneasily at Linnv. " 1 stick on with the senior branch," the old man continued, as his eves wandered about the room, for he was evidently at a loss, and I did not know how to help him, so crossed over to sit down by and talk to Linny. But fate favoured us, for in his hurried descent Hallett had brought with him a portion of the mechanism of the model. " Hallo ! " exclaimed Mr. Jabez sharply ; " what have you got there P Have you, too, turned engineer ? " " Oh, no," said Hallett, who was annoyed. " I — that is — it is a portion of a little contrivance of mine.*' " Oho ! " exclaimed Mr. Jabez, " I've found you out, have I, Master Hallett ! Why, you were always making sketches of machinery at the office. ' " How do you know that ? " said Hallett sharply, while my heart sank, for I felt that our attempt would b^ a failure. " Old Grim told me. That young scoundrel, Jem Smith, used to carry him scraps of paper upon which you had been draw- ing." Hallett's brow grew more cloudy, but he brightened up directly, saying frankly : " Well, yes, Mr. Rowle, I am engaged upon a little invention." ♦' That's right," said the old man warmly ; " that's right ; I wish I had begun something of the kind when I was young. It takes the mind away from the daily mill-horse work. But somehow, Hallett, I never could drag my mind away from it, but used to amuse myself reading proofs at home. Giace," he con- tinued, turning to me, " why don't you take to something ? You being »n engineer, now, you ought to do something, say, in our line. There's plenty of chances there. I know one man," he said, taking up his ihin leg and nursing it, " who has been trying for years to perfect a machine." " Oh, Mr. Jabez," I thought, " you have spoiled all ! " for Hallett darted a quick glance at me. " The idea occurred to him," continued Mr. Jabez, tapping his snuff-box thoughtfully, as if it contained the machine, " that he M!j. now:.:: di: .ins -.as task. 25/; ! " for could make a contrivance that would do away with the necessity for setting type." " Inde^ ! " said Ilallett, who drew a long breath of relief. " Yes, sir," said Mr. Jabez ; " his idea was to get the type set up in long pipes above a keyboard, like a piano, and every time a key was touclied with the finger, it pushed out a letter, which ran down an inclined plane to an opening, where a tiny hammer gave it a tap and drove it along a channel in which the letters formed one long line, which was afterwards made irito pages and justilied." " And did it answer ? " said Mallett eagerly. " No," said the old man, taking a pinch of snuff, as Linnv and I now listened to him attentively. " The idea was clever, out it was too crude. He set up his stick full, Antony Grace, and neglected to read it afterwards. He failed at first." " But you said it was a good idea, Mr. Jabez," I exclaimed. " A capital idea," said the old man, " but it was full of faults." " Faults ? " said Hallett dreamily. " Yes, sir," said the old man, growing animated. " For instance, he would only have been able to set one kind of type — one size. He couldn't use italic. He wanted a clever, sensible woman or man to work the keys, another to make the type up into lines. And he was obliged to have a boy to work the little hammer, or beater, to drive the letters along. Then the type would get stuck if the letters were not sent down exactly to the time ; for two would meet in a lane, and then there was no end of confusion, and, after all, the type had to be distributed, and afterwards set up in sticks to fill the machine." " Exactly," said Hallett, with animation, for the ice was broken. " I had thought of something similar." " But you did not do it." " No ; oh no ^ Composition always seemed to me to require the mind of man — the brain to guide it. It seemed to me that invention should be applied to something of a more mechanical nature." " ^j^actly," said Mr. Jabez. " You couldn't make a machine to read and correct proofs, or revise a slip." " Of course not," said Hallett. " Of course not," said Mr. Jabez. " But, mind you, I'm not one of those idiots who rise up in arms against macliinery, and I don't say but what our friend might not have gone on and greatly improved his machine. For instance, he might have contrived another, to do away with the distribution and re-setting up of the type." " Yes," said Hallett thoughtfully ; " it might have been recast and replaced by mechanism." " And always have new type," said Mr. Jabez eagerly. " To be eure : a capital idea ; but I don't know, Hallett, I don't Ipiow. h ' u 4 I 4'.'' %'S THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. They say you can buy gold too dearly. In the same way, you can make a time-saving process too expensive." " Certainly/' said Hallett thoughtfully ; and I was glad to see now that he was pleased to meet the old man. " It seems to me," said Mr. Jabez, passing his snuff-box, which Hallett received, and, to humour his visitor, partook of a pinch, " that an inventor ought to devote his attention to making machinery for doing awav with a great deal more of our labour- ing mechanical work, and not the careful processes that require thought." " Printing, for instance P " " Ye — es, said Mr. Jabez ; " but that ground has been pretty well taken up. We have some good machines now, that do a lot of work by steam. Why, when I was a boy we used to have the clumsiest old presses possible to conceive. I don't think they had been much improved since the days of Caxton." " And yet tnere is great room for improvement," cried Hallett, with animation. " Mr. Rowle, we saw very little of each other beyond business encounters, but I believe, sir, that I may place trust in your word ? " " Thank you, Mr. Hallett, I hope so. I'm sure I always placed confidence in yours. I am proud to say. Miss Hallett, that if your brother promised me a slip by a certain time, my mind was always easy, for I knew it would be done." " Oh, nonsense, nonsense," said Hallett, smiling. " Look here, Mr. Rowle, I feel that you will not betray my confidence, and I ask you as a favour to keep private what you see here to-night." "What I see here ? " said Mr. Jabez, looking around with an assumed look of puzzle, while I felt the colour coming in my face as I thought of the part I was playing. " I mean what I am about to show you, Mr. Rowle," said Hallett, smiling. " Trust me ? Oh yes, of course, yes — of course," said the old man warmly ; " here is my hand." " Thank you," said Hallett, taking it. " Linny, my dear, you will not mind being left alone ? " " Oh no," she said, smiling ; and lighting another lamp, Hallett Ibd the way up to the attic, Mr. Jabez finding an opportunity to give me a solemn wink before we stood by Hallett's tench. " I have spent so much thought and labour over this model," said Hallett, " that you must not be surprised at the jealousy with which I watch it." "Oh no," said Mr. Jabez, who proceeded, snuff-box in hand, to examine caref ullv every point in the invention. " Well," said Ilallett, at last, " do you think it will answer P " In place of replying, Mr. Jabez went all over it again, his in- terest growing fast, and being, I was glad to aee, evidMitly sincere* MR. ROWLE UEGINS HIS TASK. "I tell you what," he exclaiine;! at la>^f, takini,' a trcmondous pinch of snuff, " that thing would he splendid if vou yot it njrht " "You like it, then:- '%aid Hullett. " "Like it? I think it's grand. Wliy. man. it would make C[uite a revolution in the news business. You must uei t.n- iret It nerfeci." . )'U: Ilal'-itt sliook his head. "It tuk's time and nionev," he said sadlv. "It is slow work." " Y'es, but— hang it all, sir ! you should get help. With such an important thing in hand you slxxild work on." " I do not know yei rhat it wa.il.i answer," gaid Ilallett .sadly. *' But it must answer, sir," said tiie old man ^harplv.«l " If that machine did not answer, it W(.uld not be the fault of the principle, but of some blunder in ilie ;nechanism." " Do you think so .^" cried Ilallett, whoso eves li^rlitej up with pleasure. " No, sir : I am sure so," said the old man. " The principle is as grand as it is simple ; and what I like in the invention is this— you have taken up a part of the trade where it is all hand-labour —all mechanical. You are not trying to do away with brain- power." "I am very glad you like my idea, Mr. Rowle," said Ilallett, proceeding to cover his model, which, when set in motion, ran easily and well. "I am delighted with it," said Mr. Jabez, poking him in the chest with his snuff-box. *' Now, then, go ahead, and have the thing made on a workable scale." " lint I have not perfected it yet," replied Ilallett. "Never mind; perfect it as you go on. You are sure to find some weak spots. If I were you, sir, I should set a good firm of enginaers to work on that at once." Hallett smiled sadly. " You are proposing impos-sibilities, Mr. Howie. This has been one of my great troubles, sir : how I was to carry on my project when I had completed my model. During the past few davs I have been thinking of trying to sell the idea for what it is worth." " What ! and let some fellow without half an otmco of brains in his skull rean all the profit ? Don't you do anvthing of the kind. There's a for une in tlmt contrivance, Mr. Ilallett. Sir, it is a great inventi( a." " What would you do, then ? " said Ilallett, smilin-'. "Do, sir? I'd-I'd " Mr. Jabez paused, and took a pinch of snuff. " Do, sir, rd— I'd— I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd take a partner who had money." HaJJett shook his head sadly. IT M IK ' : i hi 2r)S TIIK STOUY OF ANTONY '^i; vrK. " Who would udvuiicf money to such a dnMiinor us 1 aui ." " he said 8adly. " Lots of people, as soon as they saw money in it." Hallett shook his head. " You take a very sanguine view of the mntttr, Mr. Rowle." " Not half so sang-uine as you, sir. ^Vhy, you must liave spent years of labour, and a ^reat deal of money, over that model." "I have," said Hallett sadly. " Then don't call me sanguine," cried Mr. Jabez, flying to his snuflF-box again. "I ask, here, Ilallett, how much would it take to produce that thing, patent it, and the rest of it ? " "I cannot soy," replied Ilallelt quietly, and "ith the same sad smile upon Hfc face. " It is one of those thinf.'s which keep on crying, * More ! more 1 ' I dare say it would require £'300 or £*4()0 to produce the first macliine,and then I have no doubt more would have to be sp(Mit in perfecting it." " Yes, 1 dare say," said Mr. Jabez coolly, as he uncovered and once more began to examine tlie model ; " I tell you what, Hallett, I think T know vour man." " What, a capitalist ? " " No, sir ; a man with a selfish desire to share in the child of your brains." " Indeed ! " " Yes ; he hasn't much money, but I'll be bound to say that he would find enough to carry out your plans for, say, one-third of the profits." "Mr.'Rowle, are you serious?" said Hallett earnestly. " I never joke about business matters, Mr. Hallett. As I said before, sir, that's a great invention : and if you'll let me, I'll find the money for carrying it on, conditionally that I take one-third of the profits the invention makes." " You will ! Mr. Rowle ! " cried Hallett incredulously. '* I will, sir; and there's my hand upon it." *' But do you understand the magnitude of the affair, sir P " cried Hallett, whose face flushed and eyes glittered with excite- ment. "Quite so," replied the old gentleman, diving again into his snuff-box. " The first thing is, sir, to draw out a proper docu- ment between us — we can do that without the lawyers. Then proper drawings must be made, with description, and the thing must be patented." " But that will take nearly a hundred pounds! " cried Hallett, panting ; while 1 sat there hugging myself with delight. " You can hare my cheque for a hundred pounds, Mr. Hallett, as soon as we have settled the preliminaries; and I bind myself to go on finding the necessary cash for construction as you go on. And now, sir, it's pretty well my bed-time, and I wapt to be off. n\ j Mr7. T,: t;v; t< -ov;::. nv. ^,g IM r,.>flMMsr hisi.iy. Tl.i. (iav w.-.k I 11 r.,.,,. here M/Min for vour struk. of ln.snu.ss f„r l,o,I. of us. Now ,o:,.I-Mi,^i.t. LTy Orncv, Will you slum- ,ue llu- wuv .iuu„ t„ ,h,. <|„nr " " ^ llu-v shook ljan:ls. «,id I saw the oM u-'Uthuuin to (|„. .strPot lliere, iny boy. wasn t that done w.-ll ? - hr chuclcl'.l '« Finf look l.e,v Antony (^,raee," he added ser.onsiv ; - I' h , e don LTOocl-noht, bo}, III fonie on nexr Nv,...k and han-. ir, look at tiuM fellow who .,u.st pa.vsed. He's us like John \L:,v as U^ The old man went oflF, and T returned to niv room, where I found Ifallett warn.,., for „.e in u state of inte,,;,. eieiten.VnV. Antony, he exclaimed, " it i.s too poo.l to he true It i^ for- tune at last-sueeess. Good heavens! it M,,,kes me t'urn phMv. M.w he — Liuny he cried, ux a low pa>sionaie wail. " at h.sPthere IS sunshine breakiun^ throu^rh the clouds " " r pray ITeaveu there may be, Ilallett," T exclaimed; "but I have sometlunr;- to say to you." - What is it ?•' he cried, "lias the old man n-i f.d » " On, no ; you mav be sure of him, Ilalletr. He isdeli-htedut tli^ opportunity, and thinks it will lead to fortune." *• W hat do you mean, the:i ? " ^* John Lister is hanyincT about this street." "Why ? How ? what makes vou sav tJiatP" 1 saw him pass the door, just now." His brow darkened, and involuntarily he uttered his sister's name. •-'i^in a " Xo,;- I said ; « I don't believe it of her. He is onlv tryinir to meet with her once more. I am sure LiT)nv does not know it " \an are right, Antony; she cannot know it. We can trust her now. I^et us go and sit upslairs.' As we entered the room, Linny raised lier eves from the l)ook which she was reading-, and her calm ingenuous"lo„k was siiUici,-nt to disarm suspicion; but, all th.- snne, Ilallett and I both felt that the w(df was prowlmo- about the folr], and that it behr-ved US to see that he had no further .::::„.. of carryin- ..ff our lamb CHArT]-:ii LI. / MR. LISTKU IS MO^•|.;I> ON, We had good reason to know that John Lister was hoverin- about the place, for I saw him several times, un ! found that m Hallettfi absence and mine he had called and endeavoured to 17—2 200 Tin: STOKY OK ASTON V (IRACE. i I I Hoe Linny ; but she had always r»>fiisfd, and on Mary beinff warned, he received euch a rebuff tliut he did not call again. Still, however, he hung about, making the poor girl's life wretched, for at last she dared not go to the window for fear of being seen. Both Ilallett and T wondered whether his pertinacity would make any impression. While we were in a state of doubt, it fell to my lut one evening to become Linny's e.scort to a distant part of Loudon, and we were on our way back, when suddenly I lelt her hand tighten upon my arm. " Quick, Antony," she whijpered, "he is there!" " lie is there ? I said wonderiiigly, for I did not comprehend her ; but the next moment I caught sight of Lister coming to- wards us, and evidently fixing her with his eyes. There was a meaning smile upon his lip, and, apparently in- tending to ignore me, he was about to speak, wlien, with a gesture of horror, she shrank from him, turned her head aside, and begged me to hurry home. ** We'll go home," I said ; " but we will not hurry ; " and I turned and met Lister's itemptuous stare, as he followed us at a little distance till '.e had reached tho house. I was annoyed and distressed about this pertinacious pursuit, and I had just made up my mind to consult Ilallett on the best way to put a stop to it, wlien an idea occurred to me. "It is very evident," I thought, "that Lijiter does not know wlio lives here ; " and I laughed to myself as I quietly determined to put my plan in force. That evening, while Ilallett was busy in his attic, slaving away with redoubled energy at his model, giving it what he looked upon as the final touches before proceeding with the patent. I went down as soon as I heard Revitts come in, his broad face ex- panding with pleasure as I followed him below t » his own particular sanctuary, where, while he was enjoying his after-tea pipe, I opened my business. " Revitts," I said, " I'm going to take you into my confidence, and ask you to keep faith." " Which you may be sure I shall do, Master Antony, if so be I can." " Well, you can, Bill," I replied ; and I proceeded to tell him how Linny was annoyed. " That's very unpleasant," he said thoughtfull) ; " but is it by that same chap ? " "Yes." " That'll do," he said, drawing a long breath ; " and lookye here, Antony, my young friend, I'm sergearir, and have to set an example now to them as is under — them, I mean — no, I don't — I mean those as — who — are under me — that's right ! One'i MK. LIMKK is MoVEii oN. '♦J'' I obli((ed to be uunic hen obli^rotl ; him it by |ookye to set don't Ooe's l«!r now. I'sf* of the trinic'-fun forbit]il»'ii except when obh^retl ; but if I do meet fhut te.low Hiinoyin:; MiitM Linny« I i^hull b«' ubli);ed to ^ive him u topptn- — a huni:«<i couldn't help it." » " No, no, lUll — no, Mr. Seiyeant," I be^•a^. "Stow that, .\ijt()iiy, no larkN. Hill, plea.se, an afore." , " Well, then, Hill, that is one of the thinf:« you mii«t not do. All I want is for you tn let him see that vcmi live here, fln«l that Mi.ss llallett is under your protectioti. he wont face you, and as soou aa he tinds that you are here he will kee]» uway." " Hut he mu.st be taken for hi* a>>auli on the poliie. Antony." "No, uo : lot him go on in hi> own way. If you take hiui. there will be a great deal of inf^uirv an<l ex]ioMire thnt wiiul<! be most painful to all my friend.^, \\eshimld have to jro ini' the witness-box and be {ross-examined. imd it would he ex- tremely painful to nie, both on my own behaU' and that of oihers.' " You wouldn't like it, Antony ? " he said. f " No, indeed 1 should not," I replied. "That's enou<,di, dear lud," ho exclaimed, giving the talilr a rap with his fi«t. " That's settled ; hut I nia> give him a word or two of a sort, eh P Just show him I know him, and m^i\t him on pretty t^harp ? '' " As much of that as you like," I said ; " I leave it in your hands. What I ask of you is, as an ofticer, to see that weiire not pestered by that num." "It's as good as done, Ant'ny," he exclaimed, stulling some more tobacco in his pipe. "/It's better than done, my dear," said Mary decisively. " When my William says a thing's as good as done, you may make yourselt comfortable about it." Revitts said no more about it in the future, oidy once when he met me at the door, chuckling to himself, and siuiking his head. i " What are you laughing at 'r " I usk»(l. "Only about him," he replied. "I just run again iiim at the corner, and said about six words to liim " " Well ? " . "That's all," said Revitts, dmckling. " Me showtd me the back seams of his coat directly : hut I followed him up ami rt)o\»'<i hiui on. I don't think he'll show himself much more aboui hwe. my lad." Revitts w(M right. Lister did not hang about oiir nei«!hbourhood so much after that interview : but it had the effect of .Mndiii<^ him back to annoy Miss Can , so tluit. day hy <liiy, his (iciim s '.i-ined a problem that it became very <lilii( uh to >olv*', a»id we hMlr knew then how malignantly he was tighting against llallett, whose l(»\e he must have suspected. ... ^ . . . -* ;•< .* t. ^.i 2C2 THE .sTOHV 01' ANTONV <iliA(:R. ! 'Vl Iff Time glided on. Mr. .Iiilj.«z used to come rr^'ularly to Ortnoiid Street. The model and its progresH HeeiuiHl to give a fresh in- terest to the old man's life, and, in addition, he torm a remarkable liking to Linny. Mrs. Ilallett, too, showed a fancy for him, after a few tearful words of opposition to the way in which he encouraged Hallett in his folly. "Folly, ma'am P it's no such thing. He'll be a great man yet, and a benefactor to his kind. Spread of knowledge, you know."' " I don't understand you, Mr. Howie," said the poor woman plaintively ; " but you may be right. All I know is, that it take> up a great deal of his time." " Couldn't be better spent, my dear madam. Do you know what it means P " " No," said Mrs. Hallett, " only neglect of his poor siitferinu mother." " Patience, my dear madam, patience," said Mr. Jahez. " I'll tell you whot it means. Pleasant chonges for you ; seaside ; u nice invalid-carriage; silk attire for little Miss i^inny here, u mi servants to wait »pon you. Bless my soul, ma'am ! " he ciitd flourishing his snun-box, and taking a liberal p:nch, "you ought to be proud of your son." " I am, Mr. Rowle," she said, plaintively ; " but if you woul kindly oblige me by not taking so much snuif. It make;* -^ makes me sneeze." " My dear madam," exclaimed the little man, closing his box "with a snap, "I beg your pardon. Bad habit — very bad habit, really." Linny burst out into a merry, bird-like laugh that made me start with pleasure. It was so fre.«h and bright, and it was so long since anything but a faint smile had been seen upon her face, that it was like a pleasant augury of happier days to come. The old man turned round and smiled and nodded at her, evidently enjoying it too ; and when, some ten minutes after, he was going up with me to Ilallett's attic, he stopped on the landing and tapped my arm with his snuff-box. " Grace," he said, " I am waking up more and more to the fact that I have been an old fool 1 " "Indeed! Why?*' " Because I've shut myself up all my life, and grown selfish and crusted. I don't think I'm such a very bad sort of fellow when you get through the bark." " I m sure you are not, Mr. Rowle," I said. " Humph I Thankye, Grace. Well, you always did seem to like me." • " But what do you mean about being an " " Old fool P There, say it if you like. I mean about women —young girla — ladies, you know. They're very nice," — ^ MR. r,isTi:!i IS Movi:i> on. 2<53 n to like " Ye», that thpy are," I ptu'i\ pnjforly. " Yah ! Htuflf ! How do yoii know— n boy liknyou? No, no — I mean v*'", of coiirH«',Ho tlu'v iire. Tvo IttMMi tliinkinff, yon know, what might have been, if I'd met with wnch a hidy as thiit Miss Oarr, or onr pretty little bird there, thirty or forty ye!«r<» np-o, ILah! I should have been a different man. Hut I never did. my boy, I never did." He took a pinch of snuff very thonyiitftdly here. " It's too Jftte now, Grnre, too late now. You can't make winter into summer ; and it's jfettinj? to the winter with me now. That's a very nice little thing downstairs. Has she — has she any -any " "Lover, Mr. RowleP" "Yes." " Not now," I .«»aid. " There was one, but it ended unhappily. Ife was a bhukjruftrd," I said warmly. " Was he, thoujfh ? " he said eajjerly. " That's ri^ht, Grace, I like to see you have some spirit. Poor little lassie ! No father, either." "Mr. Flallett is more like a fiither to her thati a brother," I replied, as I thought it would be better not to mention John Lister's name. " Father — father " said the old man dreamily. " How curious it must be to feel that (me is the father of anything ; that it is your own, and that it loves you. Now, do you know, Grace, l never thought of that before." " You have always been such a business man, Mr. Rowle," I said. " Yea — yes, grinding on every day, without a thouglit of any- thing but ot^v,, pA, pie's mistakes, and none about my own. You like litth Mi?'^ Lit v there — downstairs ? " "Oh •s, 1 rievl ; " she alwavs seems to have been like a sister evf»r 8m.'e i inw,v: '.er. " HiL,ur ! Hal! > Yes ! Like a sister," he said thoughtfully. " \Vwil,dIitj's> •'. jry nice little girl, Grace, and I like her ; but you need not tell her so." "Oh no, of course not, Mr. Rowle," I said, laughing. "Khali we go upstairs P " " Yes, my boy, directly. " But look here, Grace," he continued, fumbling in his pocket, and bringing out a newspaper slip. " Hum ! hah I oh, here it is. Read that." He pointed to an advertisement of an elderly couple without children, wishing to adopt a young girl ; and I read it, and then looked at him wonderingly. " I suppose that sort of thing is done sometime?, eh P " he said. ** I don't know, Mr. Rowle," I replied. "Hum I No, of course you don t," he said thoughtfully, after im III; I! ■^■-n 264 THi: s'luiTi »). A.\i(;.\'i >.i:Acr:. another pinch. " Cuuie along upstairu, my boy, aud let's look at the iuttcliiue.'' CHAPTER LII. MR. JABEZ HAS A SPASM. There had been some little dispute about the drawing- up of the terras between Hullett and Mr. Kowle. The former would not listen to the old gentleman's proposition that it should be settled by a letter between them, saying that it on<:'it lo be a proper It-jral document, for botli their sakes ; and the knot was solved, ar; tliey did not wisli to consult a solicitor, by n]y proposing to bring Tom Girtley home >vith nie souie evening, when the legal training he was undergoing mig)it prove suificient for the purpose. It was settled to be so, and a few evenings later, I called in Lincoln's Inn Fields, at the offices wliere Tom v/as now engaged, and he accompanied me to Great Orniond Street. Mary had had her instrnctions to have a " liigh tea " ready for us, and her ideas of delicacies took Hie form of hot })aked potatoes and cold lobsters; and upon these, with shouts of laughter, we made an attack, for it was wonderful in those days what the yonthful digestive organs would conquer without fail. Tom Girtley had several times been to my apartments, but I had never introduced bim to the Ilalletts, for there had been too much trouble in connection with Liuny's illness for their rooms to be attractive to a casual visitor. But now times were altered; Ilallett lo()k(»d brighter, Linny was nearly her own merry pretty self again, and Mrs. Ilallett, perhaps, a little less weak aud despondent, which is not saying much. Tom Girtley had altered very much since we had becduie friends, having started ahead of me, and a year hsid chan;j('d him from a boy into quite a man, at whose hirsute appendag* s 1 used to look with perhaps just a trace of envy. Tiiere was something very frank and marly about him, and he had all a boy's love of a bit of fun; but at the same time, he was full of shrewdness and common sense, the former being rubbed daily by his profession into a keener edge. All in good time Mr. Jabez arrived, according to what was fast growing uito a regular custom, and he favoured Tom Girtley with a short nod and a very searching look. Then together we went upstairs, where I saw Mr. Jabez frown as Our legal visitor was introduced to M»"S. Ilallett and Tjinny, the latter blushing slightly at Tom's admiring gaze. %he old man uttered a sigh of relief then as Linny rose and MK. JAliE/ HAS A 8rA8M. -JC helped Mrs. Hallett to leave the room durincr the traj.8..otion ..» the biLsinest., and I noted that he was very snappish and abnii.i while the arrangement. »vent on. It was very simple, and soon done, Ton (jirtley drawin^r u;i hrst on foolscap a riraft of the arrangmnent, which Vas ao-reed ... on both sides, and then transferred i„ a c.iiple of stamp,..! pane- signed and witnessed, one beinjr kept by each party to the tran^^ action. All this was done in so satisfactory a manner to Mr. Jahez tliaf he became somewhat less abrupt to my companion, and even w* nt 80 tar a^ to say that he had never seen a legal docu.nent which pleased him so well. " Xot so many heirs, executors, administrators, and assinijs voung gentleman," he said grulHy. "You lawyers have made a lot of money out of those parties in your time. Now, don't ^ou think we might ask the ladies to step back ?" This was done, and we hud a very pleasant evening, Tom Girtiev winning go den opinions for his merry ways, even bringing a sm'ije h2u ^::::t' '^-^ ^ ^^^ ^^ '-^^ -^- ^^ -« ^- ^o go, " Of course, we shall see you again, Mr. Girtley ? " I* May I come ? " he said eagerly. Flalktt^''" '^'Ooo^d-- " ^^^'''"'*' '" °"'* '''^^'*''' ^""^^ ^°'"^'" '®P^^^^ JniVfi^^'^'^^i^ '''^' "gracious " but he refrained, and looked m a puzzled and amnsed way at Mr. Jabez, who had kicked out one^leg under the table, and his foot had come in contact with hi? "Spasm!" said Mr. .Jabez abruptly; and when Tom Girtley went down with me , he old man remained. ^ "Well, Tom, what do you think of my friends the Ilallette ? " 1 said, as we went down to the door. " Pm delighted with them," he cried. « I like Hallett : and a« " MXn7pi;7? "^ "^^ ' ''''^ "" ^^" "^^^^"^ ^'^y '^^^ ? " " Jhere, don't be so innocent, man alive 1 Are you in 1 , .- ,] '■, " What nonsense ! No." ''Then 1 am," he said. « T wouldn't have poarhp.] ,- • preserves, but It's ail over with me now. Alas, poor m ind I am barely twenty. Good-night, old boy, an 1 i }>leasant evening." "^ •' Don't be in such a hurry," I exclaimed. " I'u, ■ ; . i •vay with you. He was in high spirit;., and we were just crossin.^ A^hen we came suddenly upon John Lister— ao auddenlv jbserved my start. •" " '. ' 266 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. li I' "Who's that ?" he said quickly. , "One of our blurk clouds," 1 said bitterly. ' ' " Black clouds? " he said, in a puz/hd tone. "And yours, too," I said," if vou talk like you did just now." " I like solving knotty points, he said ; " but you must give me a clue.'' " Not to-night, Tom," I said. " Say good-night now. Some other time." ** All right, my mysterious youth," he cried, laughing : and aflcr shaking hands, I hurried back, to find Mr. Jabez standing at the door, "Oh, here you are," he said. " I am just waiting to say good- night. I say, Grace, is that fellow square r* " " I believe him to be a thorough scoundrel," 1 said angrily. " He seems quite taken with little Linny there." " I know that," T said bitterly. " And yet you brought him here, sir," " I ? lirougiit him here ? " I exclaimed. " It was going on before I knew them." " What ! that boy — that parchment slip ! " he exclaimed. " No, no," I said hastily. " I meant John Li.^fer." As the words were leaving my lips, he of whom I spoke passed by on the other side, and turned his face to look up at the second floor, the light from a gas-lamp making his countenance perfectly clear. " Oh ! " said Mr. Jabez softly ; and, after standing watching the retiring figure, he too went his way. CHAPTER LIII. 'ii:-- ''!^ - . MY VISITOR. Two years of hard work rapidly passed away, during which, I suppose, I made rapid progn'ss in my profession, and also had the satisfaction of seeing Hallett's machine grow towards perfection. It had progressed slowly, in spite of the energy brought to bear, for Hallett toiled at it patieMly and well; but the work was for the most part out of his hands now. I had introduced him to Mr. Girtley, who at once took a great de '1 of interest in the scheme, but who rather damped us at firsi h'j pointing out weaknesses, not of principle, but of construction, and at once proposed that before the great machine itself was attempted, a working model, four times tie size of that so laboriously constructed by Hallett, should be made. " It means time and expense, Mr. Hallett," he said, " but over P4I-^.| m CBB! MY VISIiOK. ich, I id tlie ;tiou. bear, as for great It lirsi action, If was lat so kt over new things we must be slow and sure. For instance, theire will be great streas upon certain parts — here — here — and here. I can say to you now that these parts must be g-reiitly strengthened, and I could make certain calculations, but we ciin only leurn by experience what is to be done." There was so much good sense in this, that Hallett at once agreed, and Mr, Jabez of course nodded approv.il ; and thoiigli it took a long time, the trial of ♦^lu- little macliine fully bore out Mr. Girtley's prophecies; so that great modifications lind to be made. " Yes," said Mr. (Hrtley, after the trial, " it is diHCour.iging, certainly ; but is it not better than having a breakdown ju«t when your hopes are iiighest ? " " Yes, but new moulds can be made, and you will go on at once," said Hallett eagerly. " Yes, the moulds shall be made, and we will go on at once." " Mr. Girtley thouglit me very impatient, Antony," said Mallntt, as we walked steadily back from Great George Street, where the little machine had been set up ; " but there are bounds to every one's patience, and I feel sotnetiines as if the idol 1 have been trying to set up will not be finished in my time." " Nonsense ! " I cried chetnily, " I guarantee it .shall be. I'm to have a lot of superintending to do, Hallett, and I'll leave no stone unturned to get it on." "Thank you, Antony," he .said, "do your best. I grieve for poor Mr. Jabez more than for myself. Two hundred and fifty po<' ^ ' of his money gone, and he iias nothing yet before him in return but an unsubstantial shadow," Miss Carr had been a good deal away from England during this time, visiting her sister, who twice over returned with her to stay at Westniouth iStreet. I had, liowever, kept her fully informed about the progress made by Hallett. In fact, she knew my inner- most life, and as much of the Ilalletts' as I knew mysf-lf. Those were pleasant days, though, when she was at home, much of my time being spent with her; and though I found that Lister had made several attempts to see her, and had written continually, he luid never been successful. I learned, too, that Mr, Ruddle had interfered in concert with .some di.stant relatives of Miss Carr, and tliey hnd pretty well coerceok Lister into more reasonable behaviour. He evidently, however, lived in the hope of yet resimiing his old relationship with Miss Carr, little dreaming how well acquainted she was with his character, for, in no tale-bearing spirit, but in accordance with lier wish, that she sliould know everything in connection with my daily life, I had told her of Lister's continued underhanded pursuit of Linny, news which I afterwards found had come to her almost in company with iiiipli 'N ing tdtiers, full of love, passion and repentance. 1 r .11 if 41 2(';8 THE STORY OF ANTONY (.l..\CK When I look back upon that portion of my life, it all «o«'?ns now like a dream of pleasure, that glided away hh if hy magic. I had no troubles — no cares of my own, save such as I felt by a kind of reflex action. I was young, active, and full of eagerness. Hallett's enterprise seemed to be almost my own, and I looked forwar-l to its success as eagerly as he did himself. The house at Great Ormond Street was a far less solemn place now than it used to be, and many .and britrht were the evenings we spent together. Hallett seemed Jess sad and self-contained, as he saw his mother take a little interest in the group that used to form about her chair. For Mr. Jabez appeared to have become quite a new man, and there were not many evenings that he did not spend at the Halletts'. " Business, you see, Grace," he used to say, with a dry ciiuckle. " I must be on the spot to talk over the machine with Hallett ;" but somehow very little used to be said about business : for very often after the first introduction by the old man, there used to be a snug rubber at whist, in wiiich he and Mrs. Hallett would be partners against Linny and Tom Girtley. For Tom used to come a great deal in those days to see me. lie used to tell me, with a laughing light in his eye, that he was sure [ must be very dull there of an evening, and that it was quite out of kindness to me. But, somehow or another, I suppose through my neglect, and the interest I took in Hallett's work, he used to be driven upstairs, where his bright, hearty ways made him always welcome. For after what looked like dead opposition at iirst, Tom quite won Mr. Jabez over to his side ; and, save and excepting a few squabbles now and then, which Mrs. Hallett took seriously, and which afforded Linny intense amuse« ment, Mr. Jabez and Tom became the best of friends. " I don't think he's such a very bad sort of fellow, as boys go, Grace," Mr. Jabez said ; " but look here, my boy, do you see how the land lies ? " 'MVhat do you mean, Mr. Rowle ? " I said laughing; "that Tom and Linny seem to be getting very fond of one another ? " " Yes," he said, tapping rae on the breast-bone with his snuff- box. " I spoke to Hallett about it last night, and he said he was not sorry." " Of course not. I am sure he likes Tom," I said thought- fully, as I saw how great an alteration had come about a* the liouse, for Linny used to sing about the place now like a bird, and Mary watchtd over her like a dragon. In fact, Mary was a wonderful institution at Great Ormond Street, and even Mrs. Hallett was afraid of her, in so much that Mary's practical ways seemed quite to silence her mm uur';- j-s, and make her take a more cheerful view of life. . *'But look here, Grace/' said Mr. Jaoe ^ ' docih, j >n be a youag MY VISITOR. 2G0 fool. You don't want to grow into an old bachelor like I " I don't know that I ^o," I said. " Then about Linny : does it suit your book for that big- child to be coming here and cutting the ground from under your feet ? " "Cutting tlie ground from under my feet P " I ?"!(! merrily " Why, what do you mean, Mr. Jabez ? " "I mean, don't you be a young noodle, and play witli your opportunities. Linny's a very nice little girl, and I slioulihi't be a bit surprised if some day she had a few — perhaps a good many hundreds of her own. I tell you what it is, Grace, my boy, I shouldn't be a bit dit^^leased if you were to play your cards right, and make a match of it with that little girl. " And I hope, Mr. Rowle, you would not be ft bit displeased if I did not do at)y thing of the sort ? " "' H'm — m ! No ! I don't know that T should, boy. Rut, hung it all, you are not You have not any one else in your eye. You are not tliinking about Mit^s Carr, are you, you puj)py ? I burst out into a hearty fit of laujihter. " No, Mr. Rowle," I said merrily. " I never think ah nt sucli matters, and between ourselves," I said with much severity, " I am surprised to find a quiet elderly gentleman like you taking to match-making." " Get out, you young dog ! " he cried. " There, just as you like, only I thought I'd see how you felt about it, that's all." 5lr. Rowle's words set me thinking, and I couM not lielp seeing that though there was no lo^e-making, or anytliiiig out of the ordinary way in their every -day intercourse, 1 jinny's old sorrow had been completely swept away, and she evidently looked upon Tom as a very great friend. I was in my own room one evening reporting progress to liailett, who had just come in from the office where he st 11 worked us an ordinary journeyman. Mr. Jabez was upstairs with 'IVnn Girt ley, and a quiet rubber of whist was in progress, when Mary cume up into the room to announce that there was some one downstairs who wanted to see me. " Who is it, Mary ? " I said. Mary glanced at Hallett, who saw the look and rose to go. " Don't you run away, Hallett," I cried. " I've no one to see me whom you need not know." I stopped there, for the thought flashed across my mind that it might be some one from Miss Carr, or perhaps it might be some- thing to do with John List^^r. He saw my hesitation, and said quietly : " I shall be upstairs if you want me, Antony. I think I wLU go now." Be left tLp x<^vx- V i' ml ■? •' <;'^ .'' U ?70 TIIK STOIJY OF ANTONY OPxACTU. " Well, Mary, \vliu',-j the my -ti'i-iouw strung ? " I said. "Oh, M, in; til" Antony," «he cried excitedly, •whoever do you think it la j' 1 hope it don't meau trouble. Some one from the conntry." " Xot lilakeford r* " I exclaimed, with all my budding manhood sHeniin;: to Ixi frozen down on the instant, and my boyish drend ready to return. " Xo, my dear, not old Blakeford," she said ; " but that other old Mr. Kowle." " Old ^Ir. Ilowle ! " I cried excitedly, as, like a flash, all my former intercourse with him darted back — thr? day when he came and took possetision of our dear home ; our meals to^'-et her ; the bit of dinner in the summer-house; and his kindly help with money and advice when I was about to run away. Why, I felt that it was to him that I owed all my success in life, and my lieait smote me as I thouglit of my ingratitude, and how 1 seemed to liiive for- gotten him since I had become so prosperous and well-to-do. " Y'es," said Mary, " old Mr. Rowie. He's standing at the door, my dear ; he said he was so shabby he wouldn't come in." Thank God, I was only a boy still, and full of youthfnl freshness and enthusiasm ! I forgot all my dandyism and dress, everytliinj, in the excitement of seeing the old man again ; and almost l)efore Mary had done speaking, 1 was bounding down the stairs to rusli through the big hall and catch hold of the little old man standing on the steps. He seemed to have shrunk ; or was it that I had sprung up from the little boy into a young man ? I could not tell then. I did not want to tell then ; all I knew was that the childish tears were making my eyes dim, that there was a hot choking sensation in my throat, and that I dragged the old man in. We had a struggle over every mat, where he would stop to rub his shoes. I could not speak, only keep on shaking both his hands ; and I seemed to keep on shaking tliem till I had him thrust down by the fire in the easy-chair. " Why, young 'un," lie said at last, " how you have grow'd ! " " Wliy, Mr. IJowle," I said, as soon as I could speak, " 1 am — I am glad to see you." " Are you — are you, young 'unP " he said, getting up out of his chair, picking liis hat off the floor, where he had set it down, and putting it on again, while in a dreamy way he ran his eye all over the room, making a mental inventory of the furniture, just as I remembered him to have done of old. He seemed to be very little, and yellow, and withered, and he was very shabbily dressed, too ; but I realized the fact that he was not much altered, as he fixed his eyes once more on ran, ani repeated : . . " Why, young "un, how you have grow'd t " MY VT JTOn. 271 ** TTave I, Mr. Kowle?" I said, laiifrliiiiir through my \\r.\k ffars; for his coming set'iued to have brought l)ai'kao mur'h of the past. " Wonderful ! " he said. " I shouldn't have kuow'd yoi:. that T HJiouldn't. AVhy, you've grow'd into quite a fine g»Mitletn!in, that von have, and you used to be about as hiuh as sixpen'orth o lia'pence." " I was a little fellow," I snidf lau'jbing. " liut you'd «ot a 'awful lot o' stiitY in you, young 'uti," he said. " Hut, I say, are you — are you reuUy glmi to .see nie, young 'un — I mean, Mr. Grace ?" " (TJad to see you P" I cried. " T can't tell you iiow glad. Hut sit down. TIere, give me your hat." " Gently, young 'uu, there's something in it. P'r'aps I'd better keep it on." " No, no," I cried, catching it from his hands, and forcing him back into the ea.sy-chaiv. " Gently, young 'un," he .said, thrusting one hand up the cuff of his long brown coat, which, witli its high collar, almost seemed to be the same as tlie one in whicli I saw liim first — " gently, young 'un," he said; "you've broke i?f\- ]>ipe." I burst out laughing, and, weak as it may sound, the tears came to my eyes again, as I saw him draw from up his, sleeve a loi'g day .pipe broken in three, and once more the old scenes in the d'iserted rilled house came back. " Never mind the pipe, Mr. llowle," T cried. " You sluill l.ave a dozen if you like, twice as long as that. But you must be hungry and tired. I am glad to see you." " Tlmnkye, young 'un," he said, smiling ; and the old man's lip • uivered a little as he shook my hand. " 1 didn't expect it of you, but I thought I'd come and see if you'd forgotten me." I ran to the bell, and Mary came up directly, and smiled and nodded at my visitor. "Mary," t said, "let's have some supper directly — a bit of something hot. And, I say, briny' up that long jiipeof Revitts'— the churchwarden, you know. I've got some tobacco." "I've got a bit of tobacco," snid Mr. Itowle, "and — you've taken my nat away — there's somcthinp- in it. Tliankye. I thought, maybe, they might come in useful. Tliey're quite fresh." As he spoke he took out a great yellow silk handkerchief, and from underneath that, fitting pretty tightly in the liat, a damp- looking paper parcel, that proved to contiiin a couple of pounds of pork sausages, wliich Mary bore Mway, and returned directly with a kettle of hot water and a long ehurcliwaiclen day pi])e, which Mr. Kowle proceeded to fill from my tobaceo-jar, lit, sat holt-uplight in bis chair, and began to smoke. All the intervening years seemed to have slipped away as I saw Wl iW I 72 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. the old man Hitting- iliere, a wonderfully exact counterpart of Mr. .labez in nliabby dotlies; and, as his e^es once more wandered round the place, I half expectod to see him get up and go all over the house, smoking in each room, and mentally making his inven- tory of the goods under his charge. I went to a little cellaret, got out the glasses, spirit-stand, and sugar, and mixed the old man a steaming tumbler, which he took, irxlded, and sipped with great satisfaction. Then, puiSng con- tnnledly away at his pipe, he said : " Not all your own, is it ? " And his eyes swept over the furniture. " Yes, to be sure," I said, laughing at his question, for I took a fjood deal of pride in my rooms, which were really well furnished. " You've grow'd quite a swell, young 'un," he said at last ; and tlion stopped smoking suddenly. " I ain't no right here," he said. " I hope you don't mind the pipe." " I'm going to have a cigar with you presently," I said, laugh- ing, " only we'll have some supper first." " Only fancy," he said; "just a bit of a slip as you was when you made up your mind to cu(^and now grow'd up. I should have liked to have seen what come bet ween. You are glad to see me, then ? " " Glad ? Of course," I cried ; and then Mary came bustling in to lay the cloth. " She's altered, too," said the old man, who went on smoking away placidly. " Got crummier ; and she don't speak so sharp. Think o' you two living in the same house." " Mary's my landlady," I said. " But this is a surprise." " Ah ! Yes," he said ; " I've often thought I'd come up and see Jabez, and look you up same time. I had a hit of a job to find you, for Jabez wasn't at home." " Mr. Jabez is here," I said. " Yes ; they said he'd come to see you, and they wouldn't give me the address at first. I'd lost it, or forgotten it, but here I am." " I'll go up and tell him you are here," I cried ; and before my visitor could say a word, I had run upstairs and completely upset all Mr. Jabez Rowle's calculations, which might or mi^ht not have ended in his gaining the odd trick, and was soon takmg him downstairs on the plea of important business. " Anything the matter, Grace ? " he said — " anything wrong with Hallett ? " " No," I said ; " he's in his hedroom. Come in here." If J had expected to startle or surprise Mr. Jahez, I should have been^isappointed, for, upon entering my room, where his brother was composedly smoking the long clay pipe, with his yellow nilk handkerchief spread over his knees, he only said : T MV VL-slTuH. -^73 beinj? now wonderful, "Hallo, Peter, you here P " and went and sat down on the Other s'de of the fir* " II' iw do, Jabe/ ? " siaid my old friend, without taking his pipe out ol his mouth ; juid then there was silence, which I did not care to break, but sat down, too, and looked on. " Come up to-day, Peter ? " t-aid Mr. Jabez. "Yes." " When are you goin/^ back P " " Don't know." " Oh ! " Then there was a pause. " Stick to your pipe still," said Mr. Jabez, taking a loud pinch of sn«ff . " Yes; never could manage siuiff." " Oh ! " Here there was another pause, i)roken once more by Mr. Jabez. " Where are you going to stay ? " " Long o' you." " Oh V' A great many puffs of smoke followed here, and several pinches of snuff, as the two old men sat on either side of the fire and stared hard at each other, their iikeneas as far as their heads were concerned. " Hard up ? " said Mr. Jabez at last. " No. Want to borrow a sov. ? " " No," said Mr. Jabe/ sliortly ; and thei*^ was again a silence. " I'll have a drop of gin and water, Grace," said Mr. Jabez, after a very long and awkward pause for me. I mixed it for him with alacrity. " You two friendly ? " said Mr. Peter at last, making a strenuous effort to thrust one finger into the bowl of his pipe without removing the waxed end from his lips, but finding it impossible, without apparently swallowing a goodly portion, from the length of the stem. " Friendly ? of course we are. Can't you see ? " replied Mr. Jabez snappishly. "No ! How should I know ? Like him to know anything about your affairs ? " said Mr. Peter, turning to me. " Oh yes," I said. " Mr. Jabez Rowle is a very great friend of mine." " Right ! " said that individual, giving his head a nod. " 1 didn't come up on purpose to see you, Jabez," said Mr. Peter. '* Who said you did P " snapped Mr. Jabez. " What did you come for ? About what you saia ? " " Yes." There was another awkward pause, fortunately broken by Mary, Ill' l^^v i 274 THE s'roRV 01' antoxy uracE. who cntert'd with u tray (xjorous with hot ruiiip-f^tt'uk and oiiioiiw; and as soon as hu wniult it, Mr. Peter stood hi« pipe up in the uorner of the flrephice, and softly rubbed h'w hands. His brother made no scruph^ about joining the meal, and as the brothers rose, Mr. Jabez held out his hand with — " Well, how are you, Peter ? " " Tidy," said Mr. Peter, and they shook hands as if they were cross with each other, and then they each made a hearty meal. " Got a latch-key, Jabez ? " said Mr. Peter, as, after supper, we all drew up round the fire and the visitor from Kowforcl reJilled and lit his pipe, causing Mr. Jabez to draw off from him as far as was po*isible. " Yes," he said shortly. "That's right," said Mr. Peter; "don't want to go to bed, do you, young 'un ? " " Oh, no," I said ; " I'm too glad to see you again." The old man's eyes twinkled, as he looked at me fixedly. " Been a good boy, Jabez ? " he said at last. " Who ?— me P " "No, no; young 'un here." " Oh, yes. Can't you see ? " " Thought he would be, or I shouldn't have sent him/* ' "Humph!" I wanted to talk, but I found that it would be of no use now, so I contented myself with studying the brothers,and, just then, Tom Girtley came in. " Won't disturb j'ou," he said quickly ; " just off. Good-night, Mr. Rowle, good-night, Tony." " Who's he ? " said Mr. Peter, as the door closed. " A friend of mine — a young solicitor." " Any good? — Trust him ? " said Mr. Peter quickly. " Yes, he is very clever in his profession," I said wonderingly. "Call him back, then," said Mr. Peter. "I've got something for him to hear." CHAPTER LTV. PETEll nOWLE 8 BABGAIN. I WAS just in time to call Tom Girtley back as he reached the corner of the street, and he came up into my room, wondering, for the hour was getting late ; but he took a chair quietly, and waited for what Mr. Peter had to say. " Well, it ain't much," said the latter ; " but it may mean a good deal. S'pose, sir, you just cast your eye over them there ? '' ^e took a packet of papers, tied with red tape, and docketed. VE'IlKU KOWLK'S nAR(}.VlN. 27. the lean a sre?^' (eted. out of his pocket, line] piiNwui them ov»»r to Tom Girtley, who im- iiu(iiat»'ly (ipt-ni'd thein ill u very business-like way, and proceeded rapidly to iiieiitally Hununarise their rontents. rhi.s took liiiii HOMie little titn»', duriiiff which we all .sat very ^^till, .Mr. IVter giving me a \ery knowing look or two in the interval. *' These are very important documents, sir," said Tom Girtley quietly. ** 1 must, of course, warn you that I am only a young member of my profession, and wanting in experience ; but, as far as I can jud/e, these aire the private memoranda and certain deeds and documents of Mr. I'Mward Grace, of ' "My fatlier ! " I exclaimed excitedly. *' flow did you get these papers, Mr. llowle ? " " liought *em," said tlie old gentleman quietly. " You Imu^rht them ? " "To be sure I did. Old Jilakeford thought he'd taken possession of all your fathers papers, my boy, after his death, but he didn't." " How did you get them, then ? " said Mr. Jabez sharply. " fioiight 'em, I tell you. It was like this : old IJlakeford put me in possession at the house of a man who had b »rrowed money of him, and he was going to sell liim up — you know his ways, young 'un — I mean Air. Grace. Well, I went there one night, and very wild the poor fellow was, and he went straight to a bureau, that [ seemed to have seen before, and began to go over his papers, tying up some and burning others, and going on and calling old Blakeford names all the while. * Ah,' he says, all at (»iice, ' I bought this writing-table and drawers at Grace's sale, when Blukeford sold the furniture. Look here,' he said, * this lot of papers was in one of the back drawers. They belonged to (lid Grace, I suppose,' and he was about to pitch them into the tire with his own letters and things, of which there wasquite a heap. ** ' Dou't di) that,' I says ; * they may be of value.' " • Not they,' he says ; * if they'd been worth anything old Blakeford wouldn't have left them. They aren't worth tuppence!* " ' 111 give you tuppence for them,' I says. " * Pay up,' he says, and T handed him the twopence, and took the papers. I've read 'em, and think they're worth the money." " Worth the money ! " cried Tom Girtley; ''why, they may be worth ten thousand pounds; but I can say nothing till I have gone into the case ; and I daresay it would be necessary to make Mr. Blakeford supply some of the connecting li iks." " Which he won t do," said Mr. Peter quietly. ** Unless he's obliged," said Tom Girtley. " There are means of making even a solicitor speak, Mr. Rowle," he continued, " Will you take t/iese papers .'' " "No," said Air. Peter; "give em to Mr. Qrace there. They 18—2 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^io 1.0 I.I I^IM |2.5 *^ 1^ |2.2 ^ 1^ 12.0 [1.25 u,,. .4 6" ► V] vl >F Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 276 THE Si GUY OK ANTONY GRACE. w\ -I «' - : -f' m •i. i? were his fatlier's. Uhikt'ford's pitched me over, because I got old and useless, so I shan't try to screen him iu the least." Tom Girt lev folded and tied up the papers, ftnd handed them to me ; but I refused to take them. " Keep them and study them," I said ; " perhaps they will not prove to be so valuable wlien you have ffiven them a fresh perusal." He nodded and placed the packet in his breast-pocket, all three then rising to go, for it was past twelve, and as Tom Girtley and I stood at the door, we saw the two old men go down th« street, arm-in-arm, till they passed by the lamp-post and di:«appe>ired. Then, after a hearty good-night, Tom Gfirtley took las departure, and I went up to bed, to lie for hours thinking about my life with Mr. IJlakeford, and wondering whether he had defrauded me over the question of my father^ proporty. I had always f»*lt that I was in his debt, and meant some day to repay liiin all lie said that my father owed ; in fact. Miss Carr had been so liberal to me in the way of pocket-money, that I had forty pounds saved up for that purpose; but now this came like a revelation, and there was a delightful feeling of triumph in the idea that I might perhaps bring a thorough scoundrel to book. Thru all at once I V)egan to think about Hetty — pretty, gentle little Hetty, who had been so kind to me when I was a miserable unliappy boy, and the hours wlien I saw her 8eeme<l like gleams of light amongst so much darkness. What would Hetty be like after all these years, I wondered; and then I began to blame myself for not asking Mr. Rowle more about her, and at last, with the meniorv of the bright affectionate child filling ray thoughts, I dropped off to sleep, to dream once more about Mr. Blakeford, and that I was on the road, with him in full chase. It was quite a treat to get out of bed and away from the night- mare-like dreams of the past, and after a sharp walk and break- fast, I made my way r(»und by Mr. Jabez Howie's lodgings, to have a few words with Mr. Peter, before going to Lambeth. I found the old man alone, smoking a long pipe with his hat on, and his brother gone. His face lit up as he saw me, and after a little conversation about tb:j past — " When are you going back to Rowf ord P " I said. " W^ant to get rid of me ? " he replied. " No, no, of course not. ' " Don't know that I'm going back at all," he said. "Jabez and I haven't seen much of each other lately. Think I shall stay." " Did— have-rdid you ever see much of Miss Blakeford P " I said, feeling conscious as I spoke that I was growing hot. " Often,'^ said the old man, looking at me intently, often asked, ftbout xou." "She '• ! •' , 1^ JV m ^ THK DAY CF TRIUMPH. 277 ** About me P " I said. " Ye« : how you pot on, and whether you were comiticf buck." " What is she like now P " I said. " Of courstt she is not a little pirl now." ** Little girl ? No : I should think not. Qrow'd into an an<;el, that's what she is." I could not ask any more, but promising to jro in and see him in the evening, I hurried off to the work.x, thinking that I should very much like to see Hetty Blakeford aguiu, and wondering whether she would see much change in me. In another hour Rowford was forgotten, and I was deep in the preparations for Hallett's machine, which was rapidly approach- ing completion ; while a fortnight later I was dining with Miss Carr, and bearing her the news of the successful point to which Hallett had climbed, making her flush with pleasure, tm I told her that the machine was to be set up at Mr. Ruddle's place of business, and be tried there. "Send me w^ord the day and hour of the trial, Antory,*' she said, in a low voice. " Will you come P" I said eagerly. "No, Antony, no," she said softly. " I could not come, but I shall pray for a triumphant success.'^ She spoke warmly, for she seemed off her guard, and then hurriedly changed tlie conversation. CHAPTER LV. THE DAY OF TRIUMPU. Thb day of trial came at last ; and after a sleepless^ night, I was trying to make a good breakfast before going down to Mr. Ruddle h with the inventor. I believe I felt as nervous and excited as Hallett himself; for Mr. Ruddle had spoken to me the night before about some unpleasant suspicions that he had. " I don't like to accuse anybo<ly, Grace," lie said ; " but I'm afraid a certain person who shall be nameless has been setting some of the ignorant, drunken loafers of the trade against the machine." That was all then, but it was enough to make me uneasy, though I did not believe in the possibility of any trade outrage in the middle of London. Hallett looked very pale, but I never saw him seem more manly, thoughtful, and handsome, as he stood there in faia mother's room, holding her hands. " I shall come back, dear/' be said, kissiog her tenderly, " tell* IF" 27»1 THE S'l'0\l\ 01' A.N'rONY aRACK. ; ,i 1 I'i: t I ■ I t ing you of my succeas. No, no, don't shake your lioad. Good-bye, dear, wish me success. Good-bye, Linny, darling ! Ah ! Mr. Girtley , you here ? " " To be sure," cried Tom Girtley : " I've come to wish you tiuccess. Linny and I are going Ui throw old shoes after you. Mind ! a champagne supper if you suiceed, Tony and I will find the champagne. Hallo ! here's Papa llowle." There was no mistaking that step, without the i^ound of the old man taking snuiT, and he entered directly after; got up in grand style, and with a flower in his button-liolc. He had a bunch of flowers, too, for Mrs. Hallett, and a kiss for Linny ; and then, shaking hands all round, he began to rub bis hands. " It's a winner, Hallett— a winner ! " he exclaiuied. " Com« along, Girtley, you'll make one. We want some big boys to crv aiooray!'" " I'll come, then," said Tom merrily ; and directly after 've wen* off, trying t.o look delighted, but till feeling exceedingly nervou^ and strange. Hallett and Girtley went on in front, and Mr. Jabez took m} arm, holding me a little back. "I'm glad Girl ley's coming, Grace," he said; "he's a big strong fellow, and we may want him." " Why H " I said excitedly. " I don't know for certain, my boy, but I'm afraid there's mis- chief brewing. I can't swear to it, but I believe that devil, Johu Lister, has been stirring up the scoundreldom of the trade, witii stuff about the machine taking the bread out of their niouth6, and if the trial passes off without a hitch, I shall be sur- prised." "Mr. Ruddle hinted something of the kind, last night," 1 said. *' Yes, but don't let Hallett know, poor fellow ! Has weak and ill enough already. He might break down. Ruddle had men watching the place all last night, so as to guard against any malicious attempts." " But do you think they would dare to injure the machine P." I exclaimed. " Fools will do anything if they are set to do it," said the old man, sententiously. " If Lister is at the bottom of any such attempts he deserves to be shot," I cried indignantly. " And his carcase given to the crows," said the old man. " But I say, Antony Grace, my boy, is Miss Carr likely to come to see the trial P " " No," I replied ; " she asked me to let her know the time, but she said she could not come." ''Humph J I should have liked her to 869 it," be said. ''But I ; TllK DAY OF THlrMPII. 279 come along ; don't let's lag behind ; and mind this, my ideas may only be suspicions, and worth nothing at all." There was a group or two of men linnging about the rival office, bearing Lister's name, at the end of \\k> street, as wo went up to the great building, and as I passed the timekeeper's box I could not help thinking of the day when, a tihivering, nervous boy, I had gone up only to meet with a rebuff ; while now one of the first persons to come bustling up, looking very much older, but as pug- nacious and importaiU as ever, was Mr. urimstone, who was Quite obsequious as he shook hands first with me, and then with Hallett. " Very, very proud, gentlemen," he exclaimed, " very proud indeed. Great changes since you u.sed to honour us with your assistance." " Yes, Mr. Qrimstone," I said, laughing as I wondered how I could ever have trembled before him, ''and time hasn't stood still." " No, indeed, but we wear well, Mr. Jabez Rowle and I, sir. Ha-ha-ba! Yes, old standards, sir, both of us, and we stand by the old establishment. We don't want to go away inventing great machines." " Oh, Grimstone ! the men are still there with the machine ? " said Mr. Ruddle, coming up. " No, sir, not now. rhey went off when I came, but I've put the new watchman on." "Confound it all, Grimstone! You've never put a strangei thers P" exclaimed Mr. Kuddle furiously. " But I have, sir," said the overseer importantly. " Here he is, air. Bramah lock," and he held out a bright new key. "Oh, I see," said Mr. Ruddle, laug'ning. " Here's Mr. Girtley, senior." The great engineer came up, nodded to his son and me, shook hands with Hallett, and then we all went to the room where the machine had been set up, glistening, bright, and new, with the shaft and bands of the regular engine gear passing through above it. The first thing noticed was that the window was open; and annoyed that the mist of a damp morning should be admitted, I hurriedly closed it, thinking then no more of the matter. It wanted quitv^ an hour to the time appointed, and the in- terval was employed in superintending the alteration of a few bolts and nuts, which Mr. Girtley wanted tightened, and as 1 watched the great engineer, n man whose name was now an authority throughout Europe, and who was cojustantly refusing contracts, pull off his coat, take a spanner, and help his men, T began to realize that it was his personal attentio^i to small matters and his watchful superrLiion that had raised him to his present positioa -• ••: ...._;... ■ttn I A 290 THI. STOKY OK ANTONY GUACK. 1 ;i Ct if \i iKi' " Nice hands ! " he said, laughing, ns he held them out all over blackl'^ad and oil. " Wise lad, you were, Tom, to leave it, and take to your parchment and pounce." There wus a covert sneer in his words, which Tom seemed to take, for he said quickly : " Perhaps, father, I may help you as much with ray brain as I used to help you with my hanas." " Yes J yes, of course, my hoy, and we must have lawyers. Well, Grace, how do you feel about it now P " " I think I'd ease that nut a little, sir," I said, pointing to one part of the machine. "WhyP" he said sharply. " I fancv that there will be so much stress upon that wheel that *t will be better to give it as muoh freedom as we can, and, perhaps I am wrong, sir, but it strikes me " I glanced at Uallett, and felt i he blood flush to my face, for I felt that what T was about to say must sound very cruel to him. " Go on, Antony," he said kindly ; but I saw that he was very pale. " It strikes yju ? " said Mr. Girtley. "That this is the weak part of the contrivance. Here falls the stress ; and, when it is running at full speed, I feel sure tha^ the slight structure of this portion will tell against the machine doing good work, and it may result in its breakmg down." " Go on," said Mr. Girtley bluntly ; for I had stopped, feeling uncomfortable at the dead silence that had fallen upon the group. " It is not a question of efficit>ncy," I said, " but one of detail, — of substantiality ajid durability. At first sijrht it seems as if it would make the machine cumbersome, but I feel sure that if we made that shaft and its wheel four times the thickness — that is to say, excessively massive, we sIk uld get a firm, solid regu- larity in the working, a fourth of the vibration, and be able to dispense with this awkward fly-wheel. My dear Uallett," I exclaimed hurriedly, as T saw how his paiJorhad increased, "pray forgive me. I was quite led away by my thoughts. These are but suggestions. I daresay T was wrong." "Wrong!" exclaimed Mr. Girtley, catching my hand in his, and giving it a grip that made me wince. " Every word you have said, my boy, is wortli gold. Tom, I'd have given ten thousand pounds to have heard you speak like thnt. ' " But tlien, you see, I could not, father," said his son good- humouredly. " Antony Grace here is a born engineer, and you'll have to make him a partner one of these days." I hardly heai-d their words, for my anxiety about Hallett. I seemed to have been trampling upon his hopes, and as if I had Iwen' wanting in forethought after having the superintendence of the manufacture for so long. THE DAY OK TRIUMPH. m " I ought CO have suggested theHe alterations before/' I faltered^ " How could you?" said Mr. Girtley grurtly. " You only saw the failing just now. I can see it, of course, when you point it out. "We only climb by our falls, Grace. Locomotives were only ffot to their present perfection after no end of failures. Well, Mr. Hallett, what do you say ? " "Antony Grace is quite right," he replied. "That is un- doubtedly a failing spot, and where, if driven at high speed, tlu* machine would break down. I have had no training as an engineer, and have had to work blindfold, and in the midst *•( difficulties." " Mr. Hallett," said the great engineer,"! have had training ii> an engineer — a long and arduous training — and I tell you that ii you had had twice as much experience as I, you would not have succeeded with your contrivance the very first time. I thrt-w myself into this affair as soon as I saw it, for I felt that it wac one of those machines that make their mark in history ; and now that we are going to try it, even if it does not come up to our expectations, I say> don't be discouraged, for I tell you it muM and will succeed. I'm not a proud man, as a rule, but I am proud of my reputation, and if money is wanted to bring your great invention to perfection, the cash ^hall be forthcomirg, even if we have to borrow." " Hear, hear! " cried Mr. Jabez, and a slight flush appeared in Hallett's pale face. " I'm very sorry I spoke, Hallett," I whispered to him, as I took his hand. " What, for giving me such great help P " he said, smiling. " You foolish fellow, Antony, I am not a spoilt child, that I c»in- not bear to listen to my mistakes." Our conversation was broken off here ; for just then a couple of gentlemen arrived, and these were foliowe<l by others, till the room was quite full. For invitations had been sent out to som*- of the principal printers and newspaper proprietors to come u. il see the testing of the new machine. Hallett, as the patentee, had to throw off his reserve, and conn . as it were, out of his sliell to answer questions, and point out th» various peculiarities and advantages of his machine, all of whiirli I noticed were received with a good deal of reserve ; and there was a shrug of the shoulders here, a raising of the eyebrows there, while one coarse-minded fellow said brutally : "Plaything, gentlemen, playthin'r. Such a machine cannot Sossibly answer. The whole principle is wrong, and it must break own.** I was so annoyed at this bitter judcrment, delivered by one who had not even a superficial knowledge of its properties, that I said quickly, and foolishly, 1 grant : f i : I ' u U' i i. . 14.1! f III ' i ^m m t J, 2S2 THE STORY OF ANTONY (ilUCE. " Tliat is what hrninless people said of the stfani-eiigine.'* "* " O ! " he Raid sharply, " is it, boy P Well, you must know : you are so old and wise. Well, come, gentlemen, I have no time to waste. When is your plaything- to be set going, Mr. Huddle ? " " Now," said Ilallutt quietly, as he silenced me with ft look, just II <, like the foolish enthusiastic boy I was, some hot passionate )• torf was about to escape my lips. Mr. Oirtley nodded, and he gave a glance round the machine. Then he looked up at the shaft that was revolving above our heads, and took hold of the great leather ijund that was to connect it with otir machine, and I noticed that everyone but liallett and myself <li»'W back. I was) HO angry and excited that if I had known that the whole Miiichine was about to fly to pieces, I don't think I should have >tirred. Then, biting my lips, as I heard a derisive laugh from I he Solon who had annoyed me, I saw Mr. Girtley give the band ilitit peculiar tvitch born of long custom, when an undulation ran ti}> the stout leaf her, it fitted itself, as it were, over both wheels ; t here was a rapid whirring noise, and the next instant the great 1 Miivy mass of machinery seemed as it were to breathe as it throbbed ;irid panted, and itsgn-at cylinders revolved. There was the glistening of the polished iron and brass, the 1 winklinfj;- of the well-oiled portions, the huge roll of paper began ' (I turn, and T saw its virgin whiteness stamped directly after with 1 liou.sandH of lines of language. My doubts of success died away, and a hearty cheer broke forth from the assembled party; and I lien, as I felt a fervent wish that Miss Carr had been present to >«'e our triumph, there was a horrible grinding, sickening crash; liioken wheels flew liere and there ; bar and crank were bent in horrible distortion ; there was an instantaneous stoppage of every- thing but the great flv-wheel, which, as if in derision, went spin- 'ling on, and there lay poor Hallett stunned and bleeding upon the Moor, '• Foul play — foul play ! " roared Mr. Girtley, in a voice of iliunder, in the midst of the ominous silence. " I was too late to >iop the ma hine. Some scoundrel had placed a great pin under- neath, and T saw it fall. Here, look ! Here ! " he roared, as he stamped with rage ; and he pointed to a round bent bar of iron, •»nch as is used to screw down a paper press. " There it is. It was placed on that ledge, so that it might fall with the jar. Mr. Uuddle, this is some of your men's work, and, blast them ! they ieserve to be hanged." »/• v.-fp, i ^ />tv1 f> I ii t ' •* .vf,i.ji: JOHN LISTERS TlliUMril. /♦f CHAPTER LVI. JOHN U8TKR8 TRIUMPH. As Mr. Girtley roared thofie words a sudden thouffht flashed through my mind, end I ran to the window, threw it open, and, as I did so, there beneath me, reaching down to the luw roof of a building below, was a ladder, siiuwing plainly enough the ro&d by which the enemv liad crept in. From where I stood I looked out upon the bucks of a score of buildings; printing-offices, warehouses, and the like, nnd iit the window of one of these buildings I saw a couple of men, one of whom I felt certain wu.4 some one I had seen before, but wliere, I could not tell. I was back and besii'e poor Hallett directly, giving both Mr. Oirtley and Tom a looK which sent them to the window, to i^ee that there was no doubt how the misfortune had occurred ; but I was too much taken up with Hallett s condition to say more then. " Is he much hurt P " cried first one and then another. " Looks like a judgment on him," said the heavy, broad-faced man with wliom I had had my short verbal encounter. " Why P " said Tom Girtley sharply. " Inventing gimcrack things like that," said the fellow in a tone of contempt, " to try and take the bread out of honest men s mouths." " Good heavens ! man, leave the room ! " cried Mr. Girtley in a rage. " Go and take oflf your clothes ; they ve been made by machinery ! Go and grub up roots with your dirty fingers ! don t dig them with a spade — it's a machine ! Go and exist, and grovel like a toad or a slug, or any other noisome creature ; you are not fit for the society of men ! The brute was about to reply, but there was such a shout of laughter at Mr. Girtley 's denunciation and its truthfulness, thut he nurried out of the place, just us Hallett sut up and stared round. "No," he said, " not much hurt ; I'm better now. A piece of iron struck me on the head. It is a mere nothing. Stunned me, I suppose." He rose as he spoke, and there was a silence no one cared to break, as he looked at the wreck of his machine. " Another failure, Mr. Rowle," he said sudly ; and he took the old man's hand, as if he were the one who needed all the sympathy. ** I am very, very sorry — for your sake. I cannot sny more now." " One word, Mr. Hallett," said the ereat engineer. " Do you know that this is all through malice P 284 TIIK .STORY Of ANTONY ORACK. !- \\{ M m' '*yiu\icc? No." " Some Hcoiiiulrel has been here and thrust io this bar of iron. Oentleintui/' he said, looking' round, " this is an unfortunate afTuir; but I s])<>uk to you as leatling roenibers of tlie printing; hu8i:ie8.s, and I tell you that Mr. Hallett's invention liere means HUCcesM, and a revolution in the trade. This 'm a case of wanton destruction, the act of some contemptible scoundrel. You have .seen the ruin here of something built up by immense labour, but I pledge you my word — my reputation — that before six month:* are pu«t another and a better machine shall be running before you - perfect." There was a faint cheer, and quite a little crowd gathered round the wreck while Mr. Girtley turned to speak to ilallett. "Thank you," suid the latter, smiling; "you will excuse me now; I feel rather faint and giddy, and I will get off home." " I'll go with you, Ilallett," I cried. " No, no : I shall be all right," he savd, with a sad smile. " 111 :ake a cab at the corner on the strength of my success. Come to me after you It^ave." " I would rather go with you," I said. " No, no, 1 want you to represent me here," he whimpered. "Stay, Antony ; it will seem less as if I deserted the ruin like a rat, and I atn not man enough to command myself now." " IJut you are not fit to go alone," I said earnestly. " Yes, I am," he replied ; " the sick feeling has gone off. It was nothing- to mind. I am not much hurt." I should have pressed him, but he was so much in earnest that I drew back, and after a formal leave-taking he left the room, and descended the stairs, while a burat of angry remarks followed his departure. " Ruddle," said one grey " aired old gentleman, " I think, for your credit's sake, vou ought to have in a detective to try and trace out the otTc^'inier." " I mean to," .«<uid Mr. Ruddle firmly, and he glanced at Grim- ^tone, who .seemed to shrink away, and looked thin and old. " For my part," said another, " I believe fully in the invention and I congratulate the man of genius who halloa 1 what's wrong P " A burst of yells and hooting arose from the street below, and witli one consent we hurried to the windows, to see poor Hallett .standing ut bay in a corner, hemmed in by about a hundred men and boys, evidently the off-scourings of the district, who, amidst a storm of cries of " Who robbed tb3 poor man of his bread ? " — " Who tries to stifle work.^" and a babel of similar utterances, were pelting the poor fellow with filth, wa**te-paper full of print- ing-ink, mud, anci indescribable refuse, evidently prepared fdr the occasion. JOHN LISTKK'8 TKirMPH. 2.--:. Heading lite party, ami the motit deinnnntrutive of all, wu8 a fnt ruffian, in inky apron and shirt-sleeves, whom I recoMT'iiHed m whnt should have been the manhood of my old enemy, Jem Smith, while in the same glance I saw, standing aloof up^tn a door-step, a fipectator of the degrading scene, no less a person than John Li.^ter, fashionably dressed, and in strange contract to the pallid, mud- bespattered man who stood there punting and too weak to repel MMUlt. W hat I have said here was seen in a moment, as I prie<l out, " Tom Girtley, quirk ! " rushed to tile door, and down the 8tairi<. It took me very little time to reach the street, hut it was long enough to bring my blood ta fever-heat, as, closely followed by Tom, I ruf^hed past John Lister, and fought my way through ihe yelling mob of ruffii.nly men and boys. Before I could reach Hallett, though, I caiifrht sight of a car- riage farther up the street, and just tlien the noise and yelling' ceased as if by magic, while my efforts to reach llallett's side be- came less arduous. I, too, stopped short as I reached the inner edge of the ring which surrounded my friend, for there, richly dressed, and in strange opposition to the scene, was Miriatn Carr, her veil tlirown back, her handsome face white, and her large eyes flashing ns she threw herself before Hallett. " Cowards ! wretches I" I heard her cry ; and then, " Oh, help f help!" For as, regardless of his state, she caught at Hallett, he reeh><l and seemed about to fall ! Then I was at his side. " Don't touch me!" he gasped, recovering himself and recojlino from the vision that seemed to have come between liim and his persecutors. " Miss Carr, for heaven's sake !~a\vav from here!" For answer she caught his hand in hers, and drew his befonhd arm through her own. "Come,' she said, as her eyes flashed with anger; "lean on me. They will not dare to treat a woman ill." "Antony," cried Hallett hoarsely, "Miss Carr- take her away ! " " Lean on me," she cried proudly. " Antony, beat a way for us through these curs." 1 took Hallett's other arm, and as we stepped forwai-d, Jem Smith uttered a loud " Yah ! " but it seemed as if it was broken before it left his lips, and he went staggering back from a tremen- dous blow right in the teeth, delivered by Tom Girtley. Then there was an interlude, for some one else forced his wu^ to the front. "Miss Carr I great heavens! what is all this?" he cried " Give • /- r ■■ i I f}''! m rir K'.'. m m i 2ftC Tllh: STOicY ol' ANTONY liitACK. me your hand. TIiIn is du plucu for vou. What dorHthi^outragt^ mean ? Quick ! let iiiu help you. ThU is horrible." " Stand buck, ttir I " " You are excited," he cried. " You don't know me. I «ee now ; there is your carriuf^e. Stand awav, you ruffians. How thankful I am that I was near! Take this man away. la he drunk ? " As he Kpokn, John Lister, with a look of supreme disgust, pushed poor fainting Hallett back, and tried to draw Miss Carr out of the crowd. " Coward ! Villain ! This is your work I " she cried in a low, Mt range voice; and as he tried to draw her away, she sharply thrust him from her. The crowd uttered a cry of excit^sment as they witnessed the act ; and, stung almost to madness with rage and mortification, Lister turned upon me. But I again found a good man at my back, for, boiling with rage, Tom (iirtley struck at him fiercely and kept him off, while in tlie midbt of the noise, pushing, and hustling of the crowd, a confusion that seemed to me now us unreal as some dream, we got Hallett along towards the carriage, he, poor fellow, 8eeming[ ready to sink at every step, while the true-hearted woman at his side clung to him and passed one arm round him to help him. The coaclunan now saw that his mistress seemea to be in need of help, and he shortened the distance by forcing his horses on- ward through the gathering crowd. But the (lunger was post, for those who now thronged out from the buildin>i:8 on either side were workpeople attracted by the noise, and they rapidly outnumbered John Lister's gang of .ocoundrels, got together by his lieutenant, Jem Smith, for the mortiticution of the man he hated, while his triumph bad been tlint the woman they loved had come to his rival's help, glorified him, as it were, by her presence, and rained down scorn and con- tempt upon his own wretched head. As I suid before, it seems now like some terrible dream, in which I found myself in Miss Carr's carriage, with her sister looking ghastly with fear beside me, and Hallett in the back seat, nearly unconscious, beside Miss Carr. " Tell the coachman to stop at the nearest doctor's, Antony," she said ; and I lowered the glass and told Tom Oirtley, who had mounted to the driver's side. ," No, no," said Hallett, faintly, for her words seemed to bring bim to. " For pity's sake. To my own borne. Why have you done this P " S'le did not speak, but I saw her take bis hand, and her eyes fix themselves, as it were, upon his, while a great sob laboured from ber breast. I FIND I HAVK A TEM1»RR. 287 trag^* I see How U he )ffU sgust, arr I low, iiarply ed the cation, gf with , while owd, a we got g ready lis side in need rses on- ut from by the ■ang of for the ad been jrlorified lud con- n which looking , nearly ntony," who had to bring lave you her eyes ired from " Mr. Grace," faltered Miss Corr's sister," this i« very dreadful ; '" and I saw her frightened eyes wander trom tlie mud-heMinearetl object opposite her to her sister's injured attire, and the sulheti linings of the carriage. " Antony," said Alias Carr then, " do what is for the best." For answer, I lowered the window again and utterud to Tom nirtley the one word, *' Home." Fortunately, Revitts was on night duty, and ready to come n^ the carriage stopped at the door, where we had to lift the poor fellow out, and carry him to his bed, perfectly insensible now from t h? eflfecta of the blow. I was rather surprised to find the carriage gone when I de- scended, but my suspense was of short duration, for it soon caiiu* back with a neighbouring doctor, whom Miss Curr had fetched. Mary was at hand to show him up, while I ran down to the carrage-door, where Miss Carr grasped my hand for a moment, her face now looking flushed and strange. " Come to me to-night, Antony," she said in a low voice — "come and tell me all. She sank back in the carriage then, as if to hide herself from view, while in obedience to her mute signal, I bade the coachman drive her and her sister liome. CHAPTER LVII. I FIND I HAVR ▲ TBMPEB. [ WENT to Miss Carr's nearly every evf. iing now, to report progre.*.* for her instructions to me, after a consultation between Mr. Jabe^, Mr. Ruddle, Mr. Girtley, and myself, were that neither expen>* nor time was to be spared in perfecting the machine. We had gone carefully into the reasons for the breakdown, and were compelled reluctantly to own that sooner or later tlie mechanism would have failed ; for besides the part I nunud, wt* found several weak points in the construction — faults that only n superhuman intelligence could have guarded against. The malig- nant act had only hastened the catastrophe. It was a cruel trick, and though we could not bring it home, wh had not a doubt ^hat the dastardly act was committed by Jem Smith, who was the instrument of John Lister. A little examina- tion showed how easily the back premises could be entered by any- (me coming along behind from Lister's, and there was some talk of prosecution, but Hallett was ill, and it was abandoned. For the blow he had received from a piece of the machinery had produced serious injury to thA bead, and day after day I had i ; I m 288 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRAC?:. very bad news to convey to Miss Carr. The poor fellow seomed to have broken down utterly, and kept his bed. He used to try lo nppear cheerful; but it was evident that he took the matter Itiitorly to heart, and at times gave up all hope of ever perfecting the machine. Tt was pitirul to see his remorseful looks when Mrv Jabez came Ni see him of an evening; Mi. Peter, who alwayfli> accompanied III." brother, stopping in my room to smoke a long mpe 1' kept on purpose for him, whether I was at home or no, and nom time to I iuie he had consultations with Tom Girtley, who kept putting o£f .! communication that he said he had to make till he had his task • lone. I u.<*ed to notice that he and Mr. Peter had a great deal to ^ay t.« each other, but I was too much taken up with my troubles iiliout Hallett and the machine to pay much heed; for sometimes the idea forced itself upon me that my poor friend would never live to realize his hopes. Time glided on, and I used to sit with him in an evening, and i< 11 him how we had progressed during the day ; but it made no iinpressiGH whatever ; he used only to lie and dream, never refer- ring once to Miss Carr's behaviour on that wretched day ; in fact, I used to fancy sometimes that he was in such a state from hia injury that he had not thoroughly realized what did occur. It was indeed a dreary time ; for poor Mrs. Hallett, when, led by a sense of duty, I used to go and sit with her, always had a reproacliful look for me, and, no matter what I said, she always •seemed to make the worst of matters. But for Linny and Tom Girtley, the place would have been ;: loomy indeed, but the latter was always bright and cheerful, and liinny entirely changed. There was no open love-making, but a I juiet feeling of respect seemed to have sprung up between them, and 1 hardly knew what was sroing on, only when it wa« brought to my attention by Mr. Jabez, or Revitts, or Mary. I should have thought as you wouldn't have liked that there think as a young man as is a friend of youm ought to come down my stairs with his arm round a certain young lady's waist." " Go along, do, with your stuff and nonsense, William," ex- <rlaimed Mary sharply. " What dc you know about such thingsP" " Lotii," said Bill, grinning with delight, and ^hen becoming pretematurally serious ; " I felt it to be my dooty to tell Ant'ny, and I have." " You don't know nothing about it," said Mary, tittering ; ** he don't know what we know, do he, Master Antony P " ** I don't know what you mean, Mary," I replied^ 'f I nND I HAVE A TEMPER. 289 ; "he " Oh no, of course not, Master Antony ; but I shouldn't like a certain young lady down at Kowfoi*d to hear you say so " " Phew ! " whistle*! Revitts, and fe«dinif very lx)yi.sh and con- pcious, I made my retreat, for I was bound for \V»'st mouth Street, and had stopped to have ten minutes' chat downstairs with my old friends on the way. I found Miss Carr looking very thin and anxious, and she listened eagerly to my account of how I was progressing ut the ^^•orks. "Mr. Girtley tells me that you are doing wonaers, Antony." ■he said, in a curious, hesitating way, for we both seenu'd to he fencing, and as if we dir<l':ked to talk i^f the subject nearest io uur hearts. She was the first to cast cT the foolish reserve thougli, and to ask after Hallett's health. "The doctors don't secun to help him a bit," I said sndly. " Poor fellow ! he thinks so much about the failure of his hopes, and it is heart-breaking to see him. He toiled for it so long. Oh, Miss Carr, if I only knew for certain that it was John Lister who caused the breakdown, I shon.]! almost feel as if I could kill him." " Kill him with your contempt, Antony," she said sternly ; and then, as we went on talking about Hallett's illness, she became very much agitated, and I saw thai she was in tears, which she hastily repressed as her sister entered the room. The next evening when I went, I found her alone, for her sister had gone to stay a few days with some friends. My news was worse than ever, and there was no fencing the question that night, as she turned very pale when I gave my report. " But the invention, Antony," she exclaimed e.xcitedly ; " tell me how it is going on." " We are working at it as fast as possible," I replied ; " it takes a long Jime, but that is unavoidable." " If you love Stephen Hallett," she said suddenly, and she looked full in my face, " ^et his invention finished and perfect. Let it succeed, and you will h. .e done more for him than any doctor. Work, Antony, work. I ask you for — for Pray, pray strive on." " I will — I am striving," I said, " with all my might. It was a cruel blow for him though, just as success was in his grasp." " Mr. Lister is here, ma'am," said the servant, entering the room. " I have forbidden Mr. Lister my house," said Miss Carr sternly. " Yes, ma'am, but he forced his way in, and " Before the man could finish his sentence, John Lister was in the room, lookhig flushed and excited, and he almost thrust the servant out and closed the door. As he caught sight of me his face turned white with rage, but 39 I. ll l*i h' 290 THE HTOliV (JK ANTONY (iKACE, lie controlled hiiuhelf, and turned to wlieru Mits Curr was stajid- ing-, looking very beautiful in her anger. I liad started up, and stepped between them, but she motioned me back to my seat, while lie joined his hands in a piteous way, and said in a low voice : " I could not help it. I was obliged to come. Pray, pray, Miriam, hear me now." " Mr. Lister ! " she c^a'id, with a look of contempt that should have driven him awav — " Mr. Lister ! and once more here ? " " Mil iam," he exclaimed, " you drive me to distraction. Do you think that such a love as mine is to be crushed ? " " Love ! " she said, looking at him contemptuously. " Yes ; love," he cried. " I'll prove to you my love by saying that now — even now, knowing what I do, I will forgive the past, and will try to save you from disgrace." " Mr. Lister, you force me to li.sten to you," she replied, " for I will not degrade you by ringing for the servants and having you removed. l*ray say what you mean. Hush, Antony, let him speak. Perhaps after he has said all I.e wishes, he may leave me in peace." " Leave you in peace — you will not degrade me ' " he cried, stung to madness and despair by her looks andw^o: da. "Look here, Miriam Ourr, you compel me to speak as I do before this wi.'tclied hoy." *' Hush, Antony, be silent," she cried, as I started up, stung in my turn by his contemptuous tone. " Yes : sit down, .spaniel, lap-dog — miserable cur ! " he cried ; and I felt my teeth grit together with such a sensation of rage as I had never known before. " And now, as for yoii — you blind, foolit'li woman," he continued, as I awakened to the fact that he Imd bt(>n drinking heavily, " since fair means will not succeed, foul means sliall." , "Say what you wish to say, Mr. Lister," she replied coldly, " for T warn you that this is the last time y<^u shall speak to me. If you force yourself into my presence again, my servants shall hand you over to the police." "What!" he cried, with a f«nced laugh, " me .^ — hand me over to tlje police .^ You— you think I have been drinking, but you are wrong." No one had i>inted at such a thing, but he felt it, and went on. " I came to tell you to-night, that I will ignore the past, that I will overlook your disgracelul iniimacy with this low, contemp- tible compositor, the bla(kguar<lly friend of this ])oy — the man who has ohtaiiud a hold upon you, and wlio, with his com- panions, is dij;iniiig your purse — I say I will overlook all this, and, ignoring the past, take you for my wife, if you wdl promise to give up this wretched crew." I USD 1 IIA\I. A 1 I I'M on < There was no answer, but T .af Th..,v fV.-li,,^ „. if r ni.i.f fli,,- «tood there like a «tatue. fixing him with her eve.. nvI,!!.. he v on raving. His face was flushed, ami there vvius a hot herv h , lu h.s eyes, while his lips were whi,e and puch^d ' ^ You shall not go on like this," he contiuued. - Vou are . ,s betrothed w fe, and T will not s,..,nd hv and ... vour ' a • dragged in the tnire by these wretch -d udvePt.n-ers ' mI'm ! '• your name has become u bv-w,.rd uiui a shame, th^ talk in ev. r pot-house where Wd^^^^^^ j, •, ,„.,,„ ^^^.V;,; this that r would still take vou to h.> u.v wif,. " • ^^hl^^l ^^''\^\^ not speak, and a lonk fmn. her re-trained im. v^henl would havedone sometlm,. to protert luM-fr-uu hisi„ , l--' every one of which seemed t„ sting n... •-, the he-.rt ' '' r know I am to blame," hv said P-sssi.matelv, - for h>ttin«- v. tel . It shall end, though, now. 1 have wric,,, (o vour broth, r rn-la^, and he will help to drag you fron, amongst ,hiJ sw^li,;: J'^Have you said all you wish to say, Mr. Li.^t.r y " she ivpli...! " No," he cried stung into a ftvsl. burst bv her wnv, Is • '' „„ ] have not. N^ I tell you," he cried, taking a m p forwar r If b^ieving in his drunken tit that she Mas thvinKi/„;f o m' in. and being conquered by h>s impor. unities : '■ N„. | t^Il vou- .' and I never shall give up till y.u. (onsent to be luv witV ' Do • l.' take me for a drivelling boy, io b. pni off like tl, s. Mi -iam ?" cried, catching at her hand, but she drew it back. - Do Zi wi . to save your name from disgrace ? " ■ Slie did not answer, while he apuroacbed ,.] .s,«r _ ' You don't speak." he said b.mrselv. " D„ you know ub-.' they say about you and this fellow Hall, tt y ' Still she made no reply. something to her when, in an instant, I saw her counted,. . change, and hor white hand struck b.iu, full a.-r.,ss ih.'n " on. li ^'"^' ""^ ''"^''' l'*!.?"ft''< •'•^'- ^i^l'llv bv th. arms,' but ' could bear no more. With my whole sfrengtb-.-.n.-d np 11./- at him, and seized hiu, by ,be throat, believing in my ouer' of turning him forciblv from the room inivpow«r The events of the 'next few „:omenfs seem now as if seen through a m.^t, for m the brief struggle that ensued I wa e« il • mas ered by the powerful man whom 1 ha.l en.-a-ed • IhavesoinHindistinct memory of our swayinglu're ai,d th^n and then of having a lieavv fall. Mv ru-xt reclbrtion i of feeling sick and drowsy, andf seeing Afiss Carr and one of tl •ervant* bending over me and bathing my face. 19-2 •I •'I,- t i I. 292 TH?: .STORY OF ANTONY ORACE. For some few ininuteR I could not understand what it all meatft but by degrees the feeling of sickness passed away, and I looked hastily round the room, Miss Carr, who was deadly pale, told the maid to fetch some brandy, and as soon as we were alone, she knelt by me, and held one of my hands to her lips. " Are you much hurt, Antony P " she said tenderly. " I did not send for the doctor. That wretched man has made sufficient scandal as it is." "Hurt? No — not much," I said rather faintly. "Where ia heP" " Gone," she said ; and then she uttered a sigh of relief, as I sat up and placed one hand to my head, feeling confused, and as if I had g-one back some years, and that this was not Miss Carr but Mary, and that this was Mr. Blakeford's again. The confusion soon passed ofF, thougli, and after I had drunk the spirit tliat was brought me, I felt less giddy and strange. Miss Carr sat watching me, looking very pale, but I could realize now that she was terribly agitated. Before an hour had passed I felt ready to talk to her, and beg her to take some steps for her protection. " If I had only been a strong man," I exclaimed passionately. " Oh, Miss Carr, pray, pray do Eomething," T cried again ; " this is horrible. I caimot bear to see you insulted by that wretch." " I have decided to do something, Antony," she said in a low voice ; and a faint colour came into her pale cheeks. " He will not be able to force his way to me again." " I don't know," I said. " He is a madman. I am sure he had been drinking to-night." " No one but a madman would have behaved as he did, Antony," she said. " But be at rest about me. I have, after a bitter Btruggle with myself, decided what to do." " But you wiU not go away P " I said. She shook her head. " No ; my path lies here," she said quietly. " Antony, I want your help to-morrow." " Yes : what shall I do ? " I asked. " Will you ask Miss Hallett to come here to me — will you bring her ? " " Bring Linny Hallett here P " I exclaimed in surprise. " Y^es : bring her here," she said softly ; and there was a pecu- liar tone in her voice as she spoke. " And now about yourself. Do you feel well enough to go nome P Shall one of the servants see you safeiy back ? " " Oh no," I said ; " I am better now. I shall take a cab. But I do not feel comfortable to leave you alone." " You need not fear," she said quietly. " The house will b* I FIND 1 HAVE A TEMPKK. 2ori closed as soon as you leave. To morrow I shall tjike steps for mv protection. ^ ^ I left her soon after, thinking about her request, and as far as I could make out she intended to keep Linny witii lier feelinu that Lister would not dare to face her again, wh.n tli,. w.anau he had sought to injure had been made her compaiiion. Still I did not feel satisHed, and the onlv cr)nsolin<r thinrr wa9 tn be found in Lister's own words, that lie "had sent for .Miss Carr'^ relative; and, m the hope that he mi-ht soon arrive, I re,u-hed Home and went up at once to see Hallett, who looked very ilJ but smiled sadly, as I sat down by his side. • " Better, ' he said ; " I think Im better, but I don't Know Antony : sometimes I feel as if it would be hai pier if I rouM b.' altogether at rest." "Oh, Hallett! "I cried. " Yes, you are right," he said " Whp.t wo.dd become of t hem •- ™^^' ^**^ *>e«er, Antony, better, but sometimes-son^tim^s - " Uont speak to him any more," whispered .\iurv ; " he is so weak that Ins poor head wanders." <"5"^' ^^"'■y* the doctor ; does he say there is anv dan"-er '- " • No, no, my dear. He is to sleep all he can. there,'"tro down now. I m going to sit up to-nij^ht.^ I went down,leav.ig Mary to her weary vigil; for my head ached terribly, and I vas very jjidfly. Linny was in the sitting-rooni", a,i<"l she uttered an exclamation VN hy, how bad you look, Antony ! " she cried ' Do I.P" I said wit ha laugh; "I liadablt of a fall, an I it has sliaken me. But, Liimy dear, T have a ines,>.iLM} for you " ^^ l^or me, Antony ? " she .said, tuniing whitr. ^ * Yes; Miss Carr bade me ask you to come with me to h.-r bouse to morrow." " I go to her house ! " faltered Linny. '' « ^^^f'T"^^^""? r" will-will you not.^ I am sure it is important." But I could not leave poor Steve." " J* "f^ °«* ^"^^« ^0"f-'' I «'»i'i ; " you will ao nud s^e wl.at she wants.'' Linny looked at me in silenfp for a few moments, a-nl iluiv was somethmg very dreamy in her face. ufV[^uj *^T^iV'i?r^ ''"^^ ^ "^'"'"''^ ^"^ Antonv," s:,,- said « ' " ^ "^* ^ ""l^*'"^ ^® Stpphpii first 'f " ■ "No," I said. " Hear first what she lias lo say." She promised and I went down to mv own ro.an, ^hu] to lay my aching head upon the pillow; wh.ie \ '„o:. t.lT into a troubled sleep, dreaming of my .micokm', i- wir' .j,,h„ lAsx^^v and feeling again the heavy blow as uv f.ll, .....i ,nv he.id ^'iiuk the broad, flat fender witji a siciening be repeated again and again. cruisli, that seemed to 'J94 THhl .SlOin OF ANTONY OllACK. CHAITER LVm. THK CRISIS. •tf y, I ! !■ t. M By my advice, then, Linny said nothing to Hallett about where she wau going, and as I had stayed at home from the worki} on purpose, we started in pretty good time for Westmouth Street, my companion's flushed cheeks making her look extremely bright and pretty. She was terribly nervous though, and when we neared I he door I feared that she would not muster up courage enough to enter. " I feel as if I dare not meet her, Antony," she faltered. " What nonsense ! " I said, smiling. " why, she is gentleness and t«ndc-tuess itself. Come, be a woman." "It is not that," she whispered. "There is so much more be- hind. Take me back, Antony. Why does she want to see me ? " " I don't know," 1 1 ^plied ; " but you may be sure that it is for some good purpose." " Do — do vou think she will be angry with me — about — about, you know whom I mean ? Do you think it is to reproach me P " " I am sure it is not, Linny. Come, come, make an effort. I don't know, but I feel sure it is to try and help poor Hallett." " Do you think so F " she faltered, " or is this only to persuade me to ^o on? Oh, Antony, you cannot think how my heart beats with dread. I am afraid of this Miss Carr, and feel as if I ought to hate her." " Come along, you foolish girl," I said ; and, yielding to mo, I led her up to the door, when we were admitted, and at once ushered into the arawing-room. I did not at hrst see Miss Carr, but the door bad hardly closed before I heard the rustle of her dress, and the next moment Linny was folded in her arms, and returning the embrace. I stood for a moment listening to Linny's passionate sobs, and then stole softly away, going down into the dming-room to stand gazing out of tne window, but seeing nothing of the passers-by, only in imagination the scene upstairs, and wondering why Miss Carr had sent for Linny. I was kept in doubt for quite an hour, and then the servant came and asked me to step upstairs, where, to my surprise, I found Miss Carr dressed for going out. She held out her hand to me as I entered, and pressed mine. " Don't speak to me, Antony," she whispered, in a broken voice. •' I am going home with Linny Hallett." "You — goinc home — with " * '='* The rest died on my lips as I saw her draw down her veil to lill! THE CRISIS. ; where orku on reet, my ght and I neared enough I. intlenes8 note be- ll " eeme r , it is for , — about, hmeP" jffort. I llett." persuade ny heart el as if I to mc, I » ushered lly closed entLinny sobs, and 1 to stand lassers-by, why Miss le servant je, I found d mine. )ken voice. ler veil to hide her convulsed faco, and then, wifliout a woH. she ranjj the bell, the door was opened for us, and, feeling like one in a dieni'i, I walked in silence by tlieir side to the litmse in (treat Orinoiul Street, where, as I placed my latch-key in the d<K»r,it wns snatched open, and Mary, with her fuce red with weepinjr, t^tood there. " Oh, Miss Linny 1 Oh, Mii>t»!r Antony ! " she sobbed, " I'm so glad you've come. The doctor sent me out of tlie room, and I've Been waiting for you." "Is my brother worse Y " sobbed Linny hysterionlly. " Yes, yes, my dear, I'm- I'm jifrnid so; " and as she spokr, h hand clutched mine, and I heard Miss Curr moan : " God help me ! Am I too lute ? " Linny was already half up the first fli;)ht, when Miss Carr whispered to me in agonized tones : " Take me to him, Antony, quick. This is no ti'iie for pridf and shame." With my heart beating painfully, I led her upstairs, and, us we reached the first floor, we met the doctor comin,' down. I felt Mis? Carr's hand pressing mine eorivulfiively, and I Hpoke, my voice sounding hoarse and stnmpe. " Is he worse, aoctor ? " "I'm afraid he cannot last many hoars longer," hf ^nid. "I have done all I can, but I have a patient a few streetM fT whom I must see, and I will return in a short time. He must not be left, ' "Shall I go in and try to prepare him for your coming!" " I whispered to Miss Carr, as we st(M)d outside his door. " No, no ! " she cried. "Take me to him at once, or I cannot bear it. Don't speak to me, Ant/)ny. Don't h't anybody speak to me; but you must not leave me for a moment." Linny was at the door, standing with the handle in her hand. but she drew back as we approached, and then ran sobbing into the next room, where Mrs. Ilsillett was sittijig lielpl»ss«i;d alone. I obeyed Miss Carr, leading lier quickly inside, and closing the door, where she stood for a moment with one hand pr»'M>ing her breast; then she ha&tily tore off bonnet and veil, gazin;: at the pale face and great dreamy eyes fixed wist full;, upon the window. The noise of our entry, slight as it was, seemed to rouse him, for he turned his gaze heavily from the light towards whore we «itood, and I saw that he held in his thin wasted haml a little grey kid glove, the glove we had found in Hpping Forest that ha|)]>v day when we met the sisters in our walk. But that was forgotten in the change I saw come over the p.)or fellow's face,> I seemed to light up; the dull dreamy ey»'s dilated; a look of dread, of wonder, of joy seemed to come i'lt. them, and then he seemed to make an effort, and stared wildl\ round the room, but only to gaze at Miss Carr again as she •t/>n4i t ill i 1, ' I ! I » Is" LUtt THE STUUV Ol- .vNTONV GRACE. with her haiidH half raiHed in a beseeching way, till, with & wild cry, his head seemed to fall back and he lay without motion. I heard steps outside, but I darted to the door, and stopped Linny and Mary from entering, hardly i<nowing what I did, as Miss Carr took a stop or two forward, and threw herself upon her knees by tiie bud, clinging to his handn, placing one arm beneath the helpless head, and sobbing and moaning passionately. , "I have killed him — I have killed him! and I came that he might live. Stephen, my love, my hero, speak to me — speak to me ! God of heaven, spare him to me, or let me die ! '* I was one moment alx)ut to summon help, the next prepared to defend the door against all comers, an a<;ain the next ready to htop ray ears and flee from the room. Dut she had bidden me stay, and not leave her, and T felt it a painful duty to be her companion at such a time. So there I stayed, throwing myself in a chair by the door, my liead bent down, seeming to see all, to identify every act, but with my face buried in my hands, though hearing every impassioned word. " No," I heard him say softly ; " no : such words as those would liave brought me from the grave. But why — why did you come i "I could bear it no longer," she moaned. "I have fought against it till my life has been one long agony. I have felt that my place was here — at your side— that my words, my prayers would make you live ; and yet I have stayed away, letting my pride — my fear of the world — dictate, when my heart told me that you loved me and were almost dying for my sake." " Loved you ! " he whispered faintly : "loved you— Miriam, I dare not say how much ! " His voice was the merest whisper, and in my dread I started up, and approached them, fearing the worst; but there was such a smile of peace and restfulness upon his lips as Miss Carr bent over him, that I dared not interrupt them, the feeling being upon me that if he was to die it would be better so. There was a long silence theu, one which he broke at last. "Why did you come ?" he said. The words seemed to electrify her, and she raised her head to gaze on his face. "Why did I come?" she whispered; "because they told me you were dying, and I could bear it no longer. I came to tell you of my love, of the love I have fought against so long, but only to make it grow. To t&il you, my poor brave hero, that the world is nothing to us, and that we must be estranged no more. Stephen, I love you with all my soul, and you must live — live to call me wife — live to protect me, for I want your hetp and your brave right hand to be my defence. Tiiis is unwomanly — shame- nk I have not known you you yoiir THE CRISIS. SU7 « for me, and the true bruve ti^ht that you have roadeP Ilan not my heart 8hared your every hope, and sorrowed with you when you have failed P And, poor weak fool that I liave b»'en, have I not stood aloof, sayiiijj that you should come to im*, and yet wor- shipped you -reverenced you the more for your honour and your pride P Rut that is all piist now. It is not too lute. Live for me, Stephen, my own brave martyr, and let the past be one lon^' sad dream : for I love you, I love you, God only knows liow well ! " She hid her burning-, agitated fate in his breast, and his two thin hands tremblinply and slowly rose to clasp her head ; and there the white tinj,'ers lay motionless in ♦he rich, dark hair. There was again a pause, which he was the first to break, and his voice was atill but a whimper, as he muttered something that I did not hear, though I gathered it from her smothered reply. " Oh, no, no : let there be an end to that ! " she sobbed. Money ? Fortune ? Why should that keep us apart, when it might help you in your gallant fight P Let me be your help and stay. Stephen — Stephen ! " she wailed piteously, ** have 1 not asked you — I, a woman — to make me your wife J' " " Yes," he said softly, and I heard him sigh ; " but it cannot be — it cannot be." " What ? " she cried passionately, as she half-started from him, but clung to him still ; '' now that I have conquered my wretched, miserable pride, will you raise up another barrier between us P " *' Oh, hush, hush ! ' he whispered ; " you are opening to me the gates of a worldly heaven, but I dare not enter in." " Then I • have done nothing," she wailed, aa she seemed to crouch there now in shame and confusion by his bed. " Stephen, you humble me in the dust ; my shameless declaration — my appeal — do I not ask you to take me — pray you to make me your wife P Oh, what am I saying P " she cried passionately ; ** it is too late — too late ! " " No," he panted ; and bis words seemed to come eacli v. h i f greater effort, " not — toe late — your words — have — given ine ife. Miriam — come — hold me in your arms, and I shall stay. A little while ago I feit that all was past, but now, strength seems to come — we must wait — I shall conquer yet — give me strength to fight — to strive — wait for me, darling — I'll win you yet, and — God of heaven ! hear her prayer — and let me — ah ! " "Quick, Miss Carr, he has fainted," I whispered, as his head sank back. " Let me give him this." His face was so ghastly that I thought he had passed away ; but, without waiting to pour it out in a glass, I hastily trickled some of the strong stimulant medicine he was taking between his lips, and as Miss Carr, with agonized face, knelt beside him, holding his hand, there was a q^uiver in his eyelids, and a faint pressure of the hand that held his. 296 THE 6T0RY OF ANTONY ORACE. i ■t 1 l.i The si^riH were slight, but they toM us that he had hut faint<Ml, and when, at last, he re-opened his eyes, they rested upon Misa Carr with such a look of rest and joy, that it was impossible to extinguish the hope that he might yet recover. He was too '.veuk to speak, for the interview had been so powerful a shock to his system, that it was quite possible for the change we saw in his face to be but the precursor of one greater, so that it was with a sense of relief that I heanl the doctor's 8t«p once more unon the stairs, and Mary's knock at the door. I offered Miss Carr my hand to take her into the next room, and as if waking out of a dream, she hastily rose and smoothed back her hair, but only to bend down over the sufferer, and whisper a few words, to which he replied with a yearning look that seemed to brin<:f a sensation of choking to my throat. The doctor passed us on his way in, and I led Miss Carr into the front-room, where Linny was sobbing on the couch, and Mi-x. Hallett was sitting back, very white and thin, in her chair. As we entered Liimy started up, and in response to Miss (/arr's extended hands, threv/ her arms round her neck, and kissed her passionately. " Dear sister!" I heard Miss Carr murmur; and then tlie turned from Liimv, who left hor and glanced at me. " Mrs. Hallett,'' I said simply, " this is Miss ( 'arr." I hardly knew what I said, for Miriam was so changed. There was a look of tenderness in her eyes, and a sweet smile just dawning upon her lip as she advanced towards the invalid's chair, and bent down to kiss her; but with a passionate look of jealousy and dislike, Hallett's mother shrank from her. " Don't touch me ! " she cried. " I knew that you were here, but I could not leave my chair to curse you. Murderess, you have killed him ! You are the woman who has blasted my poor boy's life 1" A piteous look of horror came into IVIiss Carr's face, and sht'^ sank upon her knees by the great cushioned chair. " Oh, no, no ! " she said piteoiisly. " Do not accuse me. You do not — you cannot know.' " Know ! " cried Mrs. Hallett, whiter than ever with the feeling of dislike and passion that animated her ; " do I not know how you have robbed me of my poor dying boy's love ; how you have come between us, and tilled his head with foolisti notions tu invent— to make money — for you?" "Oh, Mrs. Hallett, for shame !'— for shame ! " I exclaimed indignantly. " Silence, boy ! " she cried, looking at me vindictively. " Do you think I do not know all because 1 sit helpless here ? You, too, have helped to encourage him in his madness, when he might have been a professional man by now. I know all, little THE CRISIS. 29f> faintixi, )n MiM Bible to been so for the greater, or'» 8t«p ct room, moot bed rer, and iiig look yjirr into and Mi-N. tiir. [n» CJarr's issed ber then the 1. There mile juftt invalid'M e look of irere here, iresa, you I my poor >, and she ne. You he feeling mow bow r you have notions tu exclaimed elv. "Do re? You, , when he 7 all, little M you think it, even bow you, and thin woman, too, foti^'lit againRt me. That child might have been the wife of a good man now, only that he waa thiM wietirhed creature'i* lover.** "Mother," cried Linnv pufaionately, "are you mud!' Mow dare you say such things f" "That's well," she cried. "You turn aguinnt me now. My boy is dving : you have killed him amongst yon, and the mnw grave w^ili hold us both." "Mrs. Hallett/' said Miss Carr, in her low, sweet voice; and the flush of pride that had come for a few nioments into her face faded out, having nothing but resignation there, an ohe ci'ouch*'<i thereupon her knees by the invalid's chair, "you do not kiit v me, or you would not K\)eixk to me like tliiw. iV)n't turn Iron roe," she said, taking one of the poor weak wonian'.^ trembling hands "Out of my sight, wretch ! ' she cried. " Your handsome fact- fascinated him : your pride has killed him ! add you have cow* to triumph in your woric. " \o, no, no," sobbed Miss Carr in a broken voice, " do in t condemn me unheard; I have come to tell him liow I love hiii Mother, dear mother," she cried, "be pitiful to me, and jnit; your prayers to mine that he may live." Poor weak suffering Mrs. Hallett*s face changed; her 11 jv quivered, her menacing hands trembled, and with a low moan i ml' wail she bent down, clasping Miriam to her breast, sobhifr aloud as she rocked herself to and fro, while Miriam clung to lier, caressing the thin worn face, and drawing herself clctHer and closer in a tight embrace. How long this lasted I cannot tell, but it was interrupted by the entrance of the doctor, wlio came in very softly. "He is in a very critical state," he said in answer to tlir inquiring eyes of all. " Hush, my good woman, you nuiMt try ami be firm, he said parenthetically to Mary, who was tryinjr hard to smother her sods in her apron. "A nurse ought to have no feelings — I mean no sympathies. As I said," he to!itinued, " ou: patient is in a very critical state, but he has now sunk into u vary restful sleep. There is a.i access of stretij^th in the pulse that, however, may only be due to exciteni!»;it, I ut your visit, ma'am," he continued to Miss Carr, "seems to hnve wrouohr i. change — mind," he added nastily, " I don't sny for the bettn . but there is a decided chunije. I will come in apiin in a coupl. of hours or so; in the meantime, let some one sir hy his b-d leutiy .c give him the stimulant the instant he wakt s, hut sleep may nov. mean life." The doctor went softly uw;iy. itnd ns he r! s,- i 'he loor, Mi — Carr knelt down once more }>y Mrs. Ilall'^tts c' air, holdini;- nji her face, and the poor invalid hung back for a uioiLent, and tbci, kiased her paidsiouat^ly. . . v i - „ - ^ ^ 300 THK STOKY OK ANTONY iiliACK. „! : I i !, " (Jod for^fivH mt' ! " hIih wiiilt'fl. " I ({'u\ not indeed know you, but you have f((hh»»<l nio f»f my jinnr hoy'n love." " No, no," whinponxl M\h» i'urr softly. ** No, no, dear mother, we will love you more and m')re." Miriam ('anV< jiliu-e wan hy llie x\v\i mun'n pillow all that after- noon and eveninjf, ami right throiifih the weary nif^ht. I had l»i'on to Westinoiith Street to .^ay that «he might not return, and tf her wish had broupfht back from Ilarlev Street one of the nutst •ininent men in the profeHnion, who held a consultation with I lallett's doctor. The ^reat man endorsed all that liad been done, and sent joy iito every breattt us lie (<aid that the crisis was past, but that on I') account was the patient to be roused. And all that niglit he slept, and on and on till about ei;^ljt I'cKtck the next Jiiorniiipr, Miss Curr never onre leaving his side, or • easinjf to watch with sl,.»eples8 eyes for the slightest change. I had ffone softly into the room the next mornin)?, just as ho nfteved a low sigh and opened his eyes. •* Ah, Antony," he said in a low whisper, " I have had such a lappy, happy dream ! I dn-amed that Oh, God, I thank Tliee -it was true! " For just then there wa« a slijfht movement by his pillow, and I he next moment his poor weary head was resting upon Miriam's lirea^t. CHAPTER LIX. MY INHKniTANCK. ■..';J! . • Oh, Muster Antony, i.iii't she a' angel ! " exclaimed Mary. This was one day during Stephen (lallett's convalescence, for tMin the liour of Miriam Carr's visit, he had steadily begun to neiid. lie showed no disposition, however, to take advantage of Ills position, and I was not a spectator of his further interviews with Miss Carr. She looked brighter and happier than I had -"(•n her look for a long time, and by degrees I learned that with his returning strength llallett had determined upon achieving success before he would ask her to be his wife. lie asked her, so she told me, if he had not her to thank for the iissistance he had received, and she had confessed to the little de- ption, begging him to let her help him in the future ; but this lie had refused. " No," he said ; " let me be worthy of you, Miriam. I shall be happier if I try," and she gave way, after exacting a promise from iiirn that if he really needed her assistance he would speak. Hallett seemed rapidly to regain his strength now, and appeared c« f i MY INHEIUTANCE. 31>I lu^ in his success, even as I had shared to be living a new life as be devoted himself heart and soul tc> flic perfection of his invention. I believe that I honestly worked as hard, but, in spite of all our efforts, nine months passed away, and still the work was iioi complete. It was a pleafinnt time, thouprh, and I could not help noticin^'^ the change tiiat had come over Miriam Carr. Her sister's husband had given up Ills appointment, and wiis now in town, residing with bis young wiftj in VVestmouth Stn'»'t. where, about once a fortnight, there wa^^ u meeting, when Ilallci i would take Linny, and Tom Oirtley, Mr. Huddle, and several of our friends would assemble. I look back upon it as a very happy time. The old sordid feeling of my wretched early life seemed to have dropped away, now that I was winning my way in the world ; and ilullett had told me that I was to ware his labours. There was no love-making in the ordinary sense of the word, but when Miriam Carr and Hollett met, there would be one long earnest look, a pressure of the hand ; and then— they waited. It was his wish, and she reverenced his noble pride. One evening we were very few at Westmouth Street ; only Linny, Tom Oirtley, Mr. Jabez, Hallett, and myself, when I found that there was a surprise for me. Tea was over, and I was just about to propose some music, when Tom Oirtley took a bla(.k bag from under one of the setteeH, and opening it, drew out a packet of papers. What was going to happen ? I asked myself. Was it a marriage settlement, or some deea of gift, or an arrangement by whicli Hallett was to be forced to take what was needful to complete his workP Neither. For at the first words uttered bv Tom Oirtley, 1 realized that it was something to do with tlie half-forgotten papers brought up by Mr. Peter Rowle. " Miss Carr wished me to enter into the business matters here, Grace," he said ; " and I should have talked to you more about it, onlv we thought it better to elucidate everything tirst, and to muke perfectly sure." « But " I began. " Wait a moment," he said, in regular legal form. " This has been a very intricate affair, and I was obliged to tread very cautiously, so as not to alarm the enemy. Before I had been at work a fortnight, I found that I needed the help of more experi- enced brains, so I consulted ray principals." " A.nd ran up a long bill P " I said, laughing. ** Yes, a very long one." he said, " which Miss Qarr, your friend tod patroness, has paid. .T()2 TUV. STOKY OF ANTONY GRACE. I!'! r»f 'i\ " Oil, Mi-s Carr I " I cxrlaimed. " Liisteii, Antony," wln^ suid, looking at me with a proud and lovinij look. " Htnug sure, then, of our pay," said Tom Oirtley,laughing, " we went to work witli tlie greatest of zeal, making another long bill, and for result - after comple1t;ly disentanglinfr everything — after rniiliiig- out, without his knowing it, that ihe enemy was well worth powder and sliot — in short, after making the ground per- fectly safe iMider our feet, I have the pleasure o' announcing to you, my dear fellow, that not only is there a sum of five hundred pounds a year belonging to you in your lawful right " " Five liundred ! " T ejaonlated. " Hut the same amount, with interest and compound interest, •hie to you for the past eight or nine years, and which that x'oundrel Blakeford will be obliged to refund." , ,. .► , " Oh ! " I exclaimed, as I realized my position. " The rascal plundered your poor father of goodness knows how much, but of that we can get no trace. This five hundred pounds a-year, though, and the accumulation, is as certainly yours as if you had inherited it at once, and no judge in England can gainsay it. Let me be the first to " " No ! " exclaimed Miss Carr, rising ; " let me^ Antony, my dear lH)y, be the first to congratulate you, not so much because of the amount, as that it will give you a feeling of independence, and take away that sense of obligation to pay your father's debts." She took my hands in hers, and kissed me, and then, feeling giddy witli surprise, I turned away for a moment, but only to falter out soin"thingin a disconnected way. " Peter's r'eliji^hted," cried Mr. Jabez : and he took a tremendous pinch of snuff, " I shall be 'urning out somebody's long-lost child myself before long, only we are twins, and I shall have to share it." " I am very, very glad, Antony," said Ilallett, shaking hands. " And now, if you like, Grace," continued Tom Girtley, " we will set to work to-morrow to make that scoundrel Blakeford dis- gorge ; and before a fortr!i:.ljt is passed, if he doesn't mind, he will be cooling his heels in prison, for I have undeniable proofs of his illegal practices. At the very least he will be struclt off the Rolls. It IS utter professional ruin." I did not speak, for the scene seemed to change to that wretched office once more, and I saw the black, forbidding, threatening face gazing down into mine. T heard the harsh, bitter voice re- viling my poor dead father, and a sliudder ran through me. The next moment, though, T was dwelling on the soft sweet face of If ctty, and as I recalled the child's many gentle, loving acts, there was a strange choking sensation at my breast, and I walked into the little drawing-room to be alone. ) i Ft AT LA.^T. m " Antony, dear," said a soft, sweet voice," you seem quite over- come.' " I shall be better directly," I said. " T^ut, dear Miss f'avr, this must be stopped. You all meant so kindly by nie, but if proceedings have begun they must not go on." " Tliey nave commenced, Antony, by my -svislios," she said in a low voice, as she took my hand. '* Antony, my dear hoy, you liave always seemed to me like a yonnpt'r brother whom it was my duty to protect, and I have tVlt (^iiite u bitter hatred agHiiist this man for the wrongs he did you." " Not wrongs," I said. " It was throuj^h him 1 came to know you and Hallett." " Yes, but he has wronged you cruelly." " Miss Carr," I said — " let me call you sister." " .\lway8," she whispered, as slie lai<l lu>r hand upon my shoulder. " This would be ruin and disgiace to Mr. 1 Uakef oni .'' " " Which he richly deserves," i<h.e said warmly. " And it would be ruin and disgrace " " Y"es," she said, for I had stopped — " ruin and di.sgrace " " To his poor cliild P " "Hetty?" " Yes : to the tender-hearted little girl whose bright face is the only sunny spot in that time of sorrow. I don't know," I .said passionately, " I may be wrong. 1 may see her now, and tlin fancy be driven iway, but I feel as if I love little Hetty Hlakeford with all my heart." There was silence in the littl^ druwinL-room, wliere all was in shadow, while in the larg?>r well-liglitfd room the others talked in a low voice, and as I glanced there once, and saw Linny Hallett gazing up in Tom Girtley's face. I woiuiered wliether Hetty Blakeford would ever look as tendei'ly in mine. It was a passing fancy, and I was Irought hack to the present by feeling Miss Carr's warm lips bru.-ih my cheek. " We will wait and see, .\utony," she said gravely. " Miss Rlakeford's feelings must be spared.'" CHAPTER LX. AT LAST. The work of two years was complete, and I stood by Hallett as he watched the trial of the machine where it was sot up at our great factory ; and though we tried hard to find weak points, we were compelled to declare that it was as near perfection as human hands could make it. 304 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. k} Hallett was very pule and quiet; hexlisplayod no excitement, no joy : and I fell rather disappointed at his apathy. " Well," said Mr. Jabez, aside to me, " if I didn't know that the poor fellow was ill, I should have said that he didn't care that .' whether the thing succeeded or not." That ! was the snap of the fingers which followed the taking of a pinch of snuflf. But he was ill. Poor fellow ! He never seemed to have recovered from the shock his system had received during his late illness ; and, though he had rallied and seemed strong and well, there had been times when he would turn ghastly white, and startle me by his looks. I mentioned it more than once to Miss Carr, who begged him to see a physician ; but he said it was nothing, and wini a smile he used to tell her that the perfection of the machine and a change would completely restore him to health. This we both believed ; and I can honestly say that I strove with all my might to inspire the workmen with the spirit in which I toiled. And now the new machine was finished. All that remained was to have it removed to Mr. Ruddle's place for a public inspec- tion of its merits. There had been something so depressing in the fate of the last machine that I strenuously advised that the trial should be made where the present one now stood, but Hallett was averse to it. " No, Antony," he said quietly ; " I am neither vindictive nor spiteful, and doubtless that man feels that he has good cause for hating me. Men of his stamp always blame others for their own failings. I am, I say, neither vindictive nor spiteful, but, feeling as I do, that he was the cause of our last breakdown, I am determined that the scene of our last failure shall also be the scene of our triumph." This silenced opposition, and the workpeople were soon at work, taking down and resetting up Hallett's masterpiece at the old place. For my part, I was regularly worn out. I had worked very hard, ana felt as if I was so deeply interested in the success that I must make it this time a foregone conclusion. Hallett's health worried me a great deal too, and in addition to this, I was in more trouble than I can very well express about my affair with Mr. Blakeford. My objections to the proceedings had come too late. As Tom Girtley said, it was quite within our province to withdraw, and leave him in possession of his ill-gotten gains, but the attack upon his character as a solicitor was one which he was bound to disprove— in other words, he could not afford to let it drop. '' And what is he doing P " I asked. ... ii i AT LAST 3tt:. " If Linny 8 father were alive, and he had injured you. Tom wouldyouseizethefirst opportunity to ruin him?" fri'endr? " ^ ^^^^^"^ ^^^^ question as solicitor to client, or betwe.n "As you like, only let's have the truth." nniT .^'u^^^^ '■"^'^^ """^ ^^ '"'^ ^*'«' *°^ a dry comical look- came into his countenance. " WeU, Tonv, old fellow " he began. bet^?eLTrrnds '•'"''' " ''"' '"^" '' '^'^^*^" '« "''^ ^*''^'^^' «« '^ - "Just as you like," he said, laughing. "Well. Tonv old fellow under the circumstances, I ^hotdd put the screw ol. JFZff! ^u^^"^ ^'"^ ^"^ ^^ ^ >scoundrel. First and foremost, 1 stiould have his con.sent to our marriage ; secondly, I shoul.' lUBpec h,s money affairs, and if they were in a satisfactory state. I should make the sneak disgonre." ^ ' chil^s^saCp^''"^'^ ""^^ "*'° ^""' ''"^ ^^""'^ ^"' character, for his " No, of course not." ■ « Tu®^'/"P^?^ i^'® y°""^ ^^'^y ^'^ no^ f-are for you P" Ihen I should fire at the old man hotter and stronger so a^ to ease my wounded feelings." wronger, so a^ ;; No, ^ou wouldn't Tom," I said; " so don't humbug." \ ou re a rum fe low, Tony," he retorted, " and 'pon mv word hL'uTirht"T'"vl^°^- "r '^ °^1 Peter liowle b^een hoUh g ind nfi ? i. '.dear boy,' as the smoky old cockolorum calls you, and old Jabez in a high state of delight too. Then Miss Ca r ha^ spent no end over It and thought she had secured you yom- rights, and now you kick us all over " ^ brute iT?'wenton^''5 ^^^-'" ' -d' " 1 ^eel aa if I should be a youl::hIe7&^^^^^^ ''^'^' "^- W is it since ;; Nine years." ^ ^ ^^ u ^^^\ ^^ y*^" ^^y *° <* "'" down to Kowford ?» " h„« Ji"" ?^ ^ " ^ '^'^ ^^"''^>^' " ^^«' I could not. I am too busy over the preparations tor the trial " " Nonsense, man. You told me only yesterday that you hud hJbm^tS";::Tt''oT;:;:7e?.''' ''"'''''"">■' "■'"'' """^^^ " '" "Oh, that settles it," he cried, jumping up and stamninff about «^e room, roaring with laughter. '' You must g^fo^a r^n Why, my dear boy, your liver's out of order, or^you/A^itry :306 THE STORY OF ANTONY CrRACE. ^i'l IV, ffi (I N . ■ (f Grace, the aniiuble, would never have made a speech like that. Look here, Tony, you have overdone it, and nothing wiU do you good but a week's walkinor tour." "Nonsense! Iinpossihle! " I cried. "Then you'll break down like the governor did once. Ever since, he says that a man must oil his wheels and slacken his bunds. Now you've got to oil your wheels and slacken your bands for a week. When shall we start ? " " I tell you it's impossible," I said testily. " I tell you that, so far from its being impossible, if you don't give in with a good g^race— that isn't meant for a pun — 111 go and frighten Miss Carr, and seo the governor, and tell him how bad you are." " Rubbish, Tom," I cried. " Why, you couldn't go and leave J^inny Hallett for a week," I added. " Sneering, too," he said, with a mock assumption of concern. " My dear Tony, this is getting serious. You are worse, far worse, than 1 thought for." " Don't talk stuff," I cried petulantly. The result of it all was, that as he was pulling the string in the direction that pleased me, I began to yield, and a proposition he made carried tne day. " Look here, Tony," he cried, as if in a fit of inspiration. " A walking-tour is the thing ! you told me all about your tramp up when you ran away from filakeford's. Let's go and tramp it all down again, over the very road." His words seemed to strike an electric chord, and I grasped eagerly at the plan. The result was, that after arranging with Haliett to keep an eye on the preparations, <»ad after winning from him a declaration that he would not think I was forsaking him at a critical time, and also after receiving endorsement and persuasion from Miss Carr, I found myself one bright summer morning at Paddington, lightly equipped for the start, and together Tom Girtley and I strode along by the side of the dirty canal. How familiar it all seemed again, as we walked on! There was the public-house where I had obtained the pot of beer for Jack's father, when I had to part from them at the end of my journey up ; and there, too, directly after, was just such a boy in charge of a couple of bony horses, one of which had a shallow tin bucket hanging from the collar-hames, as they tugged at a long rope which kept splashing the water, and drew on Londonward one of the narrow red and yellow-painted canal-boats, covered in with just such a tarpaulin as that under which Jack and I had slept. Resting on the tiller was just such another heavy, red-faced, dreamy man, staring straight before him as he sucked at a short black pipe, whilr rormuig herself into a living kit-cat picture was AT LAST. '.Ai' "A the woman who nppeured to be his wife, her lower portions beinp down tlie square liatch that led into the cabin where the tire burned, whose smoke escaped through a little funnel. I seemed to have dropped back into the boy a^ain, and half wondered that I was not tired and footsore, and longing- for u ride on one of the bony horses. And 80 it was all throuj^li our journey down. I'^very 2ock seenied familiar, and at more than one lock-house tliere were the same green apples and cakes and gla.s8ea of sticky sweets, side by side with two or three string-tied bottles ot ginger-beer. Two or three times over I found myself getting low-spirited as I dwelt upon my journey up, and tliought of what a poor, miserable little fellow I was ; but Tom was always iu the highei>t of spirits, and they proved at last to be infectious. We had pretty well reached the spot at last where I had first struck the river, when we stopped to see a canal-boat pass through the lock, the one where I had stared with wonder to see the great boat sink down some eight or nine feet to a lower level. The boat, which was a very showily painted one, evidently quite new, was deeply laden, and in one place a part of a glisten- ing black tarpaulin trailed in the water. As the boat's progress was cheeked, and tlie lock-keeper came out, the short, thick-set man who had been at the tiller shouted something, and a roun«! faced girl of about twenty, with a bright^coloured cotton hanu- kerchielpinned over her shoulders, came up the hatch, and took the maivs place, while he slouched forward to alter the tarpauliii where it trailed. He was quite a young man, and I noticed that his hair was fai>, short, and crisp about his full neck, as he bent down, pipe in mouth, while a something in the way in which he shouted to the boy in charge of the horses settled mv doubts. ■" Jack ! "T shouted. He rose up very slowly, took the pipe out of his mouth, and spat in the water ; then, gradually tuniing himself in my direction, he stared hard at me and said : "Hello!" " Don't you know me again, .lack P " He stared hard at me for some moments, took his pipe out of his mouth again, spat once more in the water, said surlily, " No I " and bent down slowly to liis work. " Don't you remember my going- up to London with you nine years ago this summer? " He assumed the perpendicular at once, stared, scowled, to<ik his pipe out of his mouth with his left hand, and then, as a great smile gradually dawned all over his brown face, he gave one h- • a smart slap with a great palm, and seemed to shake himself fv i . 20- .2 (fip h h .* < 'I I i i i 8oe THE STOKY OF ANTONY GRACE. his shoulders to his heels, which I found was his way of haviiig a hearty laugh. " Why, so it is ! " he cried, in a sort of good-humoured growl. " Missus, lash that there tiller and come aishore. Here's that there young chap." To Tom's great amusement, Jack came ashore at the lock, and was followed hy his round-faced partner, for whom he showed his affection by giving her a tremendous slap on the shoulder, to which she responded by driving her elbow into his side, and saying, " Adone, Jack. Don't be a fool ! " and ending by staring at U8 hard. " I didn't know yer agen," growled Jack. " Lor' ! ain't you growed ! " " Wliy, so have you, Jack," I exclaimed, shaking hands with him ; and then with the lady, for he joined our hands together, taking up hers and placing it in mine, as if he were performing a marriage ceremony, " Well, I s'pose I have," he said in his slow, cumbersome way. " This here's my missus. W^e was only married larst week. This here's our boat. Slie was born aboard one on 'em." " I'm glad to see you again, Jack," I said, as the recollection of our journey up recurred to me, strengthened by our meeting. " So am I," he growled. " Lor' I I do wish my old man was here, too : he often talked about you." « About me, Jack?" "Ah! 'member that pot o' beer you stood for him when you was going away — uppards— you know?" * "Yes; I remember." "So do he. lie says it was the sweetest drop he ever had in his life ; and he never goes by that 'ere house without drinking your health." " Jack often talks about you," said " my missus." " I should think I do ! " growled Jack. " I say, missus, what's in the pot ? " " Biled rabbit, inguns, and bit o' bacon," was the prompt reply. " Stop an' have a bit o' dinner with us, then. I've got plenty o' beer.' I was about to say no, as I >jlanced at Tom ; but his eyes were full of glee, and he kept nodding his head, so I said ye*. The result was that the barge was taken through the lock, and half-a-mile lower down drawn close in beneath some shady trees, where we partook of Jack's hospitality — his merry-hearted, girlish wife, when she was not staring at us, striving hard to make the dinner prepared for two enough for four. I dare say it was very plebeian taste, but Tom and I declared honestly that we thorouguly enjoyed the dinner partaken of under the trees upon the grass; and I said I never knew how good AT LAST. aoD of in lock, pliady irted, Ltd to clared under good Dutch cheese and new crusty country loaf, washed down by beer from a stone bottle, were before. We parted soon after. Jack and I exchanging rings ; for when I gave nim a plain gold gipsy ring for hia handkerchief, he insisted upon my tak:ng the home-made silver one he wore; whil" his wife was made happy with a gaily coloured silk handkerchief which I used to wear at night. The last I saw of them was Jack standing up waving his red cap over his head, and "my missus " the gaily coloured handker- chief. After that they passed on down stream, and Tom and I went our way. I could not have been a very good walker in my early days, for my companion and I soon got over the ground between the river and Rowford, even though I stopped again and again — to show where I had had my fight ; where I had hidden from Blakeford when the pony chaise went by; and, as if it had never been moved, there by the road was a heap of stones where I had slept and had my bundle stolen. It was one bright summer's evening that we entered Rowford, which seemed to have shrunk and its houses to have grown dumpy since the days when I used to go out to post letters for Mr. Blakeford. " There's his house, Tom," I said; and I felt my pulses accelerate their beat, as I saw the gates, and the wall over which I had climbed, and found myself wondermg whether the same dog was in there still. We were too tired with our long walk to take much notice, and made straight for the principal inn, where, after a hearty meal, we were glad to ^o early to bed. Tom was sleeping soundly when I woke the next mornitig, and finding it was not yet seven, I dressed and went out for a walk, to have a good look round the old place, and truth to tell, to walk by Mr. Blakeford's house, thinking 1 might perhaps see Hetty. We had made no plans. I was to come down to Rowford, and the next day but one I was due in London, for our walk had taken some time — though a few hours by rail would suffice to take us back. It was one of those delicious fresh mornings when, body and mind at rest, all nature seems beautiful, and one feels it a joy only to exist. Lwas going along the main street on the opposite side of the way, when I saw a tall slight Hfrure in deep mourning come out of Mr. Blakeford's gateway, and go on towards the end of the town. I followed with my heart beating strangely, I had not seen her face, but I seemed to feel that it was Hetty, and following her slowly right out of the town, and along the main road for r.lj THE S'lOiiV OF ANTONY GKACE. 1 If ; 3 1 !' timH till she struck up a side lane, I kopt on woiulering what hluj would be like, uiid whether she would unow me; and if she ,lia What then ? Perhaps after all it was not Hetty. It might be some friend; and as I thought this, a strange pan^ of disappointment shot tiirough me, and I seemed to have some faint dawning realization nf what Stephen Hallett's feelings must have been at many a l)itter time. Is this love P I asked myself as I walked on, drinking in th» <l«>liciou8ly sweet morning scents, and listening to the songs of tb« birds and the hum of the insects in the bright June sunshine. .^1 I could not answer the question : all I knew was that I was in an agony to see that face, to be out of my state of misery and <]()ubt ; but though a dozen times over I was on the point of ^valking on fast and then turning buck so as to meet her, I had not the courage. For quit« half-an-hour this went on, she being about a hundred yards in advance. We were now in rather a secluded lane, and I was beginning to fear that she intended to cut across the fields, md return by the lower road, when, all at once, she faced round and began to retrace her steps. I saw h^r hesitate a moment as she became aware that she had >)f'en followed, but she came straight on, and as she drew near my iloubts were set at rest. It was unmistakably Hetty, but grown sweeter looking and more beautiful, and my heart began to throb wildly as the distance between us grew short. She did not know me — that was evident ; and yet there was a look of doubt and hesitation in her face, while after a moment's wonder as to how I should address her, I saw her countenance change, and troubled .lo more about etiquette, but, carried away iiv my feelings, I exclaimed : " Hetty ! dear Hetty ! ** and clasped Iter hands in mine. t<f f:>-i' M A» CHAPTER LXI. MY MERTING WITH MY EKBMT. •. .-. .., .,,.f. N.'i^i.' «»pfT'i5? cn-.'-'- Fhesr things are a mystery. No doubt we two, parting as ws did, boy and girl, ought to have met formally as strangers, pep- haps have been re-introduced, and I ouglit to have made my approaches en regie, but all I knew then was that the bright, affectionate little girl who had been so kind to me had grown into a beautiful woman, whom I felt that I dearly loved; and as for Hetty, as she looked up in my face in a quiet, trusting way, she calmly told ii:9 that she had always felt uiat I sliottid oom« MY MEETING WITH MY ENEMY. mi back some day, and that thouf^h she hardly recognised me at first, she was not a bit surprised. Terribly prosaic and unroniantic all this, no doubt ; but nil young people are not driven mad by persecution, and do not tu' their anections up in knots and tanfrh's which can never perhaps be untied. All i know is that I remember thinking that when Adam awoke and found Eve by his side in Paradise, he could not have felt half so happy as I did then; and that, walking slowlj- back with Hetty's little hand resting upon my ani), and held in its place by one twice as large, I thought Paradise might have been a very pleasant kind of place, but that this present-day world would do for me. We said very little, much as ve wanted to say, but walked on, treading as it were upon air, till, as if in a moment, we were hack at the town, when she said with a quiver in her voiee : " I must leave you now. Papa will be waiting for me to pour out his coffeo. He will not touch it unless I do." " You are in mourning for Mrs. Hlakeford," I said, and my eves fell upon the little shabby silver brooch T had given her all those years ago. ** les, and papa has not been the same sin^e she died. He has very bad health now, and is sadly change<l. He is in some great trouble, too, but I don't know what." I did; and I walked on thoughtfully by her side till we reached the gate, where we stopped, and she laid her hand in mine. But the next moment my mind was made up, and, «lrawing her arm through mine, and trying with a look to infuse .o iie of my assurance, I walked with her into the house, and into the apparently strangely dwarfed sitting-room. " Who's that y " cried a peevish voice. " I want my coflfee, Hetty. It's very lata. Has the post come inP Who's that, I say, who's that ? " I stared in astonishment at the little withered yellow man with S'izzly hair and sunken eyes, and asked myself — Is this the Mr. lakeford who used to make me shudder and shrink with dread ? I could not believe it, as I stood there five feet ten in my stock- ings, and broad-shouldered, while he, always below the middle height, had terribly shrunk away. " Who is it, I say, Hetty ? Who have you brought home?" he cried again in a querulous voice. "It is I, Mr. Blakeford," I said — "Antony Grace; and I have come to see if we cannot make friends." He sank back in his chair, his jaw dropped, and his eyes dilated with dread ; but as I approached with extended hand, he recovered somewhat, and held out his own as he struggled to his feet. "How — how do you doP" he faltered; "I've been ill — very ill. My wife died. Hetty, my dear, quick, Mr. Grace will have .'H2 THE 6T0RV ul- ANioNV URACE. ■|ii r>i > r*' 'M breakfast with us. No, no, don't ring ; fetch a cup yourself, mj • N'iir— fetch it yourself." Hetty looked at him wonderingly, but she obeyed; and as the dnor closed upon her, lUukeford exclaimed, in quick trembling tones: " She doesn't know — she knows nothing. Don't tell her. For tjod's sake don't tell her. Don't say you nave." " I have told her nothing, Mr. Blakeford," I replied. " Don't tt'll her, then. Tiless her, I could not bear for her to know. I won't fight, Mr. Grace, I won't fight. I'm a broken man. I'll make restitution, I will indeed; but for Ood's sake don't tell my child." ** Then he is not all bad," I thought, " for he does love her, and would be ashamed if she knew that he had been such a consum- mate villain." And as I thouglit that, I recalled her brave defence of him years ago, and then wondered at the change as she entered the room. I breakfasted with them, the old man — for, though not old in years, he was as much broken as one long past seventy — watching lue eagerly, his hands trembling each time terriblv as he raised his cup, while Hetty's every action, her tender solicitude for her fathers wants, and the way in which she must have ignored every ill word that she had heard to his injury, filled me with delight. .J He must have read my every word and look, for I have no doubt I wn6 transparent enough, and then he must have read those of Hetty, simple, unconscious and sweet, for it did not seem to occur to her that any of the ordinary coquetries of the sex were needed ; and at last, when I roused myself to the fact that Tom Qirtley must be waiting breakfast, it was nearly eleven, and I rose to go. " You are not going, Mr. Grace," said Hetty's father anxiously. " Don't go yet." "I must, sir," I said, " but I will soon be back." " Soon be back ? " he said nervously. " Yes, sir. And that business of ours. That settleraent." " Yea, yes," he said, with lips quivering, " it shall all be done But don't talk about it now, not before Iietty here." " I think Hetty, Mr. Blakeford, will help the settlement most easily for us both, will you not, dear ? " I said, and I drew her to my side. ** There, Mr. Blakeford," I said, holding out my hand once more, " are we to be good friends P " He tried to answer me, but no words came, and he sank back quivering with nervous trepidation in his chair. He was better, though, in a few minutes, and when I left him he clung to my hanc^ his last vjords being : : ' ( ' MY MKKTlNi; WITH MY KNKMY. .II.': " I will make all right, I will give you no trouble now." Tom Girtley laughed at me when I rejoined him and told him where I had been. "This is a pretty way of doing business!" he exclaimed. " You play fast and loose witli your solicitor, and end by comin)^ down and compromising the case with tlie defendant. KcuIIn . Mr. Grace, this is most reprehensible, and I shall wasli my hajul.- of the whole aflFair." "Glad of it," said I, laughing. " A solicitor should alv^ay-* have clean hands." We chatted on merrily as we walked, for we had started lu yo as far as mv old home, where, as I pointed out to him the .veiin of many a happy hour, a feeling of sadness more painful than 1 had experienced for years seemed to oppress me, and it was rut until I had once more left the old home far behhid that I nm:- able to shake it ofF. When we returned to the hotel it was to find Mr. Hlakefof! waiting for as, and to the utter surprise of both, we were sot i put in possession of all that was necessary to give me that whi» 1. was my own by right, but which he saw plainly enough that hi- child would share. " I don't like to turn propliet, Tony," said my companion, " bii I should say that our friend I^lakeford is putting his affairs i-i order on account of a full belief that a summons is about to issu that he is soon to meet. Well, I congratulate you," he said, "and I don't wonder now why it was that I did not find we wer.- rivals." This was after we had spent one evening at Rlakeford's ; and in the morning, after a tender leave-taking, we were on our \\n\ back to London. My presence was needed, for the test of the machine would take place next day, and I found Hallett had been taken so ill that all prospect of his attending the public trial had been swept away. "It does not matter," he said to me quietly, when I was sitting- with him, propped up in an easy chair, oeside Mrs. Hallett. " It is better as it is, Antony, my dear boy. I shall not be there foi the miserable scamps to pelt when the poor old idol breaks down again." "Breaks down!" I cried exultingly ; "I was there last nij^jiit till after twelve, and there wiU be no tampering this time, for .. policeman is on the watch, and Mr. .lube • and Mr. Peter wer.* going to take turn and turn in the room all nip-ht, the one will. a box full of snuflf, aiid the other with a couple of ounces o! tobacco, and the longest clay pipe I could get." "'There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lit);' ' he said, looking mi me with a piteous smile upon his wa8te<i face " Antony, lad , 314 THK sTOiCY OF ANTONY (JiMCK. ill inventora do not oft on renp niiicli from the cropH they mow, but there in thr iitisfltif*!! pU'iisiirt' of htOpiii^ othfrH. If I do not proHper from my work otherw may. (»<»d bh>N8 you, lud ! I believH I have a truMty friend in you, and one who will be true to my poor m(»tlit'r lure and Linny." ** Why, my d«'ur llallett, ' I exclaimed, " what a doleful tone to take on thiH, the day of hucocsh. Come, come, come, you want a dose of good newH. I'm otf now, and the fiisteMt cab Hhall bring me back the moment the verdict is pronounced." *' ' There's many a ulip 'twixt cuy and lii>,' " lie said again softly ; and there was a strang^e and meaning smile upon his face. "Out upon you, raven!" I cried merrily. "In two hours I'll be here witli such news as shall bring the colour back in those white cheek.<i; and to-morrow you shall come down into the country with me. I shall ask for another fortnight, and you shall wander with me in the green fields, and we'll idle and rest, for when the work is done there should surely be some play." He smiled and nodded. " Yes," he said, " some rest." I liurried away at the last, leaving Linny with him, and a more easy cheerful look upon his countenance, and soon after I was at .Mr. Huddle's, to find all ready, our friends ooUected, and the invited people coming fast. " * Festina lente ' is a good motto, Grace," said old Mr. Girtley, taking me by the button. " A little more patience, and we should have had this right last time, though ot course we could not guard against the accident. Ah, Tom," he continued, "how's pjirclnnent .^ I'd rather have seen you the schemer of this machine, r ' >v tliiM t'lp winnpr of the most tangled legal case." * Rather hard that, Tony, when I have just won you five hundred a ..r and a wile, eh r* " said Tom, laughing; and then my attention was taken up in a doxen ways. There were the brothers Kowle to talk to; Mr. Grimstone to shake my hand; Mr. Uuddle to chat with about the ; access of the machine, and about Lister, concerning whom he made a significant motion, turning his hand into a drinking-vessel, and shaking his head. Then there was a hitch. Everything was declared in readiness, when it was found that the shaft tliat ran through the building was ceasing t-o revolve. It came like a black cloud over the proceedings, but it was only the stoker's neglect. Half an hour after, the steam was well up once more, and, with the room crowded, Mr. Girtley, just as on the last occasion, gave the long leathern band a twitch ; shaft was connected with shaft ; a touch from a long lever tightened the driving-wheel and its fellow portion; there was a whirring, clanking noise, the spinning of wheels, the revolving of cylinders ; ink-rollers ran round ; the great reel of paper iMgan MY MEETLNG WITU MV ENKMV .'5 1* to jifive it« fair purfnce to tlin kis« of tli« typ«'; th** .pHwi avji> increased, faster — fiist^^r — faster, and thorn' who hiid shiuiik Imik at tirst, aa if expecting an accident, ^rt>w excit(>d and dr«>w i: . while the ponderous machine, working as eiutily a^ h wtit*- '.. turned off perfected newspaper sheets at a rate that seuni*- ! astounding. There was no hesitation now; there were no doubting looKv but a hearty cheer arose, one that was taktMi up iigniii on i • staircase, and ran from room to room, till the ^irln, busy fulUiii;. down below, joined their shrill voices uu'rrily in the cry. " Success, Tony I " cried Tom, catching my bund. " And Hallett not here ! " I cried. The next minute I seized one of the printed iiowspnpers tluit came from the machine, doubled it hastily, and dHsheddowiistnirv There was a hansom cab waiting, and as i ga/e my breuthb -« order, "Great Ormond Street," the horse started, and punting; with exciten)ent, I thought I had never gone so slowly before. "I shall be within three hours, though," I said to niy^tlf. as I glanced at my watch. "That want of steam spoiled me foi- keeping my word." "Faster!" I shouted, as I thrust up the trap; "anotli*"- half-crown if you are quick ! " The horse sprang forward, and I carefully redoubled my pr» - cious paper, holding the apron of the cab-door open, my latihK*'. in my hand, and being ready to spring out as the vehick- stop])** 1 at the door — not quite though, for the doctor's brougham was in the way. No need for the latchkey, for the door was open, and, dnsliiiiL- along the hall, I sprang up the stairs, flight after flight, from landing to landing, and rushed breathlessly into the room, waving, the paper over my head. " Victory, victory 1 " I shouted. " Hur " The paper dropped from my hands, as my eyes lighted upon the group gathered round a mattress laid upon the floor, on whicli was stretched my poor friend, supported by Miriam Carr, upon whose arm his head was lying. Doctor, Linny, Mary, Revitts, all were there, watching hini in silence, while the poor stricken mother was bending forwani like some sculptured ngure to represent despair. " Hallett I Stephen 1^' I cried, " my news." My words seemed to choke me as I fell upon my kne«'s a( bis side ; but I saw that he recognised me, and tried to raise his hand, which fell back upon the mattress. Then, making a supreme effort, he slightly turned his head to gaze upon the face bending over him, till a pair of quivering lips were pressed upon his brow. There "^aa a smile upon his countenance, and he spoke, but ' ;U THE arOKY OF ANiONV ORAOK. -1') low that the whisper did not reacli our ears, and then the >inile seemed to ^row fixed and hard, and i silence that waa jiwful in its intt^nsity fell upon that group. I did not catch those words, hut she told me afterwards what they were. "At last ! Now let me sleep." Fallen when victory was won. ^^ • • »' CHAPTER LXIL MXBB CARB HAS ANOTHEIt OFFBB. w n M: ilfx f' " ANTomr,'* said Miss Carr to me one day, " you are very young yet to think of marriage." " But it is not to be yet for quite a year." " I am glad of it," she said, laying her hand on mine ; and as I took it and held it, looking up with a feeling akin to awe in her dark, far-off-looking eyes, I could not help thinking how thin it was, and how different to the soft, white hand that used to take mine years ago. "We both th:nk it will be wiser," I said, talking to her as if she were an elder sister, though of lat-e the-e had grown up in me a feeling that she looked upon me as if I were her son. " Marriage must be a happy state, Antony, when both love, and have trust the one in the other." I looked at her, feeling in pain, for T dared not speak, knowing that she must be thinking of poor Hallett : and as I looked I could not !;3lp noticing how the silver hairs were beginning to make their presence known, and how much she had changed. " You think it strange that I should talk like this, do you not P" I could not answer. " Yes, I see you do," she said, smiling. " Antony, I have had another offer of marriage." " You have ! " I exclaimed. " From whom P Who has asked you P" 1 felt almost indignant at the idea ; and my indignation becaine hot rage as she went on. " John Lister has asked me again to be his wife." * " The scoundrel ! the villain ! " I exclaimed, " Hush, Antony," she said quietly, as she laid her thin white fingers upon my lips. " He says that he has bitterly repented the past ; that he is a changed man, and he begs me not to blight the whole of his life." " You P Blight ills lifel " I oxclaimed hotly. "He has blighted .^ ;jr8f .... , -• .,-. .. . , ,:,.. ■.,..,. , , - i. ».' M1."S8 CARK iiAb A.NOiUiiK Ol'TEli. '6 Slie did not speak for a few momenta, and then she startled ni* by her words. " He is coming here to-day to ask for my answer from my lip.s. He begged that I would not write, but that I would see him, and let him learn his fate from me." " But you surely will not see him ?" I exclaimed. " I have told him that I will. He will be here, Antony, almost directly." I was for the moment stunned, and could do nothing but gaze helplessly in Miss Carr's face, for the question kept asking itself, "Will she accept him ?" and it seemed to me like au in»uU to the dead. She returned my gaze with a quiet look, full of moumfulnes.«, and as the minutes flew on, 1 felt a kind of irritation growin<i upon me, and that I should be bitterly hurt if she should be weak enough to accept .Tohn Lister. " !She will consider it a duty, perhaps," I thought ; '' and tliai she does it to save him, now that he has repented and beroii;. a better man." My ponderings were brougiit to an end by the servant bringiii;.' in a card, and I rose to go, but she laid her hand upon my arm. " Going, Antony ?" she said. " Yes,' I replied ang/ily, and I pointed to the card. " Sit down, Antony," she said, smiling; " I wish you to hr present." " No, no, I would rather not," I exclaimed. " I beg that you will stay, Antony," she said, in a tone of appeal that I could not have disobeyed, and I petulantly threw myself back in a chair, as the door opened, and John Lister wa8 announced. He came forward eagerly, with extended hands, as Miss Carr rose but changed colour and bowed stitfly as he saw me. Kecovering himself, however, he took Miss Carr's extendt'(l hand, raised it to his lips, and tlien drew back as if wailing for me to go. " I felt, ' he said, to put an end to our awkward silence, " thai you would grant me this private interview, Miriam." He emphasized the word "private," and 1 once more lialf losc. for nay position was most painful, and the hot anger and iudigna - tion in my breast more than 1 could bear. " Sit still, Antony," said Miss Carr quietly ; " Mr. Lister lia" nothing to say to me that you do not already know." "But you will grant me a private interview, Miriam," said Lister appealingly. " Mr. Lister," said Miss Carr, after pointing to a chair, whieli her visitor refused to take, remaining standing, as if resenting my ';1S Th£ sTurv Oh A^^IONV (jilACK If f^l . i^' f 5 J'. jiiHsehce, " you wrote and begged me to Bee vou, to let vou spi'iik ii. stead of writing. I have granted that which you wislied." "Yes," he said bitterly, "but I did not ask for an interview 111 presence of a third party, and that third person Mr. Antony ! I race." There was something so petty in his emphasis of the title oi (*()urtesy Mr., that 1 once more rose. " Miss Carr," I said, "I am sure it will be more pleasant for all. l^et me beg of you to excuse me now," and as I spoke I moved to- wards the door. " I wish you to stay," she said quietly ; and as I resumed my seat and angrily took up a book, " Mr. Lister, Antony Grace is my very dear friend and adviser. Will you kindly say what you wish in his presence ? " "In his presence H" exclaimed Lister, with the colour coming into his cheeks. " In his presence," replied Miss Carr. "Am I to understand, Miriam," he said imploringly, "that you i Intend to go by Mr. Grace's advice ? " " No, Mr. Lister; I shall answer you from the promptings of my own heart." " Then for heaven's sake, Miriam," he cried passionately, " be reasonable with me. Think of the years of torture, misery, pro- bation, and atonement through which I have passed. Come into the next room, I implore you, if Mr. Grace has not the good feel- ing and gentlemanly tact to go." He began his speech well, but it seemed as if, for the life of him, he could not refrain from being petty, and he finished by Itcing contemptible in his spite agaiiii^r one whom he evidently looked upon as being the cause of his disappointment. " I wish for Antony Grace to stay," said Miss Carr quietly ; " Mr. Lister, you have resumed your addresses to me, and hav^ nsked me by letter to forgive you, and let you plead your caus*^ and more, you tell me that you bitterly repent the past." " Miriam," he cried, " why do you humiliate me before this man?" " John Lister," she continued, " I am but repeating your words, and it is no humiliation for one who repents of the wrong and cruelty of his ways to make open confession, either by his own lips or by the lips of others. You do repent the ill you did to me, and to him who is dead ? " " Oh yes, yes ! " he ci-ied passionately ; " believe me, dear Miriam, that I do. Hut I cannot plead my cause now before a third party." " The third party, as you term him, John Lister, has been and is to me as a dear brother ; but I grant that it would be cruel to f'xpect you to speak as wt» are, I will, than, be your counsellor." MISS CARK HAS ANOTHER OFFER. 319 t( you this dear sfore a m and uel to Uor." *• No," liH exclaimed, liolding imt his hands imploringly, are my judge." " lieaven is your judge," she said solerauly ; and as she spokt' I saw a change come over John Lister's face. It was a mingling of awe, disappointment, and anger, for he read his sentence in her tones — " Heaven is your judge," she repeated, " but 1 will not keep you in suspense." He joined his hands as he turned his back to me, but I could not help seeing his imploring act in the glass. "John Lister, I have pleaded your cause ever since 1 received your first letter tliree months ago. Vou have asked my forgive- ness for the past." " Yes, yes," he whispered, gazing at her as if hanging on her lips for his life. "And I forgive you — sincerely forgive you— as I pray Heaven to forgive the trespasses I have committed." "God bless you!" he whispered; " Miriam, you are an angel of goodness." " Vou ask me now to resume our old relations; to receive you as of old — in other words, John Lister, to become your wife." " Yes, yes," he whispered hoarsely, as he bent before her, and in his eagerness now, he seemed to forget my presence, for he bent down upon one knee and took and kissed the hem of her dress. " Miriam, I have been a coward and a villain to you, but I repent — indeed I repent. For years I have been seeking to make atonement. Have mercy on me and save me, for it is in your power to make me a better man." She stood there, gazing sadly down upon him; and if ever woman wore a saint-like expression on this earth, it was Miriam (.'arr as she stood before me then. .She, too, seemed to ignore my presence, and her voice was very sweet and low as she leplied: "Take my forgiveness, John Lister, and with it my prayers shall be joined to yours that yours may be a better and a happier life." . "And you will grant my prayer, Miriam? You will be my wife? " he whispered, as I sat back tljove with an intense feeling of misery, almost jealousy, coming over me. I felt a terrible sense of dread, too, for I could not believe in the sincerity of John Lister's repentance, and in imagination I saw the woman whom T loved and reverenced torn down fron' the pedestal whereon she stood in my aeart, to become ordinary, weak, and poor. " You ask me to forget the past and to be your wife, John Lister," she said, and the tones of her sweet low voice thrilled me as she spoke, "I have heai*d you patiently, and I tell you now that had you been true to me, I would have been your patient, loving, faithful wife unto the end. I would have crushed down the itrange yearnings that sought to grow within my heart, for I told :VJ0 THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE. m. ;> !^; it «'* •V' ■ ';: * ;,|ii myself that you loved me dearly, and that I would love you in H'tura." "Yes, yes," he whispered, cowering lower before her; "you were all that is good and true, and f was base ; but, Miriam, I iiave repented so bitterly of my sin." " When I found that you did not love me, John Lister, but thdt it was only a passing fancy fed by the thought of my wealth — — " " Oh, no, no, no ! 1 was not mercenary," oe criod. .,^,„, " Is your repentance no more sincere than that ? ". she ^d Nadly ; " I know but too well, John Lifter, that you loved my fortune better than you. loved me." " Oh, Miriam !" he exclaimed appealifigly. . . ... "Hear my answer!" she said, speaking as if she bad^jiot caught his last words. " Yes," he cried, striving to catch her hand, but without success. " It is life or death to me. I cannot live without your love." " John Lister," she said, and every tone of Ver sweet pure voice seemed to ring through the stillness of that room as I realized more and more the treasure he had cast away. "You are a young man yet, and you may live to learn what the love of a woman really is. Once given, it is beyond recall. The tender plant I would have given, you crushed beneath your heel. ' That l>ve, as it sprang up again, I gave to Stephen Hallett, who holds it still." He started from her with a look of awe upon his face, as she crossed her hands upon her breast and stooa looking upward: " For he is not dead, but sleeping ; and I — I am waiting for the t ime when I may join him, where the weary are at rest. She ceased speaking, and John Lister slowly rose from his Ivnee, white with disappointment and rage, for he had anticipated an easy conquest. He looked at her, as she was standing with her eyes closed, and a rapt expression of patient sorrow upon her beautiful face. Then, turning to me with a furiously vindictive look upon his face, he clenched his fists. " This is your doing," he hissed ; " but my day will come, Antony Grace, and the;^- we'll see." He rushed from the room, choking with impotent fury, and nearly running against Hetty, who was turning in. I was frightened, for there was a strange look in Miriam Cart's face, and I caught her hands in mine. " Send for help, Hetty," I cried excitedly ; " she is ill." "No, no," Miss Carr answered, unclosing her eyes; "I often . eel like that. Hetty, dear, help me to my room ; I shall be better \ here." r hastened to hold the door open as Miriam Carr went towards [d love you in >re her; "you but, Miriam, I Lister, but tbdt »y wealth—" -4_gp . It ? ". flh© a^ you loved my she bad Aot I but without live without ^eet pure voice as I realized "You are a the love of a The tender ir heel. ' That Btt, who holds is face, as she cin^ upward: aitine for the rest.'^ rose from his id anticipat«d es closed, and il face. Then, 1 his face, he Y will come, 3nt fury, and Vliriam Carr's BiU." res; "I often hall be better >7eot toward* '^ MISS CARR HAS ANOTHER OFI-ER. 321 it, leaning oa Hetty's arm, and as they reached me Mius Carr turned, placed her arms round my neck, and kissed me tenderlv as a mother might her son. Then, as I stood there gazing through A veil of tears at which I felt no shame, the words that I had heard her utter P«emed to weigh me down with a burden of sorrow that seemed gi«ater than I could bear. I felt ai if a dark doud was wming down upon my life . and that dark cloud came, for before a ▼eai' had passed away, Hetty and I-by her father's dying wish, you<ig wife and young husband-^stood together look- ing down upon the newly planted flowers close beside poor Hallett's grave. *^ It was soft and greea, but the flowera and turf looked fresh, aj the ample white cross looked new with its deeply cut letters ctote, but dun to our eyes as we read the two woii--- ' "MlBLaMOABB." nusim. '^