Chapter Fifty Five.The Day of Triumph.The 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’s 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 any body, Grace,” he 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 his mother’s room, holding her hands.“I shall come back, dear,” he said, kissing her tenderly, “telling you of my success. No, no, don’t shake your head. 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 success. Linny and I are going to throw old shoes after you. Mind! a champagne supper if you succeed. Tony and I will find the champagne. Hallo! here’s Papa Rowle.”There was no mistaking that step, without the sound of the old man taking snuff, and he entered directly after; got up in grand style, and with a flower in his button-hole.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 his hands.“It’s a winner, Hallett—a winner!” he exclaimed. “Come along, Girtley, you’ll make one. We want some big boys to cry ‘Hooray!’”“I’ll come, then,” said Tom merrily; and directly after we went off, trying to look delighted, but all feeling exceedingly nervous and strange.Hallett and Girtley went on in front, and Mr Jabez took my arm, holding me a little back.“I’m glad Girtley’s coming, Grace,” he said; “he’s a big, strong fellow, and we may want him.”“Why?” I said excitedly.“I don’t know for certain, my boy, but I’m afraid there’s mischief brewing. I can’t swear to it, but I believe that devil, John Lister, has been stirring up the scoundreldom of the trade, with stuff about the machine taking the bread out of their mouths, and if the trial passes off without a hitch, I shall be surprised.”“Mr Ruddle hinted something of the kind, last night,” I said.“Yes, but don’t let Hallett know, poor fellow! He’s 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?” 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?”“No,” I replied; “she asked me to let her know the time, but she said she could not come.”“Humph! I should have liked her to see it,” he said. “But 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 hanging about the rival office, bearing Lister’s name, at the end of the street, as we went up to the great building, and as I passed the timekeeper’s box I could not help thinking of the day when, a shivering, 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 pugnacious and important as ever, was Mr Grimstone, 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 used to honour us with your assistance.”“Yes, Mr Grimstone,” 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-ha! 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. They went off when I came, but I’ve put the new watchman on.”“Confound it all, Grimstone! You’ve never put a stranger there?” exclaimed Mr Ruddle furiously.“But I have, sir,” said the overseer importantly. “Here he is, sir. Bramah lock,” and he held out a bright new key.“Oh, I see,” said Mr Ruddle, laughing. “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 quite an hour to the time appointed, and the interval was employed in superintending the alteration of a few bolts and nuts, which Mr Girtley wanted tightened, and as I watched the great engineer, a man whose name was now an authority throughout Europe, and who was constantly refusing contracts, pull off his coat, take a spanner, and help his men, I began to realise that it was his personal attention to small matters and his watchful supervision that had raised him to his present position.“Nice hands!” he said, laughing, as he held them out all over blacklead and oil. “Wise lad, you were, Tom, to leave it, and take to your parchment and pounce.”There was a covert sneer in his words, which Tom seemed to take, for he said quickly:“Perhaps, father, I may help you as much with my brain as I used to help you with my hands.”“Yes, yes, of course, my boy, and we must have lawyers. Well, Grace, how do you feel about it now?”“I think I’d ease that nut a little, sir,” I said, pointing to one part of the machine.“Why?” he said sharply.“I fancy that there will be so much stress upon that wheel that it will be better to give it as much freedom as we can, and, perhaps I am wrong, sir, but it strikes me—” I glanced at Hallett, and felt the blood flush to my face, for I felt that what I 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 you?” 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 that the slight structure of this portion will tell against the machine doing good work, and it may result in its breaking 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 efficiency,” I said, “but one of detail, of substantiality and durability. At first sight 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 should get a firm, solid regularity in the working, a fourth of the vibration, and be able to dispense with this awkward fly-wheel. My dear Hallett,” I exclaimed hurriedly, as I saw how his pallor had increased, “pray forgive me. I was quite led away by my thoughts. These are but suggestions. I daresay I 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 worth gold. Tom, I’d have given ten thousand pounds to have heard you speak like that.”“But then, 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 heard their words, for my anxiety about Hallett. I seemed to have been trampling upon his hopes, and as if I had been wanting in forethought after having the superintendence of the manufacture for so long.“I ought to have suggested these alterations before,” I faltered.“How could you?” said Mr Girtley gruffly. “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 got 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 undoubtedly a failing spot, and where, if driven at high speed, the machine would break down. I have had no training as an engineer, and have had to work blindfold, and in the midst of difficulties.”“Mr Hallett,” said the great engineer, “I have had training as an engineer—a long and arduous training—and I tell you that if you had had twice as much experience as I, you would not have succeeded with your contrivance the very first time. I threw myself into this affair as soon as I saw it, for I felt that it was 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 must 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 shall be forthcoming, 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?” he said, smiling. “You foolish fellow, Antony, I am not a spoilt child, that I cannot bear to listen to my mistakes.”Our conversation was broken off here; for just then a couple of gentlemen arrived, and these were followed by others, till the room was quite full. For invitations had been sent out to some of the principal printers and newspaper proprietors to come and see the testing of the new machine.Hallett, as the patentee, had to throw off his reserve, and come, as it were, out of his shell to answer questions, and point out the various peculiarities and advantages of his machine, all of which 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, plaything. Such a machine cannot possibly answer. The whole principle is wrong, and it must break own.”I was so annoyed at this bitter judgment, delivered by one who had not even a superficial knowledge of its properties, that I said quickly, and foolishly, I grant:“That is what brainless people said of the steam-engine.”“O!” he said sharply, “is it, boy? 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 Ruddle?”“Now,” said Hallett quietly, as he silenced me with a look, just as, like the foolish enthusiastic boy I was, some hot passionate retort was about to escape my lips.Mr Girtley 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 band that was to connect it with our machine, and I noticed that everyone but Hallett and myself drew back.I was so angry and excited that if I had known that the whole machine was about to fly to pieces, I don’t think I should have stirred. Then, biting my lips, as I heard a derisive laugh from the Solon who had annoyed me, I saw Mr Girtley give the band that peculiar twitch born of long custom, when an undulation ran up the stout leather, it fitted itself, as it were, over both wheels; there was a rapid whirring noise, and the next instant the great heavy mass of machinery seemed as it were to breathe as it throbbed and panted, and its great cylinders revolved.There was the glistening of the polished iron and brass, the twinkling of the well-oiled portions, the huge roll of paper began to turn, and I saw its virgin whiteness stamped directly after with thousands of lines of language. My doubts of success died away, and a hearty cheer broke forth from the assembled party; and then, as I felt a fervent wish that Miss Carr had been present to see our triumph, there was a horrible grinding, sickening crash; broken wheels flew here and there; bar and crank were bent in horrible distortion; there was an instantaneous stoppage of everything but the great fly-wheel, which, as if in derision, went spinning on, and there lay poor Hallett stunned and bleeding upon the floor.“Foul play—foul play!” roared Mr Girtley, in a voice of thunder, in the midst of the ominous silence. “I was too late to stop the machine. Some scoundrel had placed a great pin underneath, and I saw it fall. Here, look! Here!” he roared, as he stamped with rage; and he pointed to a round bent bar of iron, such 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 Ruddle, this is some of your men’s work, and, blast them! they deserve to be hanged.”
The 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’s 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 any body, Grace,” he 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 his mother’s room, holding her hands.
“I shall come back, dear,” he said, kissing her tenderly, “telling you of my success. No, no, don’t shake your head. 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 success. Linny and I are going to throw old shoes after you. Mind! a champagne supper if you succeed. Tony and I will find the champagne. Hallo! here’s Papa Rowle.”
There was no mistaking that step, without the sound of the old man taking snuff, and he entered directly after; got up in grand style, and with a flower in his button-hole.
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 his hands.
“It’s a winner, Hallett—a winner!” he exclaimed. “Come along, Girtley, you’ll make one. We want some big boys to cry ‘Hooray!’”
“I’ll come, then,” said Tom merrily; and directly after we went off, trying to look delighted, but all feeling exceedingly nervous and strange.
Hallett and Girtley went on in front, and Mr Jabez took my arm, holding me a little back.
“I’m glad Girtley’s coming, Grace,” he said; “he’s a big, strong fellow, and we may want him.”
“Why?” I said excitedly.
“I don’t know for certain, my boy, but I’m afraid there’s mischief brewing. I can’t swear to it, but I believe that devil, John Lister, has been stirring up the scoundreldom of the trade, with stuff about the machine taking the bread out of their mouths, and if the trial passes off without a hitch, I shall be surprised.”
“Mr Ruddle hinted something of the kind, last night,” I said.
“Yes, but don’t let Hallett know, poor fellow! He’s 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?” 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?”
“No,” I replied; “she asked me to let her know the time, but she said she could not come.”
“Humph! I should have liked her to see it,” he said. “But 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 hanging about the rival office, bearing Lister’s name, at the end of the street, as we went up to the great building, and as I passed the timekeeper’s box I could not help thinking of the day when, a shivering, 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 pugnacious and important as ever, was Mr Grimstone, 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 used to honour us with your assistance.”
“Yes, Mr Grimstone,” 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-ha! 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. They went off when I came, but I’ve put the new watchman on.”
“Confound it all, Grimstone! You’ve never put a stranger there?” exclaimed Mr Ruddle furiously.
“But I have, sir,” said the overseer importantly. “Here he is, sir. Bramah lock,” and he held out a bright new key.
“Oh, I see,” said Mr Ruddle, laughing. “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 quite an hour to the time appointed, and the interval was employed in superintending the alteration of a few bolts and nuts, which Mr Girtley wanted tightened, and as I watched the great engineer, a man whose name was now an authority throughout Europe, and who was constantly refusing contracts, pull off his coat, take a spanner, and help his men, I began to realise that it was his personal attention to small matters and his watchful supervision that had raised him to his present position.
“Nice hands!” he said, laughing, as he held them out all over blacklead and oil. “Wise lad, you were, Tom, to leave it, and take to your parchment and pounce.”
There was a covert sneer in his words, which Tom seemed to take, for he said quickly:
“Perhaps, father, I may help you as much with my brain as I used to help you with my hands.”
“Yes, yes, of course, my boy, and we must have lawyers. Well, Grace, how do you feel about it now?”
“I think I’d ease that nut a little, sir,” I said, pointing to one part of the machine.
“Why?” he said sharply.
“I fancy that there will be so much stress upon that wheel that it will be better to give it as much freedom as we can, and, perhaps I am wrong, sir, but it strikes me—” I glanced at Hallett, and felt the blood flush to my face, for I felt that what I 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 you?” 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 that the slight structure of this portion will tell against the machine doing good work, and it may result in its breaking 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 efficiency,” I said, “but one of detail, of substantiality and durability. At first sight 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 should get a firm, solid regularity in the working, a fourth of the vibration, and be able to dispense with this awkward fly-wheel. My dear Hallett,” I exclaimed hurriedly, as I saw how his pallor had increased, “pray forgive me. I was quite led away by my thoughts. These are but suggestions. I daresay I 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 worth gold. Tom, I’d have given ten thousand pounds to have heard you speak like that.”
“But then, 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 heard their words, for my anxiety about Hallett. I seemed to have been trampling upon his hopes, and as if I had been wanting in forethought after having the superintendence of the manufacture for so long.
“I ought to have suggested these alterations before,” I faltered.
“How could you?” said Mr Girtley gruffly. “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 got 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 undoubtedly a failing spot, and where, if driven at high speed, the machine would break down. I have had no training as an engineer, and have had to work blindfold, and in the midst of difficulties.”
“Mr Hallett,” said the great engineer, “I have had training as an engineer—a long and arduous training—and I tell you that if you had had twice as much experience as I, you would not have succeeded with your contrivance the very first time. I threw myself into this affair as soon as I saw it, for I felt that it was 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 must 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 shall be forthcoming, 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?” he said, smiling. “You foolish fellow, Antony, I am not a spoilt child, that I cannot bear to listen to my mistakes.”
Our conversation was broken off here; for just then a couple of gentlemen arrived, and these were followed by others, till the room was quite full. For invitations had been sent out to some of the principal printers and newspaper proprietors to come and see the testing of the new machine.
Hallett, as the patentee, had to throw off his reserve, and come, as it were, out of his shell to answer questions, and point out the various peculiarities and advantages of his machine, all of which 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, plaything. Such a machine cannot possibly answer. The whole principle is wrong, and it must break own.”
I was so annoyed at this bitter judgment, delivered by one who had not even a superficial knowledge of its properties, that I said quickly, and foolishly, I grant:
“That is what brainless people said of the steam-engine.”
“O!” he said sharply, “is it, boy? 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 Ruddle?”
“Now,” said Hallett quietly, as he silenced me with a look, just as, like the foolish enthusiastic boy I was, some hot passionate retort was about to escape my lips.
Mr Girtley 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 band that was to connect it with our machine, and I noticed that everyone but Hallett and myself drew back.
I was so angry and excited that if I had known that the whole machine was about to fly to pieces, I don’t think I should have stirred. Then, biting my lips, as I heard a derisive laugh from the Solon who had annoyed me, I saw Mr Girtley give the band that peculiar twitch born of long custom, when an undulation ran up the stout leather, it fitted itself, as it were, over both wheels; there was a rapid whirring noise, and the next instant the great heavy mass of machinery seemed as it were to breathe as it throbbed and panted, and its great cylinders revolved.
There was the glistening of the polished iron and brass, the twinkling of the well-oiled portions, the huge roll of paper began to turn, and I saw its virgin whiteness stamped directly after with thousands of lines of language. My doubts of success died away, and a hearty cheer broke forth from the assembled party; and then, as I felt a fervent wish that Miss Carr had been present to see our triumph, there was a horrible grinding, sickening crash; broken wheels flew here and there; bar and crank were bent in horrible distortion; there was an instantaneous stoppage of everything but the great fly-wheel, which, as if in derision, went spinning on, and there lay poor Hallett stunned and bleeding upon the floor.
“Foul play—foul play!” roared Mr Girtley, in a voice of thunder, in the midst of the ominous silence. “I was too late to stop the machine. Some scoundrel had placed a great pin underneath, and I saw it fall. Here, look! Here!” he roared, as he stamped with rage; and he pointed to a round bent bar of iron, such 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 Ruddle, this is some of your men’s work, and, blast them! they deserve to be hanged.”
Chapter Fifty Six.John Lister’s Triumph.As Mr Girtley roared those words a sudden thought flashed through my mind, and I ran to the window, threw it open, and, as I did so, there beneath me, reaching down to the low roof of a building below, was a ladder, showing plainly enough the road by which the enemy had crept in.From where I stood I looked out upon the backs of a score of buildings; printing-offices, warehouses, and the like, and at the window of one of these buildings I saw a couple of men, one of whom I felt certain was some one I had seen before, but where, I could not tell.I was back and beside poor Hallett directly, giving both Mr Girtley and Tom a look which sent them to the window, to see 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?” cried first one and then another.“Looks like a judgment on him,” said the heavy, broad-faced man with whom I had had my short, verbal encounter.“Why?” 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 off 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, that he hurried out of the place, just as Hallett sat 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 sadly; 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 say more now.”“One word, Mr Hallett,” said the great engineer. “Do you know that this is all through malice?”“Malice? No.”“Some scoundrel has been here and thrust in this bar of iron. Gentlemen,” he said, looking round, “this is an unfortunate affair; but I speak to you as leading members of the printing business, and I tell you that Mr Hallett’s invention here means success, and a revolution in the trade,—This is 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 months are past 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 Hallett.“Thank you,” said 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, Hallett,” I cried.“No, no: I shall be all right,” he said, with a sad smile. “I’ll take a cab at the corner on the strength of my success. Come to me after you leave.”“I would rather go with you,” I said.“No, no, I want you to represent me here,” he whispered. “Stay, Antony; it will seem less as if I deserted the ruin like a rat, and I am not man enough to command myself now.”“But 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 burst of angry remarks followed his departure.“Ruddle,” said one grey-haired old gentleman, “I think, for your credit’s sake, you ought to have in a detective to try and trace out the offender.”“I mean to,” said Mr Ruddle firmly, and he glanced at Grimstone, 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! what’s wrong?”A burst of yells and hooting arose from the street below, and with one consent we hurried to the windows, to see poor Hallett standing at 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 the poor man of his bread?”—“Who tries to stifle work?” and a babel of similar utterances, were pelting the poor fellow with filth, waste-paper full of printing-ink, mud, and indescribable refuse, evidently prepared for the occasion.Heading the party, and the most demonstrative of all, was a fat ruffian, in inky apron and shirt-sleeves, whom I recognised as what should have been the manhood of my old enemy, Jem Smith, while in the same glance I saw, standing aloof upon a doorstep, a spectator of the degrading scene, no less a person than John Lister, fashionably dressed, and in strange contrast to the pallid, mud-bespattered man who stood there panting and too weak to repel assault.What I have said here was seen in a moment, as I cried out, “Tom Girtley, quick!” rushed to the door, and down the stairs.It took me very little time to reach the street, but it was long enough to bring my blood to fever-heat, as, closely followed by Tom, I rushed past John Lister, and fought my way through the yelling mob of ruffianly men and boys.Before I could reach Hallett, though, I caught sight of a carriage farther up the street, and just then the noise and yelling ceased as if by magic, while my efforts to reach Hallett’s side became 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 Miriam Carr, her veil thrown back, her handsome face white, and her large eyes flashing as she threw herself before Hallett.“Cowards! wretches!” I heard her cry; and then, “Oh, help I help!”For as, regardless of his state, she caught at Hallett, he reeled and seemed about to fall!Then I was at his side.“Don’t touch me!” he gasped, recovering himself and recoiling from the vision that seemed to have come between him and his persecutors. “Miss Carr, for heaven’s sake!—away from here!”For answer she caught his hand in hers, and drew his befouled 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.”I took Hallett’s other arm, and as we stepped forward, 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 tremendous blow right in the teeth, delivered by Tom Girtley.Then there was an interlude, for some one else forced his way to the front.“Miss Carr! great heavens! what is all this?” he cried. “Give me your hand. This is no place for you. What does this outrage mean? Quick! let me help you. This is horrible.”“Stand back, sir!”“You are excited,” he cried. “You don’t know me. I see now; there is your carriage. Stand away, you ruffians. How thankful I am that I was near! Take this man away. Is he drunk?”As he spoke, 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!” she cried in a low, strange voice; and as he tried to draw her away, she sharply thrust him from her.The crowd uttered a cry of excitement 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 Girtley struck at him fiercely and kept him off, while in the midst of the noise, pushing, and hustling of the crowd, a confusion that seemed to me now as unreal as some dream, we got Hallett along towards the carriage, he, poor fellow, seeming 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 coachman now saw that his mistress seemed to be in need of help, and he shortened the distance by forcing his horses onward through the gathering crowd.But the danger was past, for those who now thronged out from the buildings on either side were workpeople attracted by the noise, and they rapidly outnumbered John Lister’s gang of scoundrels, got together by his lieutenant, Jem Smith, for the mortification of the man he hated, while his triumph had been that the woman they loved had come to his rival’s help, glorified him, as it were, by her presence, and rained down scorn and contempt upon his own wretched head.As I said 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 Girtley, who had mounted to the driver’s side.“No, no,” said Hallett, faintly, for her words seemed to bring him to. “For pity’s sake. To my own home. Why have you done this?”She did not speak, but I saw her take his hand, and her eyes fix themselves, as it were, upon his, while a great sob laboured from her breast.“Mr Grace,” faltered Miss Carr’s sister, “this is very dreadful;” and I saw her frightened eyes wander from the mud-besmeared object opposite her to her sister’s injured attire, and the sullied linings of the carriage.“Antony,” said Miss Carr then, “do what is for the best.”For answer, I lowered the window again and uttered to Tom Girtley the one word, “Home.”Fortunately, Revitts was on night duty, and ready to come as 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 the effects of the blow.I was rather surprised to find the carriage gone when I descended, but my suspense was of short duration, for it soon came back with a neighbouring doctor, whom Miss Carr had fetched.Mary was at hand to show him up, while I ran down to the carriage-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 home.
As Mr Girtley roared those words a sudden thought flashed through my mind, and I ran to the window, threw it open, and, as I did so, there beneath me, reaching down to the low roof of a building below, was a ladder, showing plainly enough the road by which the enemy had crept in.
From where I stood I looked out upon the backs of a score of buildings; printing-offices, warehouses, and the like, and at the window of one of these buildings I saw a couple of men, one of whom I felt certain was some one I had seen before, but where, I could not tell.
I was back and beside poor Hallett directly, giving both Mr Girtley and Tom a look which sent them to the window, to see 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?” cried first one and then another.
“Looks like a judgment on him,” said the heavy, broad-faced man with whom I had had my short, verbal encounter.
“Why?” 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 off 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, that he hurried out of the place, just as Hallett sat 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 sadly; 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 say more now.”
“One word, Mr Hallett,” said the great engineer. “Do you know that this is all through malice?”
“Malice? No.”
“Some scoundrel has been here and thrust in this bar of iron. Gentlemen,” he said, looking round, “this is an unfortunate affair; but I speak to you as leading members of the printing business, and I tell you that Mr Hallett’s invention here means success, and a revolution in the trade,—This is 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 months are past 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 Hallett.
“Thank you,” said 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, Hallett,” I cried.
“No, no: I shall be all right,” he said, with a sad smile. “I’ll take a cab at the corner on the strength of my success. Come to me after you leave.”
“I would rather go with you,” I said.
“No, no, I want you to represent me here,” he whispered. “Stay, Antony; it will seem less as if I deserted the ruin like a rat, and I am not man enough to command myself now.”
“But 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 burst of angry remarks followed his departure.
“Ruddle,” said one grey-haired old gentleman, “I think, for your credit’s sake, you ought to have in a detective to try and trace out the offender.”
“I mean to,” said Mr Ruddle firmly, and he glanced at Grimstone, 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! what’s wrong?”
A burst of yells and hooting arose from the street below, and with one consent we hurried to the windows, to see poor Hallett standing at 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 the poor man of his bread?”—“Who tries to stifle work?” and a babel of similar utterances, were pelting the poor fellow with filth, waste-paper full of printing-ink, mud, and indescribable refuse, evidently prepared for the occasion.
Heading the party, and the most demonstrative of all, was a fat ruffian, in inky apron and shirt-sleeves, whom I recognised as what should have been the manhood of my old enemy, Jem Smith, while in the same glance I saw, standing aloof upon a doorstep, a spectator of the degrading scene, no less a person than John Lister, fashionably dressed, and in strange contrast to the pallid, mud-bespattered man who stood there panting and too weak to repel assault.
What I have said here was seen in a moment, as I cried out, “Tom Girtley, quick!” rushed to the door, and down the stairs.
It took me very little time to reach the street, but it was long enough to bring my blood to fever-heat, as, closely followed by Tom, I rushed past John Lister, and fought my way through the yelling mob of ruffianly men and boys.
Before I could reach Hallett, though, I caught sight of a carriage farther up the street, and just then the noise and yelling ceased as if by magic, while my efforts to reach Hallett’s side became 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 Miriam Carr, her veil thrown back, her handsome face white, and her large eyes flashing as she threw herself before Hallett.
“Cowards! wretches!” I heard her cry; and then, “Oh, help I help!”
For as, regardless of his state, she caught at Hallett, he reeled and seemed about to fall!
Then I was at his side.
“Don’t touch me!” he gasped, recovering himself and recoiling from the vision that seemed to have come between him and his persecutors. “Miss Carr, for heaven’s sake!—away from here!”
For answer she caught his hand in hers, and drew his befouled 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.”
I took Hallett’s other arm, and as we stepped forward, 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 tremendous blow right in the teeth, delivered by Tom Girtley.
Then there was an interlude, for some one else forced his way to the front.
“Miss Carr! great heavens! what is all this?” he cried. “Give me your hand. This is no place for you. What does this outrage mean? Quick! let me help you. This is horrible.”
“Stand back, sir!”
“You are excited,” he cried. “You don’t know me. I see now; there is your carriage. Stand away, you ruffians. How thankful I am that I was near! Take this man away. Is he drunk?”
As he spoke, 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!” she cried in a low, strange voice; and as he tried to draw her away, she sharply thrust him from her.
The crowd uttered a cry of excitement 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 Girtley struck at him fiercely and kept him off, while in the midst of the noise, pushing, and hustling of the crowd, a confusion that seemed to me now as unreal as some dream, we got Hallett along towards the carriage, he, poor fellow, seeming 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 coachman now saw that his mistress seemed to be in need of help, and he shortened the distance by forcing his horses onward through the gathering crowd.
But the danger was past, for those who now thronged out from the buildings on either side were workpeople attracted by the noise, and they rapidly outnumbered John Lister’s gang of scoundrels, got together by his lieutenant, Jem Smith, for the mortification of the man he hated, while his triumph had been that the woman they loved had come to his rival’s help, glorified him, as it were, by her presence, and rained down scorn and contempt upon his own wretched head.
As I said 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 Girtley, who had mounted to the driver’s side.
“No, no,” said Hallett, faintly, for her words seemed to bring him to. “For pity’s sake. To my own home. Why have you done this?”
She did not speak, but I saw her take his hand, and her eyes fix themselves, as it were, upon his, while a great sob laboured from her breast.
“Mr Grace,” faltered Miss Carr’s sister, “this is very dreadful;” and I saw her frightened eyes wander from the mud-besmeared object opposite her to her sister’s injured attire, and the sullied linings of the carriage.
“Antony,” said Miss Carr then, “do what is for the best.”
For answer, I lowered the window again and uttered to Tom Girtley the one word, “Home.”
Fortunately, Revitts was on night duty, and ready to come as 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 the effects of the blow.
I was rather surprised to find the carriage gone when I descended, but my suspense was of short duration, for it soon came back with a neighbouring doctor, whom Miss Carr had fetched.
Mary was at hand to show him up, while I ran down to the carriage-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 home.
Chapter Fifty Seven.I Find I Have a Temper.I went to Miss Carr’s nearly every evening now, to report progress; for her instructions to me, after a consultation between Mr Jabez, Mr Ruddle, Mr Girtley, and myself, were that neither expense 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 the mechanism would have failed; for besides the part I named, we found several weak points in the construction—faults that only a superhuman intelligence could have guarded against. The malignant act had only hastened the catastrophe.It was a cruel trick, and though we could not bring it home, we had not a doubt that the dastardly act was committed by Jem Smith, who was the instrument of John Lister. A little examination showed how easily the back premises could be entered by anyone 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 the head, and day after day I had very bad news to convey to Miss Carr. The poor fellow seemed to have broken down utterly, and kept his bed. He used to try to appear cheerful; but it was evident that he took the matter bitterly to heart, and at times gave up all hope of ever perfecting the machine.It was pitiful to see his remorseful looks when Mr Jabez came to see him of an evening; Mr Peter, who always accompanied his brother, stopping in my room to smoke a long pipe I kept on purpose for him, whether I was at home or no, and from time to time he had consultations with Tom Girtley, who kept putting off a communication that he said he had to make till he had his task done.I used to notice that he and Mr Peter had a great deal to say to each other, but I was too much taken up with my troubles about Hallett and the machine to pay much heed; for sometimes the idea forced itself upon me that my poor friend would never live to realise his hopes.Time glided on, and I used to sit with him in an evening, and tell him how we had progressed during the day; but it made no impression whatever; he used only to lie and dream, never referring 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 his injury that he had not thoroughly realised 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 reproachful 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 gloomy indeed, but the latter was always bright and cheerful, and Linny entirely changed. There was no open love-making, but a quiet feeling of respect seemed to have sprung up between them, and I hardly knew what was going on, only when it was brought to my attention by Mr Jabez, or Revitts, or Mary.“I should have thought as you wouldn’t have liked that there friend of yourn cutting you out in the way he do, Ant’ny,” said Revitts, one day; “I don’t want to make mischief, but this here is my—our—house,” he added by way of correction, “and I don’t think as a young man as is a friend of yourn 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,” exclaimed Mary sharply. “What do you know about such things?”“Lots,” said Bill, grinning with delight, and then becoming preternaturally 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?”“I don’t know what you mean, Mary,” I replied.“Oh do, of course not, Master Antony; but I shouldn’t like a certain young lady down at Rowford to hear you say so.”“Phew!” whistled Revitts, and feeling very boyish and conscious, I made my retreat, for I was bound for Westmouth 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 howl was progressing at the works.“Mr Girtley tells me that you are doing wonders, Antony,” she said, in a curious, hesitating way, for we both seemed to be fencing, and as if we disliked to talk of the subject nearest to our hearts.She was the first to cast off the foolish reserve though, and to ask after Hallett’s health.“The doctors don’t seem to help him a bit,” I said sadly. “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 should 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 that 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 excitedly; “tell me how it is going on.”“We are working at it as fast as possible,” I replied; “it takes a long time, but that is unavoidable.”“If you love Stephen Hallett,” she said suddenly, and she looked full in my face, “get his invention finished and perfect. Let it succeed, and you will have 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, looking 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 he controlled himself, and turned to where Miss Carr was standing, looking very beautiful in her anger.I had started up, and stepped between them, but she motioned me back to my seat, while he 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 said, with a look of contempt that should have driven him away—“Mr Lister! and once more here?”“Miriam,” 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 listen to you,” she replied, “for I will not degrade you by ringing for the servants and having you removed. Pray say what you mean. Hush, Antony, let him speak. Perhaps after he has said all he 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 and words. “Look here, Miriam Carr, you compel me to speak as I do before this wretched boy.”“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 a as I had never known before. “And now, as for you—you blind, foolish woman,” he continued, as I awakened to the fact that he had been drinking heavily, “since fair means will not succeed, foul means shall.”“Say what you wish to say, Mr Lister,” she replied coldly, “for I warn you that this is the last time you 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 forced laugh, “me?—hand me over to the police? You—you think I have been drinking, but you are wrong.”No one had hinted 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 disgraceful intimacy with this low, contemptible compositor, the blackguardly friend of this boy—the man who has obtained a hold upon you, and who, with his companions, is draining your purse—I say I will overlook all this, and, ignoring the past, take you for my wife, if you will promise to give up this wretched crew.”There was no answer, but I sat there feeling as if I must fling myself at him, young and slight as I was, in her defence, but she stood there like a statue, fixing him with her eyes, while he went on raving. His face was flushed, and there was a hot, fiery look in his eyes, while his lips were white and parched.“You shall not go on like this,” he continued. “You are my betrothed wife, and I will not stand by and see your name dragged in the mire by these wretched adventurers. Even now your name has become a by-word and a shame, the talk in every pot-house where low-class printers meet, and it is to save you from this that I would still take you to be my wife.”Still she did not speak, and a look from her restrained me, when I would have done something to protect her from his insults, every one of which seemed to sting me to the heart.“I know I am to blame,” he said passionately, “for letting you take and warm that young viper into life; but I could not tell. It shall end, though, now. I have written to your brother-in-law, and he will help to drag you from amongst this swindling crew.”“Have you said all you wish to say, Mr Lister?” she replied coldly.“No,” he cried, stung into a fresh burst by her words; “no, I have not. No, I tell you,” he cried, taking a step forward, as if believing in his drunken fit that she was shrinking from him, and being conquered by his importunities; “No, I tell you—no: and I never shall give up till you consent to be my wife. Do you take me for a drivelling boy, to be put off like this, Miriam?” he cried, catching at her hand, but she drew it back. “Do you wish to save your name from disgrace?”She did not answer, while he approached closer.“You don’t speak,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know what they say about you and this fellow Hallett?”Still she made no reply.“They say,” he hissed, and thrusting out his face, he whispered something to her, when, in an instant, I saw her countenance change, and her white hand struck him full across the lips.Uttering an oath, he caught her tightly by the arms, but I could bear no more. With my whole strength called up I leaped at him, and seized him by the throat, believing in my power of turning him forcibly from the room.The events of the next few moments seem now as if seen through a mist, for in the brief struggle that ensued I was easily mastered by the powerful man whom I had engaged.I have some indistinct memory of our swaying here and there, and then of having a heavy fall. My next recollection is of feeling sick and drowsy, and seeing Miss Carr and one of the servants bending over me and bathing my face.For some few minutes I could not understand what it all meant 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?” 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 is he?”“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 gone 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, though, and after I had drunk the spirit that was brought me, I felt less giddy and strange.Miss Carr sat watching me, looking very pale, but I could realise 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 something,” I cried again; “this is horrible. I cannot 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 struggle with myself, decided what to do.”“But you will not go away?” 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?” I exclaimed in surprise.“Yes: bring her here,” she said softly; and there was a peculiar tone in her voice as she spoke. “And now about yourself. Do you feel well enough to go home? Shall one of the servants see you safely 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 be closed as soon as you leave. To-morrow I shall take steps for my protection.”I left her soon after, thinking about her request, and as far as I could make out she intended to keep Linny with her, feeling that Lister would not dare to face her again, when the woman he had sought to injure had been made her companion.Still I did not feel satisfied, and the only consoling thing was to be found in Lister’s own words, that he had sent for Miss Carr’s relative; and, in the hope that he might soon arrive, I reached home and went up at once to see Hallett, who looked very ill, but smiled sadly, as I sat down by his side.“Better,” he said; “I think I’m better, but I don’t know, Antony: sometimes I feel as if it would be happier if I could be altogether at rest.”“Oh, Hallett!” I cried.“Yes, you are right,” he said. “What would become of them? I must get better, Antony, better, but sometimes—sometimes—”“Don’t speak to him any more,” whispered Mary; “he is so weak that his poor head wanders.”“But, Mary, the doctor; does he say there is any danger?”“No, no, my dear. He is to sleep all he can. There, go down now. I’m going to sit up to-night.”I went down, leaving Mary to her weary vigil; for my head ached terribly, and I was very giddy.Linny was in the sitting-room, and she uttered an exclamation.“Why, how bad you look, Antony!” she cried.“Do I?” I said with a laugh; “I had a bit of a fall, and it has shaken me. But, Linny dear, I have a message for you.”“For me, Antony?” she said, turning white.“Yes; Miss Carr bade me ask you to come with me to her house to-morrow.”“I go to her house!” faltered Linny.“Yes, dear, you will—will you not? I am sure it is important.”“But I could not leave poor Steve.”“It need not take long,” I said; “you will go and see what she wants?”Linny looked at me in silence for a few moments, and there was something very dreamy in her face.“If you think it right that I should go, Antony,” she said at last, “I will. Shall I speak to Stephen first?”“No,” I said. “Hear first what she has to say.”She promised, and I went down to my own room, glad to lay my aching head upon the pillow; where I soon fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming of my encounter with John Lister, and feeling again the heavy blow as we fell, and my head struck the broad, flat fender with a sickening crash, that seemed to be repeated again and again.
I went to Miss Carr’s nearly every evening now, to report progress; for her instructions to me, after a consultation between Mr Jabez, Mr Ruddle, Mr Girtley, and myself, were that neither expense 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 the mechanism would have failed; for besides the part I named, we found several weak points in the construction—faults that only a superhuman intelligence could have guarded against. The malignant act had only hastened the catastrophe.
It was a cruel trick, and though we could not bring it home, we had not a doubt that the dastardly act was committed by Jem Smith, who was the instrument of John Lister. A little examination showed how easily the back premises could be entered by anyone 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 the head, and day after day I had very bad news to convey to Miss Carr. The poor fellow seemed to have broken down utterly, and kept his bed. He used to try to appear cheerful; but it was evident that he took the matter bitterly to heart, and at times gave up all hope of ever perfecting the machine.
It was pitiful to see his remorseful looks when Mr Jabez came to see him of an evening; Mr Peter, who always accompanied his brother, stopping in my room to smoke a long pipe I kept on purpose for him, whether I was at home or no, and from time to time he had consultations with Tom Girtley, who kept putting off a communication that he said he had to make till he had his task done.
I used to notice that he and Mr Peter had a great deal to say to each other, but I was too much taken up with my troubles about Hallett and the machine to pay much heed; for sometimes the idea forced itself upon me that my poor friend would never live to realise his hopes.
Time glided on, and I used to sit with him in an evening, and tell him how we had progressed during the day; but it made no impression whatever; he used only to lie and dream, never referring 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 his injury that he had not thoroughly realised 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 reproachful 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 gloomy indeed, but the latter was always bright and cheerful, and Linny entirely changed. There was no open love-making, but a quiet feeling of respect seemed to have sprung up between them, and I hardly knew what was going on, only when it was brought to my attention by Mr Jabez, or Revitts, or Mary.
“I should have thought as you wouldn’t have liked that there friend of yourn cutting you out in the way he do, Ant’ny,” said Revitts, one day; “I don’t want to make mischief, but this here is my—our—house,” he added by way of correction, “and I don’t think as a young man as is a friend of yourn 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,” exclaimed Mary sharply. “What do you know about such things?”
“Lots,” said Bill, grinning with delight, and then becoming preternaturally 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?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mary,” I replied.
“Oh do, of course not, Master Antony; but I shouldn’t like a certain young lady down at Rowford to hear you say so.”
“Phew!” whistled Revitts, and feeling very boyish and conscious, I made my retreat, for I was bound for Westmouth 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 howl was progressing at the works.
“Mr Girtley tells me that you are doing wonders, Antony,” she said, in a curious, hesitating way, for we both seemed to be fencing, and as if we disliked to talk of the subject nearest to our hearts.
She was the first to cast off the foolish reserve though, and to ask after Hallett’s health.
“The doctors don’t seem to help him a bit,” I said sadly. “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 should 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 that 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 excitedly; “tell me how it is going on.”
“We are working at it as fast as possible,” I replied; “it takes a long time, but that is unavoidable.”
“If you love Stephen Hallett,” she said suddenly, and she looked full in my face, “get his invention finished and perfect. Let it succeed, and you will have 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, looking 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 he controlled himself, and turned to where Miss Carr was standing, looking very beautiful in her anger.
I had started up, and stepped between them, but she motioned me back to my seat, while he 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 said, with a look of contempt that should have driven him away—“Mr Lister! and once more here?”
“Miriam,” 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 listen to you,” she replied, “for I will not degrade you by ringing for the servants and having you removed. Pray say what you mean. Hush, Antony, let him speak. Perhaps after he has said all he 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 and words. “Look here, Miriam Carr, you compel me to speak as I do before this wretched boy.”
“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 a as I had never known before. “And now, as for you—you blind, foolish woman,” he continued, as I awakened to the fact that he had been drinking heavily, “since fair means will not succeed, foul means shall.”
“Say what you wish to say, Mr Lister,” she replied coldly, “for I warn you that this is the last time you 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 forced laugh, “me?—hand me over to the police? You—you think I have been drinking, but you are wrong.”
No one had hinted 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 disgraceful intimacy with this low, contemptible compositor, the blackguardly friend of this boy—the man who has obtained a hold upon you, and who, with his companions, is draining your purse—I say I will overlook all this, and, ignoring the past, take you for my wife, if you will promise to give up this wretched crew.”
There was no answer, but I sat there feeling as if I must fling myself at him, young and slight as I was, in her defence, but she stood there like a statue, fixing him with her eyes, while he went on raving. His face was flushed, and there was a hot, fiery look in his eyes, while his lips were white and parched.
“You shall not go on like this,” he continued. “You are my betrothed wife, and I will not stand by and see your name dragged in the mire by these wretched adventurers. Even now your name has become a by-word and a shame, the talk in every pot-house where low-class printers meet, and it is to save you from this that I would still take you to be my wife.”
Still she did not speak, and a look from her restrained me, when I would have done something to protect her from his insults, every one of which seemed to sting me to the heart.
“I know I am to blame,” he said passionately, “for letting you take and warm that young viper into life; but I could not tell. It shall end, though, now. I have written to your brother-in-law, and he will help to drag you from amongst this swindling crew.”
“Have you said all you wish to say, Mr Lister?” she replied coldly.
“No,” he cried, stung into a fresh burst by her words; “no, I have not. No, I tell you,” he cried, taking a step forward, as if believing in his drunken fit that she was shrinking from him, and being conquered by his importunities; “No, I tell you—no: and I never shall give up till you consent to be my wife. Do you take me for a drivelling boy, to be put off like this, Miriam?” he cried, catching at her hand, but she drew it back. “Do you wish to save your name from disgrace?”
She did not answer, while he approached closer.
“You don’t speak,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know what they say about you and this fellow Hallett?”
Still she made no reply.
“They say,” he hissed, and thrusting out his face, he whispered something to her, when, in an instant, I saw her countenance change, and her white hand struck him full across the lips.
Uttering an oath, he caught her tightly by the arms, but I could bear no more. With my whole strength called up I leaped at him, and seized him by the throat, believing in my power of turning him forcibly from the room.
The events of the next few moments seem now as if seen through a mist, for in the brief struggle that ensued I was easily mastered by the powerful man whom I had engaged.
I have some indistinct memory of our swaying here and there, and then of having a heavy fall. My next recollection is of feeling sick and drowsy, and seeing Miss Carr and one of the servants bending over me and bathing my face.
For some few minutes I could not understand what it all meant 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?” 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 is he?”
“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 gone 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, though, and after I had drunk the spirit that was brought me, I felt less giddy and strange.
Miss Carr sat watching me, looking very pale, but I could realise 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 something,” I cried again; “this is horrible. I cannot 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 struggle with myself, decided what to do.”
“But you will not go away?” 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?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes: bring her here,” she said softly; and there was a peculiar tone in her voice as she spoke. “And now about yourself. Do you feel well enough to go home? Shall one of the servants see you safely 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 be closed as soon as you leave. To-morrow I shall take steps for my protection.”
I left her soon after, thinking about her request, and as far as I could make out she intended to keep Linny with her, feeling that Lister would not dare to face her again, when the woman he had sought to injure had been made her companion.
Still I did not feel satisfied, and the only consoling thing was to be found in Lister’s own words, that he had sent for Miss Carr’s relative; and, in the hope that he might soon arrive, I reached home and went up at once to see Hallett, who looked very ill, but smiled sadly, as I sat down by his side.
“Better,” he said; “I think I’m better, but I don’t know, Antony: sometimes I feel as if it would be happier if I could be altogether at rest.”
“Oh, Hallett!” I cried.
“Yes, you are right,” he said. “What would become of them? I must get better, Antony, better, but sometimes—sometimes—”
“Don’t speak to him any more,” whispered Mary; “he is so weak that his poor head wanders.”
“But, Mary, the doctor; does he say there is any danger?”
“No, no, my dear. He is to sleep all he can. There, go down now. I’m going to sit up to-night.”
I went down, leaving Mary to her weary vigil; for my head ached terribly, and I was very giddy.
Linny was in the sitting-room, and she uttered an exclamation.
“Why, how bad you look, Antony!” she cried.
“Do I?” I said with a laugh; “I had a bit of a fall, and it has shaken me. But, Linny dear, I have a message for you.”
“For me, Antony?” she said, turning white.
“Yes; Miss Carr bade me ask you to come with me to her house to-morrow.”
“I go to her house!” faltered Linny.
“Yes, dear, you will—will you not? I am sure it is important.”
“But I could not leave poor Steve.”
“It need not take long,” I said; “you will go and see what she wants?”
Linny looked at me in silence for a few moments, and there was something very dreamy in her face.
“If you think it right that I should go, Antony,” she said at last, “I will. Shall I speak to Stephen first?”
“No,” I said. “Hear first what she has to say.”
She promised, and I went down to my own room, glad to lay my aching head upon the pillow; where I soon fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming of my encounter with John Lister, and feeling again the heavy blow as we fell, and my head struck the broad, flat fender with a sickening crash, that seemed to be repeated again and again.
Chapter Fifty Eight.This Crisis.By my advice, then, Linny said nothing to Hallett about where she was going, and as I had stayed at home from the works 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 the 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 tenderness itself. Come, be a woman.”“It is not that,” she whispered. “There is so much more behind. Take me back, Antony. Why does she want to see me?”“I don’t know,” I replied; “but you may be sure that it is for some good purpose.”“Do—do you think she will be angry with me—about—about, you know whom I mean? Do you think it is to reproach me?”“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?” she faltered, “or is this only to persuade me to go 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 me, I led her up to the door, when we were admitted, and at once ushered into the drawing-room.I did not at first see Miss Carr, but the door had 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 dining-room to stand gazing out of the 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—going home—with—”The rest died on my lips as I saw her draw down her veil to hide her convulsed face, and then, without a word, she rang the bell, the door was opened for us, and, feeling like one in a dream, I walked in silence by their side to the house in Great Ormond Street, where, as I placed my latchkey in the door, it was snatched open, and Mary, with her face red with weeping, stood there.“Oh, Miss Linny! Oh, Master Antony!” she sobbed, “I’m so glad you’ve come. The doctor sent me out of the room, and I’ve been waiting for you.”“Is my brother worse?” sobbed Linny hysterically.“Yes, yes, my dear, I’m—I’m afraid so;” and as she spoke, a hand clutched mine, and I heard Miss Carr moan:“God help me! Am I too late?”Linny was already half up the first flight, when Miss Carr whispered to me in agonised tones:“Take me to him, Antony, quick. This is no time for pride and shame.”With my heart beating painfully, I led her upstairs, and, as we reached the first floor, we met the doctor coming down.I felt Miss Carr’s hand pressing mine convulsively, and I spoke, my voice sounding hoarse and strange.“Is he worse, doctor?”“I’m afraid he cannot last many hours longer,” he said. “I have done all I can, but I have a patient a few streets off 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 stood outside his door.“No, no!” she cried. “Take me to him at once, or I cannot bear it. Don’t speak to me, Antony. Don’t let 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 Hallett was sitting helpless and alone.I obeyed Miss Carr, leading her quickly inside, and closing the door, where she stood for a moment with one hand pressing her breast; then she hastily tore off bonnet and veil, gazing at the pale face and great dreamy eyes fixed wistfully 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 where we stood, and I saw that he held in his thin wasted hand a little grey kid glove, the glove we had found in Epping Forest that happy day when we met the sisters in our wait.But that was forgotten in the change I saw come over the poor fellow’s face. It seemed to light up; the dull dreamy eyes dilated; a look of dread, of wonder, or joy seemed to come into them, and then he seemed to make an effort, and stared wildly round the room, but only to gaze at Miss Carr again as she stood with her hands half raised in a beseeching way, till, with a 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 knowing what I did, as Miss Carr took a step or two forward, and threw herself upon her knees by the bed, dinging to his hands, 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 about to summon help, the next prepared to defend the door against all comers, and again the next ready to stop my ears and flee from the room. But she had bidden me stay, and not leave her, and I 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 head 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 have brought me from the grave. But why—why did you come?”“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 then, 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 tell 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 help and your brave right hand to be my defence. This is unwomanly—shameless, if you will—but do you think I have not known your love for me, and the true brave fight that you have made? Has not my heart shared your every hope, and sorrowed with you when you have failed? And, poor weak fool that I have been, have I not stood aloof, saying that you should come to me, and yet worshipped you—reverenced you the more for your honour and your pride? But that is all past now. It is not too late. Live for me, Stephen, my own brave martyr, and let the past be one long sad dream: for I love you, I love you, God only knows how well!” She hid her burning, agitated face in his breast, and his two thin hands tremblingly and slowly rose to clasp her head; and there the white fingers lay motionless in the rich, dark hair.There was again a pause, which he was the first to break, and his voice was still but a whisper, 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? Let me be your help and stay. Stephen—Stephen!” she wailed piteously, “have I not asked you—I, a woman—to make me your wife?”“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?”“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, as 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? Oh, what am I saying?” she cried passionately; “it is too late—too late!”“No,” he panted; and his words seemed to come each with a greater effort, “not—too late—your words—have—given—me life. Miriam—come—hold me in your arms, and I shall stay. A little while ago I felt 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 agonised face, knelt beside him, holding his hand, there was a quiver in his eyelids, and a faint pressure of the hand that held his.The signs were slight, but they told us that he had but fainted, and when, at last, he re-opened his eyes, they rested upon Miss 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 weak 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 heard the doctor’s step once more upon 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 bring 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 Mrs Hallett was sitting back, very white and thin, in her chair.As we entered Linny started up, and in response to Miss Carr’s extended hands, threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her passionately.“Dear sister!” I heard Miss Carr murmur; and then she turned from Linny, who left her and glanced at me.“Mrs Hallett,” I said simply, “this is Miss Carr.”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!”A piteous look of horror came into Miss Carr’s face, and she sank upon her knees by the great cushioned chair.“Oh, no, no!” she said piteously. “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 filled his head with foolish notions to 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 I 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 as you think it, even how you, and this woman, too, fought against me. That child might have been the wife of a good man now, only that he was this wretched creature’s lover.”“Mother,” cried Linny passionately, “are you mad? How dare you say such things!”“That’s well,” she cried. “You turn against me now. My boy is dying: you have killed him amongst you, and the same grave will hold us both.”“Mrs Hallett,” said Miss Carr, in her low, sweet voice; and the flush of pride that had come for a few moments into her face faded out, leaving nothing but resignation there, as she crouched there upon her knees by the invalid’s chair, “you do not know me, or you would not speak to me like this. Don’t turn from me,” she said, taking One of the poor weak woman’s trembling hands.“Out of my sight, wretch!” she cried. “Your handsome face fascinated him; your pride has killed him! and you have come to triumph in your work.”“No, no, no,” sobbed Miss Carr in a broken voice, “do not condemn me unheard; I have come to tell him how I love him. Mother, dear mother,” she cried, “be pitiful to me, and join your prayers to mine that he may live.”Poor weak suffering Mrs Hallett’s face changed; her lips quivered, her menacing hands trembled, and with a low moaning wail she bent down, clasping Miriam to her breast, sobbing aloud as she rocked herself to and fro, while Miriam clung to her, caressing the thin worn face, and drawing herself closer and closer in a tight embrace.How long this lasted I cannot tell, but it was interrupted by the entrance of the doctor, who came in very softly.“He is in a very critical state,” he said in answer to the inquiring eyes of all. “Hush, my good woman, you must try and be firm,” he said parenthetically to Mary, who was trying hard to smother her sobs in her apron. “A nurse ought to have no feelings—I mean no sympathies. As I said,” he continued, “our patient is in a very critical state, but he has now sunk into a very restful sleep. There is an access of strength in the pulse that, however, may only be due to excitement, but your visit, ma’am,” he continued to Miss Carr, “seems to have wrought a change—mind,” he added hastily, “I don’t say for the better, but there is a decided change. I will come in again in a couple of hours or so; in the meantime, let some one sit by his bed ready to give him the stimulant the instant he wakes, but sleep may now mean life.”The doctor went softly away, and as he closed the door, Miss Carr knelt down once more by Mrs Hallett’s chair, holding up her face, and the poor invalid hung back for a moment, and then kissed her passionately.“God forgive me!” she wailed. “I did not indeed know you, but you have robbed me of my poor boy’s love.”“No, no,” whispered Miss Carr softly. “No, no, dear mother, we will love you more and more.”Miriam Carr’s place was by the sick man’s pillow all that afternoon and evening, and right through the weary night. I had been to Westmouth Street to say that she might not return, and at her wish had brought back from Harley Street one of the most eminent men in the profession, who held a consultation with Hallett’s doctor.The great man endorsed all that had been done, and sent joy into every breast as he said that the crisis was past, but that on no account was the patient to be roused.And all that night he slept, and on and on till about eight o’clock the next morning, Miss Carr never once leaving his side, or ceasing to watch with sleepless eyes for the slightest change.I had gone softly into the room the next morning, just as he uttered a low sigh and opened his eyes.“Ah, Antony,” he said in a low whisper, “I have had such a happy, happy dream! I dreamed that—Oh, God, I thank Thee—it was true!”For just then there was a slight movement by his pillow, and the next moment his poor weary head was resting upon Miriam’s breast.
By my advice, then, Linny said nothing to Hallett about where she was going, and as I had stayed at home from the works 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 the 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 tenderness itself. Come, be a woman.”
“It is not that,” she whispered. “There is so much more behind. Take me back, Antony. Why does she want to see me?”
“I don’t know,” I replied; “but you may be sure that it is for some good purpose.”
“Do—do you think she will be angry with me—about—about, you know whom I mean? Do you think it is to reproach me?”
“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?” she faltered, “or is this only to persuade me to go 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 me, I led her up to the door, when we were admitted, and at once ushered into the drawing-room.
I did not at first see Miss Carr, but the door had 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 dining-room to stand gazing out of the 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—going home—with—”
The rest died on my lips as I saw her draw down her veil to hide her convulsed face, and then, without a word, she rang the bell, the door was opened for us, and, feeling like one in a dream, I walked in silence by their side to the house in Great Ormond Street, where, as I placed my latchkey in the door, it was snatched open, and Mary, with her face red with weeping, stood there.
“Oh, Miss Linny! Oh, Master Antony!” she sobbed, “I’m so glad you’ve come. The doctor sent me out of the room, and I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Is my brother worse?” sobbed Linny hysterically.
“Yes, yes, my dear, I’m—I’m afraid so;” and as she spoke, a hand clutched mine, and I heard Miss Carr moan:
“God help me! Am I too late?”
Linny was already half up the first flight, when Miss Carr whispered to me in agonised tones:
“Take me to him, Antony, quick. This is no time for pride and shame.”
With my heart beating painfully, I led her upstairs, and, as we reached the first floor, we met the doctor coming down.
I felt Miss Carr’s hand pressing mine convulsively, and I spoke, my voice sounding hoarse and strange.
“Is he worse, doctor?”
“I’m afraid he cannot last many hours longer,” he said. “I have done all I can, but I have a patient a few streets off 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 stood outside his door.
“No, no!” she cried. “Take me to him at once, or I cannot bear it. Don’t speak to me, Antony. Don’t let 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 Hallett was sitting helpless and alone.
I obeyed Miss Carr, leading her quickly inside, and closing the door, where she stood for a moment with one hand pressing her breast; then she hastily tore off bonnet and veil, gazing at the pale face and great dreamy eyes fixed wistfully 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 where we stood, and I saw that he held in his thin wasted hand a little grey kid glove, the glove we had found in Epping Forest that happy day when we met the sisters in our wait.
But that was forgotten in the change I saw come over the poor fellow’s face. It seemed to light up; the dull dreamy eyes dilated; a look of dread, of wonder, or joy seemed to come into them, and then he seemed to make an effort, and stared wildly round the room, but only to gaze at Miss Carr again as she stood with her hands half raised in a beseeching way, till, with a 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 knowing what I did, as Miss Carr took a step or two forward, and threw herself upon her knees by the bed, dinging to his hands, 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 about to summon help, the next prepared to defend the door against all comers, and again the next ready to stop my ears and flee from the room. But she had bidden me stay, and not leave her, and I 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 head 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 have brought me from the grave. But why—why did you come?”
“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 then, 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 tell 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 help and your brave right hand to be my defence. This is unwomanly—shameless, if you will—but do you think I have not known your love for me, and the true brave fight that you have made? Has not my heart shared your every hope, and sorrowed with you when you have failed? And, poor weak fool that I have been, have I not stood aloof, saying that you should come to me, and yet worshipped you—reverenced you the more for your honour and your pride? But that is all past now. It is not too late. Live for me, Stephen, my own brave martyr, and let the past be one long sad dream: for I love you, I love you, God only knows how well!” She hid her burning, agitated face in his breast, and his two thin hands tremblingly and slowly rose to clasp her head; and there the white fingers lay motionless in the rich, dark hair.
There was again a pause, which he was the first to break, and his voice was still but a whisper, 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? Let me be your help and stay. Stephen—Stephen!” she wailed piteously, “have I not asked you—I, a woman—to make me your wife?”
“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?”
“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, as 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? Oh, what am I saying?” she cried passionately; “it is too late—too late!”
“No,” he panted; and his words seemed to come each with a greater effort, “not—too late—your words—have—given—me life. Miriam—come—hold me in your arms, and I shall stay. A little while ago I felt 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 agonised face, knelt beside him, holding his hand, there was a quiver in his eyelids, and a faint pressure of the hand that held his.
The signs were slight, but they told us that he had but fainted, and when, at last, he re-opened his eyes, they rested upon Miss 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 weak 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 heard the doctor’s step once more upon 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 bring 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 Mrs Hallett was sitting back, very white and thin, in her chair.
As we entered Linny started up, and in response to Miss Carr’s extended hands, threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her passionately.
“Dear sister!” I heard Miss Carr murmur; and then she turned from Linny, who left her and glanced at me.
“Mrs Hallett,” I said simply, “this is Miss Carr.”
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!”
A piteous look of horror came into Miss Carr’s face, and she sank upon her knees by the great cushioned chair.
“Oh, no, no!” she said piteously. “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 filled his head with foolish notions to 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 I 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 as you think it, even how you, and this woman, too, fought against me. That child might have been the wife of a good man now, only that he was this wretched creature’s lover.”
“Mother,” cried Linny passionately, “are you mad? How dare you say such things!”
“That’s well,” she cried. “You turn against me now. My boy is dying: you have killed him amongst you, and the same grave will hold us both.”
“Mrs Hallett,” said Miss Carr, in her low, sweet voice; and the flush of pride that had come for a few moments into her face faded out, leaving nothing but resignation there, as she crouched there upon her knees by the invalid’s chair, “you do not know me, or you would not speak to me like this. Don’t turn from me,” she said, taking One of the poor weak woman’s trembling hands.
“Out of my sight, wretch!” she cried. “Your handsome face fascinated him; your pride has killed him! and you have come to triumph in your work.”
“No, no, no,” sobbed Miss Carr in a broken voice, “do not condemn me unheard; I have come to tell him how I love him. Mother, dear mother,” she cried, “be pitiful to me, and join your prayers to mine that he may live.”
Poor weak suffering Mrs Hallett’s face changed; her lips quivered, her menacing hands trembled, and with a low moaning wail she bent down, clasping Miriam to her breast, sobbing aloud as she rocked herself to and fro, while Miriam clung to her, caressing the thin worn face, and drawing herself closer and closer in a tight embrace.
How long this lasted I cannot tell, but it was interrupted by the entrance of the doctor, who came in very softly.
“He is in a very critical state,” he said in answer to the inquiring eyes of all. “Hush, my good woman, you must try and be firm,” he said parenthetically to Mary, who was trying hard to smother her sobs in her apron. “A nurse ought to have no feelings—I mean no sympathies. As I said,” he continued, “our patient is in a very critical state, but he has now sunk into a very restful sleep. There is an access of strength in the pulse that, however, may only be due to excitement, but your visit, ma’am,” he continued to Miss Carr, “seems to have wrought a change—mind,” he added hastily, “I don’t say for the better, but there is a decided change. I will come in again in a couple of hours or so; in the meantime, let some one sit by his bed ready to give him the stimulant the instant he wakes, but sleep may now mean life.”
The doctor went softly away, and as he closed the door, Miss Carr knelt down once more by Mrs Hallett’s chair, holding up her face, and the poor invalid hung back for a moment, and then kissed her passionately.
“God forgive me!” she wailed. “I did not indeed know you, but you have robbed me of my poor boy’s love.”
“No, no,” whispered Miss Carr softly. “No, no, dear mother, we will love you more and more.”
Miriam Carr’s place was by the sick man’s pillow all that afternoon and evening, and right through the weary night. I had been to Westmouth Street to say that she might not return, and at her wish had brought back from Harley Street one of the most eminent men in the profession, who held a consultation with Hallett’s doctor.
The great man endorsed all that had been done, and sent joy into every breast as he said that the crisis was past, but that on no account was the patient to be roused.
And all that night he slept, and on and on till about eight o’clock the next morning, Miss Carr never once leaving his side, or ceasing to watch with sleepless eyes for the slightest change.
I had gone softly into the room the next morning, just as he uttered a low sigh and opened his eyes.
“Ah, Antony,” he said in a low whisper, “I have had such a happy, happy dream! I dreamed that—Oh, God, I thank Thee—it was true!”
For just then there was a slight movement by his pillow, and the next moment his poor weary head was resting upon Miriam’s breast.