The Story of Antony Grace. George Manville Fenn
lips; “where do your father and mother live?”
Those words made something rise in my throat, and I looked wildly at him, but could not speak.
He did not see my face, for he had taken up a pen and drawn a memorandum slip towards him.
“Well; why don’t you speak?” he said sharply, and as he raised his eyes I tried, but could not get out a word, only pointed mutely to the shabby band of crape upon my cap.
“Ah!”
There was a deep sigh close by me, and I saw that the young lady addressed as Miss Carr was deadly pale, and for the first time I noticed that she was in deep mourning.
“My dear Miss Carr!” whispered the young man earnestly.
“Don’t speak to me for a minute,” she said in the same tone; and then I saw her face working and lip quivering as she gazed wistfully at me.
“Poor lad!” said the elder man abruptly. Then, “Your friends, my boy, your relatives?”
“I have none, sir,” I said huskily, “only an uncle, and I don’t know for certain where he lives.”
“But you don’t mean that you are alone in the world?” said the young man quickly, and he glanced at the lady as he spoke.
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly, for I had now recovered myself, “I am quite alone, and I want to get a situation to earn my living.”
The elder gentleman turned upon me and seemed to look me through and through.
“Now, look here, young fellow,” he said, “you are either a very unfortunate boy or a designing young impostor.”
“Mr. Ruddle!” exclaimed Miss Carr indignantly; and I saw the young man’s eyes glitter as he gazed at her sweet, sad face, twenty times more attractive now than when she was speaking lightly a minute before.
“I don’t want to be harsh, my dear, but here we are obliged to be firm and business-like. Now, boy, answer me; have you been to a good school?”
“No, sir,” I said, speaking sharply now, for his use of the word “impostor” stung me; “I was educated at home.”
“Humph! where do you come from?”
“Rowford, sir.”
“Town on a tall hill?”
“No, sir,” I said in surprise; “Rowford is quite in a hole; but we lived four miles from Rowford, sir, on the Cawleigh road.”
“Then you know Leydon Wood.”
“Oh yes, sir! that’s where papa used to take me to collect specimens.”
“Humph! Don’t say papa, my boy. Boys who go into the world to get their living don’t speak of their papas. John Lister!”
“Wait a minute, Ruddle,” said the younger man, whose back was towards us; and I saw that he was leaning over Miss Carr and holding her hand. “If you wish it,” he whispered softly, “it shall be done.”
“I do wish it,” she said with an earnest look in her large eyes as she gazed kindly at me; and the young man turned round, flushed and excited.
I was shrinking away towards the door, pained and troubled, for I felt that I had no business there, when Mr. Lister motioned me to stop, and said something to the elder gentleman.
He in turn screwed up his face, and gave the younger a comical look.
“Your father would not have done so, John Lister,” he said. “What am I to say, Miss Carr?”
For answer the young lady rose and went and laid her hands in one of his.
“If you please, Mr. Ruddle,” she said in a low musical voice, “it will be a kindly act.”
“God bless you, my dear,” he said tenderly. “I believe if I were with you long you’d make me as much your slave as you have John Lister.”
“Then you will?”
“Yes, my dear, yes, if it is really as he says.”
She darted an intelligent look at me, and then hastily pulled down her crape veil as Mr. Lister followed her to her chair.
“Come here, my lad,” said Mr. Ruddle, in quiet business-like tones. “We want boys here, but boys used to the printing trade, for it does not answer our purpose to teach them; we have no time. But as you seem a sharp, respectable boy, and pretty well educated, you might, perhaps, be willing to try.”
“Oh, if you’ll try me, I’ll strive so hard to learn, sir!” I cried excitedly.
“I hope you will, my boy,” he said drily, “but don’t profess too much; and mind this, you are not coming here as a young gentleman, but as a reading-boy—to work.”
“Yes, sir. I want to work,” I said earnestly.
“That’s well. Now, look here. I want to know a little more about you. If, as you say, you came from near Rowford, you can tell me the names of some of the principal people there?”
“Yes, sir; there’s Doctor Heston, and the Reverend James Wyatt, and Mr. Elton.”
“Exactly,” he said gruffly; and he opened a large book and turned over a number of pages. “Humph! here it is,” he said to himself, and he seemed to check off the names. “Now, look here, my man. What is the name of the principal solicitor at Rowford?”
“Mr. Blakeford, sir,” I said with a shiver, lest he should want to write to him about me.
“Oh, you know him?” he said sharply.
“Yes, sir. He managed papa’s—my father’s—affairs,” I said, correcting myself.
“Then I’m sorry for your poor father’s affairs,” he said, tightening his lips. “That will do, my lad. You can come to work here. Be honest and industrious, and you’ll get on. Never mind about having been a gentleman, but learn to be a true man. Go and wait outside.”
I tried to speak. I wanted to catch his hands in mine. I wanted to fling my arms round Miss Carr, and kiss and bless her for her goodness. I was so weak and sentimental a boy then. But I had to fight it all down, and satisfy myself by casting a grateful glance at her as I went out to wait.
I was no listener, but I heard every word that passed as the ladies rose to go.
“Are you satisfied, my dear?” said Mr. Ruddle.
“God bless you?” she said; and I saw her raise her veil and kiss him.
“God bless you, my dear!” he said softly. “So this little affair has regularly settled it all, eh? And you are to be John’s wife. Well, well, well, my dear, I’m glad of it, very glad of it. John, my boy, I would my old partner were alive to see your choice; and as for you, my child, you’ve won a good man, and I hope your sister will be as fortunate.”
“I hope I shall, Mr. Ruddle,” said the other lady softly.
“If I were not sixty, and you nineteen, my dear, I’d propose for you myself,” he went on laughingly. “But come, come, I can’t have you giddy girls coming to our works to settle your affairs. There, be off with you, and you dine with us on Tuesday next. The old lady says you are to come early. I’m afraid John Lister here won’t be able to leave the office till twelve o’clock; but we can do without him, eh?”
“Don’t you mind what he says, Miriam,” said Mr. Lister. “But stop, here’s the parcel. I’ll send it on.”
“No, no. Please let that youth carry it for us,” said Miss Carr.
“Anything you wish,” he whispered earnestly; and the next moment he was at the door.
“You’ll