"I won't keep you long," he said; "but I must compare these papers. You
are not going anywhere else, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir; I am going up to Westmouth Street, Cavendish Square."
"Indeed! Hah! that's a good walk for you; or, no, I suppose Mr Lister
told you to take a cab?"
"No, sir," I said colouring; "I am going to walk."
"Oh, absurd! Too far. Lawrence," he cried, after touching a bell, and
the boy clerk appeared, "have a cab to the door in ten minutes."
"Yes, sir."
"That will pay for the cab, my lad," continued Mr Brandsheim, slipping
a couple of shillings into my hand. "I must keep you waiting a little
while. Let me see--let me see--you didn't go to the races, I suppose?"
"Oh no, sir."
"Mr Ruddle and Mr Lister did, eh?"
"Mr Lister did, sir, I believe. Mr Ruddle never goes, I think."
"Doesn't he, though? How strange! I always go. Let me see--five
hundred and sixty-six is--is--So Mr Lister's going to be married, eh?"
"Yes, sir, I believe so."
"That's right. Everybody should marry when the time comes. You will
some day. I hope the lady's young and rich."
"She's beautiful, sir," I said, with animation, feeling sorry, though,
the next moment, for I did not like the idea of this man being so
interested in her.
"Is she, though?" he said insidiously. "But you've not seen her."
"Oh yes, sir, more than once."
"Have you, though? Well, you are favoured. Let me see," he continued,
consulting a little thick book which he took from a drawer. "Seven
hundred and fifty and two hundred and--er--er--oh, to be sure, yes; I
think I heard who it was to be. Beautiful Miss Wilson, the doctor's
daughter. Let's see, she's very poor, though."
I did not want to say more, but he seemed to lead me on, and get answers
from me in an insidious way that I could not combat; and in spite of
myself I said:
"No, sir, it is Miss Carr; and she is very rich."
"You don't say so!" he exclaimed, staring at me in surprise. "You don't
mean the Carrs of Westmouth Street?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I am surprised," he exclaimed. "Lister's a lucky dog. Why, I
see, you dog!" he said, in a bantering way, "you carry the love-letters
backwards and forwards."
"Oh no, sir, I--"
"Hush, hush, hush! Not a word. I won't listen to you. Don't betray
your master's secrets, my lad. You're a confidential messenger, and
must clap a seal upon your lips."
"But, sir, I--"
"No, no. How much?" he said, with mock severity. "Don't speak, don't
interrupt me; I'm reckoning up. Let me see--let me see--ha! that's it
exactly. There we are," he continued, fastening down a note and handing
it to me. "Run along, my young Mercury, and if I were you I should make
cabby drive me to Oxford Street for a shilling, and save the other.
That's the way to grow rich. Off you go. Take care of this."
He thrust a letter into my hands, and almost pushed me out of the room,
so that I had not time to speak; and before I had quite recovered from
my confusion, I was in the cab, and heard the boy clerk say:
"Put him down at Oxford Circus."
Then the wheels began to rattle, and the door to jangle, and I sit
feeling angry with myself for saying so much about Mr Lister and Miss
Carr, as I recalled William Revitts' advice, often given, to "let other
people talk while you make notes."
The thought of where I was going soon drove my interview with Mr
Brandsheim out of my head, and getting out of the cab at the Circus, I
made the best of my way to the great imposing house in Westmouth Street,
rang, and asked to see Miss Carr.
The man-servant looked at me rather dubiously, and asked my name. Then,
bidding me sit down in the great sombre-looking hall, he went up the
heavy staircase, and came back to bid me follow him.
I noticed as I went upstairs that the place was heavily but handsomely
furnished. There were pictures on the walls of staircase and landing,
and the stone steps were covered with a rich thick carpet. The wealthy
look of the place, however, did not seem to abash me, for the atmosphere
of refinement in which I found myself recalled old days; and the
thoughts of the past seemed strengthened, as I was ushered into a
prettily furnished little drawing-room, all bright with flowers,
water-colour drawings, and books, from a table strewn with which latter
Miss Carr arose to welcome me.
And again the feeling was strengthened at her first words:
"Ah, Antony!"
For the printing-office, Mr Revitts' shabby room, Hallett's attic, my
own downfall, were forgotten, and, bright and eager, I half ran to meet
her, and caught her extended hand.
Her sad face brightened as she saw the eager pleasure in my eyes, and
retaining my hand, she led me to a couch and seated herself by my side.
"Then you had not forgotten me?" she said.
"Forgotten you?" I cried reproachfully, "I have been so longing to see
you again."
"Then why did you not come?"
"Come!" I said, with the recollection of my present state flashing
back; and my heart sank as I replied, "I did not dare; I am so different
now. But I have a note for you, Miss Carr."
I took Mr Lister's note from my pocket, and gave it to her, noticing at
the time that she took it and laid it quietly down, in place of opening
it eagerly.
"I shall always be glad to see you, Antony, that is, so long as you
prove to me that you have not been unworthy of my recommendation."
"I will always try," I cried eagerly.
"I feel sure you will," she said. "Mr Ruddle tells me you are rising
fast."
I coloured with pleasure, and then reddened more deeply as I saw that
she noticed me, and smiled.
"But now, come, tell me of yourself--what you do and how you get on;"
and by degrees, almost without questioning, I told her all my
proceedings. For somehow, it seemed the highest delight to me to be
once more in the society of a refined lady. Her looks, her touch, the
very scent emanating from her dress and the flowers, seemed so to bring
back the old days that I felt as if I were once more at home, chatting
away to my mother. And so the time slipped by till I imperceptibly
found myself telling Miss Carr all about my old pursuits--our life at
homeland my favourite books, she being a willing listener, when,
suddenly, a clear, silvery-toned clock began to strike and dissolved the
spell. The old drawing-room, the lawn beyond the French window, the
scent of the flowers, seemed to pass away to give place to the great
printing-office and my daily work, and with a choking sensation in my
throat, I remembered what I was--the messenger who had forgotten his
errand, and I started to my feet.
"Why, Antony!" exclaimed Miss Carr, "what is it?"
"I had forgotten," I said piteously; "I brought you a note; Mr Lister
will be angry if I do not take back the answer."
The aspect of Miss Carr's face seemed to change from a look of anxious
wonder to one of sternness. There was a slight contraction of the
handsome brow, and her voice was a little changed as she said quietly--
"Sit down again, Antony; both you and I have much to say yet."
"But--the letter, ma'am?" I faltered.
"The letter can wait," she replied. Then, smiling brightly as she took
my hand once more, "You cannot take back the answer till I write it; and
come, I am alone to-day; my sister is away upon a visit; you shall stay
to lunch and dinner with me, and we'll read and talk till we are tired."
"Oh!" I ejaculated.
"Do you not wish to stay?" she said smiling.
I could not speak, for the old childish weakness that I had of late
nearly mastered was almost conqueror again. It did get the better of my
voice, but I involuntarily raised her soft white hand to my lips, and
held it there for a few moments; while her eyes, even as they smiled
upon me, seemed half-suffused with tears.
"I will write to Mr Lister presently," she said at last, "and tell him
I detained you here. That will, I am sure, be quite sufficient; so,
Antony, you are my visitor for the rest of the day. And now tell me
more about yourself."
I could not speak just then, but sat thinking, Miss Carr watching me the
while; but we were soon chatting away pleasantly till the servant came
and announced lunch.