As we went down into the handsome dining-room I seemed to be in a dream,
in the midst of which I heard Miss Carr's voice telling the servant he
need not wait; and as the door closed she laid her hand upon my shoulder
and led me to the front of a large picture of a very beautiful woman,
standing with her arm resting upon the shoulder of a grey-haired
massive-looking man, not handsome, but with a countenance full of
intelligence and force.
We stood silently before them for few moments, and then Miss Carr spoke:
"Can you tell who those are, Antony?" she said.
"Your papa and mamma," I said, looking from the picture to her face.
"My dear father and mother, Antony," she said, in a low, sweet voice;
and her lips moved afterwards while she stood gazing up at them, as if
saying something to herself.
I remember feeling well satisfied that I had on my best clothes that
morning. I had reluctantly taken to them, but my others had grown so
bad that I had been obliged. Then, too, there was a feeling of
gratification that my hands were clean, and not stained and marked with
ink. I remember feeling that as I took up the snowy table-napkin. All
the rest was so dreamy and strange, only that I felt quite at home, and
troubled by no sense of awkwardness. Moreover, Miss Carr's behaviour
towards me, as she intently watched my every action, became more and
more warm, till it seemed to me as if I were in the society of some very
dear sister; and a couple of hours later I felt as if we had known each
other all our lives.
Upstairs once more she played to me, and smiled with pleasure as I
picked out my favourite old pieces from the various operas; and at last
she swung herself round upon the music-stool, and rose to draw my arm
through hers, walking me thoughtfully up and down the room.
"What should you like to be, Antony?" she said half-playfully, "a
soldier?"
"There's something very grand about being a soldier," I said
thoughtfully, "when he fights to save his country; but no, I'm afraid I
should be a coward."
"A sailor, then?"
"No, Miss Carr," I said, shaking my head. "I should either like to be a
barrister or a doctor. I think I should like to be a doctor. No, I
should like to be an engineer, and help Mr Hallett with his--"
I stopped short and coloured, for I felt that I had nearly betrayed my
friend.
"Well?" she said in a strange, hesitating way, "Mr Hallett's what?"
"Please don't think me ungrateful, Miss Carr," I said, "but I cannot
tell you. Mr Hallett trusted to me the secret of what he is making,
and I cannot say more. Yes, I may say that he is busy over a great
invention."
I fancied she drew her breath as if it caught and gave her pain, but her
face was like marble as she went on.
"Antony, you are quite right," she said; "and if I had ever had any
doubts about your being a gentleman's son, these words would have
removed it. So you would like to be an engineer?"
"Yes," I said, "very much."
She continued walking up and down the room, and then went on:
"You lodge, you say, with a Mr Revitts, a policeman. Is he respectable
and nice?"
"He's the dearest, best old fellow in the world?" I said with
animation. "Old?"
"No, no," I said, laughing. "I meant good and kind by old."
"Oh," she said, laughing. "But tell me, Antony; is he particular with
you?"
"Oh yes; he quite watches me, to make sure what I do, and where I go."
"Would you like to go to different and better lodgings?"
"Oh no," I said. "He is going to be married soon to Mary, who was so
good to me at Mr Blakeford's, and they would be so disappointed if I
left."
"He watches over you, you say?"
"Yes, Miss Carr. He was very angry that night when I stopped out late
with Mr Hallett, when we had to walk part of the way back."
"And--and this Mr Hallett, is--is he a proper companion for such a boy
as you?"
"Mr Hallett is a gentleman, although he is now only a common workman,"
I said proudly.
"But a youth like you would be easily deceived."
"Oh no!" I cried; "don't think that, Miss Carr. I would not give up
Mr Hallett for anything. You don't know him," I said almost
indignantly. "Why, when his father died, he, poor fellow, had to leave
college, and give up all his prospects to gain a living anyhow, to keep
his poor sick mother and his sister."
"He has a sister?"
"Yes: so very pretty: Linny Hallett. I go there, and read Latin and
German with Mr Hallett, while he works at his--his great invention.
Oh, Miss Carr, if you could see him, so good and tender to his invalid
complaining mother, you would say I ought to be only too proud of my
friend!"
She was pressing my hand as she hastened her steps up and down the room.
Then, loosing my hand suddenly, she walked quickly to the window, and
threw it open, to stand there for a few minutes gazing out.
"The room was too warm, Antony," she said in a quiet, composed way; and
her pleasant smile was back upon her face as she returned to me. "Why,
we were quite racing up and down the room. So you read German, do you?
Come, you shall read a bit of Goethe to me."
"I'm afraid--"
"That you are not perfect, Antony?" she said, laughing in a bright,
eager way. "Neither am I. We will both try and improve ourselves.
Have you well mastered the old, crabby characters?"
"Oh yes," I said, laughing. "My mother taught me them when I was very
young."
"Why, Antony," she cried, snatching the book from my hands at the end of
half an hour; "you ought to be my master. But come, it is nearly
dinner-time, and we must dress."
"Dress?" I said, falling down from the seventh heaven to the level of
Caroline Street, Pentonville, and bouncing back to the second floor.
"Well," she said, smiling; "you would like to wash your hands."
The rest of that evening was still more dreamlike than the day. I dined
with Miss Carr, and afterwards she encouraged me to go on talking about
myself, and present and past life. I amused her greatly about Revitts,
and his efforts to improve his spelling; and she smiled and looked
pained in turn, as I talked of Mary and my life at Mr Blakeford's.
"I should like to know Mary," she said, laughing; "Mary must be a rough
gem."
"But she is so good at heart!" I cried earnestly, for I felt pained at
the light way in which she spoke of poor Mary.
"I am sure she is, Antony," said Miss Carr, looking at me very
earnestly; and then I began to talk of Mr Hallett, and how kind and
firm he had been.
To my surprise, she stopped me, her voice sounding almost harsh as she
said quietly:
"You are learning through a rough school, Antony, and are fast losing
your homelike ways, and childlike--well--innocence; but you are still
very impressionable, and ready to take people for what they seem.
Antony, my boy, you will make many enemies as well as friends. Count me
always among the latter, and as your friend I now say to you, do not be
too ready to make friendships with men. I should rather see you with a
good companion of your own age."
"Yes, Miss Carr," I said; "but if you knew Mr Hallett--"
She held up her hand, and I stopped, for she seemed to turn pale and to
look angry.
"Antony," she said, as the tea was brought in, "you will soon have to
go, now, and I have not written the answer to the letter you brought."
"No, Miss Carr," I said; and I could have added, "neither have you read
it."
"It is too late, of course, for you to take an answer back, so I shall
send one by post. Do not be alarmed," she said, smiling, as she divined
my thoughts; "no one will be angry with you for staying here. It was my
wish."
"And your wish would be law with Mr Lister," I thought.
"I shall expect you to write to me," she continued, "and set down any
books you require. Do not be afraid to ask for them. I will either
lend or buy them for you."
She was pouring out the tea as she spoke, and I took the cup from her
hand, watching her thoughtfully the while, for she seemed to have grown
strange and quiet during the last few hours; and it set me wondering
whether she would ever be so kind to me again. In fact, I thought I
must have done something to offend her.
That thought was chased away after tea, when we both rose, and she held
out her hands to me with a very sweet smile, which told me the time had
arrived when I must go.
"And now, Antony, you must come and see me again, often. Good-bye."