"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I was in the neighbourhood of Rowford
last month, and I--"
"You were down there?" I said eagerly.
"Yes, Antony, and I had a long chat with the old clergyman there, when
he visited my friends. He knew your father and mother."
"Oh yes," I said, as a flood of recollections came back.
"And he asked me very kindly about you, saying he thought Mr Blakeford
had behaved very badly to Mr Grace."
"I mean to pay Mr Blakeford every penny my dear father owed him," I
said, flushing, and getting up from the couch. "He shall not dare to
speak ill of the dead."
Miss Carr looked at me curiously, and I thought her manner was more
tender to me as she took my hand and once more drew me to her side.
"About this Mr Revitts, Antony," she said; "I think the time has come
now when you should have different lodgings."
"Oh, Miss Carr!" I exclaimed, "he has been so kind to me, such a good
friend; and now poor Mary has come up, and they are going to be married,
and Mary would be terribly disappointed if I went to lodge anywhere
else. He's Sergeant Revitts now: he has been promoted."
"If Mr and Mrs Revitts set up a home of their own, that would be
different," she said thoughtfully. "But in your new position, Antony,
you ought to be better provided for than while you were at the office."
"In my new position?" I said, hesitating.
"Yes," she said, smiling; and as I gazed in her face I thought what a
happy man Mr Lister must be. "You said you would like to be an
engineer, when I saw you last."
"Oh yes," I said, "and then I could help Mr Hallett with his model."
There was a little spot of colour in each of her cheeks as I spoke, and
a slight knitting of her brows; but she went on:
"I have consulted Mr Ruddle, who has spoken to the proprietors of a
large engineering firm, and they have engaged to take you as a pupil."
"Oh, Miss Carr!" I cried.
"But understand, Antony, that it is not merely sitting in an office and
handling pen and drawing instruments: as I understand, the pupils have
to learn to use lathe and tool, so as to thoroughly understand their
profession. Shall you mind that?"
"Mind it?" I said. "Do you think I mind dirtying my hands? Why, my
father had a regular workshop, where we used to make and mend. Besides,
if I learn all that, I can help Mr Hallett."
"Antony," she said, in a weary, half-annoyed way, "don't talk to me of
Mr Hallett. My dear boy, you must not be a hero-worshipper."
"I don't know what a hero-worshipper is," I said, feeling hurt; "but Mr
Hallett has been so good to me that it would be ungrateful if I did not
love and respect him."
The two little spots of colour came in her cheeks again, and there was a
strange twitching of her brows.
"Kinder to you than Mr Revitts?" she said softly.
"Oh, he's not like William Revitts," I said eagerly. "I can't quite
explain it; he's so different. I like Revitts, but I always seem to
have to teach him. Mr Hallett teaches me, Miss Carr. I think he will
be a great man."
"You foolish boy!" she cried, in a nervous, excited way. "There, then:
it is settled. You will go and see Mr Girtley, at his office in Great
George Street, Westminster, and you may hid adieu to the
printing-office, and make your first start towards being a professional
man as soon as ever you like."
"I--I can never be grateful enough to you, Miss Carr," I said, in a
trembling voice.
"Oh yes, my dear boy, you can. Work on and succeed, and you will more
than repay me."
"Then I shall soon be out of debt," I said joyfully.
"I hope so, Antony," she said sadly; "but don't be too sanguine.--Yes?"
"Mr Lister, ma'am," said the servant who had entered. "He would be
glad if you would see him for a few minutes."
"Did--did you tell him I was not alone?" said Miss Carr, whose face
seemed to have turned cold and stern.
"No, ma'am, I only took his message."
"Show Mr Lister up," she said, in a quiet dignified way; and, as the
footman left the room--"Go in there, Antony, and wait until Mr Lister
has gone. He will not stay long."
She pointed to the folding-doors that opened into a larger drawing-room,
followed me, and pointing to a table covered with books, returned,
leaving the door ajar.
The various illustrated books were no little attraction, but the thought
of becoming an engineer, and perhaps being of service to Mr Hallett,
kept me from looking at them, and the next moment I heard the little
drawing-room door open, and Mr Lister's voice, every word being
perfectly audible.
"Ah, my dear Miriam!" he exclaimed; "why, my dear girl, you look quite
pale."
I felt very guilty, and as if I were listening purposely to the words
passing in the next room; so, taking up a book, I tried to read it, but
in spite of my efforts every word came plain and clear, and I heard all.
"I have been a little unwell," said Miss Carr quietly.
"My poor girl!" he said tenderly. "Ah, you have been away too much!
Miriam, dear, I want you to listen to me to-day. When am I to make you
my prisoner, and keep you from these errant ways?"
There was no reply, and a dead silence seemed to fall.
"Why, Miriam, darling," said Mr Lister, in a tender voice, "you are
more unwell than I thought for; why not have advice?"
"No, no," she said hastily. "I am quite well, indeed, John."
"Then why are you so cold and strange and distant? Have I offended you,
darling?"
"Oh no, John; indeed, no."
"I could not visit you more frequently, Miriam. I could not join you
abroad, for, as you know, my circumstances are only moderate, and I have
to keep very, very close to the business. Ruddle does not spare me
much. Are you annoyed because you think I slight you?"
"Oh no, no, John--indeed no."
"Yes, that is it," he cried; "you think I ought to have come down when
you were staying at Rowford."
"Can you not believe me, John," she said coldly, "when I tell you that
there are no grounds for such a charge? You ought to know me better
now."
"I do know you better, my own, my beautiful darling," he cried
passionately; "but you drive me nearly mad. We have been engaged now so
many weary months, and yet I seem to occupy no warmer position in your
heart than when I first met you. It is dreadful!"
I heard him get up and walk about the room, while she sat perfectly
silent.
"You rebuff me," he cried angrily. "You are cold and distant; my every
advance is met by some chilly look. Good heavens! Miriam, are we
engaged to be man and wife, or not?"
"You are unjust, John, in your anger," said Miss Carr in her low, sweet
voice. "I do not rebuff you, and I am never intentionally cold.
Indeed, I try to meet you as the man who is to be my husband."
"And lover?" he said, with an almost imperceptible sneer.
"As my husband," she said quietly; "a holier, greater title far than
that of lover. We are not girl and boy, John Lister, and I do not think
that you would love and respect me the more for acting like some weak,
silly school-girl, who does not know her own mind."
"She would at least be warmer in her love."
"But not nearly so lasting," said Miss Carr, in a low, almost pathetic
voice. "I look upon our engagement as so sacred a thing that I think we
ought not to hurry on our marriage as you wish. Besides, was it not
understood that we should wait awhile?"
"Yes; that was when some tattling fool told you about my losses over
that race, and I suppose made out that I was in a hurry to win the
heiress, so as to make ducks and drakes of her money."
"You hurt me," she said softly; "no one ever hinted at such a degrading
idea."
"Just when a fellow had gone into the thing for once in a way. Of
course I was unlucky, and a good job too. If I had won I might have
been tempted to try again. Now I have done with racing and betting and
the rest of it for ever."
"I had not thought of that affair, John, when I spoke as I did. I
promised you I would forget it, and I had forgotten it, believe me."
"Oh yes, of course," he said bitterly.
"I am speaking frankly and openly to you, John," continued Miss Carr
gently; "and I want you to think as I do, that, in taking so grave a
step as that which joins two people together for life, it should be
taken only as one makes a step from which there is no recall."
"Miriam!" he exclaimed, and he seemed to stop short in front of her, "I
am a hot, impetuous fellow, and I love you passionately, as you know,
and have known since the day when first we met. Have I ever given up
the pursuit?"
"No," she said, half-laughingly. "You did not let me rest, nor did our
friends, until we were engaged."
"Of course not. There, come now, you look more like your own dear self.
I want to ask you a question."
"Yes, John. What is it?"
He cleared his voice and hesitated, but only to speak out firmly at
last.
"Do you think--have you ever thought me such a cur that I wanted you for
the sake of your money?"
"John, this is the second time that you have brought up my fortune
to-day. There is no need to answer such a question."
"But I beg--I desire--I insist upon knowing," he cried passionately.
"You have your answer in the fact that you are standing before me
talking as you are. If I believed for an instant that you had such
sordid thoughts, our engagement would be at an end. I would sooner give
you the money than be your wife."
"Of course, yes: of course, my own dear, noble girl!" he cried
excitedly. "Then why all this waiting--why keep me at arm's length?
Come now, darling, let us settle it at once."
"No, John," she said calmly. "I cannot yet consent."
"Your old excuse," he cried, striding up and down the room.
"I never held out hopes to you that it would be soon," she replied; and
I felt that she must be looking at him wistfully.
"But why--why all this waiting, dear?" he said, evidently struggling
with his anger, and striving to speak calmly.
"I have told you again and again, dear John, my sole reason."
"And what is that?" he said bitterly; "it must have been so trifling
that I forget it."
"You do not forget it, indeed," she said tenderly. "I ask you to wait,
because I wish, when I marry you, to be sure that I am offering you a
true and loving wife."
"Oh, if that's all," he said laughingly, "I'm satisfied as you are; and
on my soul, Miriam, I wish you had not a penny, so that all ideas of
self-interest might be set aside!"
"They are set aside, dear John," she said calmly.
"Well then, love, let there be an end to this miserable waiting and
disappointment. If I did not know thoroughly your sweet disposition,
and that you are so far above all silly coquettish ways, I should say
that you were trifling with me, to make me more eager for the day."
"You know me better."
"I do, my darling," he said in a low impassioned voice, which I heard
quite plainly, though I had gone to the window and was looking out into
the street. "Then let us settle it at once. I am in your hands,
Miriam, as I have been from the day I first set eyes upon you. At
present I am wretched--miserable--my whole thoughts are of you, and I
feel at times half-mad--that I cannot wait. Do you wish to torture me?"
"No."
"Then be my dear honoured wife in a week's time--a fortnight? What,
still shaking your head? Well, then, there: I am the most patient of
lovers--in a month from to-day?"
"No, no, I cannot," she said; and in place of being so calm she spoke
now passionately. "You must wait, dear John, you must wait."
"Then there is something," he cried, in a low, angry voice. "Some
wretch has been maligning me."
"Indeed no."
"You have been told that I am wasteful and a spendthrift?"
"I should not have listened to any such charge."
"Then that I am weak, and untrustworthy, and gay?"
"I should have told anyone who hinted such a thing that it was a lie."
"Then," he cried hoarsely, "there is some one else; you have seen some
one you like better!"
"John! Mr Lister! You hurt my wrist."
"You do not answer me," he cried, his voice growing more hoarse and
intense, while I stood there with my heart palpitating, feeling as if I
ought to run to Miss Carr's help.
"I will not answer such a question," she said angrily; "but I will tell
you this: that I have looked upon myself as your betrothed wife; do not
make me think upon our engagement with regret."
"Forgive me, Miriam, pray forgive me," he said in a low, pleading voice.
"It is my wretched temper that has got the better of me. Say you
forgive me, Miriam, or I shall be ready to make an end of myself.
There, there, don't take away this little hand."
"Leave me now, I beg of you," she said in a low, pained voice.
"Yes, directly, sweet," he whispered; "but let there be an end of this,
my darling. Say--in a month's time--you will be my wife, and then I
shall know I am forgiven."
"I forgive you your cruel, passionate words, John," she said, in such a
tone that I began once more to look out of the window, wondering whether
Mrs John Lister would be as kind to me as Miss Carr.
"And, in a month to-day, you will make me a happy man?"
"I cannot promise that," she said after a pause.
"Yes, yes, you can, dearest--my own love!" he cried; and I felt now as
if I should like to open the window and step out on the balcony.
"No, I cannot promise that, John," she repeated. "You must--we must
wait."
"Then it is as I say," he cried, evidently springing up from her feet,
and stamping up and down the room. "You are a cruel, cold, heartless
girl, and I'll come begging and pleading no more. Our engagement holds
good," he said bitterly; "and you shall name the day yourself, and we
shall be a happy pair, unless I have blown out my brains before we're
wed."
I heard the little drawing-room door close loudly, descending steps, and
then the front door shut almost with a bang, and from where I stood I
saw Mr Lister, looking very handsome and well dressed, with a bouquet
in his button-hole, stride hastily down the street, cutting at imaginary
obstacles with his cane, and as he turned the corner I heard from the
next room a low moan, and Miss Carr's voice, saying:
"God help and teach me! I am a wretched woman! How shall I act?"