The Paper Cap. A Story of Love and Labor

So she met him at the open door, and said – with a tight clasp of his big hand – “I am right glad to see thee, brother. Come in here,” and she led him to a small parlor used exclusively by herself.

“I cannot stop to dinner, Josey,” he said kindly, but he kept her hand in his hand, until he reached the chair his sister pointed out. Then she sat down beside him and said, “Antony, my dear brother, thou must answer me a few questions. If thou went home and left me in doubt, I should be a varry unhappy woman.”

“Whativer art thou bothering thysen about?”

“About thee. I’ll speak out plain and thou must answer me in the same fashion. What is tha going to do about thy living? Thou hes no business left, and I know well thou hes spent lavishly iver since thou came here with thy wife and daughter.”

“To be sure I hev. And they are varry welcome to ivery penny of the outlay. And I must say, Josey, thou has been more extravagant about both Annie and Kitty than I hev been.”

“Well then Kitty is such a darling – thou knows.”

“Ay, she is that.”

“And Annie is more tolerant with me than she iver was before.”

“To be sure. Iveryone gets more kindly as he grows older. And she knaws thee better, which is a great deal. Annie is good from the beginning to the end.”

“Nobody will say different, but that is not what I am wanting to talk to thee about. Listen to me now, my dear lad! What art thou going to do? I am in earnest anxiety. Tell me, my brother.”

The squire was silent and looked steadily down on the table for a few minutes. Josepha did not by the slightest movement interfere but her steady, kindly gaze was fixed upon the silent man. Perhaps he felt, though he did not see, the love that shone upon him, for he lifted his face with a broad smile, and answered —

“My dear lass, I don’t know.”

“I shouldn’t wonder. Now speak straight words to me as plain as thou spoke to the Annis weavers last week.”

“My dear sister, I shall do right, and let come what will.”

“And what does tha call doing right?”

“I think of two ways and both seem right to me.”

“What are they? Perhaps I can help thee to decide that one is better than the other. Dear lad, I want to help thee to do the best thing possible for thysen, and thy children.”

There was no resisting the persuasion in her face, voice and manner, and the squire could not resist its influence. “Josey,” he said, as he covered her small plump hand with his own in a very masterful way – “Josey! Josey! I am in the thick of a big fight with mysen. I did really promise a crowd of Annis weavers that if the Reform Bill passed I would build a mill and give them all work, and that would let them come home again. Tha sees, they all own, or partly own, their cottages, and if I can’t find them work, they will hev to give up their homes mebbe, to a varry great disadvantage.”

“To be plain with thee, thou could in such a case, buy them all back for a song.”

“Does tha really think thou hes an up and down blackguard for thy brother? I’m not thinking of buying poor men’s houses for a song – nor yet of buying them at any price.”

“A perfectly fair price, eh?”

“No. There could not be a fair price under such conditions. The poor would be bound to get the worst of the bargain, unless I ruined mysen to be square and just. I doan’t want to sit in hell, trying to count up what I hed made by buying poor men’s homes at a bargain.”

“Hes tha any plan that will help thee to build a mill and give thy old weavers a chance?”

“The government will loan to old employers money to help them build a mill, and so give work and bread.”

“The government is not lending money, except with some excellent security.”

“Land, I have plenty. I could spare some land.”

“No. Thou could not spare the government one acre.”

“Then I cannot build a mill and furnish it with looms and all necessary.”

“Yes, thou can easily do it – if thou wilt take a partner.”

“Does tha know anyone suitable?”

“I do.”

“Do I know the person?”

“Varry well. It is mysen. It is Josepha Temple.” The squire fairly started. He looked straight into Josepha’s eyes and she continued, “Take me for thy partner, Antony. I will build thee the biggest, and most completely finished mill in the West Riding – or anywhere else – cotton or wool – whichiver thou likes. Bradley’s is mainly cotton, thou hed better stick to wool. Thou hes two hundred sheep of thy awn, on thy awn fells, and wold. Stick to the wool, dear lad.”

“Art thou in very earnest, Josepha?”

“Sure as life and death! I am in earnest. Say the word, and I’ll build, and fit the mill, just as tha wants it.”

“And thy share in it will be – ”

“We will divide equally – half and half. I want to buy a partnership with my money. ‘Annis and Temple’ will suit me well. I will find all the wherewithal required – money for building, looms, engines, wool or cotton yarns, just as thou wishes. Thou must give the land, and the varry best bit of land for the purpose, that thou hes on thy estate in Annis, or elsewhere.”

“Dost tha knaw how much money tha will hev to spend for what thou proposes?”

“I should think I do and it will every farthing of it be Annis money. I hev speculated, and dealt wisely with the money the good Admiral left me. I hev made, made mysen, more money than we shall require for the mill and all its necessary furniture, and if it was not enough, I could double it and not feel a pound poorer. The outlay is mine, all of it; the land, and the management is thy affair. It is only by my name, which is well known among monied men, that I shall appear in the business.”

“Josepha! Thou art my good angel!”

“I am thy sister. We are both Annis folk. We were both rooted in the soil of this bit of England. We had the same good father and mother, the same church, and the same dear old home. God forbid we should iver forget that! No, we can not! These memories run with our blood, and throb in our hearts. All that is mine is thine. Thou art dear to me as my awn life. Thy son and daughter are my son and daughter. My money is thy money, to its last penny. Now, wilt thou hev me for thy partner?” The squire had buried his face in his hands, and Josepha knew he was hiding his feelings from everyone but God, and she stepped to the window and drew up the shade, and let the sunshine flood the room. As she did so, the squire called to himself – “Be of good courage, Antony!” And he rose quickly, and so met his sister coming back to her chair, and took her in his arms, and kissed her and said: “Josey, dear, there was a load on my heart I was hardly able to bear; thou hes lifted it, and I love and thank thee! We will work together, and we will show Yorkshire that landed gentlefolk can do a bit of business, above all their ideas, and above all thou can imagine it pleases me, that I may then redeem my promises to the men that hev worked so long, and so faithfully for me.”

And then it was Josepha that had to dry her eyes as she said: “Thy kiss, Antony, was worth all I hev promised. It was the signing of our contract.”

“I felt, Josey, when I entered this house, that my life had come to an end, and that I could only write ‘defeated’ over it.”

“Thy real life begins at this hour. Thy really fine business faculties, corroded with rust and dust of inaction, will yet shine like new silver. There is no defeat, except from within. And the glad way in which thou can look forward, and take up a life so different to that thou hes known for more than fifty years, shows plainly that you can, and will, redeem every fault of the old life. As thou art so busy and bothered to-night, come to-morrow and I will hev my lawyer, and banker, also a first rate factory architect, here to meet thee.”

“At what hour?”

“From ten o’clock to half-past twelve are my business hours. If that time is too short, we will lengthen it a bit. Dick has asked me to tell thee something thou ought to know, but which he cannot talk to thee about.”

“Is it about Faith Foster?”

“Not it! Varry different.”

“What, or who, then?”

“John Thomas Bradley.”