The Story of Antony Grace

“Glad of it,” said I, laughing. “A solicitor should always have clean hands.”

We chatted on merrily as we walked, for we had started to go as far as my old home, where, as I pointed out to him the scene of many a happy hour, a feeling of sadness more painful than I had experienced for years seemed to oppress me, and it was not until I had once more left the old home far behind that I was able to shake it off.

When we returned to the hotel it was to find Mr Blakeford waiting for us, and to the utter surprise of both, we were soon put in possession of all that was necessary to give me that which was my own by right, but which he saw plainly enough that his child would share.

“I don’t like to turn prophet, Tony,” said my companion, “but I should say that our friend Blakeford is putting his affairs in order on account of a full belief that a summons is about to issue that he is soon to meet. Well, I congratulate you,” he said, “and I don’t wonder now why it was that I did not find we were rivals.”

This was after we had spent one evening at Blakeford’s; and in the morning, after a tender leave-taking, we were on our way back to London.

My presence was needed, for the test of the machine would take place next day, and I found Hallett had been taken so ill that all prospect of his attending the public trial had been swept away.

“It does not matter,” he said to me quietly, when I was sitting with him, propped up in an easy-chair, beside Mrs Hallett. “It is better as it is, Antony, my dear boy. I shall not be there for the miserable scamps to pelt when the poor old idol breaks down again.”

“Breaks down!” I cried exultingly; “I was there last night till after twelve, and there will be no tampering this time, for a policeman is on the watch, and Mr Jabez and Mr Peter were going to take turn and turn in the room all night, the one with a box full of snuff, and the other with a couple of ounces of tobacco, and the longest clay pipe I could get.”

“‘There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip,’” he said, looking at me with a piteous smile upon his wasted face. “Antony, lad, inventors do not often reap much from the crops they sow, but there is the unselfish pleasure of helping others. If I do not prosper from my work others may. God bless you, lad! I believe I have a trusty friend in you, and one who will be true to my poor mother here and Linny.”

“Why, my dear Hallett,” I exclaimed, “what a doleful tone to take on this, the day of success. Come, come, come, you want a dose of good news. I’m off now, and the fastest cab shall luring me back the moment the verdict is pronounced.”

“‘There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip,’” he said again softly; and there was a strange and meaning smile upon his face.

“Out upon you, raven!” I cried merrily. “In two hours I’ll be here with such news as shall bring the colour back in those white cheeks; and to-morrow you shall come down into the country with me. I shall ask for another fortnight, and you shall wander with me in the green fields, and we’ll idle and rest, for when the work is done there should surely be some play.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “some rest.”

I hurried away at the last, leaving Linny with him, and a more easy cheerful look upon his countenance, and soon after I was at Mr Ruddle’s, to find all ready, our friends collected, and the invited people coming fast.

“‘Festina lente’ is a good motto, Grace,” said old Mr Girtley, taking me by the button. “A little more patience, and we should have had this right last time, though or course we could not guard against the accident. Ah, Tom,” he continued, “how’s parchment? I’d rather have seen you the schemer of this machine, my boy, than the winner of the most tangled legal case.”

“Rather hard that, Tony, when I have just won you five hundred a year and a wife, eh?” said Tom, laughing; and then my attention was taken up in a dozen ways. There were the brothers Rowle to talk to; Mr Grimstone to shake my hand; Mr Ruddle to chat with about the success of the machine, and about Lister, concerning whom he made a significant motion, turning his hand into a drinking-vessel, and shaking his head.

Then there was a hitch. Everything was declared in readiness, when it was found that the shaft that ran through the building was ceasing to revolve.

It came like a black cloud over the proceedings, but it was only the stoker’s neglect. Half an hour after, the steam was well up once more, and, with the room crowded, Mr Girtley, just as on the last occasion, gave the long leathern band a twitch; shaft was connected with shaft; a touch from a long lever tightened the driving-wheel and its fellow portion; there was a whirring, clanking noise, the spinning of wheels, the revolving of cylinders; ink-rollers ran round; the great reel of paper began to give its fair surface to the kiss of the type; the speed was increased, faster – faster – faster, and those who had shrunk back at first, as if expecting an accident, grew excited and drew in, while the ponderous machine, working as easily as a watch, turned off perfected newspaper sheets at a rate that seemed astounding.

There was no hesitation now; there were no doubting looks, but a hearty cheer arose, one that was taken up again on the staircase, and ran from room to room, till the girls, busy folding down below, joined their shrill voices merrily in the cry.

“Success, Tony!” cried Tom, catching my hand.

“And Hallett not here!” I cried.

The next minute I seized one of the printed newspapers that came from the machine, doubled it hastily, and dashed downstairs.

There was a hansom cab waiting, and as I gave my breathless order, “Great Ormond Street,” the horse started, and panting with excitement, I thought I had never gone so slowly before.

“I shall be within three hours, though,” I said to myself, as I glanced at my watch. “That want of steam spoiled me for keeping my word.”

“Faster!” I shouted, as I thrust up the trap; “another half-crown if you are quick!”

The horse sprang forward, and I carefully redoubled my precious paper, holding the apron of the cab-door open, my latchkey in my hand, and being ready to spring out as the vehicle stopped at the door – not quite though, for the doctor’s brougham was in the way.

No need for the latchkey, for the door was open, and, dashing along the hall, I sprang up the stairs, flight after flight, from landing to landing, and rushed breathlessly into the room, waving the paper over my head.

“Victory, victory!” I shouted. “Hur – ”

The paper dropped from my hands, as my eyes lighted upon the group gathered round a mattress laid upon the floor, on which was stretched my poor friend, supported by Miriam Carr, upon whose arm his head was lying.

Doctor, Linny, Mary, Revitts, all were there, watching him in silence, while the poor stricken mother was bending forward like some sculptured figure to represent despair.

“Hallett! Stephen?” I cried, “my news.”

My words seemed to choke me as I fell upon my knees at his side; but I saw that he recognised me, and tried to raise his hand, which fell back upon the mattress.

Then, making a supreme effort, he slightly turned his head to gaze upon the face bending over him, till a pair of quivering lips were pressed upon his brow.

There was a smile upon his countenance, and he spoke, but so low that the whisper did not reach our ears, and then the smile seemed to grow fixed and hard, and a silence that was awful in its intensity fell upon that group.

I did not catch those words, but she told me afterwards what they were.

“At last! Now let me sleep.”

Fallen when victory was won.

Chapter Sixty Two.

Miss Carr has Another Offer

“Antony,” said Miss Carr to me one day, “you are very young yet to think of marriage.”

“But it is not to be yet for quite a year.”

“I am glad of it,” she said, laying her hand on mine; and as I took it and held it, looking up with a feeling akin to awe in her dark, far-off-looking eyes, I could not help thinking how thin it was, and how different to the soft, white hand that used to take mine years ago.

“We both think it will be wiser,” I said, talking to her as if she were an elder sister, though of late there had grown up in me a feeling that she looked upon me as if I were her son.

“Marriage must be a happy state, Antony, when both love, and have trust the one in the other.”

I looked at her, feeling in pain, for I dared not speak, knowing that she must be thinking of poor Hallett; and as I looked I could not help noticing how the silver hairs were beginning to make their presence known, and how much she had changed.

“You think it strange that I should talk like this, do you not?”

I could not answer.

“Yes, I see you do,” she said, smiling. “Antony, I have had another offer of marriage.”

“You have!” I exclaimed. “From whom? Who has asked you?”