The Story of Antony Grace

“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.”

I could not speak, but stood clinging to her hands for a few minutes.

“Don’t think me foolish,” I said, at last; “but it has seemed so strange – you have been so kind – I don’t know why – I have not deserved it.”

“Antony,” she said, laying one hand upon my shoulder, and speaking very softly and slowly, “neither do I know why, only that your simple little story seemed to go home to my heart. I thought then, as I think now, that when I lost both those who were near and dear to me, my sister and I might have been left penniless, to go out and struggle in the world as you have had to do. Once more, good-bye. Only strive on worthily, and you shall always find that I am your friend.”

The next minute I was in the street, dull, depressed, and yet elated and joyful, while I ran over again the bright, sunshiny hours that had been so unexpectedly passed, as I hastened northward to join Revitts, for it was one of his home nights.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Linny is out Late

I noticed that there was growing trouble at the Halletts’, and more than once, when I went up, I found Linny in tears, which, however, she hastily concealed.

This was the case on the night following my visit to Miss Carr, whose words, “that I need be under no uneasiness,” were verified. The fact that I had been sent out by Mr Lister was sufficient for Mr Jabez Rowle; and when, during the next day, I encountered Mr Lister himself, he nodded to me in quite a friendly way, and said, “How are you?”

Mrs Hallett was asleep, and I went upstairs softly, tapped at Hallett’s room door, and went in, to find him deeply immersed in his task, over which he was bending with knitted brows, and evidently in doubt.

“Ah, Antony,” he said, “here we are, as busy as usual. How did you get on last night?”

“With Revitts?”

“Yes; was it not your lesson-night?”

“Yes,” I said; “but I thought perhaps you meant at Miss Carr’s!”

He dropped the file with which he had been at work and stared at me.

“Where did you say?” he exclaimed.

“Mr Lister sent me with a note to Miss Carr, and she kept me there all day.”

He drew in his breath with a hiss, caught up the file and went on working, while I chattered on, little thinking of the pain I was causing the poor fellow, as I rapturously praised Miss Carr and her home, and told him by degrees how I had spent the day.

I was too intent on my narration to pay much heed to Hallett’s face, though in fact I hardly saw it, he kept it so bent over his task, neither did I notice his silence; but at last, when it was ten o’clock, and I rose to go, he rose too, and I saw that he was rather paler than usual.

“Are you ill, Hallett?” I said anxiously. “How white you look.”

“Ill? oh no, Antony. I have been sitting too much over my model. You and I must have another run or two into the country, and put roses in our cheeks.”

He looked at me with a smile, but there was a weary, haggard look in his eyes that troubled me.