The Story of Antony Grace

“That I cannot do without being guilty of a breach of confidence, Mr Rowle,” I replied. “If you will come up to Miss Carr’s to-morrow evening at half-past six, you may be sure of a warm welcome, and I shall be there to meet you.”

“Phee-ew!” he whistled, “how fine we have got to be, Grace. Do we dine late every day, sir?”

“No; nonsense,” I said, laughing. “Miss Carr is very kind to me, though: and she wished me to be there to meet you.”

“Well, but, Grace, you know,” said the old man, “I’m such a queer, rough sort of a fellow. I’m not used to that sort of thing. I’ve read about it often enough; but I suppose – oh, you know, I couldn’t come?”

“I shall tell Miss Carr you will,” I said, rising; and after a few more words, the old man promised, and I went away.

Chapter Forty Nine.

Mr Jabez Undertakes a Commission

Mr Jabez was got up wonderfully for his visit to Miss Carr. His white waistcoat might have been carved in marble, and his white cravat was the stiffest ever made; but there was a good deal of the natural gentleman in the old man, and he took Miss Carr down to dinner with all the ceremony of the old school.

Everything was expressly arranged to be very simple, and in a very few minutes Mr Jabez was quite at his ease, while after a glass of sherry the old man became pleasantly chatty, and full of anecdote, but always treating his hostess with the most chivalrous respect, making a point of rising to open the door for her when she quitted the room, and we were supposed to be left to our wine.

“Hah, Grace,” he said, coming back to the table, and taking a long pinch of snuff; “now I feel a man again. I’ll just have three more pinches, and then we’ll go upstairs to that angel. Good heavens!”

“What is the matter?” I said, as, instead of sitting down, he began to walk up and down the dining-room, taking pinch after pinch of snuff.

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed again.

“Is anything the matter, Mr Jabez?” I exclaimed.

“Good heavens! I say, Good heavens!” he repeated.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Good heavens! Only to think of it, Grace!”

Another pinch of snuff.

“Only to think, my lad, that he might have had that woman – that lady! A girl as beautiful in her mind as she is in her face. Why, Grace, my boy, I’m an old snuffy bachelor because my opportunity never came, but if I could have married such a woman as that – Hah! some men are born to be fools!”

“And you think Mr Lister was a fool?”

“Fool, sir? He was ten thousand times worse. But there! the sun don’t shine on me every day, my boy! We’ll go upstairs at once, and let it shine upon me again.”

I never liked Mr Jabez one-half so well before. It was delightful to me, who quite worshipped Miss Carr, to see the old man’s genuine admiration. He seemed quite transformed, and looked younger. In fact, no sooner were we upstairs, where Miss Carr was sitting with the urn singing on the tea-table, than he relieved me of a difficulty by opening the question of business himself.

“My dear young lady,” he said, as he sat down, and began rubbing one thin little leg, “I know you’ll excuse me for speaking so familiarly, but,” – he smiled – “I’m over sixty, and I should think you are not more than twenty-five.”

Miss Carr smiled, and he went on.

“Our young friend Grace here tells me that you would like me to perform a little commission for you. I only wish to say that you may command me in any way, and to the best of my ability the work shall be done.”

“Thank you, Mr Rowle,” said our hostess. “Antony Grace said he felt sure I could not have a more suitable and trustworthy agent.”

“I thank Antony Grace,” said the old man, bowing to me ceremoniously, and taking out his snuff-box, which he hastily replaced.

“The fact is,” said Miss Carr, hesitating, and her voice trembled and her face flushed slightly as she spoke, “I – oh, I will be plain,” she said, as if determined to cast off all false shame; “Mr Rowle, I trust to you not to put a false construction on this act of mine. I am rich – I am my own mistress, and I will do as I please, whatever the world may say.”

“You are rich, you are your own mistress, and you have a right to do as you please, my dear young lady, whatever the world may say,” assented Mr Jabez, tapping the lid of his snuff-box, which seemed as if it would not keep out of his hand.

“The fact is, Mr Rowle,” continued Miss Carr, “there is a gentleman – a friend of Antony Grace here, who is struggling to perfect a new invention – a great invention.”

Mr Jabez bowed, gazing at her animated countenance with open admiration the while.

“To perfect this invention, money is wanted.”

“Exactly,” said Mr Jabez, tapping his box softly. “Money is always useful.”

“I wish this gentleman to have that money – as much as is necessary.”

“You are rich; you are your own mistress; you have a right to do as you please, my dear young lady, whatever the world may say,” said Mr Jabez, harping upon her words once more. “It is easily settled. Give it him.”

“No,” said Miss Carr, speaking with animation, “it is not easy. You forget what I say. This inventor is a gentleman.”

“And would be too proud to take the money?” said Mr Jabez quickly.

“Yes,” said Miss Carr. “He would not stoop to be under such an obligation. He would feel insulted – that he was lowering himself. I wish to help him,” she said excitedly. “I would do anything to help him; but my hands are tied.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Mr Jabez softly; “and you want me to help you?”

“Yes, oh yes! And you will?” cried Miss Carr.

“Of course I will, my dear young lady,” said the old man; “but this requires thought. Would you excuse me if I took just one little pinch?”

“Oh, my dear Mr Rowle,” cried Miss Carr, “pray do not use ceremony here. I asked you to come to me as a friend. Pray consider that you are one.”

“Hah!” sighed Mr Jabez. “Now I can get on. Well, my dear young lady, surely we can find a way. In the first place, who is the gentleman?”

Miss Carr looked at me.

“Mr Hallett,” I said, coming to her help.

“What? Our Mr Hallett?” said Mr Jabez.

“Yes, Mr Rowle.”

“Hum! Well, I’m not surprised,” he said. “He certainly always did seem to be a gentleman, and I was very sorry that he left our place. So he is working on a great invention, eh? Well, he is just the man who would. Then, the first thing is, how is it to be done?”

“Antony Grace thinks, Mr Rowle, that as you have the reputation of being a wealthy man – ”

“Wealthy! why I lost five hundred pounds slap the other day by – Dear me! Bless my soul! Oh, tut – tut – tut! What an ass I am!” he muttered, taking refuge in a tremendous pinch of snuff, half of which powdered his white waistcoat and cravat.

“I am very sorry to hear that,” said Miss Carr quietly.