The Story of Antony Grace Part 100

There had been something so depressing in the fate of the lost machine that I strenuously advised that the trial should be made where the present one now stood, but Hallett was averse to it.

"No, Antony," he said quietly; "I am neither vindictive nor spiteful, and doubtless that man feels that he has good cause for hating me. Men of his stamp always blame others for their own failings. I am, I say, neither vindictive nor spiteful, but, feeling as I do, that he was the cause of our last breakdown, I am determined that the scene of our last failure shall also be the scene of our triumph."

This silenced opposition, and the workpeople were soon at work, taking down and re-setting up Hallett's masterpiece at the old place.

For my part, I was regularly worn out. I had worked very hard, and felt as if I was so deeply interested in the success that I must make it this time a foregone conclusion. Hallett's health worried me a great, deal too, and in addition to this, I was in more trouble than I can very well express about my affair with Mr Blakeford.

My objections to the proceedings had come too late. As Tom Girtley said, it was quite within our province to withdraw, and leave him in possession of his ill-gotten gains, but the attack upon his character as a solicitor was one which he was bound to disprove--in other words, he could not afford to let it drop.

"And what is he doing?" I asked.

"Riding the high horse," said Tom. "Tony, my boy, I think you are wrong."

"If Linny's father were alive, and he had injured you, Tom, would you seize the first opportunity to ruin him?"

"Am I to answer that question as solicitor to client, or between friends?"

"As you like, only let's have the truth."

Tom Girtley rubbed one of his ears, and a dry comical look came into his countenance.

"Well, Tony, old fellow--" he began.

"Oh, come," I cried, "that form of address is not legal, so it is between friends."

"Just as you like," he said, laughing. "Well, Tony, old fellow, under the circ.u.mstances, I should put the screw on, especially if I knew him to be a scoundrel. First and foremost, I should have his consent to our marriage; secondly, I should inspect his money affairs, and if they were in a satisfactory state, I should make the sneak disgorge."

"But you would not ruin him, and blast his character, for his child's sake?"

"No, of course not."

"Then, suppose the young lady did not care for you?"

"Then I should fire at the old man hotter and stronger, so us to ease my wounded feelings."

"No, you wouldn't, Tom," I said; "so don't humbug."

"You're a rum fellow, Tony," he retorted, "and 'pon my word it's precious disappointing. Here's old Peter Rowle been h.o.a.rding this up for his 'dear boy,' as the smoky old c.o.c.kolorum calls you, and old Jabez in a high state of delight too. Then Miss Carr has spent no end over it, and thought she had secured you your rights, and now you kick us all over."

"I can't help it, Tom," I said. "I feel as if I should be a brute if I went on."

"I say, Tony," he said, after a pause, "how long is it since you have seen the young lady?"

"Nine years."

"What do you say to a run down to Rowford?"

"Run down?" I said eagerly. "No, I could not. I am too busy over the preparations for the trial."

"Nonsense, man. You told me only yesterday that you had done all your part, and that you meant to take a rest. I should like a run in the country."

"At Miss Carr's expense," I said spitefully, "and charge it in her bill of costs as out of pocket."

"Oh, that settles it," he cried, jumping up and stamping about the room, roaring with laughter. "You must go for a run. Why, my dear boy, your liver's out of order, or you, Antony Grace, the amiable, would never have made a speech like that. Look here, Tony, you have overdone it, and nothing will do you good but a week's walking-tour."

"Nonsense! Impossible!" I cried.

"Then you'll break down like the governor did once. Ever since, he says that a man must oil his wheels and slacken his bands. Now you've got to oil your wheels and slacken your bands for a week. When shall we start?"

"I tell you it's impossible," I said testily.

"I tell you that, so far from its being impossible, if you don't give in with a good grace--that isn't meant for a pun--I'll go and frighten Miss Carr, and see the governor, and tell him how bad you are."

"Rubbish, Tom," I cried. "Why, you couldn't go and leave Linny Hallett for a week," I added.

"Sneering, too," he said, with a mock a.s.sumption of concern. "My dear Tony, this is getting serious. You are worse, far worse, than I thought for."

"Don't talk stuff," I cried petulantly.

The result of it all was, that as he was pulling the string in the direction that pleased me, I began to yield, and a proposition he made carried the day.

"Look here, Tony," he cried, as if in a fit of inspiration. "A walking-tour is the thing! you told me all about your tramp up when you ran away from Blakeford's. Let's go and tramp it all down again, over the very road."

His words seemed to strike an electric chord, and I grasped eagerly at the plan. The result was, that after arranging with Hallett to keep an eye on the preparations, and after winning from him a declaration that he would not think I was forsaking him at a critical time, and also after receiving endors.e.m.e.nt and persuasion from Miss Carr, I found myself one bright summer morning at Paddington, lightly equipped for the start, and together Tom Girtley and I strode along by the side of the dirty ca.n.a.l.

How familiar it all seemed again, as we walked on! There was the public-house where I had obtained the pot of beer for Jack's father, when I had to part, from them at the end of my journey up; and there, too, directly after, was just such a boy in charge of a couple of bony horses, one of which had a shallow tin bucket hanging from the collar-hames, as they tugged at a long rope which kept splas.h.i.+ng the water, and drew on Londonward one of the narrow red and yellow-painted ca.n.a.l-boats, covered in with just such a tarpaulin as that under which Jack and I had slept.

Resting on the tiller was just such another heavy, red-faced, dreamy man, staring straight before him as he sucked at a short black pipe, while forming herself into a living kit-cat picture was the woman who appeared to be his wife, her lower portions being down the square hatch that led into the cabin where the fire burned, whose smoke escaped through a little funnel.

I seemed to have dropped back into the boy again, and half wondered that I was not tired and footsore, and longing for a ride on one of the bony horses.

And so it was all through our journey down.

Every lock seemed familiar, and at more than one lock-house there were the same green apples and cakes and gla.s.ses of sticky sweets, side by side with two or three string-tied bottles of ginger-beer.

Two or three times over I found myself getting low-spirited as I dwelt upon my journey up, and thought of what a poor, miserable little fellow I was; but Tom was always in the highest of spirits, and they proved at last to be infectious.

We had pretty well reached the spot at last where I had first struck the river, when we stopped to see a ca.n.a.l-boat pa.s.s through the lock, the one where I had stared with wonder to see the great boat sink down some eight or nine feet to a lower level.

The boat, which was a very showily painted one, evidently quite new, was deeply laden, and in one place a part of a glistening black tarpaulin trailed in the water. As the boat's progress was checked, and the lock-keeper came out, the short, thick-set man who had been at the tiller shouted something, and a round-faced girl of about twenty, with a bright-coloured cotton handkerchief pinned over her shoulders, came up the hatch, and took the man's place, while he douched forward to alter the tarpaulin where it trailed.

He was quite a young man, and I noticed that his hair was fair, short, and crisp about his full neck, as he bent down, pipe in mouth, while a something in the way in which he shouted to the boy in charge of the horses settled my doubts.

"Jack!" I shouted.

He rose up very slowly, took the pipe out of his mouth, and spat in the water; then, gradually turning himself in my direction, he stared hard at me and said:

"h.e.l.lo!"