The Story of Antony Grace Part 103

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 ap.r.o.n 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, das.h.i.+ng 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?"

I felt almost indignant at the idea; and my indignation became hot rage as she went on.

"John Lister has asked me again to be his wife."

"The scoundrel! the villain!" I exclaimed.

"Hush, Antony," she said quietly, as she laid her thin white fingers upon my lips. "He says that he has bitterly repented the past; that he is a changed man, and he begs me not to blight the whole of his life."

"You? Blight his life!" I exclaimed hotly. "He has blighted yours."

She did not speak for a few moments, and then she startled me by her words.

"He is coming here to-day to ask for my answer from my lips. He begged that I would not write, but that I would see him, and let him learn his fate from me."

"But you surely will not see him?" I exclaimed.

"I have told him that I will. He will be here, Antony, almost directly."

I was for the moment stunned, and could do nothing but gaze helplessly in Miss Carr's face, for the question kept asking itself, "Will she accept him?" and it seemed to me like an insult to the dead.

She returned my gaze with a quiet look, full of mournfulness, and as the minutes flew on, I felt a kind of irritation growing upon me, and that I should be bitterly hurt if she should be weak enough to accept John Lister.

"She will consider it a duty, perhaps," I thought; "and that she does it to save him, now that he has repented and become a better man."

My ponderings were brought to an end by the servant bringing in a card, and I rose to go, but she laid her hand upon my arm.

"Going, Antony?" she said.

"Yes," I replied angrily, and I pointed to the card.

"Sit down, Antony," she said, smiling; "I wish you to be present."

"No, no, I would rather not," I exclaimed.

"I beg that you will stay, Antony," she said, in a tone of appeal that I could not have disobeyed, and I petulantly threw myself back in a chair, as the door opened, and John Lister was announced.

He came forward eagerly, with extended hands, as Miss Carr rose, but changed colour and bowed stiffly as he saw me.

Recovering himself, however, he took Miss Carr's extended hand, raised it to his lips, and then drew back as if waiting for me to go.

"I felt," he said, to put an end to our awkward silence, "that you would grant me this private interview, Miriam."