Chapter 79
Ashley was coming in. Mr. Ashley had been in the manufactory; he did not often go there after tea. "Going already, William?" Mr. Ashley exclaimed in accents of surprise.
"Not for long, sir. I must just look in at East's."
"Is that scheme likely to prosper? Can you keep the men?"
"Yes, indeed, I think so. My hopes are strong."
"Well, there's nothing like hope," answered Mr. Ashley, with a laugh.
"But I shall wonder if you do keep them. William," he added, after a slight pause, his tone changing to a business one, "I have a few words to say to you. I was about to speak to you in the counting-house this afternoon, but something put it aside. I have changed my plans with respect to this Lyons journey. Instead of despatching you, as I had thought of doing, I believe I shall send Samuel Lynn."
Mr. Ashley paused. William did not immediately reply.
"Samuel Lynn's experience is greater than yours. It is a new thing, and he will see, better than you could do, what can and what cannot be done."
"Very well, sir," at length answered William.
"You speak as though you were disappointed," remarked Mr. Ashley.
William was disappointed. But his motive for the feeling lay far deeper than Mr. Ashley supposed. "I should like to have gone, sir, very much.
But--of course, my liking, or not liking, has nothing to do with it.
Perhaps it is as well that I should not go," he resumed, more in soliloquy, as if he were trying to reconcile himself to the disappointment by argument, than in observation to Mr. Ashley. "I do not see how the men would have done without me at East's."
"Ay, that's a grave consideration," replied Mr. Ashley jokingly, as he turned to walk to his own door.
William stood still, nailed as it were to the spot, looking after his master. A most unwelcome thought had flashed over him; and in the impulse of the moment he followed Mr. Ashley, to speak it out. Even in the night's obscurity, his emotion was perceptible.
"Mr. Ashley, the suspicion cast on me, at the time that cheque was lost, has not been the reason--the reason for your declining to intrust me with this commission?"
Mr. Ashley looked at him in surprise. But that William's agitation was all too real, he would have laughed at him.
"William, I think you are turning silly. No suspicion was cast on you."
"You have never stirred in the matter, sir; you have never spoken to me to tell me you were satisfied that I was not in any way guilty," was William's impulsive answer.
"Spoken to you! where was the need? Why, William, my whole life, my daily intercourse with you, is only so much proof that _you_ have my full confidence. Should I admit you to my home, to the companions.h.i.+p of my children, if I had no more faith in you than that?"
"True," said William, beginning to recover himself. "It was a thought that flashed over me, sir, when you said I was not to be sent on this journey. I should not like you to doubt me; I could not live
"William, you reproached me with not having stirred in----"
"I beg your pardon, sir. I never thought of such a thing as reproach. I would not presume to do it."
"I have not stirred in the matter," resumed Mr. Ashley. "A very disagreeable suspicion arises in my mind at times, as to how the cheque went; and I do not choose to stir in it. Have you no suspicion on the point?"
The question took William by surprise. He stammered in his answer; an unusual thing for him to do. "N--o."
"I ask if you have a suspicion?" quietly repeated Mr. Ashley, meaningly, as if he took William's answer for nothing, or had not heard it.
Then William spoke out readily. "A suspicion has crossed my mind, sir.
But it is one I should not like to breathe to you."
"That's enough. I see. White voluntarily took the loss of the money on himself. He came to me to say so; therefore, I infer that it has in some private way been refunded to him. Mr. Dare veered round, and advised me not to investigate the affair, as I was no loser by it; Delves hinted the same thing. Altogether, I can see through the thing pretty clearly, and I am content to let it rest. Are you satisfied? If not----"
Mr. Ashley broke off abruptly. William waited.
"So, don't turn foolish again. You and I now understand each other.
William!" he emphatically added, "I am growing to like you almost as I like my own children. I am proud of you; and I shall be prouder yet. G.o.d bless you, my boy!"
It was so very rare that the calm, dignified Thomas Ashley was betrayed into anything like demonstrativeness, that William could only stand and look. And while he looked, the door closed on his master.
He went way with all speed, calling at his home. Were the truth to be told, perhaps William was quite as anxious to be back again at Mr.
Ashley's as Henry was that he should be there. Scarcely stopping for a word of greeting, he opened a drawer, took from it a small case of fossils, and then searched for something else; something which apparently he could not find.
"Have any of you seen my microscope?" he asked, turning to the group at the table bending over their books.
Jane looked round. "My dear, I lent it to Patience to-day. I suppose she forgot to return it. Gar, will you go and ask her for it?"
"Don't disturb yourself, Gar," said William. "I am going out, and will ask Patience myself."
Patience was alone in her parlour. She returned him the microscope, saying that the reason she had not sent it in was, that she had not had time to use it. "Thee art in evening dress!" she remarked to William.
"I am at Mrs. Ashley's. I have only come out for a few minutes. Thank you. Good night, Patience."
"Wait thee a moment, William. Is Anna ready to come home?"
"No, that she is not. Why?"
"I want to send for her. Samuel Lynn is spending the evening in the town, so I must send Grace. And I don't care to send her late. She will only get talking to John Pembridge, if she goes out after he is home from work."
William smiled. "It is natural that she should, I suppose. When are they going to be married?"
"Shortly," answered Patience, in a tone not quite so equable as usual.
Patience saw no good in people getting married in general; and she was vexed at the prospect of losing Grace in particular. "She leaves us in a fortnight from this," she continued, alluding to Grace, "and all her thoughts seem to be bent now upon meeting John Pembridge. Could thee bring Anna home for me?"
"With pleasure," replied William.
"That is well, then. Grace does not deserve to go out to-night, for she wilfully crossed me to-day. Good evening, William."
Fossil-case in hand, and the microscope in his pocket, William made the best of his way to Honey Fair. Robert East, Stephen Crouch, Brumm, Th.o.r.n.ycroft, Carter, Cross, and some half-dozen others, were crowded round Robert's table. William handed them the fossils and the microscope; told the men to amuse themselves with them for that night, and he would explain more about them on the morrow. He was ever anxious that the men should have some object of amus.e.m.e.nt as a rallying point on these evenings; anything to keep their interest awakened.
Before the half-hour had expired, he was back at Mr. Ashley's. Proverbs had been given up, and Mary was at the piano. Mr. Ashley had been accompanying her on the flute, on which instrument he was a brilliant player, and when William entered she was singing a duet with Herbert Dare. Anna--disobedient Anna--was seated, listening with all her ears and heart to the music, her up-turned countenance quite wonderful to look upon in its rapt delight.
"I think you could sing," spoke Henry Ashley to her, in an undertone, after watching her while the song lasted.
Anna shook her head. "I may not try," she said, raising her blue eyes to him for one moment, and then dropping them.
"The time may come when you may," returned Henry, in a deeper whisper.