Chapter 48
"Right, my young wisepate," he cried; "but, good heavens! it's eleven o'clock. Come, sir, pack off home to your lodging."
"Why, I thought we were to set the model going to-night?" I said, in a disappointed tone.
"Yes, I did mean it," he said, fitting a couple of cog-wheels one into the other. "But it is too late now."
"Let's try for another hour," I said eagerly.
"No, no, my boy. I don't like you to be out so late. Mr Revitts will be annoyed."
"He's away on duty," I said. "Just another hour, and then you can walk part of the way home with me."
"Well, just an hour," he said, with his pale face flus.h.i.+ng with pleasure; and we set to at once, he fitting together, while I polished and oiled wheels and spindles, and handed them and the various screws to him to fit in their places.
The model was as intricate as a clock, and there were endless little difficulties to combat; but there was something so fascinating in the task as the bright bra.s.s wheels were placed in order, and it begat such an intense longing to see it in motion, executing in miniature the great desire of Hallett's life, that we forgot all about time, and kept steadily on till there were only a few screws to insert and nuts to tighten, and the task would be done.
Hallett looked up at me as he re-trimmed the lamp by which we worked, and I across the table at him, laughing at his puzzled face, for we had unconsciously been at work over three hours, and it was past two.
"This is dreadful, Antony," he exclaimed, with a comical look of chagrin on his face. "I seem fated to lead you into all sorts of dissipation.
What are we to do? I cannot let you go home so late as this. You must lie down here."
"I'm not a bit sleepy," I said, "but I am hungry."
"Then you shall have some supper," he said dreamily, and with his eyes fixed upon his model, forgetting me the next moment, as with his dexterous fingers he tried the action of one or other of the wheels.
"It's a pity to leave it now," I cried.
"Yes, yes," he said with a sigh; "it is a pity: but it must be left. I dare--"
He ceased talking, becoming completely abstracted in his task of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g on a nut, and without speaking I helped and watched and helped until quite an hour and a half more had glided by, when with a look of triumph he stood erect, for the task was done.
"She's finished, Antony," he cried, and in the elate eager face before me I seemed to see some one quite different to the stern, quiet compositor I met daily at the great printing-office by Fetter Lane.
I was as delighted as he, and together we stood gazing down at the bright, beautiful bit of mechanism--the fruit of years of toil and endless thought; but as I gazed at it a strange dull feeling of anxiety came over me, and I glanced timorously at Hallett, for the thought flashed across my mind:
"What will he say now if it fails?"
I literally trembled with dread as this thought forced its way home, and with a choking sensation at my throat I watched his eager, elated face each moment becoming more joyous and full of pride; and the more I witnessed his pleasure, the more I feared lest his hopes should be dashed.
"Why, it's daybreak, Antony," he said, drawing up the blind. "My poor boy, what a thoughtless wretch I am. It is cruel to you. Come and lie down directly."
"No," I said eagerly, "I want to see the model going."
"And so do I, Antony," he cried pa.s.sionately; "but now the time has come, my boy, I dare not try. I feel a horrible dread of failure, and I must cover it over with a cloth, and leave it till I feel more calm."
He took up the large black cloth with which he had been in the habit of covering it from the dust, and stood gazing down at the bright bra.s.s model which had begun to glisten in the soft pure morning light now
I felt that I dared not speak, but as if I should have liked to lead him away from the infatuation of his life. Somehow I knew that it would break down, and the anguish he must feel would be something I could not bear to see; and yet, combined with this, I shared his longing to see the model at work--the beautiful little piece of mechanism that was to produce a revolution in printing--turning easily, smoothly, and well.
As I gazed at his eager, anxious face, the pale light in the sky changed to a soft warm flush; bright flecks of orange and gold sent their reflections into the dingy garret, and seemed to illumine Hallett's countenance, as with straining eyes and parted lips he stood there cloth in hand.
"Antony," he said, in a low hoa.r.s.e voice, "I am a coward. I feel like a gambler who risks his all upon a stake, and dare not look upon the numbers--upon the newly cast dice. No, no, I dare not try it now; let it rest till to-night."
As he spoke he covered it carefully with the black cloth, but only to s.n.a.t.c.h it away, apostrophising it the while.
"No, no," he cried; "it is like covering you with a pall and saying you are dead, when, you, the birth of my brains, are ready to leap into new life--new life indeed--the life of that which has had no existence before. Antony, boy," he said exultingly, "what time could be more fitting than the birth of a new day for my invention to see the light?
Throw open the window and let in the glow of suns.h.i.+ne and sweet fresh air. It is unsullied yet, and it will give us strength for our--for our--"
He hesitated, and his exulting tone changed to one of calm resignation.
It was as if he had felt the shadow of failure coming on, and he said softly:
"Our triumph, Antony; or, G.o.d help me, fort.i.tude to bear our failure!"
I had opened the window, and the soft, refres.h.i.+ng morning air floated into the room, seeming to bring with it a suggestion of the scents of the sweet, pure country; and now, in the midst of the silence, broken only by the chirping of the sparrows, and the distant rattle of the wheels of some market-cart, I saw Hallett's countenance grow stern as he placed a little reel of thin paper, narrow as a ribbon, upon a spindle, and then, motioning to me to go to the handle which was to set the model in motion, he stood there with set teeth, and I turned.
There was a clicking, humming noise, the whirring of wheels, and the rattle of the little cogs; the ribbon of paper began to run off its spool, and pa.s.s round a tiny cylinder; and at that moment the little model seemed illumined by a brilliant ray of suns.h.i.+ne, which darted in at the open window. Then the light seemed to be glorifying Hallett's face, and I was about to utter a cheer, when I felt a jar, and a shock from the fingers that held the handle run right up my arm. There was a sharp, grating noise, a tiny, piercing shriek as of tortured metal; and in place of the busy glistening, whirring wheels an utter stillness. A cloud crossed the rising sun, and with a bitter sigh Hallett stooped down and picked up the black cloth, which he softly and reverently drew over the wreck of his work, as I stood with dilated eyes looking at him aghast.
"Poor model," he said softly, "dead so soon!" and with a sad, weary air of resignation as he smiled at me: "it was a very short life, Antony.
Let us go down, my boy. You must be wearied out."
I followed him on to the landing without a word, and after he had locked up the attic he led the way softly to the sitting-room, where he lit a fire and we had some breakfast, for it was too late to think of bed.
Shortly afterwards we walked down together to the office, and I saw him no more till the day's work was done.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
ANOTHER WAKEFUL NIGHT.
Stephen Hallett was in too much trouble to speak to me about the model that evening. Mrs Hallett was in tears, and full of repinings, and Linny was out, it seemed, when her brother had returned.
I soon found that he did not wish me to stay, and being tired out, I made the best of my way back to Caroline Street, and went to bed to sleep heavily, dreaming that Hallett and I were working away at the model, but as fast as ever we got it nearly to perfection, Mr Blakeford came and stood by to throw in the pieces of the stick with which he had been beaten by Mr Wooster, and every time he did so the little model was broken.
Then the whole scene of the flogging seemed to take the place of Hallett's attic, and I saw Mr Blakeford sit down in a chair, panting, b.l.o.o.d.y, and exhausted, and he kept on saying in a low hoa.r.s.e voice, "Antony, lad, water!"
It was very terrible to see him sitting there by the light of the office gas, for though I wanted to help him, the power was not there, and, strive how I would, I could not get to his side, or fetch what he asked for.
"Antony, lad, water!"
His voice sounded like a groan, and I knew he must be very bad; but still I could not help him, and the bitter moan with which he appealed to me seemed to cut me to the heart.
"Antony, lad, water!"
There it was again, and I started up to find myself in bed, with a candle burning in the room, and Revitts, with his hat on the floor, his coat torn open, and his face besmeared with the blood flowing from a cut in the forehead, was seated close beside his bed, evidently half fainting.
"Antony, lad, water?" he moaned; and leaping out of bed and hurrying on some clothes, I tried to give him what help I could, but in a strangely confused way; for I was, as it were, in a dream, consequent upon the deep sleep succeeding a night without my usual rest. I held a gla.s.s of water to his lips, however, from which he drank with avidity. And then, awakening more to the state in which he was, and realising that it was not a dream, I set to work and sponged and bound up the cut with a handkerchief, to find, however, to my horror, that there was another terrible cut on the back of his head, which was also bleeding profusely.
My next idea was to go for a doctor, but I reflected that I ought to first bind up the other wound, and this I did, leaving him in the chair, with his chest and head lying over on the bed, looking so white that a chill of horror shot through me, for I fancied that he was dying.