Put Yourself in His Place [94]
a hurry."
Henry was miserable again.
Coventry did not let well alone, he alluded delicately but tenderly to what had passed between them, and said he could not bear her out of his sight until she was safe at Raby. The words and the tone were those of a lover, and Henry was in agony: thereupon Grace laughed it off, "Not bear me out of your sight!" said she. "Why, you ran away from me, and tumbled into the river. Ha! ha! ha! And" (very seriously) "we should both be in another world but for Mr. Little."
"You are very cruel," said Mr. Coventry. "When you gave up in despair, I ran for help. You punish me for failure; punish me savagely."
"Yes, I was ungenerous," said Grace. "Forgive me." But she said it rather coolly, and not with a very penitent air.
She added an explanation more calculated to please Henry than him. "Your gallantry is always graceful; and it is charming, in a drawing-room; but in this wild place, and just after escaping the grave, let us talk like sensible people. If you and I set out for Raby Hall alone, we shall lose our way again, and perish, to a certainty. But I think Mr. Little must know the way to Raby Hall."
"Oh, then," said Coventry, catching at her idea, "perhaps Mr. Little would add to the great obligation, under which he has laid us both, by going to Raby Hall and sending assistance hither."
"I can't do that," said Henry, roughly.
"And that is not at all what I was going to propose," said Grace, quietly. "But perhaps you would be so good as to go with us to Raby Hall? Then I should feel safe; and I want Mr. Raby to thank you, for I feel how cold and unmeaning all I have said to you is; I seem to have no words." Her voice faltered, and her sweet eyes filled.
"Miss Carden," said the young man, gravely, "I can't do that. Mr. Raby is no friend of mine, and he is a bigoted old man, who would turn me out of this place if he knew. Come, now, when you talk about gratitude to me for not letting you be starved to death, you make me blush. Is there a man in the world that wouldn't? But this I do say; it would be rather hard if you two were to go away, and cut my throat in return; and, if you open your mouths ever so little, either of you, you WILL cut my throat. Why, ask yourselves, have I set up my workshop in such a place as this--by choice? It takes a stout heart to work here, I can tell you, and a stout heart to sleep here over dead bones."
"I see it all. The Trades Unions!"
"That is it. So, now, there are only two ways. You must promise me never to breathe a word to any living soul, or I must give up my livelihood, and leave the country."
"What can not you trust me? Oh, Mr. Little!"
"No, no; it's this gentleman. He is a stranger to me, you know; and, you see, my life may be at stake, as well as my means."
"Mr. Coventry is a gentleman, and a man of honor. He is incapable of betraying you."
"I should hope so," said Coventry. "I pledge you the word of a gentleman I will never let any human creature know that you are working here."
"Give me your hand on that, if you please."
Coventry gave him his hand with warmth and evident sincerity.
Young Little was reassured. "Come," said he, "I feel I can trust you both. And, sir, Miss Carden will tell you what happened to me in Cheetham's works; and then you will understand what I risk upon your honor."
"I accept the responsibility; and I thank you for giving me this opportunity to show you how deeply I feel indebted to you."
"That is square enough. Well, now my mind is at ease about that, I'll tell you what I'll do; I won't take you quite to Raby Hall; but I'll take you so near to it, you can't miss it; and then I'll go back to my work."
He sighed deeply at the lonely prospect, and Grace heard him.
"Come," said he, almost violently, and led the way out of church. But he stayed behind to lock the door, and then joined them.
They all three went together, Grace in the middle.
There was now but little snow falling, and the air was not so thick; but it was most laborious
Henry was miserable again.
Coventry did not let well alone, he alluded delicately but tenderly to what had passed between them, and said he could not bear her out of his sight until she was safe at Raby. The words and the tone were those of a lover, and Henry was in agony: thereupon Grace laughed it off, "Not bear me out of your sight!" said she. "Why, you ran away from me, and tumbled into the river. Ha! ha! ha! And" (very seriously) "we should both be in another world but for Mr. Little."
"You are very cruel," said Mr. Coventry. "When you gave up in despair, I ran for help. You punish me for failure; punish me savagely."
"Yes, I was ungenerous," said Grace. "Forgive me." But she said it rather coolly, and not with a very penitent air.
She added an explanation more calculated to please Henry than him. "Your gallantry is always graceful; and it is charming, in a drawing-room; but in this wild place, and just after escaping the grave, let us talk like sensible people. If you and I set out for Raby Hall alone, we shall lose our way again, and perish, to a certainty. But I think Mr. Little must know the way to Raby Hall."
"Oh, then," said Coventry, catching at her idea, "perhaps Mr. Little would add to the great obligation, under which he has laid us both, by going to Raby Hall and sending assistance hither."
"I can't do that," said Henry, roughly.
"And that is not at all what I was going to propose," said Grace, quietly. "But perhaps you would be so good as to go with us to Raby Hall? Then I should feel safe; and I want Mr. Raby to thank you, for I feel how cold and unmeaning all I have said to you is; I seem to have no words." Her voice faltered, and her sweet eyes filled.
"Miss Carden," said the young man, gravely, "I can't do that. Mr. Raby is no friend of mine, and he is a bigoted old man, who would turn me out of this place if he knew. Come, now, when you talk about gratitude to me for not letting you be starved to death, you make me blush. Is there a man in the world that wouldn't? But this I do say; it would be rather hard if you two were to go away, and cut my throat in return; and, if you open your mouths ever so little, either of you, you WILL cut my throat. Why, ask yourselves, have I set up my workshop in such a place as this--by choice? It takes a stout heart to work here, I can tell you, and a stout heart to sleep here over dead bones."
"I see it all. The Trades Unions!"
"That is it. So, now, there are only two ways. You must promise me never to breathe a word to any living soul, or I must give up my livelihood, and leave the country."
"What can not you trust me? Oh, Mr. Little!"
"No, no; it's this gentleman. He is a stranger to me, you know; and, you see, my life may be at stake, as well as my means."
"Mr. Coventry is a gentleman, and a man of honor. He is incapable of betraying you."
"I should hope so," said Coventry. "I pledge you the word of a gentleman I will never let any human creature know that you are working here."
"Give me your hand on that, if you please."
Coventry gave him his hand with warmth and evident sincerity.
Young Little was reassured. "Come," said he, "I feel I can trust you both. And, sir, Miss Carden will tell you what happened to me in Cheetham's works; and then you will understand what I risk upon your honor."
"I accept the responsibility; and I thank you for giving me this opportunity to show you how deeply I feel indebted to you."
"That is square enough. Well, now my mind is at ease about that, I'll tell you what I'll do; I won't take you quite to Raby Hall; but I'll take you so near to it, you can't miss it; and then I'll go back to my work."
He sighed deeply at the lonely prospect, and Grace heard him.
"Come," said he, almost violently, and led the way out of church. But he stayed behind to lock the door, and then joined them.
They all three went together, Grace in the middle.
There was now but little snow falling, and the air was not so thick; but it was most laborious