A Letter of Credit Part 109

"Yes," repeated Mr. Southwode, "for a year you must go, I suppose. For a year.-- After that, I will not wait any longer. You shall do the rest of your studying with me."

"You know I like that best of all--" she said softly.

"Perhaps I will take you to Germany."

"Germany!"--

"It is a good place to study German. Or to study anything."

"Must one go to France too, to study French?" Rotha asked with a nervous laugh.

"We must not be too long away from home. But a year--or till next summer; school terms end in summer, do they not?"

"In June."

"So, for a year, or for eight months, I shall hardly see you. We must do a great deal of talking to-night."

"Where will you be, Mr. Digby?" Rotha asked timidly, as he took a chair beside her.

"Not far off; but for this interval I shall choose to play the part of guardian, rather than that of lover, before the eyes of the world."

"O yes, indeed!" said Rotha earnestly. "For every reason."

"All the more, I am not going to play the part of guardian to-night.

Rotha I think _now_, it would be as well to return to Mrs. Mowbray for these eight months. Would you like that?"

"O I shall like it very much! if you like it."

"Things are changed, since we talked about it this afternoon."

"Yes!--" said Rotha breathless. And there was something she wanted to say, but at that minute she could not say it. For that minute she could not disturb the sweetness of things as they were. Scruples must wait.

Mr. Southwode saw that she was a little disturbed, shy and nervous, albeit there was no doubt that she was very happy. He stretched out his hand and took hers, holding it in a fast steady clasp; as if to a.s.sure her of something tangible and real in her new happiness. "Now," said he, "tell me about yourself--about all these years."

"I did tell you, in part."

"Yes. Tell me the other part. I want to have the whole now."

"It would just--annoy you, I am afraid."

"What sort of a home did you have with your aunt?"

"Not pleasant. That was _partly_ my own fault. I was not patient and gentle and quiet--as you told me to be. I got into a kind of a fury, at things and at her."

"What did she do?"

And then Rotha told him the whole story, not sparing herself at all by the way; till he knew pretty well what her life had been these three years, and what part Mrs. Mowbray and what part Mrs. Busby had played in it. Only one thing Rotha did not tell him; the episode of the stockings.

He listened in absolute silence, save that now and then he helped her on with a question; holding her hand firmly all the while. And Rotha felt the clasp and knew what it meant, and poured out her heart. After she had done, he was still silent a minute.

"What shall we do to Mrs. Mowbray!" he broke out.

"You cannot do anything to her," said Rotha. "Thanks are nothing; and there is no way of doing the least thing beside;--unless she could be very ill and left to my care; and I do not wish that."

"Perhaps she will give up schooling some day; and we will coax her over to England and make her live with us."

Rotha started and turned upon the speaker one of her brilliant looks. A sort of delight at the thought, and admiration of _his_ thought, with a flush of intense affection which regarded at least two people, made her face like a cl.u.s.ter of diamonds. Mr. Southwode smiled, and then began to talk about that home to which he had alluded. He described it to Rotha; sketched the plan of the house for her; told her about the people of the surrounding country. The house was not magnificent or stately, he said; but large, comfortable, old, and rather picturesque in appearance; standing in the midst of extensive and very lovely grounds, where art had not interfered with nature. He told Rotha he thought she would like it.

Rotha's eyes fell; she made no answer, but was he thought very grave. He went on to tell her about himself and his business. He, and his father and grandfather before him, had been owners of a large manufacturing establishment, the buildings of which made almost a village some three miles from the house, and the workmen in which were very many.

"Isn't that troublesome often?" Rotha asked, forgetting herself now.

"No. Why should it be troublesome?"

"I read in the papers so much about strikes, and disagreements between masters and workmen in this country."

"We never had a strike, and we never have disagreements."

"That is nice; but how do you manage? I suppose I can guess! They all do what you tell them."

"I do not tell them anything unreasonable."

"Still, ignorant people do not always know what is reasonable."

"That is true. And it is rather the Golden Rule we go by, than the might of Reason or the reign of Law."

"How do you manage, Mr. Digby?"

"I am not to be Mr. Digby always, I hope?"

"This year--" murmured Rotha.

"This year! I do not mean to ask anything unreasonable of you either; but I _would_ like you to remember that things are changed," he said, amused.

"Yes, I will," said Rotha confusedly--"I will remember; I do remember, but now please tell me about your factory people."

"What about them?"

"O, how you manage; how they do; anything!"

"Well--the hands go to work at six o'clock, and work two hours; or not quite that, for the bell rings in time to let them wash their hands before breakfast; and for that there are rooms provided, with soap and towels and everything necessary. Then they gather in the dining halls, where their breakfast is ready; or if any of them prefer to bring their own food, it is cooked for them. There is no compulsion."

"What do they have for breakfast?"

"Coffee and tea and bread, and porridge with milk or with syrup--all at certain fixed low rates and all of good quality. There are people to cook, and boys and girls to wait upon the tables. They have the time till half past eight, but it is not all used for eating; the last quarter of an hour they stroll about and talk together. At half past eight comes the time for prayers. One of the managers conducts the service in the chapel; the Bible is read, and a hymn is sung, and there is a short prayer. At nine o'clock all hands go back to work."

"They have had an hour's good rest," said Rotha. "You say, in the _chapel?_ have you a chapel for them?"

"In the midst of the mills. It is a pretty little building--in old English rustic style; I think it very pretty."

"I dare say the people enjoy that," said Rotha. "It _ought_ to be pretty, for them. I should think your hands would never want to leave you, Mr.