Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 115

"Is it _that_ you are blundering over? Does he expect it?" continued Henry, after a pause.

"Cyril said, yesterday, the firm would soon be Ashley and Dare."

"Did he indeed! He had better not count upon it so as to disturb his digestion. That's presumption enough, goodness knows; but it is a mere flea-bite compared with the other. He has asked for Mary. It is true as that we are standing here."

William turned his questioning gaze on Henry. He did not understand.

"Asked for her for what? What to do?"

"To be his wife."

"Oh!" The strange sound was not a burst of indignation, or a groan of pain: it was a mixture of both. William thrust his head out of the window.

"He actually asked the master for her yesterday!" went on Henry. "He said his heart, or liver, or some such part of him was bound up in her: as she was bound up in him. Fancy the honour of her becoming Mrs.

Cyril!"

William did not turn his head: not a glimpse of his face could be caught. "Will she have him?" he asked, at length.

The question exasperated Henry. "Yes, she will. There! Go and congratulate her. You are a fool, William."

The sound of his angry voice, not his words, reached Mary's ears. She came forward. "What is the matter, Henry?"

"So he is a fool," was Henry's answer. "He wants to know if you are going to marry Cyril Dare. I tell him yes. No one but an idiot would have asked it."

William turned, his face full of an emotion that Henry had never seen there: a streak of scarlet on his cheeks, his earnest eyes strangely troubled. And Mary?--her face seemed to have borrowed the same flush, as she stood there, her head and eyelashes bent.

Henry Ashley gazed, first at one, next at the other, and then turned and leaned from the window himself. In contrition for having spoken so openly of his sister's affairs? Not at all. Whistling the bars of a renowned comic song of the day called "The Steam Arm."

Mr. Ashley put in his head. "I am ready, William."

William touched Mary's hand in silence by way of adieu, and halted as he pa.s.sed Henry. "Shall you come round to the men to-night?"

"No, I shan't," retorted Henry. "I am upset for the day."

He was halfway down the path when he heard himself called by Henry, still leaning from the window. He went back to him.

"She said she'd rather have a chimney-sweep than Cyril Dare. Don't go and make a m.u.f.f of yourself again."

William turned away without any answer. Mr. Ashley, who had waited, put his arm within his, and they proceeded to the manufactory.

"Have you heard this rumour, respecting Herbert Dare, that has been wafted over from Germany within the last day or two?" inquired Mr.

Ashley, as they walked along.

"Yes, sir," replied William.

"I wonder if it is true?"

William did not answer. William's private opinion was, that it was true.

It had been tolerably well authenticated. A rumour that need not be very specifically enlarged upon here. Helstonleigh never came to the bottom of it: never knew for certain how much of it was true, and how much false, and we cannot expect to be better favoured than Helstonleigh, in the point of enlightenment. It was not a pleasant rumour, and the late governess's name was unaccountably mixed up in it. For one thing, it said that Herbert Dare, finding commercial pursuits not congenial to his taste, had given them up, and was roaming about Germany. Mademoiselle also. It was a report that did not do credit to Herbert, or tend to reflect respectability on his family; yet Mr. Ashley fully believed that to that report he owed the application of Cyril with regard to Mary, strange as it may appear at a first glance, to say it. The application had astonished Mr. Ashley beyond expression. He could only come to the conclusion that Cyril must have entertained the hope for some time, but had been induced to disclose it prematurely. So prematurely--even allowing that other circ.u.mstances favoured it--that Mr. Ashley was tempted to laugh. A man without means, without a home, without any definite prospects, merely a workman, as might be said, in his manufactory, upon a very small salary; it was ridiculous in the extreme for _him_ to offer marriage to Miss Ashley. Mr. Ashley, of upright conduct in the sight of day, was not one to wink at folly; any escapade such as that, now flying about Helstonleigh as attributed to Herbert, would not be an additional recommendation in Cyril's favour. Had he hastened to speak _before_ it should reach Mr. Ashley's ears? Mr. Ashley thought so. An hour after Cyril had spoken, he heard the scandal; and it flashed over his mind that to that he was indebted for the premature honour. Cyril would have liked to secure his consent before anything unpleasant transpired.

As Mr. Ashley came in view of the manufactory, Cyril Dare observed him.

Cyril was lounging in an indolent manner at the entrance doors, exchanging greetings with the various pa.s.sers-by. He ought to have been inside at his business; but oughts went for little with Cyril. Since Samuel Lynn's departure, Cyril had been living in clover; enjoying as much idleness as he liked. William a.s.sumed no authority over him, though full authority had been given to William over the manufactory in general; and Cyril, except when he just happened to be under Mr.

Ashley's eye, pa.s.sed his time agreeably. Cyril stared as he caught sight of the master, and then went in, his spirits going down a little. To see the master thus walking confidentially with William, seemed to argue unfavourably for his suit; though why it should seem so, Cyril did not know. Cyril's staring was occasioned by that fact. He had never been promoted to the honour of thus walking familiarly with Mr. Ashley. In fact, for the master, a reserved and proud man with all his good qualities, to link his arm within a dependant's, astonished Cyril considerably.

When they entered, Cyril was at work in his ap.r.o.n, standing at the counter in the master's room, steady and a.s.siduous, as though he had been there for the last half-hour. The master came in, but William remained in Mr. Lynn's room.

"Good morning, sir," said Cyril.

"Good morning," replied the master.

He sat down to his desk, and opened a letter that was lying on it.

Presently he looked up.

"Cyril!"

"Yes, sir."

"Step here."

Cyril approached the desk, feeling what a lady might call nervous. The decisive moment had come: should he be provided for, for life; enjoy a good position and the means of living as a gentleman? Or would his unlucky star prevail, and consign him to--he did not quite foresee to what?

"I have spoken to Miss Ashley. She was excessively surprised at your application, and begs to decline it in the most unequivocal manner.

Allow me to add a recommendation from myself, that you bury in oblivion the fact of your having made it."

Cyril hesitated for a moment, and looked foolish. "Why?" he asked.

"_Why?_" repeated Mr. Ashley. "I think you could answer that query for yourself, and save me the trouble. I do not wish to go too closely into facts and causes, past and present, unless you desire it. One thing you must be aware of, Cyril, that such a proposition from you to my daughter was utterly out of place. I should have rejected it point-blank yesterday; in fact, in the surprise of the moment, I almost spoke out more plainly than you would have liked, but that I thought it as well for you to have Miss Ashley's opinion as well as my own."

"Why am I rejected, sir?" continued Cyril.

Mr. Ashley waved his hand with dignity. "Return to your employment, Cyril. It is quite sufficient for you to know that you are rejected, without my going into motives and reasons. They might not, I say, be palatable to you."

Cyril did not venture to press it further. He returned to the counter, and stood there, ostensibly going on with his work, and boiling over with rage. The master sat some little time longer and then left the room. Soon after, William came in. His eye caught Cyril's employment.

"Cyril," cried he, hastily advancing to him, "you must not make up those gloves. I told you yesterday not to touch them."

A dangerous speech. Cyril was not unlike touchwood at that moment, liable to go off at the slightest contact. "You told me!" he burst forth. "Do you think I am going to do what you choose to tell me? Try it on for the future, that's all. _You_ tell _me_!"

"They are the very best gloves, and must be sorted with nicety,"

returned William. "Don't you know that the sorting of the last parcel was found fault with in London? It vexed the master; and he desired me to do all the sorting myself, until Mr. Lynn should be at home."

"I choose to sort," returned Cyril.

"But you must not sort in the face of the master's orders; or, if you do, I must go over them again."

"That's right; praise up yourself!" foamed Cyril. "Of course you are an efficient sorter, and I am a bad one."

"You might be as good a sorter as any one, if you chose to give it proper time and attention. What a temper you are in this morning! What's the matter?"

"The matter is, that I have submitted to your rule long enough, but I'll do it no longer," was the reply of Cyril, whose anger was gathering strength, and whose ill feeling towards William, deep down in his heart from long ago, had had envy added to it of late.