The Story of Antony Grace Part 36

"Yes," I said with a sign; "pleasant days do so soon come to an end."

"To be sure they do," he cried; "but never mind, my boy; others will come."

"Yes," I sighed; "and miserable ones, too, full of Grimstone, and Jem Smith, and pie, and mistakes."

"Of course," he cried; "bitters, all of them, to make life the sweeter.

Why, Antony--no, Tony's better--why, Tony, if you could be always revelling in good things, such a day as this would not have seemed so delightful as it has."

"And it has been delightful!" I cried, as we walked on, my friend resting his hand almost affectionately upon my shoulder.

"Yes," he said softly; "a day to be marked with a white stone--a tombstone over the grave of one's brightest hopes," he added, very, very softly; but I caught the import of his words, and I turned to him quite a troubled look, when there was a sound of cheering some distance away.

"Come, Tony," he said cheerfully, "there are our men hurrahing. We must join them now."

"Do you know what time we were to start back, sir?" I said.

"Eight o'clock," he replied, taking out an old-fashioned gold watch, and then starting. "Why, Tony, my lad, it's past nine. Come along, let's run."

We started off, and ran at a steady trot till we reached the inn, to find that the cheering had been when the vans set out.

"Yes, they was a-cheerin' away like fun," said our informant, a rather beery-looking public-house hanger-on. "What, are you two left behind?"

"Yes," said Mr Hallett, shortly. "How long have they been gone?"

"More'n quarter of 'n 'our," said the man; "and I say, they just was on--all of 'em. The driver o' the last one couldn't hardly hold his reins."

"What time did Messrs. Ruddle and Lister go?"

"Who?" said the man.

"The gentlemen with the waggonette."

"What, with them two gals? Oh! more'n 'n 'our ago. They wasn't on."

"How can we get back to town?"

"Walk," said the man; "'less you like to take a fly."

"It is very tiresome, Tony," said Mr Hallett. "Are you a good walker?"

"Pretty well," I said. "How far is it?"

"Twelve or thirteen miles. Shall we try it?"

"Oh yes," I said. "It's a beautiful night, and we shall see plenty of moths."

"Come along, then, my boy," he cried; and away we went.

Our long rest since dinner had made me better able to manage the task; and I noticed that Mr Hallett did all he could to lighten the way by talking, and he could talk well. As, then, we trudged along the wide, firm road, he told me a little about himself and his home; and so it was that I learned that he had an invalid mother and a sister, who were dependent upon him; that his early life had been in the country, where his father had been a surgeon, and that on his father's death he had been compelled to come to London.

"To seek your fortune, Mr Hallett?" I asked.

"Well, yes, if you like to call it so, Tony," he said, laughing. "Ah, my boy, let me give you advice that I am only too loth to take myself-- don't degenerate into a dreamer."

"A dreamer, Mr Hallett?"

"Yes, boy; one whose mind is set on what people call making a fortune-- that miserable style of enthusiast, who ignores the present in his search for something that he may never find, and which, even if he does, he may never enjoy. Tony, my boy, don't heed what people say about this being a miserable world and a vale of tears; it is a very beautiful and a very glorious world with heights and mountains bright in the sunshine of truth. We all have to wander down into the valley sometimes, but there are other times when we are in the sunshine on the heights. When we are there, let's take it and enjoy it, and not sit down and grumble, and strive to climb to another mountain, close by, that seems higher and brighter than the one we are on. Take what fate sends you, my dear boy, and take it patiently. Use your strength to bear it, and--there, let's come back out of the imaginary into the rear--go on setting up your pied type, and enjoy the pleasure after of having won a victory, or, in the present case, stride out manfully. Every step takes us nearer to London; and when we have got there, and have slept off our fatigue, we can laugh at our adventure. Why, we must be halfway there now. But how you limp!"

"I'm afraid it's my boot rubs my foot, sir," I said, wincing.

"Tut, tut!" he exclaimed. "This won't do. Sit down and have a rest, and let's think, Tony."

"Oh, I can go on yet, sir," I said hastily.

"No, no; sit down, my boy, sit down," he said; and I sat down upon a bank. "I can't carry you, Tony," he said kindly. "I could manage you for a couple of miles or so; I don't think I could get you right up home. We are unlucky to-night, and--there is something turning up."

"On ahead, Tony. Yonder is a roadside inn, with a couple of hay-carts.

Come along, my lad, and well see if one of them cannot be turned into a chariot to convey us to London Town."

I limped on beside him to where the hay-carts were standing by a water-trough at the roadside, the horses tossing their nose-bags so as to get at the oats at the bottom, and the carters just coming out of the public-house.

"Can you give us a lift on to London?" said Mr Hallett. "This boy has turned lame."

"What'll you stand?" said the man heavily.

"A couple of pints," said Mr Hallett.

"All right; up you get," said the man. "You must lie atop o' the hay.

I only goes to Whitechapel, you know."

"That will do," said Mr Hallett. And together we climbed up, and lay down, twelve or fifteen feet above the road, on the top of the sweet-scented trusses of hay; the carter cracked his whip, and away we went jolting over the road, with the stars above us, and my couch seeming delicious to my weary limbs, as the scent seemed to bring up my sleeping place by the hay-rick, when I ran away from Rowford and my slavery at Mr Blakeford's house.

"That's one of the peculiarities of the true-born Briton, Tony," said Mr Hallett, after a pause.

"What is, sir?"

"The love and reverence for beer. If I had offered that man sixpence or a shilling to give us a ride, he would have laughed me to scorn. Two pints of beer, you see, carry us right to town, and another pint would have acted like a return ticket to bring us back."

"To bring us back?" I said in drowsy accents; and, trusting to my companion to save me from a fall, I dropped into a heavy dreamless sleep, from which I was aroused by Mr Hallett, who shook my arm and told me that we were once more in town.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

WILLIAM REVITTS IS ANGRY.

Mr Hallett saw me right to the door of my lodgings before he left me, shaking hands warmly as he said "Good-night," and altered it to "Good-morning."

I was thoroughly awake now, and somewhat refreshed as I ascended the stairs very gently, having risen now to the honour of a latchkey. It was Revitts' turn for day-duty, and I was unwilling to disturb him, so I had slipped off my boots, and cautiously turning the handle of the door, I entered, to find, to my surprise, a light burning, and Mr Revitts b.u.t.toned up in his uniform and with his heavy hat upon his head.