PART I.—SUNSHINE.
CHAPTER VII.—ISAAC IS TOUCHED.
Isaac allowed a few days to elapse before he paid his promised visit; and then one evening, after an early chop, he sallied forth in search of the address on Miss Faithful's card, No. 61 New West Road, Holloway. He found the house without much difficulty; and a snug little house it was. His three friends were at home, and appeared very pleased to see him; that is to say, the two younger members of the party appeared pleased, the elder lady being in a more or less somnolent state in the arm-chair, and to some extent unconscious of his presence. The first greetings and the general remarks upon the weather being ended, Herbert proposed some music. Angela turned to their visitor, and asked him his favourite songs. If she had asked him his favourite Greek plays, poor Isaac could hardly have been more nonplussed. He was not much assisted either by the cursory examination he gave a music-case containing a number of her songs, which she considerately handed to him; so he was fain to acknowledge that he did not know any tunes for certain, except a few hymns he had heard in church, God Save the Queen, and a few popular melodies he had heard the boys whistle in the streets. So Herbert came to the rescue, and picked out one or two of his favourites for her to sing. She did so; and then Isaac's mind, which had to a great extent resumed its original state of reserve, reopened again to the genial sunshine of her manner and the beauty of her voice; for there was something irresistible to him in this singing of hers; he could not account for it even to himself; but it was the 'open sesame' to his heart and confidence.
She sang several songs and a couple of duets with her brother; and then, as the evening closed in, the three sat at the open window chatting—Miss Faithful meanwhile being peacefully asleep in her chair. Isaac, under the influence of the spell, experienced a nearer approach to delight than he had ever done before, and quite unbosomed himself to his new friends. He gave them an account of his parentage, of his home, or rather lodging, at Dambourne End, of his cottages and garden-ground, and of his resources and prospects generally. They listened with evident interest, and with a few judicious questions, obtained the complete biography of their visitor.
At length the gas was lighted, supper was brought in, and aunt aroused from her doze. After the meal, Angela went up-stairs with her, and Isaac and Herbert were left to themselves. But there was not much to be got from the former in the way of conversation, now the spell was removed; and as he was in the habit of retiring to bed early (to save lights), and as he had partaken of an unaccustomed meal in the form of supper, he soon grew very drowsy, so arose to say good-night. Herbert called his sister down-stairs to go through this salutation, and said he would accompany Isaac on his walk to the coffee-house and smoke his cigar by the way. At parting, he said he should look Isaac up one evening, and if agreeable to him, they would go together to some place of amusement. But in the meantime he was to stand upon no ceremony, but to come and see them whenever he would.
CHAPTER VIII.—THE LEAP.
About a week after Isaac had paid his first visit to New West Road, he was one evening finishing his solitary meal, when Mr Herbert Faithful was announced. 'I am come to take you back with me,' he said, 'for Angela has threatened me with an evening to myself, as she is very busy trying on a dress for a ball to which we are going; and I can't stand loneliness if you can; so come with me, and we'll have a cigar together.'
'I will go with you,' said Isaac; 'but I cannot smoke; I never tried.'
So in a few minutes they were on their way to Miss Faithful's house, and the conversation turned on the coming ball.
'I quite imagine it will be rather a showy affair,' said Herbert; 'and I more than half suspect that it is arranged for a special purpose. It is given by a Mrs Ashton, an old friend of my mother, and her son is an old sweetheart of Angela. He has never proposed exactly, as he was considered too young; but this ball is to be given on his birthday, and I expect Angela will come home an engaged girl. She is a dear girl,' he continued with a sigh; 'but it is only reasonable that she should be getting married before long.'
Isaac's heart gave a great bound, but he answered nothing. His companion was silent also after this, and in a few minutes they reached his aunt's house.
To her brother's apparent surprise, Angela was in the hall to welcome them. 'It is all very fine, Master Herbert,' she said, 'for you to run off as soon as I promise you an evening to yourself down-stairs; but do not think you are to monopolise Mr Webb's company.'
'But how about the dress?' asked Herbert.
'Oh, that did not take long, for it fits beautifully. But somehow or other I do not care so much about the ball as I did.'
'Well, I like that!' said Herbert. 'Perhaps you are afraid you will have to sit down a good part of the evening, for want of a partner. If you are asked to be any one's partner, be careful to ascertain that it is for the dance only, and not for anything beyond that.'
'Be quiet, Herbert, do,' said his sister, colouring.
'Don't be angry, dear, for a little fraternal solicitude. But come, suppose you give us a rehearsal of the songs you intend to sing. Mind there is nothing about love in them.'
'Herbert, you are incorrigible; you don't deserve a song.—What do you think, Mr Webb?'
Mr Webb coughed, coloured, stammered, and finally said he 'hoped she'd sing one.'
'Well, it would be a shame to punish the innocent with the guilty, so I consent; but you must stop your ears, Herbert.' With these words, Angela looked out one or two songs, opened the piano, and once again wove the spell around Isaac's mind and heart; so much so, that though he was not of a jealous nature, he yet could not bear the thought that she would sing these same songs, and captivate the ear of the man who would in all probability ask her to be his wife. No; the idea was horrible; and as he listened, and the spell wrought its power around him and within him, his heart throbbed bolder and bolder, and he resolved to make a rush and forestall his hopeful rival. Yes; he would offer his cottages, his garden-ground, and his heart; and would not, moreover, risk his chance by waiting until this hateful ball was over. If he did, it would be lost. And why risk any delay? No; he would not; so determined he would act that very evening.
But would he be successful? He would have felt but little doubt had there been no rival, or only a weak one, to forestall; and even as it was, he did not consider his case was bad, much less desperate. It was scarcely likely that Angela would throw away a certain chance for an uncertain one, especially when that chance was Isaac Webb—a deep shrewd young fellow, and backed moreover by the cottages and garden-ground. So when the evening had worn itself away, and it was time for him to take his departure, Isaac requested Herbert to walk part of the way home with him, as he had something he wanted to say to him.
'Do you think,' he asked Herbert, when they were on the road, 'that your sister has made up her mind to accept Mr Ashton?'
'I do not know that he will ask her,' Herbert answered; 'but if he were to do so, I had no doubt she would until just lately; but now I am not quite so sure about it. But excuse me; why do you ask such a question?'
'Because,' returned Isaac, 'I—I have been thinking of taking a wife, and—well, I—I think I should like to have her.'
'Well, you do astonish me,' said Herbert. 'And yet,' he continued, after a pause, 'perhaps I can now account for my doubt as to her affection for young Ashton. But you had better ask her point-blank whether she will have you; that is, if you have really made up your mind about it.'
'That is just what I want you to do,' exclaimed Isaac. 'I want you to ask her for me.'
'Excuse me, my dear fellow; but it is rather a delicate subject for me—her brother—to put before her'——
'So much the better,' interrupted Isaac. 'It will come better from you, and with more weight than from me.'
'But people would say directly that I had somehow caused you to do it.'
'People need not know anything at all about it,' answered Isaac.
'But you have known her such a little while,' urged Herbert; 'and you may not fully have made up your mind; or you may alter it.'
'No, no!' returned Isaac decidedly. 'I have made up my mind enough, and I would rather you ask her than me. I should not know quite what to say.'
'You would know quite as well as I. However, anything for the dear girl's happiness; and since you will have it so, I will do it. But when would you like me to ask her?'
'Oh, as soon as you can,' said the amorous Isaac.
'Very well. Then if there's a chance to-morrow, I will see about it, and will let you know the result.'
'Thank you,' said Isaac, much relieved. So they shook hands and parted.
The love-sick youth was in a considerable state of excitement all the night long; he tossed about on his bed, and wondered why the traffic outside made so much more noise than usual. At last he fell asleep, and dreamed of Angela—and her expectations. The following morning, contrary to his usual habit, he was very late at breakfast; and when he had finished, had no inclination for his customary stroll through the streets, but sat in his room reading, or attempting to read, two very old newspapers and a playbill. To pass the time, he had his dinner in the middle of the day, and afterwards dropped off to sleep—an unusual proceeding, doubtless caused by his disturbed night. He was aroused about six o'clock by his landlady entering the room.
'A note for you, sir. The lad said there was no answer.'
It was from Herbert, and contained the gratifying announcement that he had executed Isaac's commission, and that his sister, 'much surprised and flattered by Mr Webb's sentiments, could assure him that they were entirely reciprocated by her, and that she would endeavour to make herself worthy of his choice. Would he be so kind as to postpone a visit for a day or two, that she might in some degree recover herself from the flutter of her surprise, and be able to receive him as she would wish?'
Bravo, Isaac! You are a deep dog; and your life and your schemes seem flooded with sunshine.