“Oh!” said Grace, and blushed. Then she turned it off, and said she thought if any body ought to thank her for that, it was Mr. Cheetham.
“Ay, for the order. But the sweet words that came with it? Do you think I don't prize them above all the orders in the world?”
She colored high again. “What! did he show you my note?”
“He did: and that has made me his friend. Shall I tell you the effect of those words on me?”
“No; never mind. But I'm glad I put them in, if they did you any good.”
“Any good? They made me a new man. I was defeated by the Trades: I was broken-hearted: and I hated every body. Good Dr. Amboyne had set me work to do; to save the lives of my fellow-creatures. But I couldn't; I hated them so. The world had been too unjust to me, I could not return it good for evil. My heart was full of rage and bitterness.”
“That's a great pity—at your age. But really it is no wonder. Yes; you have been cruelly used.” And the water stood in Grace's eyes.
“Ay, but it is all over; those sweet words of yours made a man of me again. They showed me you cared a little for me. Now I have found a way to outwit the Trades. Now I'm on the road to fortune. I won't be a workman this time next year. I'll be a master, and a thriving one.”
“Ay, do, do. Beat them, defeat them; make them scream with envy. But I am afraid you are too sanguine.”
“No; I can do it, if you will only give me another word of hope to keep me going; and oh, I need it, if you knew all.”