"He—wants her to marry him!" repeated Charlotte, speaking the words in sheer amazement. "Who says so?"
"He does. I should hardly think he can be in earnest, though."
"Eliza Tyrrett, we cannot be speaking of the same person," cried Charlotte, feeling bewildered. "To whom have you been alluding?"
"To the same that you have, I expect. Young Anthony Dare."
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FORGOTTEN LETTER.
It was the last day of March, and five o'clock in the afternoon. The great bell had rung in Mr. Ashley's manufactory, the signal for the men to go to their tea. Scuffling feet echoed to it from all parts, and clattered down the stairs on their way out. The ground floor was not used for the indoor purposes of the manufactory, the business being carried on in the first and second floors. The first flight of stairs opened into what was called the serving-room, a very large apartment; through this, on the right, branched off Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel Lynn's. On the left, various passages led to other rooms, and the upper flight of stairs was opposite to the entrance-stairs. The serving-counter, running completely across the room, formed a barrier between the serving-room and the entrance staircase.
The men flocked into the serving-room, passed it, and rattled down the stairs. Samuel Lynn was changing his coat to follow, and William Halliburton was waiting for him, his cap on, for he walked to and fro with the Quaker, when Mr. Ashley's voice was heard from his room: the counting-house, as it was frequently called.
"William!" It was usual to distinguish the boys by their Christian name only; the men by both their Christian and surnames. Samuel Lynn was "Mr. Lynn."