There was silence in the little drawing-room, where all was in shadow, while in the larger well-lighted room the others talked in a low voice, and as I glanced there once, and saw Linny Hallett gazing up in Tom Girtley's face, I wondered whether Hetty Blakeford would ever look as tenderly in mine. It was a passing fancy, and I was brought back to the present by feeling Miss Carr's warm lips brush my cheek. "We will wait and see, Antony," she said gravely. "Miss Blakeford's feelings must be spared." CHAPTER SIXTY. AT LAST. The work of two years was complete, and I stood by Hallett as he watched the trial of the machine where it was set up at our great factory; and though we tried hard to find weak points, we were compelled to declare that it was as near perfection as human hands could make it. Hallett was very pale and quiet; he displayed no excitement, no joy; and I felt rather disappointed at his apathy. "Well," said Mr Jabez, aside to me, "if I didn't know that the poor fellow was ill, I should have said that he didn't care _that_! whether the thing succeeded or not." _That_! was the snap of the fingers which followed the taking of a pinch of snuff. But he was ill. Poor fellow! He never seemed to have recovered from the shock his system had received during his late illness; and, though he had rallied and seemed strong and well, there had been times when he would turn ghastly white, and startle me by his looks. I mentioned it more than once to Miss Carr, who begged him to see a physician; but he said it was nothing, and with a smile he used to tell her that the perfection of the machine and a change would completely restore him to health. This we both believed;--and I can honestly say that I strove with all my might to inspire the workmen with the spirit in which I toiled. And now the new machine was finished. All that remained was to have it removed to Mr Ruddle's place for a public inspection of its merits. There had been something so depressing in the fate of the lost machine that I strenuously advised that the trial should be made where the present one now stood, but Hallett was averse to it. "No, Antony," he said quietly; "I am neither vindictive nor spiteful, and doubtless that man feels that he has good cause for hating me. Men of his stamp always blame others for their own failings. I am, I say, neither vindictive nor spiteful, but, feeling as I do, that he was the cause of our last breakdown, I am determined that the scene of our last failure shall also be the scene of our triumph." This silenced opposition, and the workpeople were soon at work, taking down and re-setting up Hallett's masterpiece at the old place.