The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy ChainYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
Aubrey had rather it had been four, at which time the office closed. He
looked round the court, which seemed very dean and rather
empty--stables, barns, buildings, and dwelling-house not showing much
sign of life, excepting the ceaseless hum and clack of the mill, and
the dash of the water which propelled it. The windows nearest to him
were so large and low, that he could look in and see that the first two
or three belonged to living rooms, and the next two showed him business
fittings, and a back that he took to be Leonard's; but he paused in
doubt how to present himself, and whether this were a welcome moment,
and he was very glad to see in a doorway of the upper story of the mill
buildings, the honest floury face of his father's old patient--the
foreman.
Greeting him in the open cordial way common to all Dr. May's children,
Aubrey was at once recognized, and the old man came down a step-ladder
in the interior to welcome him, and answer his question where he should
find Mr. Ward.
'He is in the office, sir, there, to the left hand as you go in at the
front door, but--' and he looked up at the clock, 'maybe, you would not
mind waiting a bit till it strikes four. I don't know whether master
might be best pleased at young gentlemen coming to see him in office
hours.'
'Thank you,' said Aubrey. 'I did not mean to be too soon, Hardy, but I
did not know how long the walk would be.'
Perhaps it would have been more true had he said that he had wanted to
elude his sisters, but he was glad to accept a seat on a bundle of
sacks tremulous with the motion of the mill, and to enter into a
conversation with the old foreman, one of those good old peasants whose
integrity and skill render them privileged persons, worth their weight
in gold long after their bodily strength has given way.
'Well, Hardy, do you mean to make a thorough good miller of Mr. Ward?'
'Bless you, Master May, he'll never stay here long enough.'
'Why not?'
'No, nor his friends didn't ought to let him stay!' added Hardy.
'Why?' said Aubrey. 'Do you think so badly of your own trade, Hardy?'
But he could not get an answer from the oracle on this head. Hardy
continued, 'He's a nice young gentleman, but he'll never put up with
it.'
'Put up with what?' asked Aubrey, anxiously; but at that instant a
carter appeared at the door with a question for Master Hardy, and
Aubrey was left to his own devices, and the hum and clatter of the
mill, till the clock had struck four; and beginning to think that Hardy
had forgotten him, he was about to set out and reconnoitre, when to his
great joy Leonard himself came hurrying up, and heartily shook him by
the hand.
'Hardy told me you were here,' he said. 'Well done, old fellow, I
didn't think they would have let you come and see me.'
'The girls did make a great row about it,' said Aubrey, triumphantly,
'but I was not going to stand any nonsense.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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