a small window
looking inward; this opened like a door when the man had anything to
say to Mr. Bartley or the clerks in the large office.
William Hope entered this outer office, and found it empty. The clerk
happened to be in the yard. Then he opened the inner door and looked
in on the two clerks, pale and haggard, and apprehensive of a repulse.
He addressed himself to the one nearest him; it was the one whose face
had attracted him.
"Sir, can I see Mr. Bartley?"
The young fellow glanced over the visitor's worn garments and dusty
shoes, and said, dryly, "Hum! if it is for charity, this is the wrong
shop."
"I want no charity," said Hope, with a sigh; "I want employment. But I
do want it very badly; my poor little girl and I are starving."
"Then that is a shame," said the young fellow, warmly. "Why, you are a
gentleman, aren't you?"
"I don't know for that," said Hope. "But I am an educated man, and I
could do the whole business of this place. But you see I am down in the
world."
"You look like it," said the clerk, bluntly. "But don't you be so green as
to tell old Bartley that, or you are done for. No, no; I'll show you how
to get in here. Wait till half past one. He lunches at one, and he isn't
quite such a brute after luncheon. Then you come in like Julius Caesar,
and brag like blazes, and offer him twenty pounds' worth of industry
and ability, and above all arithmetic, and he will say he has no opening
(and that is a lie), and offer you fifteen shillings, perhaps."
"If he does, I'll jump at it," said Hope, eagerly. "But whether I succeed
with him or not, take my child's blessing and my own."
His voice faltered, and Bolton, with a young man's uneasiness under
sentiment, stopped him. "Oh, come, old fellow, bother all that! Why,
we are all stumped in turn." Then he began to chase a solitary coin into
a corner of his waistcoat pocket. "Look here, I'll lend you a
shilling--pay me next week--it will buy the kid a breakfast. I wish I had
more, but I want the other for luncheon. I haven't drawn my screw yet.
It is due at twelve."
"I'll take it for my girl," said Hope, blushing, "and because it is offered
me by a gentleman and like a gentleman."
"Granted, for the sake of argument," said this sprightly youth; and so
they parted for the time, little dreaming, either of them, what a chain
they were weaving round their two hearts, and this little business the
first link.
CHAPTER II
.
THE RICH MAN'S CHILD.
The world is very big, and contains hundreds of millions who are
strangers to each other. Yet every now and then this big world seems to
turn small; so many people whose acquaintance we make turn out to be
acquaintances of our acquaintances. This concatenation of
acquaintances is really one of the marvels of social life, if one considers
the chances against it, owing to the size and population of the country.
As an example of this phenomenon, which we have all observed,
William Hope was born in Derbyshire, in a small parish which
belonged, nearly all of it, to Colonel Clifford; yet in that battle for food
which is, alas! the prosaic but true history of men and nations, he
entered an office in Yorkshire, and there made friends with Colonel
Clifford's son, Walter, who was secretly dabbling in trade and
matrimony under the name of Bolton; and this same Hope was to come
back, and to apply for a place to Mr. Bartley; Mr. Bartley was
brother-in-law to that same Colonel Clifford, though they were at
daggers drawn, the pair.
Miss Clifford, aged thirty-two, had married Bartley, aged thirty-seven.
Each had got fixed habits, and they soon disagreed. In two years they
parted, with plenty of bitterness, but no scandal. Bartley stood on his
rights, and kept their one child, little Mary. He was very fond of her,
and as the mother saw her whenever she liked, his love for his child
rather tended to propitiate Mrs. Bartley, though nothing on earth would
have induced her to live with him again.
Little Mary was two months younger than Grace Hope, and, like her,
had blue eyes and golden hair. But what a difference in her condition!
She had two nurses and every luxury. Dressed like a princess, and even
when in bed smothered in lace; some woman's eye always upon her, a
hand always ready to keep her from the smallest accident.
Yet all this care could not keep out sickness. The very
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