He walked straight across the room--this was wonderful too, that he should know, among so many books, exactly where to search--adjusted his spectacles, stooped with palms on knees, peered for ten seconds or so along the backs of a row of tall volumes, drew forth one, and bearing it to the table, laid it open under the lamplight.
"Let me see--let me see," he muttered, turning the pages rapidly.
"H--H.O.--here we are! Hockley--Hoe--no." He turned another three or four pages. "Holbeach--Hollington--Hollingwood--Holme--ah, here we have it!--Holmfirth, Holme Fell, Holme Moss, HOLMNESS."
He paused for a moment, scanning the page while they held their breath.
Then he read aloud, yet not so as to disturb the other students--
""_Holmness_. An Island or Islet in the Bristol Channel--""
"Ah!" The boy let his breath escape almost in a sob.
""Uninhabited--""
The old chemist looked up over the rims of his spectacles; but whether questioning or because the sound had interrupted him, Tilda could not determine.
"Yes," said the boy eagerly. "They thought that about--about the other Island, sir. Didn"t they?"
The old man, either not hearing or not understanding, looked down at the page again. He read out the lat.i.tude and longitude--words and figures which neither of the children understood.
""Extreme length, three-quarters of a mile; width at narrowest point, 165 yards. It contains 356 acres, all of short gra.s.s, and affords pasturage in summer for a few sheep from the mainland. There is no harbour; but the south side affords fair anchorage for vessels sheltering from N.W. winds. The distance from nearest point of coast is three and three-quarter miles. Reputed to have served anciently as _rendezvous_ for British pirates, and even in the last century as a smugglers" _entrepot_. Geological formation--""
"Is that all?" asked Tilda as the old man ceased his reading.
"That is all."
"But the river will take us to it," said the boy confidently.
"Hey? What river?"
"Why _this_ river--the Avon. It leads down to it--of course it must!"
"Why, yes," answered the old chemist after considering a while. "In a sense, of course, it does. I hadn"t guessed at your age you"d be so good at geography. The Avon runs down to Tewkesbury, and there it joins the Severn; and the Severn leads down past Gloucester and into the Bristol Channel."
"I was sure!"
The boy said it in no very loud tone: but something shook in his voice, and at the sound of it all the readers looked up with curiosity--which changed, however, to protest at sight of the boy"s rags.
"S--sh--sh!" said two or three.
The old chemist gazed around apologetically, closed the volume, replaced it, and shepherded the children forth.
CHAPTER XVII.
BY WESTON WEIR.
"_Down below the Weir Brake Journeys end in lovers" meeting: You and I our way must take, You and I our way will wend Farther on, my only friend-- Farther on, my more than friend-- My sweet sweeting._"--COUNTRY SONG.
In a private apartment of the Red Cow Public-house Sam Bossom sat doggedly pulling at a short pipe while Mr. Mortimer harangued him.
On the table stood a cheap, ill-smelling oil-lamp between two mugs of beer. Sam had drawn his chair close, and from time to time reached out a hand for his mug, stared into its depths as though for advice, and gloomily replaced it. For the rest, he sat leaning a little forward on his crossed arms, with set, square chin, and eyes fixed on a knot in the deal table top.
Mr. Mortimer stood erect, in a declamatory att.i.tude, with his back to the exiguous fire. In the pauses of his delivery, failing to draw response from Sam, he glanced down at his wife for approval. But she too, seated on a low stool, made pretence to be absorbed in her knitting; and her upward look, when her lord compelled it, expressed deep sympathy rather than a.s.sent.
"Consequently," perorated Mr. Mortimer, "I conceive my personal obligations to Mr. Hucks to be satisfied; practically satisfied, even in law; as keen men of business, and allowing for contingencies, satisfied abundantly. To liquidate the seven pounds fifteen and six owing to your master you have, on your own admission, six-seven-nine in hand. We--my Arabella and I--are offered a fortnight here at forty-four shillings _per_ week between us. Not princely, I own. But suffer me to remind you that it realises the dream, as perchance it affords the opportunity, of a lifetime. She will be Ophelia. She, the embodiment (I dare to say it) of Shakespeare"s visionary heroine, will realise his conception here, on this cla.s.sic ground. And if, at short notice, I must content myself with doubling the parts of Guildenstern and First Gravedigger, believe me I do so cheerfully, pending fuller--er--recognition."
"My Stanislas demeans himself by accepting them," said Mrs. Mortimer, still with her eyes on her knitting.
"I should hope so, my poppet. Still, there is Fat in the First Gravedigger; and as our Gallic neighbours put it, everything comes to him who knows how to wait."
"All very well," observed Sam, withdrawing the pipe from his mouth.
"But "ow about the children? I put it to _you_, ma"am."
"Ah, poor things!" sighed Mrs. Mortimer, and hesitated. She was about to say more, when her husband interrupted--
"I trust--I sincerely trust--that my failings, such as they are, have ever leaned to the side of altruism. Throughout life I have been apt to injure myself in befriending others; and you see "--Mr. Mortimer flourished a hand--"where it has landed me. We have convoyed these children to Stratford, to use the language of commerce, as _per_ contract. To ask me--to ask Mrs. Mortimer--to dance attendance upon them indefinitely, at the sacrifice of these golden prospects--"
But at this point someone tapped at the door.
"Come in!" called Sam, swinging around in his chair, and with that, jumping to his feet, let out a cheerful "hooray!"
"Same to you," said Tilda, nodding, as she admitted Arthur Miles and closed the door behind him. "Anything to eat in this public?"
"I"ll order in supper at once," said Sam.
"No you won"t; not for five minutes any"ow. Well, "ere we are--and "ow "ave you three been gettin" along since I saw yer last?"
"Oh, _we"re_ all right; but all the better for seein" you. That"s understood."
"W"ich I looks towards yer, and I likewise bows," said Tilda graciously.
"But what"s the matter?" she asked, glancing from one to the other.
"A stranger might say as you wasn" the best o" friends."
"Nothin"," answered Sam after a slight pause. "Bit of a argymint-- that"s all."
"Wot about?"
""Tisn worth mentionin"." Sam glanced at the other two. "The theayter "ere"s offered Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer an engagement."
"Well?"
"We was discussin" whether they ought to take it."
"W"y not?"