At the Sign of the Silver Flagon. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ it in Margaret's breast. But you came upon me suddenly."

      Mr. Hart thought, "Ah! youth, youth, what a painter you are!" And said aloud, "Here is my hand; knowing that you mean honourably by Margaret, I give my consent to your seeing her as usual."

      "I'll marry her to-morrow," said Philip, taking the hand offered him.

      "Softly, softly; there are conditions."

      "I'll have no conditions!" shouted Philip impetuously.

      "You'll have this and you'll have that!" said Mr. Hart, in a tone of gentle sarcasm. "You won't have this, and you won't have that! Very well, then. I wish you good-night." And he turned away.

      "What!" cried Philip, turning after him, "desert me when I want you to be my friend!"

      The old man's heart warmed to the young fellow; he admired everything in him-his hot blood, his impetuosity, his obstinacy, his generous imperiousness.

      "I am your friend," said Mr. Hart, "and I will continue to be so if you will let me. But when a man says of something that is mine, as Margaret is-ah, shake your head! it doesn't affect me!-when a man says of something that is mine, and that he wants to be his, that he'll have no conditions, he compels me to act in self-defence. Attend to me, young sir! Be reasonable, or to-morrow I take Margaret back to her mother, a hundred and forty miles away, and you shall not speak another word to her, as sure as my name's Hart."

      "Ho! ho! you speak boldly; but it doesn't matter-you're a man in a thousand. In a thousand! in ten thousand. I'm glad you're not younger, or you might prove dangerous." Mr. Hart took off his cap, and bowed lowly at this compliment. "You'll not let me speak to her, will you not? I'll borrow a speaking-trumpet, and shout to her that you are parting us for ever. But there! give me your hand again. I'm not frightened of you. I am in such spirits that I must do something desperate. As you value your life, give me a back!"

      With the readiness of a boy, Mr. Hart stooped and rested his hands on his knees. Philip took a run backward, then darted forward like a deer, and, lightly touching the stooping man's back, flew over him like a bird. Then stooped himself, and folded his arms; and old as Mr. Hart was, he took the leap.

      After that they had a hearty laugh together.

      "By Jove!" exclaimed Philip, "you are as young as I am, and yet I should say you are over sixty."

      "I am," said Mr. Hart proudly, straightening his back.

      "I don't mind giving way a little to such a man. Name your conditions."

      "You want to marry Margaret?"

      "I do-to-morrow!"

      "Nonsense. You want to marry her."

      "I do-I will; stop me who can!"

      "She has a mother."

      "God bless her, and all belonging to her!"

      "Bravo-a good mother, mind."

      "All that belongs to Margaret must be good."

      "Her mother must be consulted."

      Philip scratched his head. "Must?" he asked dubiously.

      "Must."

      "How is that to be done?"

      "By letter."

      Philip counted rapidly on his fingers.

      "Why, we shall have to wait a week!"

      "For the consent. And then perhaps she'll not give it."

      "It will be all the same. We'll marry without it."

      "But you'll have to wait longer than a week, Philip. You'll have to wait until our three months' engagement at the theatre is at an end."

      "Impossible."

      "It must and shall be. Why, without Margaret we are nothing."

      "I know it," chuckled Philip.

      "She is the soul of the company." The wily old fellow was using the very words he had used to the Leading Lady, and he thought nothing of contradicting what he had said a few minutes before, when he declared that Margaret was not clever, and would never make her fortune on the stage. "Do you hear me? She is the soul of the company."

      "I know it," chuckled Philip again.

      "Well, then, do you think I am going to let you ruin our prospects, and rob us, as you propose doing?"

      "Gently, gently there! Not so fast with your robbing!"

      "It is the truth that I am speaking, and you know it; you have said so yourself. Margaret is the soul of the company-she is our greatest draw. If she goes without my being able to get another girl as pretty in her place-"

      "You can't do that; I defy you."

      "Hold your tongue, hot-head! – without our getting another girl nearly as pretty in her place-"

      "That's better," interrupted the incorrigible Philip; "but you'll have a rare hunt even for such a one. They don't grow on gooseberry bushes."

      "Our business is as good as ruined without her, or some one in her place; and do you suppose I'll stand quietly by and see that done? Besides, think of the money Margaret herself is saving-"

      "That for the money!" said Philip, with a snap of his fingers. "Money-making's a man's business, not a woman's."

      "That's true, and I like you the better for saying so. But leaving Margaret out of the question, there are persons in our company the happiness of whose life hangs upon their being able to save a certain amount of money within a certain time. Not only their happiness but the happiness of helpless ones who are dearer to them than their heart's blood, depends upon this."

      "By Jove! you speak strongly. Mention one of them."

      "One of them stands before you now."

      Philip turned and looked Mr. Hart straight in the face. Tears were gathering in the old man's eyes, and the young man turned away again, so that he should not see them.

      "Forgive me, mate," he said softly; "I am so wrapt up in my own happiness that I am forgetful of the feelings of others."

      "Ah, Philip, my son" – there was so tender an accent in the old man's tone, that the tears rose to Philip's eyes as well-"I also have a girl whom I love. See here, my dear boy. This is my daughter. She is at home in England, and I am here sixteen thousand miles away."

      He had taken the picture of his darling from his pocket, and now he handed it to Philip. The young man looked at it in the clear moonlight. A round fresh face, open mouth with rosy lips, bright ingenuous eyes, fair curls around her white forehead. She was standing within an ivy porch, and one little hand was raised as though she were listening.

      "It was taken seven years ago," said Mr. Hart; "she was twelve years old then."

      "She is beautiful, beautiful!" exclaimed Philip enthusiastically. "And you haven't seen her since then?"

      "No-and my old heart aches for a sight of her. This money that I am earning will take me to her."

      "By СКАЧАТЬ