Morley paused as he recognised Egremont; then advancing to
Gerard, followed by his companion, he said, "This is Mr Hatton
of whom we were speaking last night, and who claims to be an
ancient acquaintance of yours."
"Perhaps I should rather say of your poor dear father," said
Hatton, scanning Gerard with his clear blue eye, and then he
added, "He was of great service to me in my youth, and one is
not apt to forget such things."
"One ought not," said Gerard: "but it is a sort of memory, as
I have understood, that is rather rare. For my part I
remember you very well, Baptist Hatton," said Gerard, examining his guest with almost as complete a scrutiny as he had himself experienced. "This world has gone well with you, I am glad to hear and see."
"Qui laborat, orat," said Hatton in a silvery voice, "is the
gracious maxim of our Holy Church; and I venture to believe my
prayers and vigils have been accepted, for I have laboured in
my time," and as he was speaking these words, he turned and
addressed them to Sybil.
She beheld him with no little interest; this mysterious name
that had sounded so often in her young ears, and was
associated with so many strange and high hopes, and some dark
blending of doubt and apprehension and discordant thoughts. Hatton in his appearance realised little of the fancies in which Sybil had sometime indulged with regard to him. That appearance was prepossessing: a frank and even benevolent expression played upon his intelligent and handsome countenance: his once rich brown hair, still long though very thin, was so arranged as naturally to conceal his baldness; he was dressed with great simplicity, but with remarkable taste and care: nor did the repose and suavity of his manner and the hushed tone of his voice detract from the favourable effect that he always at once produced.
"Qui laborat, orat," said Sybil with a smile, "is the
privilege of the people."
"Of whom I am one," said Hatton bowing, well recollecting that
he was addressing the daughter of a chartist delegate.
"But is your labour, their labour," said Sybil. "Is yours
that life of uncomplaining toil wherein there is so much of
beauty and of goodness, that by the fine maxim of our Church, it is held to include the force and efficacy of prayer?"
"I am sure that I should complain of no toil that would
benefit you," said Hatton; and then addressing himself again
to Gerard, he led him to a distant part of the room where
they were soon engaged in earnest converse. Morley at the
same moment approached Sybil, and spoke to her in a subdued
tone. Egremont feeling embarrassed advanced, and bade her
farewell. She rose and returned his salute with some
ceremony; then hesitating while a soft expression came over
her countenance, she held forth her hand, which he retained
for a moment, and withdrew.
"I was with him more than an hour," continued Morley. "At
first he recollected nothing: even the name of Gerard, though
he received it as familiar to him, seemed to produce little
impression; he recollected nothing of any papers; was clear
that they must have been quite insignificant; whatever they
were, he doubtless had them now, as he never destroyed papers: would order a search to be made for them, and so on. I was about to withdraw, when he asked me carelessly a question about your father; what he was doing, and whether he were married and had children. This led to a very long conversation in which he suddenly seemed to take great interest. At first he talked of writing to see your father, and I offered that Gerard should call upon him. He took down your direction in order that he might write to your father and give him an appointment; when observing that it was Westminster, he said that his carriage was ordered to go to the House of Lords in a quarter of an hour, and that if not inconvenient to me, he would propose that I should at once accompany him. I thought, whatever might be the result, it must be a satisfaction to Gerard at last to see this man of whom he has talked and thought so much—and so we are here."
"You did well, good Stephen, as you always do," said Sybil
with a musing and abstracted air; "no one has so much
forethought and so much energy as you."
He threw a glance at her: and immediately withdrew it. Their
eyes had met: hers were kind and calm.