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Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887

"The Channings"

"
"Shall I go down first, and hear what he has to say?"
"Arthur, boy, it would do no good. I have brought this upon myself, and
must battle with it. A Channing cannot turn coward!"
"But he may act with discretion," said Arthur. "I will speak to the
man, and if there's no help for it, I'll call you."
Down flew Arthur, four stairs at a time. Hamish remained with his body
inside his chamber door, and his head out. I conclude he was listening;
and, in the confusion, he had probably totally forgotten Constance.
Arthur came bounding up the stairs again, his eyes sparkling.
"A false alarm, Hamish! It's only Martin Pope."
"Martin Pope!" echoed Hamish, considerably relieved, for Martin Pope
was an acquaintance of his, and sub-editor of one of the Helstonleigh
newspapers. "Why could not Judy have opened her mouth?"
He ran down the stairs, the colour, which had left his face, returning
to it. But it did not to that of Constance; hers had changed to an ashy
whiteness. Arthur saw her standing there; saw that she must have heard
and understood all.
"Oh, Arthur, has it come to this? Is Hamish in _that_ depth of debt!"
"Hush! What brought you here, Constance?"
"What writ is it that he fears? Is there indeed one out against him?"
"I don't know much about it. There may be one."
She wrung her hands. "The next thing to a writ is a prison, is it not?
If he should be taken, what would become of the office--of papa's
position?"
"Do not agitate yourself," he implored.


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