MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
The summer holidays were coming very near, and most of the boys at Mr.
Carey's school were looking forward to them with great joy; for they had
pleasant homes, where they knew that their fathers and mothers would
welcome them, and their young sisters and brothers would be glad to see
them again. Arthur Vivyan, too, was expecting to enjoy his time; for Mrs.
Estcourt generally spent some of the summer weeks in the Swiss mountains,
and this year it was a pleasure to her to think of showing the places,
that she knew so well, to her nephew; and the thought of his wonder and
surprise, when he should see the snowy mountains, and the deep blue lakes,
that the sun would glow with a deeper colour, gave her more pleasure than
she had known for a long time. Arthur had been very busy with his
examination, and other things had hindered another walk with his new
friend; but they both expected, when the holidays were over, and they
should meet again, that there would be more time for walks and talks.
It was the last day of school. Arthur was hurrying in to his class, which
was in a different room from the one in which Edgar studied, when in the
corridor they met. Arthur was passing him quickly, with a nod and smile,
when Edgar stopped him, and said breathlessly--
"Oh, Arthur, I have been looking everywhere for you! I must speak to you."
"I can't stop one minute," said Arthur. "I'm late as it is."
"Yes; but I must!" said Edgar eagerly. "You don't know, I am going away to
stay."
"Well!" and Arthur thought. "Let me see. I will try and be ready, five
minutes beforehand; and I dare say, the other boys will be longer going
to-day."
"Oh, yes!" said Edgar. "I forgot; there will be plenty of time, of course,
this last day."
So Arthur hurried in to his class, forgetting, after he had given it a
moment's thought, what Edgar had said.
He thought of it again, when he was waiting under the trees; where groups
of boys were standing, talking eagerly, with bright, busy faces. Edgar's
was very different, and his pale, earnest face was even deeper than usual.
"Well," said Arthur, "what have you to tell me?"
Edgar had a letter in his hand.
"Why, look here," he said. "I told you, I had to go and live at my uncle's
in London. I did not mind that; it did not make much difference; but see
here, what he says in this letter I had to-day. He is my guardian now,
you know, and he says he thinks it will be better for me on every account,
to give up school."
"And what are you to do? Not going to have any more lessons?"
"He says, I am to study with his boys. They have a tutor, and he hopes we
shall all find it very pleasant."
Edgar's face did not look as if he expected to do so.
"Well," said Arthur.
"Do you think it is well, Arthur?" said Edgar, a little reproachfully. "I
hate it, and I hate him, and I hate them all. I thought it was bad enough
before."
"Oh, Edgar, that's wicked!"
"Well, I can't help it. Wait until you get bothered, and perhaps you will
be wicked too. And, of course, they will hate me, all of them. He has a
wife and a lot of daughters, as well as sons."
"They would be your cousins, would they not?"
"I suppose so," said Edgar hopelessly.
"Well, do you know, I think it need not be so very bad. You know, Edgar,
they would be next best to brothers and sisters. And there might be a
little one," said Arthur, with a soft, tender feeling; as he thought of
the little sunny sister, that still lived in his heart. "Why do you hate
it so very much?"
"Every reason," said Edgar bitterly. "And, Arthur, you know I love you,
more than any one else in the world; and I wanted to talk to you
sometimes."
"And I am sorry, Edgar," said Arthur; "only then, you know, you are
coming to stay with us at Ashton Grange, when my father and mother come
back."
"Ah, but that is such a very long time; and, you know, I may die before
that. Perhaps I shall; and if I were certain of going to heaven, I should
like to die."
"I thought you would be certain by this time, Edgar; you know you ought to
be certain. Why can't you stop bothering about yourself? Oh, Edgar, I wish
you would!"
"I do get so frightened," said Edgar, his lip trembling.
"But mamma says, that is all the more reason, why you should let the Lord
Jesus take care of you. That's all, you know, Edgar. But I have told you
so often, I think the best thing I can do, is to pray for you."
"Will you, Arthur? Will you really?" said Edgar, turning round a very
anxious, eager face; and he said it again. "Oh, do please, every day,
Arthur! I don't believe any one else does. Father used to pray for me; oh,
I know he did!" and Edgar's words ended in smothered sobs.
Arthur's arms were round his neck now. "Dear Edgar, don't cry. You know I
do love you just as if you were my brother; and I will pray for you every
day. I do sometimes already. And then we can write to each other, you
know, can't we?" Looking through the trees they could see that the other
boys were fast dispersing, and that only one or two of the day boys were
left; so Arthur knew that he must go, and that it must be a very long
good-bye to Edgar.
They walked together to the gate, and then they stopped. Edgar seemed to
be searching in his pocket for something. Presently he found it, and
placed it in Arthur's hand.
"What is this?" said Arthur.
"Well, it is a present for you. I have nothing else to give you, and I did
want to give you something."
"But what is it?" said Arthur; for he seemed puzzled by the appearance of
Edgar's gift, although it was open in his hand.
"Well, I'll tell you," said Edgar. "I have two medals that my grandfather
got at college, and father gave them to me when he went away; and, you
know, if you were my brother you would have one; so I want you to take it.
I have one just like it."
"Very well," said Arthur; "thank you, Edgar, and I don't like saying
good-bye at all, you know; but we must; and, Edgar, won't you do it, what
we talked about?"
"And you remember what you promised about praying. Mind you do, Arthur.
Good-bye."
Then Arthur went away; and as he was walking homewards, there was more
than one tear brushed away by his little hot, ink-stained hand, though it
was not a heart-grief to him, and he did not know what a lonely, desolate
feeling was in Edgar's heart, as he watched him walking slowly away until
the distance hid him from his eyes; for Arthur was the chief object in his
heart just then.
The next day the play-ground at Mr. Carey's school was quiet and empty,
and the broad shadows fell softly on the silent grass. The sheep in the
fields must have wondered at the stillness. And Mr. Carey was enjoying the
half-yearly silence that reigned there.
Arthur had been looking forward to the holiday journey on the Continent
with glowing expectation; he could hardly believe at first that he was
really going to see the towns and countries of which he had learnt in his
geography lessons. He tried to imagine the journey, and to see pictures of
the places where they were going; but that was not very easy, as he had
never been so far before as this last journey he had taken, and he knew
nothing at all of travelling by sea; this he found out to be a very
unpleasant reality; and he wished very much that, while he remained abroad
with his aunt, the tunnel under the sea would be finished between Dover
and Calais.
They had a very pleasant time in Switzerland. Then Arthur saw the deep
blue lake with its solemn projecting mountains that swelled in great
mounds around, and far down where the gleaming peaks of white made the
blue look deeper; and in the evening, when the sun was hiding behind, and
was throwing a flame-coloured glow on the grandeur around, he would stand
on the terrace and feel the solemn hush that told the night was coming.
Several weeks were passed among the mountains, and it was not until just
before the opening of the school that he found himself back at Myrtle
Hill.