On reaching home I found that my father had preceded me by a few minutes
only, and was to be found in the surgery. Thither, accordingly, I
hastened to give him an opportunity of seeing me in my new rig.
"Good Heavens, boy!" he exclaimed when he had taken in all the details
of my appearance, "do you mean to say that you have presented yourself
in public in that extraordinary guise?"
I respectfully intimated that I had, and that, moreover, I failed to
observe anything at all extraordinary in my appearance.
"Well," observed he, bursting into a fit of hearty laughter,
notwithstanding his evident annoyance, "_you_ may not have noticed it;
but I'll warrant that everybody else has. Why, I should not have been
surprised to hear that you had found yourself the laughing-stock of the
town. Run away, Dick, and change your clothes at once; Shears must see
those things and endeavour to alter them somehow; you can never wear
them as they are."
I slunk away to my room in a dreadfully depressed state of mind. Was it
possible that what my father had said was true! A sickening suspicion
seized me that it _was_; and that I had at last found an explanation of
the universal laughter which had seemed to accompany me everywhere in my
wanderings that wretched afternoon.
I wrapped up the now hated uniform in the brown paper which had encased
it when it came from Shears; and my father and I were about to sally
forth with it upon a wrathful visit to the erring Shears, when a
breathless messenger from him arrived with another parcel, and a note of
explanation and apology, to the effect that by some unfortunate blunder
the wrong suit had been sent home, and Mr Shears would feel greatly
obliged if we would return it per bearer.
The man, upon this, was invited inside and requested to wait whilst I
tried on the rightful suit, which was found to fit excellently; and I
could not avoid laughing rather ruefully as I looked in the glass and
contrasted my then appearance with that which I remembered it to have
been in the earlier part of the day. Later on, that same evening, my
sea-chest and the remainder of my outfit arrived; and I was ready to
join, as had been already arranged, on the following day.
The eventful morning at length arrived; and with my enthusiasm
considerably cooled by a night of sleepless excitement and the
unpleasant consciousness that I was about, in an hour or two more, to
bid a long farewell to home and all who loved me, I descended to the
breakfast-room. My father was already there; but Eva did not come down
until the last moment; and when she made her appearance it was evident
that she had very recently been weeping. The dear girl kissed me
silently with quivering lips, and we sat down to breakfast. My father
made two or three efforts to start something in the shape of a
conversation, but it was no good; the dear old gentleman was himself
manifestly ill at ease; Eva could not speak a word for sobbing; and as
for me, I was as unable to utter a word as I was to swallow my food--a
great lump had gathered in my throat, which not only made it sore but
also threatened to choke me, and it was with the utmost difficulty that
I avoided bursting into a passion of tears. None of us ate anything,
and at length the wretched apology for a meal was brought to a
conclusion, my father read a chapter from the Bible, and we knelt down
to prayers. I will not attempt to repeat here the words of his
supplication. Suffice it to say that they went straight to my heart and
lodged there, their remembrance encompassing me about as with a seven-
fold defence in many a future hour of trial and temptation.
On rising from his knees my father invited me to accompany him to his
consulting-room, and on arriving there he handed me a chair, seated
himself directly in front of me, and said:
"Now, my dear boy, before you leave the roof which has sheltered you
from your infancy, and go forth to literally fight your own way through
the world, there is just a word or two of caution and advice which I
wish to say. You are about to embark in a profession of your own
deliberate choice, and whilst that profession is of so honourable a
character that all who wear its uniform are unquestioningly accepted as
gentlemen, it is also one which, from its very nature, exposes its
followers to many and great temptations. I will not enlarge upon these;
you are now old enough to understand the nature of many of them, and
those which you may not at present know anything about will be readily
recognisable as such when they present themselves; and a few simple
rules will, I trust, enable you to overcome them. The first rule which
I wish you to take for your guidance through life, my son, is this.
Never be ashamed to honour your Maker. Let neither false pride, nor the
gibes of your companions, nor indeed _any_ influence whatever, constrain
you to deny Him or your dependence upon Him; never take His name in
vain, nor countenance by your continued presence any such thing in
others. Bear in mind the fact that He who holds the ocean in the hollow
of His hand is also the Guide, the Helper, and the defender of `those
who go down into the sea in ships;' and make it an unfailing practice to
seek His help and protection every day of your life.
"Never allow yourself to contract the habit of swearing. Many men--and,
because of their pernicious example, many boys too--habitually garnish
their conversation with oaths, profanity, and obscenity of the vilest
description. It _may_ be--though I earnestly hope and pray it will
not--that a bad example in this respect will be set you by even your
superior officers. If such should unhappily be the case, think of this,
our parting moments, and of my parting advice to you, and never suffer
yourself to be led away by such example. In the first place it is
wrong--it is distinctly _sinful_ to indulge in such language; and in the
next place, to take much lower ground, it is vulgar, ungentlemanly, and
altogether in the very worst possible taste. It is not even _manly_ to
do so, though many lads appear to think it so; there is nothing manly,
or noble, or dignified in the utterance of words which inspire in the
hearers--unless they be the lowest of the low--nothing save the most
extreme disgust. If you are ambitious to be classed among the vilest
and most ruffianly of your species, use such language; but if your
ambition soars higher than this, avoid it as you would the pestilence.
"Be always _strictly_ truthful. There are two principal incentives to
falsehood--vanity and fear. Never seek self-glorification by a
falsehood. If fame is not to be won legitimately, do without it; and
never seek to screen yourself by a falsehood--this is mean and cowardly
in the last degree. `To err is human;' we are all liable to make
mistakes sometimes; such a person as an infallible man, woman, or child
has never yet existed, and never will exist. Therefore, if you make a
mistake, have the courage to manfully acknowledge it and take the
consequences; I will answer for it that they will not be very dreadful.
A fault confessed is half atoned. And, apart from the _morality_ of the
thing, let me tell you that a reputation for truthfulness is a priceless
possession to a man; it makes his services _doubly_ valuable.
"Be careful that you are always strictly honest, honourable, and upright
in your dealings with others. Never let your reputation in this respect
be sullied by so much as a breath. And bear this in mind, my boy, it is
not sufficient that you should _be_ all this, you must also _seem_ it,
that is to say you must keep yourself far beyond the reach of even the
barest suspicion. Many a man who, by carelessness or inexperience, has
placed himself in a questionable position, has been obliged to pay the
penalty of his want of caution by carrying about with him, to the end of
his life, the burden of a false and undeserved suspicion.
"And now there is only one thing more I wish to caution you against, and
that is _vanity_. It is a failing which is only too plainly perceptible
in most boys of your age, and--do not be angry, Dick, if I touch the
sore spot with a heavy hand; it is for your own good that I do it--you
have it in a very marked degree. Like most of your compeers you think
that, having passed your fourteenth birth-day, you are now a _man_, and
in many points I notice that you have already begun to ape the ways of
men. Don't do it, Dick. Manhood comes not so early; and of all
disagreeable and objectionable characters, save me, I pray you, from a
boy who mistakes himself for a man. Manhood, with its countless cares
and responsibilities, will come soon enough; whilst you are a boy _be_ a
boy; or, if you insist on being a man before your time, cultivate those
attributes which are characteristic of _true_ manhood, such as fearless
truth, scrupulous honour, dauntless courage, and so on; but _don't_, for
Heaven's sake, adopt the follies and vices of men. As I have said,
Dick, vanity is certainly your _great_ weakness, and I want you to be
especially on your guard against it. It will tempt you to tamper with
the truth, even if it does no worse," (I thought involuntarily of Lady
Mary and my tacit admission of the justice of Lord Fitz-Johnes'
impeachment of me with regard to her), "and it is quite possible that it
may lead you into a serious scrape.
"Now, Dick, my boy--my dear son--I have said to you all that I think,
even in the slightest degree, necessary by way of caution and advice. I
can only affectionately entreat you to remember and ponder upon my
words, and pray God to lead you to a right understanding of them.
"And now," he added, rising from his seat, "I think it is time you were
on the move. Go and wish Eva good-bye, and then I will drive you down
to the Hard--I see Edwards has brought round the carriage."
I hurried away to the drawing-room, where I knew I should find my
sister, and, opening the door gently, announced that I had come to say
good-bye. The dear girl, upon hearing my voice, rose up from the sofa,
in the cushion of which she had been hiding her tear-stained face, and
came with unsteady steps toward me. Then, as I looked into her eyes--
heavy with the mental agony from which she was suffering, and which she
bravely strove to hide for my sake--I realised, for the first time in my
life, all the horror which lurks in that dreadful word "Farewell."
Meaning originally a benediction, it has become by usage the word with
which we cut ourselves asunder from all that is nearest and dearest to
us; it is the signal for parting; the last word we address to our loved
ones; the fatal spell at which they lingeringly and unwillingly withdraw
from our clinging embrace; the utterance at which the hand-clasp of
friendship or of love is loosed, and we are torn apart never perhaps
again to meet until time shall be no more.
My poor sister! It was pitiful to witness her intense distress. This
was our first parting. Never before had we been separated for more than
an hour or two at a time, and, there being only the two of us, our
mutual affection had steadily, though imperceptibly, grown and
strengthened from year to year until now, when to say "good-bye" seemed
like the rending of our heart-strings asunder.
It had to be said, however, and it _was_ said at last--God knows how,
for my recollection of our parting moments is nothing more than that of
a brief period of acute mental suffering--and then, placing my half-
swooning sister upon the couch and pressing a last lingering kiss on her
icy-cold lips, I rushed from the room and the house.
My father had already taken his seat in the carriage; my luggage was
piled up on the front seat alongside the driver, and nothing therefore
remained but for me to jump in, slam-to the door, and we were off.
It seemed equally impossible to my father and to myself to utter a
single word during that short--though, in our then condition of acute
mental tension, all too long--drive to the Hard; we sat therefore dumbly
side by side, with our hands clasped, until the carriage drew up, when I
sprang out, hastily hailed a boatman, and then at once began with
feverish haste to drag my belongings off the carriage down into the
road. I had still to say good-bye to my father, and I felt that I
_must_ shorten the time as much as possible, that ten minutes more of
such mental torture would drive me mad.
The boatman quickly shouldered my chest, and, gathering up the remainder
of my belongings in his disengaged hand, discreetly trotted off to the
wherry, which he unmoored and drew alongside the slipway.
Then I turned to my father, and, with the obtrusive lump in my throat by
this time grown so inconveniently large that I could scarcely
articulate, held out my hand to him.
"Good-bye, father!" I stammered out huskily.
"Good-bye, Dick, my son, my own dear boy!" he returned, not less
affected than myself. "Good-bye! May God bless and keep you, and in
His own good time bring you in health and safety back to us! Amen."
A quick convulsive hand-clasp, a last hungry glance into the loving face
and the sorrow-dimmed eyes which looked so longingly down into mine, and
with a hardly-suppressed cry of anguish I tore myself away, staggered
blindly down the slipway, tumbled into the boat, and, as gruffly as I
could under the circumstances, ordered the boatman to put me on board
the _Daphne_.