A TRUST.
The puzzled colonel, even more puzzled than were his wife and Lena,
since he had not all the clews to guide him which they had received,
and, moreover, rather astonished that the former had not come to
greet him, according to her usual custom, when he entered the house
after an absence of some hours, had his tale to tell and his riddle
to solve.
"Where have you been? Why did you not come before? Is Lena worse?"
were questions he propounded in a breath, not waiting for an answer
to the first till he had asked all three.
No, Lena was not worse, Mrs. Rush said, but she had been startled and
worried, and she had stayed with her and tried to divert her until
she should be more comfortable. And then she told the story of Miss
Trevor's visit, of her encounter with Hannah, and the latter's
evident dismay and displeasure at seeing her there; of how the old
lady had betrayed that which the old nurse had plainly intended
should be kept a profound secret; of how there could be no doubt that
Lena had had the key to these revelations, and of how she had been
much distressed and agitated by them, but had tried to conceal this
and had told her nothing.
The colonel had his say also, and told how he had met Miss Trevor at
the door with Maggie and Bessie when they came down to take the
carriage; of how she had, in her own queer, incoherent way, told him
some story of which he could make nothing clear save that Hannah had,
through her, sent a large sum of money to Percy; and how he, coupling
one thing with another, had arrived at the conclusion that Percy had
fallen into trouble through his own fault, and so had not dared to
apply for help to those upon whom he had a legitimate right to call,
but had confided in Hannah, and begged and received aid from her.
There could be no doubt of this, both the colonel and his wife
agreed; nor that the depression and anxiety shown by Lena some time
since was to be referred to the same cause, whatever that might be.
But as Percy would be home for the Easter vacation in a couple of
days, the colonel said he would not question Lena or disturb her
further at present. If Percy were in fault and had been guilty of any
wrong-doing, he must be made to confess; if not, it would still be
expedient that it should be known why a sum of money, so large for
such a boy, should have been conveyed to him by a servant in such a
surreptitious manner. If no information on the matter could be
obtained from either Lena, Percy or Hannah, he should feel it only
right to write to Percy's father and place it in his hands; and in
any case Hannah must be repaid. The story of the exchange of the gold
for Miss Trevor's bank-notes left little doubt in the mind of either
Colonel or Mrs. Rush that the sum consecrated to the monument and
epitaph which were to commemorate the virtues of the faithful old
woman, had been sacrificed to Percy's needs; and now the colonel
remembered how she had asked him the value of British gold in
American paper.
So nothing more was said till Percy should come, and Lena, seeing
that her uncle and aunt were just as usual, and that they plied her
with no questions, took heart of grace, and consoled herself with the
reflection that she had alarmed herself unnecessarily, and that they
were not going to "make a fuss" over Miss Trevor's revelations.
Meanwhile Percy had kept his promise to his sister, namely, that he
would henceforth avoid Lewis Flagg; at least, he had done so as far
as he was able, for it is easier to take up with bad company than it
is to shake it off; that is, if the desire to do so is not mutual,
and the bad company has no mind to be discarded. And this was the
case with Lewis. He had reasons of his own for wishing to keep his
influence over Percy, and he did not intend that he should escape it
if it were possible to maintain it.
So, in spite of Percy's avoidance of him, which became so marked that
the other boys noticed it, he persisted in seeking his company at all
times and in all places. He was not by any means blind to Percy's
endeavors to avoid him, but chose to ignore them and to be constantly
hail-fellow-well-met with him as he had been before.
But, fortunately for Percy, Seabrooke had his eye on both. While
seeing all the weakness and instability of the younger boy's
character, he saw also much that was lovable and good; and moreover,
a kindly feeling towards him had been aroused through gratitude to
his friends and relations.
He had heard through his sister Gladys and his father, not only of
the kindness shown to the little girl, but also of the generous
donation made by Colonel Rush to the struggling church of which his
father was rector; and he knew through Percy of the efforts of Lena
and her young friends to gain the scholarship for Gladys. In spite of
his rather stubborn pride which had led him so haughtily to answer
Percy that his sister was not an object of charity, he could not but
feel grateful to the sweet little strangers who were striving to earn
such a benefit for his own sister; and for the sake of Percy's
relatives as well as for that of the boy himself, he had resolved to
keep an eye upon him during the few remaining days of the term and to
endeavor to keep him from going astray again. And Percy, who had been
pretty thoroughly frightened, and also truly ashamed of the
disgraceful scrape into which he had fallen, was far more amenable
than usual to rules and regulations, and was not without gratitude to
Seabrooke for having dealt so leniently with him.
But even now, as Harley Seabrooke could plainly see, Percy had no
proper sense of the gravity of his late offence; the dread of Dr.
Leacraft's displeasure and of the exposure to his relatives being
what chiefly concerned him.
Percy had told Seabrooke whence he had received the money with which
he had been enabled to repay him, and had been rather troubled by his
reluctance to accept it through the means of a girl who was totally
innocent of any share of blame. Careless as he was, Percy could not
but feel that it cast a reflection upon him. Hence he had been glad
when that second remittance arrived in such a mysterious manner to
let Harley know of it, and to declare that he should repay his
sister at once on his return to his uncle's house at the approaching
Easter holidays.
But Seabrooke had little faith in Percy's strength of purpose in case
any new temptation presented itself in the meantime; that is, any
temptation to spend the money in any other way.
"Don't you think it is what I ought to do?" asked Percy, when he had
told Seabrooke of his intentions, and observed, as he could not help
doing, that the other seemed a little doubtful.
"Certainly, I think it is what you ought to do; it is the only thing
you _can_ do if you have any sense of right and honor," answered
Seabrooke, looking at him steadily.
"But you think I won't," said Percy, awakening to a sense that
Seabrooke had no confidence in his good resolutions.
"I think you are open to temptation, Neville, more than any one I
know," answered his uncompromising mentor; and Percy could not deny
that there was too much truth in the assertion. He took it in good
part, however, although he made no answer beyond what was conveyed by
a rather sheepish look; and presently Seabrooke said:
"Does any one know that you have received this money, Neville?"
He would not ask the direct question which was in his mind, namely,
whether Lewis Flagg knew of it.
"Oh, yes, all the fellows know of it," answered Percy; "they were all
there when I opened that odd-looking parcel. I thought it was a
hoax--wrapped up in paper after paper that way--and I was not going
to open the hair-pin box when it came out at last; but Raymond
Stewart cut the string and there was the hundred-dollar note. A nice
thing it would have been if I had tossed it in the fire, as I had a
mind to do half-a-dozen times while I was unrolling those papers.
Oh, yes; they all saw it. Flagg says I am the luckiest fellow he
knows."
"Yes," thought Seabrooke, "and he'll persuade you to make way with it
before it goes into your sister's hands, if I know him aright. I say,
Percy," aloud, "why don't you put that money into Mr. Merton's hands
till you are going home?"
"Why?" asked Percy, rather indignantly. "You don't suppose any one is
going to steal it, do you?"
"Of course not," answered Seabrooke, who really had no such thought,
and only feared that Percy himself might be tempted to do something
foolish--in his situation something almost dishonorable Seabrooke
thought it would be. It was due to Percy's sister that this sum
should be employed to repay her; it would be an absolute wrong to
employ it for anything else. "Only," he added, with a little
hesitation, "I thought you might find it a sort of a safeguard to
have it in the hands of some one else."
"A safeguard against myself, eh?" said Percy, laughing
good-naturedly, and not at all offended, as Seabrooke feared he might
be. "All right, if you are unhappy about it take care of it
yourself."
And drawing his purse from his pocket he opened it, took from it the
hundred dollar note, and thrust the latter into Seabrooke's hand.
"I suppose it's wisest," he said; "but I _know_ I shouldn't
spend it. However, if it gives you any satisfaction it is as well in
your pocket as mine."
"It will not lodge in my pocket," said Seabrooke; "how can you carry
such a sum of money in such an insecure place, Neville? Playing
rough-and-tumble games, too, when any minute it is likely to fall out
of your pocket. I shall lock it up, I can tell you; and what if you
tell me not to return it to you till we are breaking up?"
"All right," said Percy again. "I request you not to give it back to
me until the day we leave."
"I promise," said Seabrooke. "Remember now; I shall keep my word and
take you at yours, and _will_ not return this money to you until
Thursday morning of next week."
"No, don't," said Percy, laughing. "I give you full leave to refuse
to return it to me till then."
"Self-confident, careless fellow!" said Seabrooke to himself as the
other turned away in a series of somersaults down the slope on the
edge of which they had been standing. "He is so sure of himself; and
yet, I know, at the very first temptation he would forget all about
his debt to his sister and make way with that money. But I can't help
having a liking for him, and for the sake of that sister who has been
so nice to Gladys I shall do what I can to keep him straight."
"I say, Neville," said Raymond Stewart, meeting Percy not half an
hour afterward, "aren't you going to stand treat out of that fortune
of yours?"
"No," answered Percy, "not this time. I have something else to do
with that fortune of mine."
"Turned stingy all of a sudden, eh?" said Raymond, with the
disagreeable sneer which was almost habitual with him; and Percy, in
spite of his boasting self-confidence, felt glad that his money was
in other keeping than his own. He knew perfectly well that he would
not have stood proof against the persuasions and sneers, perhaps even
threats, which might be brought into use to induce him to part with
at least a portion of it. Seabrooke had foreseen just some such
state of affairs when he heard that the other boys all knew of
Percy's fortune, and hence the precautions he had taken. He would
have felt that they were fully justified had he overheard the present
conversation.
Further pressure, not only from Raymond Stewart, but from several of
the other boys was brought to bear upon Percy: but, as he laughingly
declared, he had not the money in his hands, and so could not spend
it.
"Where is it, then?" "What have you done with it?" "Have you sent it
home?" asked one and another; but Percy still refused to tell.
Only Lewis Flagg did not beset him, did not ask any questions or seem
to take any interest in the matter; but that would easily be
accounted for by the coolness which had arisen between Percy and
himself during the last few days. But this state of affairs had
really nothing to do with it, for Lewis did not choose to be snubbed
so long as he had any object to gain, and the coolness was all on
Percy's side.
But Lewis could give a very good guess as to the whereabouts of
Percy's money at present, or at least, as to the person in whose
custody it was.
He had been standing at one of the school-room windows while
Seabrooke and Percy had been talking at the top of the slope, and had
seen the latter take out his pocket-book, take something from it and
hand it to Seabrooke, and he rightly conjectured how matters were,
that Seabrooke had persuaded Percy to give him the money for
safe-keeping.
And then arose a thought which had made itself felt before, that it
was hard that Percy had been furnished not only with the means to
defray the claim of Seabrooke, and that through no sacrifice or
exertion of his own, but also with a like sum which he was at liberty
to spend as he pleased, while he himself had been obliged to dispose
of his watch in order to obtain the sum which would save him. He felt
quite wronged, and as if some injustice had been done to him,
forgetting or losing sight of all the meanness, underhand dealing and
disobedience of rules which had brought him to his present
predicament. And the doctor would be here tomorrow,--for his son was
out of danger and he was coming back to close the school,--would hear
the account of his misconduct and would report at home, if nothing
worse. A feeling of intense irritation against both Seabrooke and
Percy Neville took possession of him, a feeling as unreasonable as it
was spiteful; and he said to himself that he would find means to be
revenged on both, especially on Seabrooke, whom he chose to look upon
as the offender instead of the offended, the injurer instead of the
injured.
Then another idea took possession of him, and one worthy of his own
mean spirit, namely, that Seabrooke had been demanding and Percy
giving a further prize for the silence of the former in the matter of
the burnt money; and he immediately formed in his own mind a plan by
which he might be revenged upon Seabrooke. He called it to himself,
"playing a jolly good trick;" but Lewis Flagg's "jolly good tricks"
were apt to prove more jolly to himself than to his victims, and they
did occasionally, as we have seen, recoil upon his own head.
"I say, Percy," said Raymond Stewart, "you hav'n't made over that
hundred dollars to Flagg, have you? We know that he can get out of
you anything that he chooses. Has he, Flagg? Own up now if he has. I
shouldn't wonder."
"No, I hav'n't," said Percy, exasperated by the assertion that Flagg
could do as he pleased with him. "No, I haven't given it to him, and
he can't make me do as he pleases. No one can."
At this assumption of his own independence from the facile,
easily-led Percy a shout of derision was raised; and then began a
running fire of schoolboy jeers and jests. The good humor with which
Percy generally took such attacks was apt to disarm his tormentors;
but now, probably because he was conscious that their taunts were so
well-deserved, he resented them and showed some irritability in the
matter. Had he not felt assured that Seabrooke would abide by his
word and insist upon keeping possession of the money until the day of
the breaking up of school, there is little doubt that he would have
allowed himself to be urged into demanding it back and spending at
least some portion of it for the entertainment of his school-fellows.
"See here," said one of the boys, apropos of nothing it seemed, "see
here, do you know Seabrooke is going to dine with the dons up at Mr.
Fanshawe's to-night?"
"Then who's going to be sentinel at evening study?" asked Raymond
Stewart.
"Mr. Merton," answered the other.
"Isn't he invited?" asked Raymond.
"Yes, but he wants Seabrooke to go because he says he has but little
pleasure; so he told him he would decline and take the evening study,
so that he might go to the dinner. Here he comes now. Hallo!
Seabrooke, what a big-bug you're getting to be! Going out to dine
with the dons and so forth."
Seabrooke passed on with a cold, indifferent smile just moving the
corners of his mouth. He had little of the spirit of good comradeship
and was not accustomed to meet any joke or nonsense from his
companions in a responsive manner; so it was little wonder that he
was not very popular with the other boys.
But as he passed Percy, who stood leaning with his back against a
tree, rather discontentedly kicking the toe of his shoe into the
ground, he saw that the boy was vexed about something, and paused to
speak to him.
"Hallo, Neville," he said; "what is the matter? You look as if the
world were not wagging your way just now."
"Nothing," answered Percy, half-sulkily, "only I wish I hadn't given
you that money. The fellows think I'm awfully mean."
"So soon!" said Seabrooke to himself; then replied aloud, "Why,
because you wish to pay a just debt?"
"No, they don't know about that," said Percy, "only they think I
ought to stand treat."
"I shall keep my word to you," said Seabrooke, significantly, and
walked on.
"You wouldn't like it yourself," answered Percy; but Seabrooke only
shrugged his shoulders and gave no symptom of yielding to his
unspoken desire.
"Weak, unstable fellow!" he said to himself. "He would have asked me
for that money if he had thought there was the slightest chance I
would give it to him, and would have spent a part of it rather than
have those fellows chaff and run him. After his sister's sacrifice,
too. Pah!"
He had never been a boy who was subject to temptations of this
nature, or who cared one iota for the opinion of others, especially
if he believed himself to be in the right; and he had no patience
with or pity for weakness of character or purpose. To him there was
something utterly contemptible in Percy's indulging in the least
thought of withdrawing from his resolution of using the sum he had
confided to his keeping to repay his debt to his sister, and he
wasted no sympathy upon him or his fancied difficulties.
Seabrooke went to dine with "the dons," caring not so much for the
social pleasure as for the honor conferred upon him by the
invitation; Mr. Merton taking, as had been arranged, his place in the
schoolroom during evening study.
The tutor cast his eye around the line of heads and missed one.
"Where is Lewis Flagg?" he asked.
"I don't know, sir," answered one of the boys. "I saw him about ten
minutes ago."
Scarcely had he spoken when the delinquent entered the room and
hastened to his seat.
"Late, Lewis," said Mr. Merton, placing a tardy mark against his
name.
"I did not hear the bell, sir," answered Lewis, telling his falsehood
with coolness, although his manner was somewhat flurried and nervous.
Percy was running across the play-ground the next morning when he
came full against Seabrooke, who was just rounding the corner of an
evergreen hedge. He would have been thrown off his balance by the
shock had not Seabrooke caught him; but the next instant he shook him
off, while he regarded him with a look of the most scornful contempt.
"Hallo!" said Percy, not observing this at first, "that was a
concussion between opposing forces. I beg your pardon. I should have
been down, too, but for you"
"You're pretty well _down_, I should say," replied Seabrooke,
sneeringly. "You're a nice fellow to call yourself a gentleman,
are'n't you?"
Percy opened his eyes in unfeigned astonishment. The grave, studious,
young pupil-teacher was no favorite with the other boys, who thought
him priggish and rather arbitrary; but at least he was always
courteous in his dealings with them, and, indeed, rather prided
himself upon his manners.
"Well, that's one way to take it," said the younger boy, resentfully,
his regrets taking flight at once as they met with this apparently
ungracious reception. "Accidents will happen, and, after all, it was
just as much your fault as mine."
"I would not try to appear innocent. It will hardly serve your turn
under the circumstances," said Seabrooke, still with the same
disagreeable tone and manner. "But let me tell you, Mr. Neville, that
I have a great mind to report you for trespassing in my quarters. You
may think you have the right to demand your own if you choose to
break a compact made for your own good, but you have no right to be
guilty of the liberty and meanness of ransacking another man's
belongings in search of it."
"I don't know what you are talking about. What do you mean?"
exclaimed the astonished Percy, really for the moment forgetting that
Seabrooke had anything belonging to him in his keeping.
But Seabrooke only answered, as he turned away, "Such an assumption
of innocence is quite thrown away, I repeat, sir and the next time
you meddle with my things or places, you shall suffer for it, I
assure you."
But Percy seized him by the arm.
"You shall not leave me this way," he said. "What do you mean?
Explain yourself. Who touched your things?"
"It shows what you are," answered Seabrooke, continuing his
reproaches, instead of giving the straightforward answer which he
considered unnecessary, "that you have not the decent manliness to
demand that which rightfully belonged to you because you were ashamed
of your own folly and weakness, but must go and ransack in my
quarters to find your money. Let me go; I wish nothing more to do
with you."
Light broke upon the bewildered Percy. Seabrooke was accusing him of
searching for and taking the money he had confided to his care, but
which he, Percy, certainly had no right to recover by such means.
"You say I took back my money without asking you for it, and hunted
it out from your places?" he asked, incredulously, but fiercely.
"I do," answered Seabrooke, "and I've nothing more to say to you now
or hereafter."
Percy contradicted him flatly, and in language which left no doubt as
to his opinion of his veracity, and very hard words were
interchanged. Both lost their temper, and Seabrooke his dignity--poor
Percy had not much of the latter quality to lose--and the quarrel
presently attracted the attention, not only of the other boys, but of
one or two of the masters who happened to be within hearing.
Naturally this called forth inquiry, and it soon became known that
Percy had entrusted to Seabrooke's keeping a large sum of money, lest
he should himself be tempted to spend any portion of it, as it was to
be reserved for a special purpose; that Seabrooke before going to the
dinner on the previous evening had put it, as he supposed, in a
secure place, and that this morning the money was gone, while he had
discovered slight but unmistakable evidence that his quarters had
been ransacked in search of it. He had, perhaps, not unnaturally, at
once arrived at the conclusion that Percy himself had searched for
and taken it, being determined to have it, and yet ashamed to demand
its return. It was a grave accusation, and one which Percy denied in
the most emphatic and indignant manner which convinced nearly every
one who heard him of his innocence.
Seabrooke was not among these. He maintained that no one but Percy
knew that he had taken the money in charge; no one but Percy had any
object in finding it, and he appeared and professed himself perfectly
outraged that any one "should have dared" to open his trunk, bureau
and so forth. There could be no question of actual theft, since the
money was Percy's own, to dispose of as he pleased, but the liberty
was a great one, and it was a very mean way of regaining possession
even of his own property, had he been guilty of it.
But Percy was popular, Seabrooke was not; and even the masters were
inclined to believe that the latter must have been careless and
forgetful and mislaid the money, while believing he had put it in the
place he indicated, and presently--no one knew exactly how it started
or could trace the rumor to its source--presently it began to be
bruited about among the boys that Seabrooke was keeping it for his
own use and had never intended to return it to Percy, and was now
making him his scape-goat.
But Percy, even in the midst of his own wrath and indignation,
generously combated this; he inclined to the first supposition that
Seabrooke had mislaid or lost the note, and he even maintained that
it would shortly be found.
But this did not make Seabrooke any more lenient in his judgment. He
said little, but that little expressed the most dogged and obstinate
belief in Percy's weakness of purpose, and in his search for and
abstraction of his own property.
The situation was one hard to deal with, and Mr. Merton and the other
tutors resolved to let the matter rest until the return of Dr.
Leacraft, who was expected that very evening.
School closed the next day, and the various actors in this little
drama were to scatter to their respective homes for the Easter
holidays.
"What a miserable report we have to make to the doctor on his
return!" said Mr. Merton. "When he has been through so much, too, and
is just feeling a little relief from his anxiety. He will find that
his boys--the majority at least--have not had much consideration for
him in his trouble."
What would he have said had he known how much worse the record might
have been--had all been revealed, had Seabrooke disclosed the
drugging, the theft of his letter to his father, and the destruction,
unintentional though it was, of the money?
Seabrooke went about the business of the day with all his accustomed
regularity and precision, but with a sort of defiant and
I-am-going-to-stick-to-it air about him which in itself incited the
other boys to covert thrusts and innuendoes tending to throw distrust
upon his version of the story and to make known their thorough
sympathy with Percy, not only for his loss, but also for the
aspersions cast upon him by the young pupil-teacher. Seabrooke
professed, and perhaps with truth, not to care particularly for
popularity or for what others said about him; but he found this hard
to bear, more especially as he fully believed Percy to be guilty of
the meanness he had ascribed to him.
But for some unknown reason Lewis Flagg, who was usually the
ringleader in all such little amenities, held his peace and had
nothing to say.