RIGHTEOUS RETRIBUTION.
Warren volunteered the information that Howard's mother had gone away
from home, and only his elder brother could take care of him, if he
was sent there, so that it was decided that he should remain in the
master's house for the present; and Warren went to let Fred know that
his brother would not be home all night.
'Why, what is the matter?' asked the young carpenter anxiously.
'There was something wrong in the "lab." this dinner-time. Nobody
knows just how it happened, but there'll be a jolly row about it
to-morrow, I know.'
'I hope Horace had nothing to do with it,' said Fred.
'Oh, didn't he, though! Three boys would soon have been dead if he
hadn't gone in. That's how he got hurt. You can go and see him, my
father says, only you mustn't talk much.'
Fred was not long getting his tea; he was too anxious to go and hear
more of what had happened to his brother, but he took care to wash
himself and change his working clothes before presenting himself at
the master's house.
He found Horace in bed, with both hands bandaged and looking very
pale. He was able to tell him what had happened, but begged him not to
say a word about it to his mother, as he felt sure he should be quite
well in the morning. Fred hardly knew what to do, but at length agreed
not to say a word about it when he wrote to his mother. When he had
nearly reached his own home, he saw a boy waiting near the gate, and
he said, 'Are you Howard's brother?'
'Yes. Who are you?' asked Fred.
'My name is Morrison, and I want to know if you think he will get well
again.'
'I hope so. But why are you so anxious about it? Do you know how it
happened?'
Leonard nodded.
'I know a bit,' said the boy sheepishly, 'and I wondered whether I'd
better tell my father.'
'Yes, yes--tell him by all means,' said Fred eagerly. 'Come in a
minute, and if you like I will go home with you and break the ice.
I've always been in the habit of telling my mother when I got into a
scrape; but it made it a bit easier if Horace told her something
about it first, so I know how you feel about telling your father.'
'We didn't mean to hurt the fellows, you know,' said Leonard eagerly,
as he went into the little sitting-room. 'We didn't mean to hurt
anybody; only make a jolly stink in the "lab.," and get somebody into
a row.'
He did not say who the 'somebody' was, and Fred did not ask him. They
went away together, and walked almost in silence, for Fred did not
like to press the boy to tell him any more. It was a long walk round
to Leonard's home, but Fred did not mind; and if the doctor had got
back he might hear of his mother, and something of what had happened
since she had been gone, for he had not had a letter from her, as he
had expected.
When they got to the doctor's house, and Fred asked to see him, the
servant said he had only just come home, and she was not sure that he
could see anybody.
'I think he will see me, if you tell him that my name is Howard,' said
Fred. 'I have come to see him about my brother, who was hurt at school
to-day.'
The doctor was certainly mystified as to the meaning of the last part
of the message, but he was glad to see Fred, for he had promised his
mother he would see him as soon as possible.
The doctor rose from his seat and took Fred's hands as he entered the
room. 'I am very glad to see you. I have some wonderful news for you.
I left your father a few hours ago. Your mother wished me to tell you.
Do you remember your father?'
'Yes, sir, a little,' answered Fred, quite forgetting what he actually
had come for.
'You do remember him?' repeated the doctor.
'I know he was a gentleman,' said Fred, a little proudly.
'Yes, he has proved himself a steadfast, God-fearing, humble
Christian. A true gentleman in these later years,' said Mr. Morrison;
'and I have promised him, and your mother too, that you shall hear
something of what those years have been.'
'But I should like to know first why he went away and left us all
alone,' said Fred, with reddening brow. 'It was not fair to my mother,
or to any of us, and I am not sure that I shall ever want to see him
again.' And then the tears filled Fred's eyes.
'Sit down, my lad,' said the doctor; 'your father knew that you must
feel angry at what has happened, and, to use his own words, he does
not deserve anything else at your hands, but I was to tell his story
in as few words as possible, and leave the rest to you.
'Some time before he went away he had a patient named Taylor. He
seems to have been a very fascinating sort of man, and your father was
not a very strong one. Through this man he neglected his practice a
great deal--he was a doctor, you know--his friend always seemed to
have plenty of money, and they went about the country a good deal
together enjoying themselves, doing no great harm, beyond your father
neglecting his work and you at home.
'This lasted for some time, and then one day his friend begged him, as
a great favour, to sign his name to a bill. Of course, by doing this
your father became responsible for the whole amount of the debt, if
his friend should fail to repay it within the time named; but he had
such confidence in Mr. Taylor, and believed all he said about the
wealth coming to him, that he signed it after a little persuasion,
although it was for a very large amount of money.
'He never told your mother of this transaction, because he knew she
disliked and mistrusted this Taylor.
'A few days before this bill became due your father found to his
dismay that his friend had disappeared from his London house, and no
one knew where he had gone. Still, your father said no word to your
mother of what had happened, but when he was served with the notice
that he must now pay the debt, he was seized with panic at the
thought of the ruin he had brought upon himself and family, and,
instead of bravely staying to do what he could to help those who were
dependent upon him, he went out one morning, and took a passage to
Australia by a vessel that was just leaving the docks.
'It must be said in excuse for him that just at the time there was a
great talk of the rapid fortunes that were being made in the
gold-fields, and he had heard that Taylor had gone there to make his
fortune.
'I need hardly tell you that he did not see his false friend again,
although he heard of him more than once during his wanderings in the
wilds of Australia.
'He wrote one short letter, telling your mother he would come home as
soon as he had made his fortune; and he resolved in his own mind not
to do so until he had accomplished this, for only in this way he
thought he could atone for the past and prove that he was worthy of
her confidence for the future.
'But he found the task much harder than he had supposed, and instead
of making his fortune at the gold-fields he was robbed of the little
he possessed, and was glad to get any sort of work that would provide
him with a crust of bread.
'Then he met with Mrs. Morrison's brother, who was not unlike himself
in many respects--easily led, weak to resist temptation--but in the
hard school of affliction to which they had condemned themselves God
met them, and showed them the folly and sin of which they had been
guilty; and they sought and found pardon through the Lord Jesus
Christ. Then, through the help of God's Holy Spirit, they began to
struggle against the temptations by which they were beset, and in the
struggle grew strong, strong enough to resist even the making of
illegal gains; and so the fortune that was to restore them to home and
country was a long time in the making, and meanwhile they clung to
each other, and to God.'
'But my father might have written to us,' said Fred, still a little
hardly.
'They both wrote to their nearest friends in England. But you must
remember that your mother had left London, and I had left Liverpool,
where I was living when my brother-in-law went away; so both letters
were returned, and the wanderers could only work on in faith and hope
that one day God would bring them to their dear ones again.'
Fred had listened with the greatest intentness to the doctor's story,
and now he roused himself, remembering that the errand he had come
upon had not yet been mentioned. 'Thank you, Dr. Morrison,' he said,
'for telling me this; but I cannot help thinking still that my father
has been very cruel to us, although he may not have intended it; but
I came to see you about something else. You have a son who goes to
school with my brother; Horace has been hurt somehow, and is in bed at
the master's house. Your son wishes me to tell you that he knows
something of what happened. He did not mean to hurt anybody, but three
boys might have died through what was done.'
'Ah, that is just it. Boys never intend wilfully to hurt each other, I
believe, and it is only rarely that men do so; but they do it through their
weakness and thoughtlessness, and bring untold misery upon friends, and all
who love them. Your father's spoiled life, and my brother-in-law's almost
wasted one, should teach all you lads a lesson. Ask God to make you strong
to resist the first temptation--strong in the strength of the Lord Jesus
Christ, for this alone can help you in the hour of trial. And remember that
this time of trial must come to you sooner or later; and the sooner it
comes in life the better, if only you go to the Strong for strength to
sustain you.'
Then the doctor rang the bell, and told the servant to send Leonard to
him. Fred rose to go, but the doctor told him to sit down again.
'We'll get this business over while you are here,' he said. And when
Leonard appeared, he said, 'My friend, Mr. Fred Howard, says you have
something to tell me. Yes, he is my friend, and I trust that you will
make him yours also, if he will accept the friendship of a boy like
you,' said the doctor, answering the look of perplexity on Leonard's
face. 'This lad's father has saved your uncle's life more than once,
it seems, while you have nearly killed his brother. Is that true?'
Leonard hung his head, and the tears slowly gathered in his eyes. 'Did
Mr. Warren tell you that, father?' he said with a gasp.
'I have not seen Warren yet,' said Dr. Morrison. 'What is it you have
to tell me? Do not be afraid, I want to hear all the truth from you.
Now what is it you have to tell me, Len?' said the doctor, in a more
tender tone. 'I hear you have got into some scrape at school, and
somebody has got hurt.'
'Yes, father; the scholarship boy, and I was afraid he might die.'
'Well, what was your share of the mischief? Did you really wish your
schoolfellow to die?'
'Father, we didn't mean to hurt him really. We only wanted to drive
him away from the school.' And then, bit by bit, Mr. Morrison heard
the whole story of what had been going on at Torrington's for the last
few months.
Fred was as much astonished as Mr. Morrison. 'My brother never said a
word about it at home,' he said.
'Your brother has the brave gallant spirit of a gentleman,' said the
doctor. 'But what am I to say of my son and his cowardly companions?
Go to your room, sir!' he said, addressing Leonard, for he was very
angry.
'But, Mr. Morrison, that he should wish to come and tell you of it
before it is known at the school who has done it, should not be
forgotten,' said Fred, pleadingly.
'Certainly, certainly, it is something, as you say,' answered Mr.
Morrison; but in truth he felt overwhelmed just now.
As Fred was leaving, a servant from Dr. Mason's arrived with a note,
asking that Mr. Morrison would bring his son, and be at the school by
nine o'clock.
'Mason has found out all about it, I expect,' he said, as he read the
note. He gave orders for his carriage to be ready by half-past eight
the following day, for he had a great deal to do before he started for
London in the evening.
He went to see Leonard in his own room before he went to bed, and then
told him something of his uncle's life, and why it was that he wished
to befriend Horace Howard.
His father's talk made a deep impression on the boy's mind. 'Mamma
told me something of this once but she did not say the "somebody" was
my uncle.'
'My boy, she loved this brother as Florrie loves you, and how could
she tell you all the miserable tale?'
'Oh, papa, I am so sorry! What can I do to make you believe that I do
mean to try and do right always for the future? I wish I could do
something for that poor Horace. His hands are awfully bad, and he
won't be able to use them for ever so long. There's nobody to take
care of him at home either. Don't you think he might come here, papa?'
Dr. Morrison looked at Leonard, and breathed a sigh of relief. 'My
boy, could I trust you to be good to him if I fetched him here
to-morrow?'
'Yes, yes, papa; indeed I will try to make it up to him, if you will
let him come. I am so sorry. I did not know it was going to be so bad,
until I heard Mr. Skeats say he wondered they were not dead. That was
why I wanted to see Howard's brother. I knew he was the worst, and I
wanted them to know that I did not mean really to hurt him.'
'I can quite believe and sincerely hope that this will be a lesson you
will never forget through your whole life. But if I forgive you it is
more than you can expect Dr. Mason to do. I almost wonder he has not
put it into the hands of the police, and had you all arrested. The
punishment will be severe, I have no doubt; it ought to be, to make an
impression upon the school; and remember, whatever it may be, I shall
expect you to bear it patiently and bravely. I forgive you, but I
shall not seek to lessen the punishment your schoolmaster may inflict.
Now go to sleep as soon as you can, and I will take you to school in
the carriage with me in the morning.'
Dr. Morrison was compelled to pay a visit to a patient on his way to
the school the next day, so that when they arrived they found all the
school assembled in the hall. Prayers were just over, and when Leonard
entered with his father, he was directed to take his place beside
Taylor and Curtis, who were standing in front of the platform, where
Dr. Mason and the other masters were sitting. His father was asked to
take a seat there beside two other gentlemen, whom he afterwards heard
were Mr. Curtis and Mr. Taylor, who had come to hear what their sons
were charged with.
'It might have been manslaughter,' said Dr. Mason severely, when one
of the gentlemen asked this question rather angrily.
'Last night, before we separated, I asked if anyone wanted to make a
statement about this matter,' said the master, addressing the school.
'No one answered then; now it is too late, and I can tell you myself
all that happened. When the chemistry class left the laboratory
yesterday morning, Mr. Skeats left three boys to finish what they were
doing, believing that they were the only lads there. Just after he
had gone they heard the stink-chamber door opened, and Taylor put
something down on Howard's bench, which is close to that door. They
took no notice of this at first, until the peculiar odour arrested
their attention. Then one of them went round to see what it was, but
coming in closer contact with the fumes was overcome by them, and fell
down unconscious. Soon a second fell at his bench, and the third fell
just as Howard opened the laboratory door and called to them. None
were able to answer; but he pulled two out on to the landing, and then
went back for the third, but fell unconscious himself, close to his
own bench, and near the lad he was trying to save. Fortunately, his
cry for help was heard, and both lives were saved, I am thankful to
say, although Howard has been burned a great deal with the acid of the
poison.'
There was a dead silence throughout the school while the master was
speaking. After a pause he said, 'I do not suppose that either Taylor,
Curtis, or Morrison knew what their act would be likely to cause. I am
sure they were ignorant of the danger they caused to three or four of
their schoolfellows. But I do know that for some time past these boys
have been persecuting one of their companions; and this sort of thing
shall never be allowed at this school. Therefore, to save this school
from future disgrace and trouble, I am compelled to expel from the
school those who have been the ringleaders in this persecution.
Taylor! Curtis! your names will be removed from the school roll, and
never again will you be admitted as scholars of Torrington's school.
Morrison has been greatly to blame in the part he has taken in this
business; but taking into consideration that he made a full confession
to his father last night of all he had done, added to the fact that he
is a younger and weaker boy than the others, I shall suspend him from
attending this school for six months; and if at the end of that time
he can bring a certificate of good conduct from any other school, he
may possibly be reinstated at Torrington's. The honour of the school
demands that these punishments should be strictly adhered to.' The
master sat down, and before a boy could leave his place Dr. Morrison
sprang to his feet.
'Dr. Mason, I am an old Torrington boy,' he said; 'and I thank you
with all my heart for defending the honour of the dear old school. My
son is one of the culprits, and I thank you in his name for giving him
another chance to retrieve his character. I shall send him for the six
months to one of the board schools in the town, where I hope and trust
he may earn the right to come among you once more, and bring no
further disgrace upon Torrington's school.'
The other two gentlemen did not say a word. They were exceedingly
angry with the culprits, but could not complain that the master had
been unduly severe with them. Before they left, Dr. Mason said that he
must charge them with the cost of a new suit of clothes for Horace.
'Those he was wearing yesterday are burned into holes, so that the
poor lad has nothing to wear when he is able to get up,' said Dr.
Mason.
'I will see to that,' said Dr. Morrison.
'I understand you are going to charge yourself with the care of the
lad until he is well,' said the master. 'I like justice all round, and
it is only fair these gentlemen should buy the boy a new suit. Will
you leave me to order it?' he said, addressing the two.
'Yes, yes, of course, and we will pay the bill,' both answered in a
breath.
'Now, Morrison, you can go and tell the lad that he will soon have
some new clothes, for I understand that is the chief trouble with him
this morning--that he has spoiled his best jacket, and burned holes in
his trousers. Mrs. Mason will give you something to take him home in,
and I think it will do both lads good to know more of each other. The
wisest thing you could do is what you have decided upon for Leonard,
and I hope I shall see him back at Torrington's at the end of six
months.'
Mr. Morrison found Fred was with his brother, but he readily agreed to
his being taken home by the doctor. Horace himself did not know what
to make of it. Fred had just told him what he had heard from Dr.
Morrison about his father, and now the doctor assured him that Leonard
was very anxious to make up to him for all the unkindness he had been
guilty of in the past.
'For our father's sake you ought to give him this chance,' said Fred,
for he knew he could not give his brother the care he needed.
'Thank you, doctor; I will go with you,' said Horace.
Just as he was being wrapped up Mr. Warren came in to see his patient,
and was glad to learn that he was going home with Dr. Morrison.
'You will let Warren come and see me, won't you?' said Horace.
'Yes, yes, send him by all means; and I shall be glad if you can look
in upon him yourself to-morrow, for I am obliged to go to London this
evening, so that he must be left to the tender mercies of Len and the
servants for a day or two.'
Horace was carried to the carriage where Leonard was seated, shedding
a few quiet tears over the folly that had gained for him this
suspension for the honour of the school. Still, he was thankful that
he was allowed a chance of return, and resolved to do all he
could--even in a board school--to earn the right to go back at the end
of six months. He was glad enough to have Horace seated beside him,
and the first words he said were,
'I hope you will forgive me for being such a fool. We must be friends,
you know, and I hope to come back to Torrington's with you by-and by.'
'Yes, yes, we will be good friends if you like,' said Horace, with the
tears shining in his eyes. 'Only I don't know what my mother will say
when she comes home.'
'Oh, that will be all right,' answered Leonard. 'Your mother has gone
to London with my mother. I dare say we shall know all about it
presently. But father is too busy now, for he is going to London again
this evening, and so I shall have to take care of you until he comes
back. We'll ask Warren to come and see us as well, because I know you
like Warren.'
This last proposal cost Leonard the most, for he wanted Horace to like
him now. But it was a proof to Mr. Morrison that his son had learned
to conquer himself; and he had more hope for him now than he had since
he first heard of this school scandal.
The doctor had taken care to say as little as possible to the two
boys about the fortune Mr. Howard had made while he was away, and it
had made so little impression upon Horace, that when Mr. Morrison came
back from London the next day, and told him that his mother wanted him
to go to the sea-side as soon as he was able to go, Horace looked at
him in mute wonder.
Could his mother afford to send him to the sea-side? he wondered, and
he resolved to ask Fred what he thought about it when he came.
His brother came to sit with him for an hour every evening, and as
soon as they were left to themselves that night Horace said, 'Have you
heard that mother wants us to go to the sea-side--Leonard, and you and
I? What does it mean, Fred? Has mother got money enough now to spend
it like that?'
'I suppose she has,' said Fred, with something like a sigh; 'but I am
not sure that it is going to make us any happier, Horry,' he added.
'Well, I suppose that will depend upon what we do with it, won't it?'
said Horace simply.
'Well, then I don't know that I shall let them spend any of it on me,'
said Fred, in an angry tone.
'Then you won't let mother be happy, though she may have more money,
and not have to work for it now.'
'Now, Horace, you know it is on mother's account that I feel as I do.
It was unkind and cruel of father to go away and leave her as he did
for years and years, though he was making a fortune for us. I tell you
that money has been bought too dearly, and for mother's sake I don't
feel as though I could touch a penny of it.'
'Oh, Fred! think how unhappy she will be if you say that to her.'
'I have said it,' replied Fred bitterly. 'I wrote and told her that I
hoped she would leave me to be a carpenter, and live on in the little
cottage where she had worked so hard.'
'Oh, how could you--what did she say?' cried Horace, with the tears
shining in his eyes.
Fred covered his face for a moment. 'She begged me to forgive my
father for her sake, as though it was not for her sake I feel as I
do.'
'Yes, yes, I know,' said Horace. 'But you will have to do as she says,
or else we shall all be so unhappy. Oh, Fred, for mother's sake, for
my sake, forgive father! for why should I lose my brother because my
father has come home? I cannot help myself. I must let him help me,
and if he did stay and work for this money just to prove that he was
sorry for what he had done so long ago, I think we ought to forgive
him, as mother has. He is ill, too, through the hardships he had to
endure.'
'Oh, Horry, if only he hadn't gone away like that! To have to forgive
your father, instead of looking up to him as Len Morrison does, is so
bitter; and it might all have been so different if only he had kept on
doing his duty and asking God to help him when things were a bit
harder than usual.'
'Oh, Fred, ask God to help you now, to help you forgive him for
mother's sake, and for Jesus Christ's sake!' cried Horace, in a
passion of tears.
'I have, dear, I have! and I think I shall be able to do it soon; but
I think God wanted me to see that making a fortune can't make up for
not doing the right thing at the right time; no, not even to the
people you may make the fortune for. I shall have to let my father
know this before I can fully forgive him.'
It was a bitter lesson for the returned prodigals to learn, for
Leonard Morrison took the same view concerning his uncle, having
memories of days when his mother was too ill and too sad to be glad
with them; and he heard now from his father that this was generally
caused by some memory of the dearly loved brother who had fled from
them under a cloud of disgrace.
At length, however, Fred wrote and assured his mother that for her
sake, and for his brother's, he would do as they wished, and join
them at the sea-side, when Horace went for a holiday before returning
to school. His hands were better, thanks to the kind attention he
received from everyone at Dr. Morrison's. Indeed, he was such good
friends now with Leonard, that he begged to be allowed to go to the
sea-side with him, in order to make the acquaintance of his mother and
his father as well as of his own uncle, who was still staying with
them to help the invalid.
Fred wrote this letter, and Mrs. Howard was greatly relieved to
receive it. To her it had been easy enough to receive and pardon her
husband for his long neglect, and she failed to understand why her
elder son, who had always been so good to her, should assume such a
hard, unforgiving demeanour towards his father.
But when they met some weeks later she learned to understand the lad
better; and when she told her husband he said, 'It is better. He is
young, and has all his life before him, and he is right in thinking
that no fortune can make up for wasted opportunities and neglected
duties.'
* * * * *