GOOD FOR EVIL
"For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter
Of the Eternal's language;--on earth it is called forgiveness!"
_The Children of the Lord's Supper._--LONGFELLOW
Tony's face was almost the first thing he caught sight of. It was not
late, but several children were already there, and Tony, contrary to his
custom, instead of playing outside till the very last moment, was in the
schoolroom eagerly searching for something among the slates and books
belonging to his class. Gratian understood the reason, and smiled to
himself inwardly--but had he smiled visibly I don't think his face would
have been improved by it. Nor was there real pleasure or rejoicing in
the feeling of triumph which for a moment made him forget his smarting
face and hands.
"How red you look, Gratian," said Dolly, Tony's sister, "have you been
crying?"
"Crying--no, nonsense, Dolly," he replied in a tone such as gentle
Gratian seldom used. "Whose face wouldn't be red with such a horrible
wind cutting one to pieces."
"Wind!" repeated Dolly, "I didn't feel any wind. It must have got up all
of a sudden. Did you get home quickly last night?"
Gratian looked at her. For half an instant he wondered if there was any
meaning in her question--had Dolly anything to do with the trick that
had been played him? But his glance at her kindly, honest face reassured
him. He was going to answer when Tony interrupted him.
"Got home quick," he said, looking up with a grin; "of course he did. He
was in such a hurry to get to work. Didn't you see what a lot of books
he took home with him? My! your shoulders must have ached before you got
to the Farm, Gratian. Mine did, I know, though 'twas only a short bit I
carried your satchel."
"It was pretty heavy," said Gratian, unfastening it as he spoke, and
coolly taking out the books one after another, watching Tony the while,
"but nothing to hurt. And I got all my lessons done nicely. It was kind
of you, Tony, to help me to carry my satchel."
Tony stared--with eyes and mouth wide open.
"What's the matter?" said his sister. "You look as if you'd seen a
ghost, Tony."
The boy turned away, muttering to himself.
"Tony's put out this morning," said Dolly in a low voice to Gratian,
"and I can't help being sorry too. He's lost his exercise-book that he
was to copy out clear--and the master said it'd have to do with getting
the prize. Tony's in a great taking."
"How did he lose it?" asked Gratian with a rather queer feeling, as he
wondered what Dolly would say if she knew that at that very moment the
lost book was safely hidden away at the bottom of his satchel, which he
took care not to leave within Tony's reach.
"He doesn't know," said Dolly dolefully. "He's sure he had it when we
left school last night. We were looking for it all evening, and then he
thought maybe it'd be here after all. But it isn't."
Then the bell rang for lessons to begin, and Gratian saw no more of
Tony, who was at the other side of the schoolroom in a higher class, and
though Dolly was in the same as himself, she was some places off, so
that there was no chance of any talking or whispering.
Gratian's lessons were well learnt and understood. It was not long
before he found himself higher in his class than he had almost ever done
before, and he caught the master's eye looking at him with approval, and
a smile of encouragement on his face. Why was it he could not meet it
with a brightly answering smile as he would have done the day before?
Why did he turn away, his cheeks tingling again as if the wind had been
slapping them, here inside the sheltered schoolroom?
The master felt a little disappointed.
"He will never do really well if he is so foolishly shy and bashful," he
said to himself, when Gratian turned away as if ashamed to be grateful
for the few kind words the teacher said to him at the end of the
morning's lessons; and the boy, in a corner of the playground by himself
when the other children had run home for their dinner, felt nearly, if
not quite, as unhappy as the day before.
"I don't see why I should mind about Tony," he was thinking as he sat
there. "He's a naughty, unkind boy, and he deserves to be punished. If
it hadn't been for _her_ helping me, I wouldn't have known my lessons a
bit this morning, and the master would have thought I was never going to
try. I just hope Tony will lose his place and the prize and everything.
Oh, how cold it is!" for round the wall, _through_ it indeed, it almost
seemed, came sneaking a sharp little gust of air, so cold, so cutting,
that Gratian actually shivered and shook, and the smarting in his face
began again. "I feel cold even in my bones," he said to himself.
Just then voices reached his ear. The door of the schoolhouse opened and
the master appeared, showing out a lady, who had evidently come to speak
to him about something. She was a very pleasant-looking lady, and
Gratian's eyes rested with satisfaction on her pretty dress and graceful
figure.
"Then you will not forget about it? You will let me know in a few days
what you think?" Gratian heard her say.
"Certainly, madam," replied the schoolmaster. "I have already one or two
in my mind who, I think, may be suitable. But I should like to think it
over and to ask the parents' consent."
"Of course--of course. Good-bye then for the present, and thank you,"
said the lady, and then she went out at the little garden-gate and the
schoolmaster returned into his house.
"I wonder what they were talking about," thought Gratian. But he soon
forgot about it again--his mind was too full of its own affairs.
Tony looked vexed and unhappy that afternoon, and Dolly's rosy face bore
traces of tears. She overtook Gratian on his way home in the evening,
and began again talking about the lost book.
"It's so vexing for Tony, isn't it?" she said, "and do you know,
Gratian, it's even more vexing than we thought. Did you see a lady at
the school to-day? Do you know who she was?"
Gratian shook his head.
"She's the lady from the Big House down the road, that's been shut up so
long. It isn't her house, but she's the sister or the cousin of the
gentleman it belongs to, and he's lent it to her because the doctors
said the air hereabouts would be good for her little boy. He's ill
someway, he can scarcely walk. And she came to the school to-day to ask
master if one of the boys--his best boy, she said--might go sometimes to
play with her little boy and read to him a little. And Tony was sure of
being the top of the class if only he had finished copying out those
exercises--he'd put right all the faults the master had marked, and it
only wanted copying. But now he's no chance; the other boys have theirs
nearly done."
"How do you know about what the lady said?" Gratian asked.
"The master told mother. He met her in the village just before afternoon
lessons, and asked her if she'd let Tony go, if so be as he was head of
his class."
"And would he like to go, d'ye think, Dolly?" asked Gratian.
"He'd like to be head of his class, anyway," the sister replied. "I
don't know as father can let him go, for we're very busy at the mill,
and Tony's big enough to help when he's not at school. But he'd not like
to see Ben or that conceited Robert put before him. If it were you now,
Gratian, I don't think he'd mind so much."
Gratian's heart beat fast at her words. Visions of the pleasure of going
to see the pretty lady and her boy, of hearing her soft voice speaking
to him, and of seeing the inside of the Big House, which had always been
a subject of curiosity to the children of the village, rose temptingly
before him. But they soon faded.
"Me!" he exclaimed, "I'd have no chance--even failing Tony."
"I don't know," said Dolly. "You're never a naughty boy, and you can
read very nice when you like. Master always seems to think you read next
best to Tony. I shouldn't wonder if he sent you, if he's vexed with
Tony. And he will be that, for he told him to do out that writing so
very neatly. I think it was to be shown to the gentlemen that come to
see the school sometimes. But I musn't go any farther with you, Gratian.
It'll be dark before I get home. I'm afraid Tony must have dropped the
book out here, and that it blew away. Good-night, Gratian."
"Good-night, Dolly," he replied. And then after a little hesitation he
added, "I wish--I wish Tony hadn't lost his book."
"Thank you, Gratian," said the little girl as she ran off.
Gratian stood and looked after her with a queer mixture of feelings. It
was true, as he had said to Dolly, he did wish Tony had not lost his
book, but almost more he wished _he_ had not found it. But just now,
standing there in the softly fading light, with the evening breeze--no
longer the sharp blast of the morning--gently fanning his cheeks,
looking after little Dolly as she ran home, and thinking of Tony's
sunburnt troubled face, the angry feelings seemed to grow fainter, till
the wish to see his schoolfellow punished for his mischievous trick died
away altogether. And once he had got to this, it was a quick step to
still better things.
"I _will_, I _will_," he shouted out aloud, though there was no
one--_was_ there no one?--to hear. And as he sprang forward to rush
after Dolly and overtake her, it seemed to him that he was half-lifted
from his feet, and at the same moment another waft of the breeze he had
been feeling, though still softer and with a scent as of spring flowers
about it, blew into his face.
"Are you kissing me, kind wind?" he said laughing, and in answer, as it
were, he felt himself blown along almost as swiftly as the night before.
At this rate it did not take him long to gain ground on the miller's
daughter.
"Dolly, Dolly," he called out when he saw himself within a few paces of
her. "Stop, do stop. I have something for you--something to say to you."
Dolly turned round in astonishment.
"Gratian!" she exclaimed, "have you been running after me all this time?
I would have waited for you if I'd known."
[Illustration: "Look here, Dolly," and he held out to her the poor
copy-book which he had already taken out of his satchel.]
"Never mind. I ran very fast," said Gratian. "Look here, Dolly," and he
held out to her the poor copy-book which he had already taken out of his
satchel. "This is what I ran after you for; give it to Tony, and----"
"Tony's lost exercise-book!" cried Dolly. "Oh Gratian, how glad he will
be. Where did you find it? _How_ good of you! Did you find it just now,
since you said good-night to me?"
Gratian's face grew red, but it was too dark for Dolly to see.
"No," he said, "I found it before. But--but--Tony had done me a bad
turn, Dolly, and it wasn't easy--not all at once--to do him a good one
instead. But I've done it now, and you may tell him what I say. I'm
quite in earnest, and I'm glad I've done it. Tell him I hope he'll be
the head of his class now, anyway, and----"
"Gratian," said Dolly, catching hold of his arm as she spoke, "I don't
know what the trick was that Tony played you, or tried to play you. But
I know he's terrible fond of tricks, though I don't think he's got a bad
heart. And it was too bad of him to play it on you, it was--you that
never does ill turns to none of us."
"I've been near it this time, though," said Gratian, feeling, now that
the temptation was over, the comfort of confessing the worst. "I was
very mad with Tony, and I didn't like bringing myself to give back his
book. I don't want you to think me better than I am, Dolly."
"But I do think you very good all the same, I do," said the little girl
earnestly, "and I'll tell Tony so. And you shan't have any more tricks
played you by him--he's not so bad as that. Thank you very much,
Gratian. If he gets the prize, it'll be all through you."
"And about going to the Big House," added Gratian, rather sadly. "He'll
be the one for that now. I think that's far before getting a prize. It
was thinking of that made me feel I _must_ give him his book. I'd give a
good deal, I know, to be the one to go the Big House."
"Would you?" said Dolly, a little surprised, for it was not very often
Gratian spoke so eagerly about anything. "I don't know that I'd care so
much about it. And to be sure you might have been the one if you hadn't
helped Tony now! But I don't know that it would be much fun after
all--just amusing a little boy that's ill."
"You didn't see the lady, Dolly, but _I_ did," said Gratian. "She's not
like any one I ever saw before--she's so beautiful. Her hair's a little
the colour of yours, I think, but her skin's like--like cream, and her
eyes are as kind as forget-me-nots."
"Was she finely dressed?" asked Dolly, becoming interested.
"Yes--at least I think so. Her dress was very soft, and a nice sort of
shiny way when she moved, and she spoke so prettily. And oh, Dolly, it'd
be terribly nice to see the Big House. Fancy, I've heard tell there are
beautiful pictures there."
"Pictures--big ones in gold frames, do you mean?" Dolly inquired.
"I don't know about gold frames. I've never seen any. But pictures of
all sorts of things--of places far away, I daresay, where the sky is so
blue and the big sea--like what the master tells us sometimes in our
geography. Oh, I'd like more than anything to see pictures, Dolly."
"I never thought about such things. What a funny boy you are, Gratian,"
said Dolly, as she ran off joyfully, with Tony's tattered book in her
hand.
It did not take Gratian long to make his way home--the feeling of having
done right "adds feather to the heel." But as he sped along the
moorland path he could not help wondering to himself if his soft-voiced
friend of the night before were anywhere near.
"I think she must be pleased with me," he thought. "It feels like her
kissing me," as just then the evening breeze again met him as he ran.
"Is it you Golden-wings, or you, Spirit of the Waves?" he said, for he
had learnt in his dream to think of them thus. And a little soft
laughter in the air about him told him he was not far wrong. "Perhaps it
is both together," he thought. "I think they are pleased. It is nicer
than when that sharp East-wind comes snapping at one--though after all,
East-wind, I think perhaps I should thank you for having stung me as you
did this morning--I rather think I deserved it."
Whiz, rush, dash--came a sharp blast as he spoke. Gratian started, and
for half a moment felt almost angry.
"I didn't deserve it just now, though," he said. But a ripple of
laughter above him made his vexation fade away.
"You silly boy," came a whisper close to his ear. "Can't you take a
joke?"
"Yes, that I can, as well as any one;" and no sooner were the words out
of his mouth than again, with the whir and the swoop now becoming
familiar to him, he was once more raised from the ground, and really,
before he knew where he was, he found himself at the gate of the
farm-house.
His mother was just coming out to the door.
"Dear me, child," she said, "how suddenly you have come! I have been out
several times to the gate to look for you, but though it is not yet dark
I didn't see you."
"I did come very quickly, mother dear," said Gratian, and for a moment
he thought of telling her about his strange new friends. But somehow,
when he was on the point of doing so, the words would not come, and his
feelings grew misty and confused as when one tries to recollect a dream
that one knows was in one's memory but a moment before. And he felt that
the voices of the winds were as little to be told as are the songs of
the birds to those who have not heard them for themselves. So he just
looked up in his mother's face with a smile, and she stooped and kissed
him--which she did not very often do. For the moorland people are not
soft and caressing in their ways, but rather sharp and rugged, though
their hearts are true.
"I wonder where you come from, sometimes, Gratian," said his mother
half-laughing. "You don't seem like the other children about."
"But mother, I'm getting over dreaming at my lessons. I am indeed," said
the child brightly. "I think when you ask the master about me the next
time, he'll tell you he's pleased with me."
"That's my good boy," said she well pleased.
So the day ended well for the child of the Four Winds.