KESTER'S HERO
'Measure thy life by loss instead of gain--
Not by wine drunk, but by the wine poured forth;
For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice;
And whose suffers most hath most to give.'
UGO BASSI.
Audrey was bent on keeping her promise to Mollie, but she found a great
deal of finesse and skilful management were necessary to secure her
afternoon from interruption.
First, there was a note from Hillside. Mrs. Harcourt had to pay a round
of visits, and would be glad of her sister's company: and as Mrs. Ross
evidently thought that a refusal was impossible under such
circumstances, Audrey felt that she was in a dilemma.
'Gage will have the carriage,' she said, with a trace of annoyance in
her tone. 'She cannot possibly require me, especially as she knows an
afternoon spent in paying formal calls is my pet abomination.'
'But, my dear Audrey, you would surely not allow your sister to go
alone,' began her mother in a voice of mild remonstrance. She very
seldom interfered with Audrey--indeed, that young person was in most
respects her own mistress--but when Geraldine's interests were involved
Mrs. Ross could be firm. 'You are very good-natured,' she went on, 'and
I am sure it is very good of you to take all that trouble for those poor
neglected children'--for Mrs. Ross's motherly sympathies were already
enlisted on behalf of Mollie and Kester--'but, of course, your first
duty is to your sister.'
'But, my dear mother, a promise is a promise, and poor little Mollie is
expecting me.' And then a bright idea came to Audrey. 'Why should you
not go with Gage yourself? It is a lovely afternoon, and the drive will
do you good. Gage would much prefer your company to mine, and you know
how much she admires your new bonnet;' and though Mrs. Ross faintly
demurred to this, she was in the end overruled by Audrey.
'Dear mother! she and Gage will enjoy themselves thoroughly,' thought
Audrey, as she watched Mrs. Ross drive from the door, looking the
picture of a well-dressed English gentlewoman.
Audrey had to inflict another disappointment before she could get her
own way. Michael wanted her to go with him to the cricket-field. There
was a match being played, and on these occasions Audrey was always his
companion. She understood the game as well as he did, and always took an
intelligent interest in it. Audrey was sorry to refuse him and to see
him go off alone.
'Never mind; I daresay I shall only stay for an hour,' he said, as he
took down his hat and walked with her to the gate of the Gray Cottage.
Mollie was on the watch for her, and darted out to meet her.
'Oh, Miss Ross,' she said excitedly, 'I have so much to tell you! Mamma
has had to go up to London this morning on business, and she is so sorry
because she did not see you yesterday; and I was to give you all sorts
of messages and thanks. And now please do come into the kitchen a
moment, and you will see how hard we have worked.'
Audrey followed her at once.
'Oh, Mollie, how could you have done so much!' she exclaimed in genuine
surprise, as she looked round her.
The plates and dishes were neatly arranged on the dresser, the
dish-covers and tins hanging in their places, the crate of glass and
china emptied of its contents and in the yard. The floor had been
scrubbed as well as the table, and Biddy stood by the side of her
freshly-blackleaded stove, with the first smile Audrey had yet seen on
her wrinkled face.
'It is not all Miss Mollie's doing,' she said, with a chuckle, as she
carried off the kettle.
'Did your mother help you?' asked Audrey, for Mollie only looked
mysterious.
'Mamma! Oh dear no! She was busy all the evening with the curtains. Oh,
what fun! I do wish Kester were here, but he is studying his Greek. Dear
Miss Ross, you do look so puzzled. It was not mamma, and it was not
Biddy, though she cleaned the kitchen this morning; and of course it
could not be Kester.'
'I will give it up,' returned Audrey, laughing. 'Some magician must have
been at work--and a very clever magician, too.'
'Oh, I will tell Cyril that!' replied Mollie, clapping her hands. 'Why
did you not guess Cyril, Miss Ross? He is clever enough for anything.'
'Do you mean Mr. Blake put up all these plates and dishes?' observed
Audrey, feeling as much surprised as an Athenian damsel would have been
if she had heard of Apollo turning scullion.
'Yes, indeed! I must tell you all about it,' returned Mollie
garrulously, for she was an inveterate chatterbox. 'You know, I had
promised to help Biddy because she was in such a muddle, and then mamma
came down and said we must get the dining-room curtains ready, to
surprise Cyril when he came home.
'Well, he was very pleased; but I am afraid mamma thought that he took
more notice of the way his books were arranged than of the curtains; but
he said it all looked very nice, and that we were getting to rights now;
and then mamma said that, as she was in the mood for work, we might as
well do the drawing-room curtains too.'
'But, my dear Mollie, the furniture is not yet arranged.'
'No, of course not; but you don't understand mamma. She never does
things quite like other people. She likes either to work all day long,
and not give herself time for meals even, or else to do nothing; she
likes beginning things, but she hates being compelled to finish them.
That is why I am obliged to wear this shabby old frock,' looking down at
it ruefully. 'Mamma has two such pretty ones half done, and I don't know
when she will finish them.'
'Does your mother make all your frocks, dear?'
'Yes; and she does work so beautifully--everyone says so. But she is not
always in the mood, and then it troubles her; she was in the curtain
mood last night. Cyril saw I was vexed about something, and when mamma
went out of the room he asked me if I were tired; and I could hardly
help crying as I told him about my promise to you; and then he called me
a little goose, and pulled my hair, as he does sometimes, and told me to
leave it to him.'
'Yes----' as Mollie paused from sheer want of breath.
'Of course Cyril can always manage mamma. He sent me into the kitchen,
and in ten minutes he came after me, and asked what was to be done.
Kester dusted all the glass, and Cyril and I did the rest. We were hard
at work till ten o'clock; and Biddy was so pleased.'
'And now we must go upstairs,' returned Audrey, when Mollie's story was
told. 'Perhaps Biddy will be good enough to help us.' And in a little
while the three were hard at work.
Audrey and Mollie arranged the shabby furniture to the best advantage.
One or two Oriental rugs were spread on the dark-polished floor; then
the curtains were hung and draped in the most effective manner, and some
old china, that Mollie said was her mother's special treasure, was
carefully washed and placed on the shelves of an old cabinet.
'It really looks very nice,' observed Audrey contentedly, when Biddy had
gone down to see after the tea. She had enjoyed her afternoon far more
than if she had been paying those calls with Geraldine. 'I always liked
this room so much;' and she gave a touch to the big Japanese screen and
flecked some dust from the writing-table. 'I daresay your mother will
alter the position of the furniture--people always have their own ideas.
But I hope she will not move the couch; it stands so well in that
recess. Do you think she will like this little table in the window,
Mollie? I am sure this would be my favourite seat;' and Audrey took it
for a moment as she spoke, and looked down at the old arches and the
quiet courtyard, with its well-worn flagstones. The martins were
twittering about the eaves; some brown, dusty sparrows were chirping
loudly. The ivy-covered buildings round the corner were just visible;
and a large gray cat moved stealthily between the arches, intent on some
subtle mischief. Mr. Charrington's boys were all on the cricket-field,
watching an exciting match between Rutherford and Haileybury, and the
school-house was deserted.
'That must be your seat when you come to see us,' observed Mollie
affectionately. 'Mamma was only saying this morning that she had taken a
fancy to you, and hoped you would come very often; and Kester said he
hoped so, too, because you were so very kind.'
'Did you have many friends at Headingly?' asked Audrey absently.
She was wondering to whom Kester was talking. She could hear his voice
through the open window; it sounded bright and animated. It could not
possibly be his brother; Mr. Blake would be with the boys on the
cricket-field. Perhaps Mrs. Blake had returned from town.
'We had no friends at all,' returned Mollie disconsolately; 'at least,
no real friends. People just called on us and left their cards. Mrs.
Bryce was very kind to Kester, but mamma never got on with her. We none
of us liked Headingly much, except Cyril. Everyone was nice to him, but
when mamma fretted and said she was miserable, and that no one in the
place cared for her, he seemed to lose interest, too; and when this
vacancy occurred, he just said he had had enough of it, and that mamma
would be happier in a fresh place, and so we came here, and now we have
found you;' and Mollie's brown eyes were very soft as she spoke.
'Oh, you will find plenty of people to like at Rutherford,' replied
Audrey. 'You have not seen my mother yet, Mollie; she is so good to
everyone, and so is father. And then there is my cousin, Captain
Burnett, who half lives with us; he is one of the nicest men possible.'
But as Audrey spoke, she had no idea that Michael was that minute
talking to Kester. It fell out in this way: Michael found it slow on the
cricket-field without Audrey; so many people came up and talked to him
that he got quite bored. Captain Burnett was a general favourite with
men as well as women; he had the reputation of being a hero: women
pitied him for his ill-health and misfortunes, and men admired him for
the cheerful pluck with which he endured them.
'Burnett is a pleasant fellow and a gentleman,' was one observation.
'Perhaps he is a bit solemn at times, but I fancy that confounded wound
of his gives him trouble. Anyhow, he never plagues other people with his
ailments. "Grin and bear it"--I fancy that is Burnett's motto.'
Michael found the cricket-field dull without Audrey's liveliness to give
zest to the afternoon; she always took people away when he was tired. He
had had enough of it long before the match was over. Just as he was
sauntering homewards he encountered Mr. Blake, and in the course of
brief conversation he learnt that Mrs. Blake was in town.
Michael thought he would call and see if Audrey were ready to come
home--it would do no harm to inquire at the door; but Biddy, who was
scouring the doorsteps, told him abruptly to step in and he would find
the lady; and, half amused at his own coolness, he, nothing loath,
accepted the invitation.
He found Kester alone in the dining-room busy over his lessons. He
looked up in some astonishment at the sight of a strange gentleman, and
Zack, the retriever, growled rather inhospitably at Booty. Perhaps the
Dachs-hund's short legs affronted him.
'Am I disturbing you?' asked Michael in his most genial manner. And he
looked at the boy's pale intelligent face with much interest. 'I have
come to see after my cousin, Miss Ross. Is she anywhere about? My name
is Captain Burnett.'
'Oh, I know,' returned Kester, flushing a little nervously under the
scrutiny of those keen blue eyes; 'Cyril told us about you. Miss Ross is
upstairs with Mollie; they are putting the drawing-room to rights, but
they will be down to tea presently. Will you sit down,' still more
nervously, 'or shall I call Mollie?'
'No, no; there is no hurry, unless I am interrupting you,' with a glance
at Kester's books. 'You are doing Greek, eh?'
'Yes, I am getting ready for Cyril this evening; but I am too tired to
do more.'
And Kester pushed away his papers with a movement that betrayed latent
irritability. Michael knew that sign of weakness well.
'That is right; shut up your books,' he said with ready kindness. 'Never
work when you are tired: it is bad economy; it is using up one's stock
of fuel too recklessly--lighting a furnace to cook a potato. The results
are not worth it. Tired work is bad work--I have proved it.'
'I am generally tired,' returned Kester with a sigh. And it was sad to
see the gravity that crept over the young face. 'It does not do to think
too much of one's feelings; one has just to bear it, you know. I am
ignorant enough as it is, and I must learn; I will learn!' setting his
teeth hard.
Michael shot a quick glance at the lad; then he turned over the leaves
of the book next him for a moment in silence.
'I must know more of this fellow,' he thought; 'Audrey is right; she is
generally right about people.' Then in his ordinary quiet tone:
'I wonder your brother finds time for private tuition. I live at the
lower school, you know, and so I understand all about the junior
master's work. Mr. Blake has his evenings free generally, but there is
dormitory work and----'
'Cyril says he will always give me an hour and a half,' interrupted
Kester eagerly. 'Of course, it is not good for him to have any more
teaching; but he says he would hate to see me grow up a
dunce--and--and'--swallowing down some secret emotion--' I think it
would break my heart not to know things.'
'And you want to be a classical scholar?' in the same grave tones.
'I want to learn everything;' and here there was a sudden kindling in
the boy's eyes. 'I must do something, and my lameness hinders everything
but that--perhaps, if I learn plenty of Latin and Greek, I may be able
to help Cyril one day. We often talk about it, and even mother thinks it
is a good plan. One day Cyril hopes to have a school of his own--when he
is older, you know--and then I could take the younger boys off his hands
and save him the cost of an usher; don't you think that would be
possible?' looking anxiously at Michael, for somehow those steady clear
eyes seemed so thoroughly to comprehend him.
'I think it an excellent plan,' retained Michael slowly; "knowledge is
power"--we all know that. Do you know,' drawling out his words a little,
'that I have been working at Greek, too, for the last two years? I took
it up as a sort of amusement when I was seedy; it would not be bad fun
to work together sometimes. I daresay you are ahead of me in Greek, but
I don't believe you could beat me in mathematics. We could help each
other, and it would be good practice. I suppose your brother gives you
lessons in mathematics.'
Kester shook his head.
'There is not time for everything, and Cyril always says mathematics are
not in his line--he is a classical master, you see.'
'Oh yes, that is easily understood; but you can have more than one
master. Come, shall we make a bargain? Will you read Greek with me? and
I will give you an hour three times a week for mathematics, or anything
else you like. I am an idle man, and any fixed occupation would be a
boon to me.'
'Do you mean it?' was the breathless answer; and then he added, a little
shyly: 'I am awfully obliged; I should like it of all things; but you
are not strong, are you?--Miss Ross told us so.'
'Not particularly; I was rather knocked about by the Zulus, you know,
and my leg gives me a good deal of trouble. I am pretty heavily
handicapped--we are both in the same boat, are we not?--but we may as
well make a fight for it.'
'Someone told me,' returned Kester, in a tone of great awe, 'that you
have the Victoria Cross, Captain Burnett.'
Michael nodded; he never cared to be questioned on the subject.
'Will you let Mollie and me see it one day?' half whispered the boy. 'I
hope you don't mind my asking you, but I have always so wanted to see
it. I am afraid you won't tell us all about it, but I should dearly love
to hear.'
No one had ever induced Michael to tell that story; the merest allusion
to his gallantry always froze him up in a moment--even Dr. Ross, who was
his nearest confidant, had never heard the recital from his own lips.
But for once Michael let himself be persuaded; Kester's boyish eagerness
prevailed, and, to his own surprise, Michael found himself giving the
terrible details in a cool, business-like manner.
No wonder Kester forgot the time as he listened; the lad's sensitive
frame thrilled with passionate envy at the narrative. At last he had met
a hero face to face. What were those old Greek fellows--Ajax, or Hector
or any of those gaudy warriors--compared with this quiet English
soldier?
'Oh, if I could only be you!' he sighed, as Michael ended his recital;
'if I could look back on a deed like that! How many lives did you save,
Captain Burnett?--you told me, but I have forgotten. I think you are the
happiest man I know.'
Kester in his boyish reticence could not speak out his inmost thought,
or he would have added: 'And the greatest and the grandest man I have
ever seen.'
A dim, inscrutable smile flitted over Captain Burnett's features.
'My dear fellow, happiness is a purely relative term. I am not a great
believer in happiness. A soldier without his work is hardly to be
envied.'
Kester was young, but his life had already taught him many things. He
was acute enough to detect a note of bitterness in his new friend's
voice. It said, more than his words, that Captain Burnett was a
disappointed man. He looked at him wistfully for a moment.
'Yes, I know what you mean. You would like to be back with your
regiment. It is very hard--very hard, of course; but you are not
suffering for nothing, like me. Don't you see the difference?'--dropping
his voice. 'I have got this pain to bear, and no good comes of it; it is
just bearing, and nothing else. But you have suffered in saving other
men's lives. It is a kind of ransom. Oh, I don't know how to express
myself, but it must be happiness to have a memory like that!'
Kester had spoken with a sort of involuntary outburst. For a moment
Captain Burnett turned his head aside. He felt rebuked by this crude,
boyish enthusiasm, which had gone so straight to the heart of things.
Why was he, the grown man, so selfish, so impatient, when this poor lad
acquiesced so meekly in his fate? Had Kester deserved his lot?
'You are right,' observed Michael, in a low tone. 'One ought only to be
thankful, and not complain.'
And just at this moment Audrey came in, and stood on the threshold
transfixed with amazement, until Michael rose and offered her a chair.
'You here!' she gasped. 'I thought I heard voices. Mollie, this is my
cousin, Captain Burnett. I suppose we must let him stay to tea.'
Mollie gave her invitation very shyly. The poor child was thinking of
her shabby frock, with the great rent in the skirt, so hastily cobbled
up. The pale man with the reddish moustache was very formidable in
Mollie's eyes. Mollie was sure her hand would tremble when she lifted
the heavy teapot. She had been so looking forward to having a cosy tea
with their dear Miss Ross, and now everything was spoilt.
When Mollie was shy she always looked a little sulky; but Michael, who
noticed her embarrassment, set himself to charm it away.
Biddy had set the little tea-table under the acacia-tree; but as Mollie,
blushing and awkward, commenced her arduous duties, she found herself
assisted by the formidable Captain Burnett.
Before half an hour was over Mollie thought him quite the nicest man
that she had ever seen. He was so kind, so helpful; he told such
interesting stories. Mollie forgot her Cinderella rags as she listened.
Her eyes sparkled; a pretty colour came to her face; her rough brown
hair had gleams of gold in it. Mollie did not look plain or awkward
then.
'Her eyes are nice, and she has a sweet voice and a ringing laugh,'
thought Michael as he glanced at her.
How merry they all were! What nonsense they talked, as they sat there
watching some pigeons circling among the arches! The little garden was
still and pleasant. Zack was stretched out beside them, with Booty
curled up near him. Audrey was the first to call attention to the
lateness of the hour.
'We must go home now, Michael,' she said, in a tone of regret, which was
loudly echoed by Mollie and Kester.
Mollie closed the green gate after them; then she rushed back to Kester.
'Do you like him--Captain Burnett, I mean?' she asked eagerly. 'I was so
afraid of him at first; his eyes seem to look one through and through,
even when he says nothing. But he is kind--very kind.'
'Is that all you have found out about him?' returned her brother
contemptuously. 'That is so like a girl! Who cares about his eyes? Do
you know what he is? He is a hero--he has the Victoria Cross. He has
saved a lot of lives. Come here, and I will tell you all about it; it
will make your hair stand on end more than it does now.'
But the story made Mollie cry, and from that hour she and Kester elected
Captain Burnett to the position of their favourite hero.
'We must tell Cyril all about him when he comes home,' observed Mollie,
drying her eyes. 'You are right, Kester. Captain Burnett is quite the
best, and the nicest, and the bravest man I have ever seen.'
'Hear, hear!' interposed Cyril mischievously, thrusting his dark face
out of the dining-room window. He had heard the whole story with a great
deal of interest. And then, as Mollie darted towards him with a little
shriek of assumed anger, he laughed, and sauntered out into the garden.
'Let us do our Greek out here, old fellow,' he said, throwing himself
down on the grass, while Zack jumped on him. 'Have you got some tea for
me, Mollie, or have you forgotten the teapot in your hero-worship? How
late mother is!' He hesitated and looked at Kester. 'She would like me
to meet her; it is such a long, lonely walk. But no'--as a cloud stole
over Kester's face--'perhaps she will take the omnibus. Open your books
and let me see your day's work;' and Cyril quietly repressed a yawn as
he took a cup of cold tea from Mollie's hand.
He was tired. A walk through the dewy lanes would refresh him. He was in
a restless mood; he wanted to be alone, to stretch himself and to
think--perhaps to indulge in some youthful dream. But he was used to
combating these moods; he would rather bear anything than disappoint
Kester. And then he drank off his tea without a murmur, and the next
moment the two brothers were hard at work.