For some time before Louis' arrival at Ashfield House, preparations
had been making in the doctor's domestic _menage_ for the approaching
marriage of Miss Wilkinson, the doctor's only daughter. The young
gentlemen had, likewise, their preparations for the auspicious event,
the result of which was a Latin Epithalamium, composed by the seniors,
and three magnificent triumphal arches, erected on the way from the
house-door to the gate of the grounds. Much was the day talked of,
and eagerly were plans laid, both by masters and pupils, for the proper
enjoyment of the whole holiday that had been promised on the occasion,
and which, by the way--whatever young gentlemen generally may think of
their masters' extreme partiality for teaching--was now a greater boon
to the wearied and over-fagged ushers, than to the party for whose
enjoyment it was principally designed.
The bridal day came.--No need to descant on the weather. The sun shone
as brightly as could be desired, and as the interesting procession passed
under the green bowers, cheer after cheer rose on the air, handfuls of
flowers were trodden under the horses' feet, and hats, by common consent,
performed various somersaults some yards above their owners' heads.
There was a long watch till the carriages returned, and the same scene
was enacted and repeated, when the single vehicle rolled away from the
door; and the last mark of honor having been paid, the party dispersed
over the large playground, each one in search of his own amusement. Louis
wandered away by himself, and enjoyed a quiet hour unmolested, and tried,
with the help of his little hymn-book, and thinking over old times, to
bring back some of his former happy thoughts. There were more than
ordinary temptations around him, and he felt less able to resist them;
and this little rest from noise and hurry was to him very grateful.
When, at length, a little party found out his retreat and begged him
to join in a game of "hocky," he complied with a light and merry heart,
freer from that restless anxiety to which he had been lately so much
subject.
In the afternoon, determining to let nothing interfere with the learning
of his lessons, Louis sat down in the school-room to business. There were
but two persons besides himself in the room, one of whom was an usher,
who was writing a letter, and the other, his school-fellow Ferrers. The
latter was sitting on the opposite side of the same range of desks Louis
had chosen, very intently engaged in the same work which had brought
Louis there.
Louis felt very happy in the consciousness that he was foregoing
the pleasure of the merry playground for the stern business that his
duty had imposed on him; and the noise of his companions' voices,
and the soft breezes that came in through the open door leading into
the playground, only spurred him on to finish his work as quickly
as possible.
Ferrers and his younger _vis-a-vis_ pursued their work in silence,
apparently unconscious of the presence of each other, until the
former, raising his head, asked Louis to fetch him an atlas out
of the study.
"With pleasure," said Louis, jumping up and running into the study;
he returned almost immediately with a large atlas, and laid it down
on Ferrers' books. He had once more given his close attention to his
difficult exercises, when a movement from his companion attracted
his notice.
"Did you speak?" he said.
"Will you--oh, never mind, I'll do it myself," muttered Ferrers,
rising and going into the class-room himself.
Louis had become again so intent upon his study, that he was hardly
aware of the return of his school-fellow, nor did he notice the
precipitation with which he hurried into his place, and half hid
the book he had brought with him, a book that he imagined to be a
key to his exercises, but which, in fact, was a counterpart to that
taken away from Harrison, though bound exactly like the one Ferrers
had gone for, and so nearly the same size as easily to be mistaken
for it in the confusion attendant on the abstraction of it.
Just at this moment, Hamilton, Trevannion, and Salisbury, with one or
two more of the first class, entered from the playground, and walked
directly across to Ferrers.
Alive to all the disgrace of being found by his class-fellows in
possession of a key, and unable to return it unobserved, Ferrers,
in the first moment of alarm, tried to push it into the desk at
which he was writing, but finding it locked, he stood up with as
much self-possession as he could assume, and pretending to be
looking among his books and papers, managed, unobserved, to pass
the obnoxious volume over to Louis' heap of books, laying it half
under one of them. Louis was wholly unconscious of the danger so
near him, and did not raise his held from his absorbing occupation
when the fresh comers approached the desk.
"Ferrers," said Salisbury, as they came up, "we want your advice on
a small matter; come with us into the class-room."
Accordingly Ferrers obeyed, glad to leave the dangerous spot, and Louis
was left in undisturbed possession of the apartment for more than half
an hour, at the end of which time the party returned from the inner
room laughing, and all walked out of doors. Just as they passed out,
Mr. Witworth, the usher, approached Louis, and asked him if he could
lend him a pencil. Louis laid his pen down, and began to search his
pockets for a pencil he knew should be there, when he was startled by
the ejaculation of the master:
"Hey!--what!--This is it, is it? So I have found you out, sir."
Louis looked up in alarm. "Found me out, sir?" he said, in a terrified
tone: "what have I done?"
"Done!" exclaimed Mr. Witworth,--"done, indeed: what are you doing there?"
"My exercise, sir."
"To be sure, to be sure. What's the meaning of this, sir?" and he held
up the key. "What have you done, indeed!--you hoped that it was nicely
concealed, I dare say. I wonder how you can be so artful."
"I am sure I don't know any thing about that book," said Louis,
in great agitation.
"Admirably acted," said Mr. Witworth. "It wouldn't walk here, however,
Master Mortimer: some one must have brought it."
"I am sure I don't know who did--I don't indeed," said poor Louis,
despairingly.
"Perhaps you'll try to make me believe you don't know what it is,
and that you never saw the book before," remarked Mr. Witworth,
scornfully.
"I do know what it is, but I never used it, I do assure you, sir,
and I did not bring it here. Will you not believe me?"
"It is very likely that I should believe you, is it not? Well, sir,
this book goes up with you to-morrow to Dr. Wilkinson, and we shall
see how much he will believe of your story. This accounts for your
apparent industry lately." So saying, Mr. Witworth walked off with
the book in his hand, leaving Louis in the greatest distress.
"And all my pains are quite lost!" he exclaimed, as he burst into tears.
"The doctor is sure not to believe me, and there will be--oh, who could
have left it there?"
"Louis, are you coming out this afternoon; what's the matter?"
exclaimed the welcome voice of his brother.
"What, Lady Louisa in tears! Here's the ink bottle; do let me catch the
crystal drops," said Frank Digby, who accompanied Reginald in search of
his brother.
"Oh, Reginald!" exclaimed Louis, regardless of Frank's nonsense, "some
one has left a key to my exercises on my books, and Mr. Witworth has
just found it. What shall I do?"
"_Some one has left_," ejaculated Frank. "That's a good story, Louis;
only one can't quite swallow it, you know. Who would leave it, eh?"
"How? where, Louis?" said Reginald.
"It was just here it was found. I am sure I cannot think who put
it there."
"Well of all the"--began Frank; "my astonishment positively chokes me.
Louis, are you not ashamed of yourself?"
"Oh, Frank! I am speaking the truth; I am, indeed, I am--Reginald,
I am, you know I am."
"It is very strange," remarked Reginald, who was standing with a
clouded, unsatisfied brow, and did not exhibit that enthusiasm
respecting his innocence which Louis expected from him. Reginald
knew too much, and dared not yet be certain when appearances were
so sadly against him.
"Reginald, dear Reginald, tell me," cried Louis, almost frantically;
"surely you believe me?"
"Believe you!" echoed Frank, scornfully; "he knows you too well,
and so do I. Remember last year, Louis: you'd better have thought
of it sooner."
Reginald cast a threatening glance on his cousin, who undauntedly
replied to it.
"You can't gainsay that, at any rate, Reginald."
"Reginald, dear Reginald," cried Louis, with streaming eyes, "you know
I always spoke the truth to you; I declare solemnly that I am speaking
only the truth now."
Reginald looked gloomily at his brother.
"Indeed it is. If you will not believe me, who will?"
"Who, indeed?" said Frank.
"I do believe you, Louis," said Reginald, quickly, "I do believe you;
but this matter must be sifted. It is very strange, but I will make all
the inquiries I can. Who sat with you?"
"Ferrers was sitting there," replied Louis.
"Any one else?"
"No," replied Louis.
"I'll answer for it, it was Ferrers," said Reginald.
"A likely story," said Frank.
"I think it very likely," said Reginald, firmly, "and woe be to him
if he has."
As he finished speaking, Reginald ran off in search of Ferrers,
whom he found in a group of the head boys, into the midst of which
he burst without the smallest ceremony.
"Manners!" exclaimed Hamilton; "I beg your pardon, Mr. Mortimer,
for standing in your way."
"I am very sorry," said Reginald, bluntly, "but I can't stand
upon ceremony. Ferrers, what have you been doing with Kenrick's
Exercises--I mean the key to it?"
"I!" cried Ferrers, reddening violently; "what--what do you mean,
Mortimer?"
"You have left the key on Louis' desk, to get him into a scrape--you
know you have."
"Upon my word, Mortimer! what next!" exclaimed Salisbury. "Who do you
think would fash themselves about such a little hop-o'-my-thumb?"
"Will you let Ferrers answer!" cried Reginald, imperiously.
Unconscious of the mistake he had made, Ferrers felt exceedingly
uncomfortable in his present position, and, assuming an air of
contemptuous indignation, he turned his back on Reginald, saying
as he did so, "Such impertinence merits nothing but silent contempt."
"You did it, you coward!" cried Reginald, enraged almost beyond control.
"I know you did, and _you_ know you did. Will you answer me?"
"Answer him, Ferrers, answer him at once, and let us have an end of his
impertinence," cried several voices: "he's like a wild-cat."
"Well then, I did not," said Ferrers, turning round with a violent
effort; "will that satisfy you?"
Reginald glared angrily and doubtfully on the changing countenance of
the speaker, and then burst out vehemently,
"I don't believe a word you say: you did it either to spite him,
or you mistook your aim. Do you never use keys, Mr. Ferrers?"
"Really, Mortimer!" exclaimed Trevannion, "your language is very
intemperate and ungentlemanly. I have no doubt your brother knows
how to help himself; and now, for your comfort, know that I saw him
the other day with that same book, and here is Hamilton, who can
corroborate my statement."
"Where? when?" asked Reginald, in a subdued tone.
"In the class-room alone, when he was writing his exercise. Hamilton,
am I not right?"
Hamilton nodded.
"Dr. Wilkinson will do justice to-morrow," said Reginald, as after
a moment's painful silence he looked up with assumed confidence,
and turned proudly away from Ferrers' reassured look of exultation,
though the latter hardly dared exult, for he thought Reginald had
mistaken the book, and feared the suspicions that might rest on
himself when it should be discovered that it was not a second-class
key. "And now, Mortimer, let's have no more of this violent language,"
said Hamilton. "If the matter is to come before the doctor, he will
do all justice; let him be sole arbitrator; but I would not bring it
before him were I in your place. Make an apology to Ferrers, and say
nothing more. You will do your brother more harm than good."
"_Make an apology_," said Reginald, ironically; "I haven't changed
my mind yet. It must come before the doctor. Mr. Witworth found the
book, and has carried it by this time, or certainly will carry it,
to head-quarters."
"Come along with me, and tell me the whole affair," said Hamilton.
While Reginald was unfolding the matter to Hamilton, the party they had
left was reinforced by Frank Digby, who warmly took Ferrers' part, and
enlightened the company as to many particulars of his cousin's former
character: and so much was said about the injury Reginald had done to
Ferrers by his suspicions, that when that youth discovered the certainty
of the mistake he had made, he was so far involved as to render it
impossible to him to acknowledge that even out of a spirit of teasing
he had placed the book near Louis; and his anxiety was so great to free
himself from any suspicion, that he was selfishly and ungenerously
insensible to the trouble entailed upon Louis, whom he disliked on
account of his superiority to himself, but on whom he had not seriously
contemplated inflicting so great an injury--so imperceptibly does one
fault lead to another, so unable are we to decide where the effects of
one false step, one dishonest thought, shall end.
The story was soon spread among Louis' immediate companions, who were
anxious to learn the cause of his swollen eyes and sad demeanor, and
Louis had to endure many sneers, and, what was still harder to bear,
much silent contempt from those whose high sense of honor made them
despise any approach to the meanness of which he was supposed guilty.
Hamilton, though in the study the whole evening, took no notice of him,
and when his eyes met Louis', they bore no more consciousness of his
presence than if he had been a piece of stone. Frank Digby did not
tease Louis, but he let fall many insinuations, and a few remarks so
bitter in their sarcasm, that Reginald more than once looked up with
a glance so threatening in its fierceness, that it checked even that
audacious speaker. Even little Alfred was not allowed to sit with Louis;
though Hamilton made no remark, nor even alluded to the subject to his
brother, he called him immediately to himself, and only allowed him to
leave him at bed-time.
As the elder boys went up stairs to bed, Frank continued his aggravating
allusions to Louis' weakness, but in so covert a manner, that no one but
those acquainted with Louis' former history could have understood their
import. For some time Reginald pretended not to hear them; there was a
strong struggle within him, for his high spirit rose indignantly at his
cousin's unkindness, yet was for some time checked by a better feeling
within; but, at length, on Frank's making some peculiarly insulting
remark in a low tone, his pent-up ire boiled forth, and, in the madness
of his fury, he seized on his cousin with a strength that passion
rendered irresistible. "You've tried to provoke me to this all the
evening--you _will_ have it, you dastardly coward! you WILL have
it, will you?"
These exclamations were poured forth in a shout, and Reginald, after
striking his cousin several violent blows, threw him from him with such
force that his head struck against the door-post, and he fell motionless
to the ground, the blood streaming from a wound in his forehead.
There was an awful silence for a minute. The boys, horror-struck, stood
as if paralyzed, gazing on the inanimate form of their school-fellow.
Reginald's passion subsided in an instant; his face turned pale, the
color fled from his lips, and clasping his hands in terror, he muttered,
"Oh! what have I done!" and then there was a shout, "Oh, Frank Digby's
killed! Digby's killed--he's dead!"
Hamilton at length pushed forward and raised Frank's head. And at this
moment Mr. Norton and Dr. Wilkinson, with two or three of the servants,
came from different directions. The crowd round Frank made way for the
doctor, who hurriedly approached, and assisted Hamilton to raise Frank
and carry him to his bed.
"He's dead, he's dead!" cried the boys all round.
"How did this happen?" asked the doctor, and without waiting for an
answer he tore open the handkerchief and collar of the insensible youth,
and dispatched some one immediately for a medical man. One was sent for
a smelling-bottle, another for some water, and Mrs. Wilkinson soon made
her appearance with a fan, and other apparatus for restoring a fainting
person. But it was long before there were any signs of returning life.
It was a terrible time for Reginald. It was agony to look on the
motionless form, and blood-streaked countenance before him--to watch
the cloud of anxiety that seemed to deepen on his master's face as
each new restorative failed its accustomed virtue,--to listen to the
subdued murmurs and fearful whispers, and to note the blanched faces
of his school-fellows. He stood with clasped hands, and there was a
prayer in his heart that he might not be called to suffer so very
deeply for this sinful expression of his temper. What if he should
have sent his cousin unprepared into eternity? Oh, what would he
give to see one motion; what, that he had been able to restrain his
ungovernable fury! There was almost despair in his wild thoughts, when
at last Frank sighed faintly, and then opened his eyes. He closed them
immediately, and just then the surgeon arriving, more potent remedies
were used, and he was at length restored to consciousness, though
unable to speak aloud. Doctor Wilkinson had him removed to another
room, and after seeing him comfortably arranged, returned to Reginald's
bedroom.
"Now, how did this happen?" he said.
No one spoke, and the silence was only broken by the sound of sobs from
the further end of the room.
"Who did this?" asked the doctor again.
"I did, sir," said Reginald, in a broken voice.
"Come forward. Who is it that speaks?" said Doctor Wilkinson. "Mortimer!
is this some passion of yours that has so nearly caused the death of
your cousin? I am deeply grieved to find that your temper is still so
ungovernable. What was the matter?"
Reginald was incapable of answering, and none of his companions
understood the quarrel; so Doctor Wilkinson left the room, determined
to make a strict investigation the next morning.
Poor Reginald was almost overwhelmed: he knelt with his brother after
their candle was extinguished, by their bedside, and both wept bitterly,
though quite silently. Distress at his own fault, and his brother's
new trouble, and deep thankfulness that his cousin was alive, and not
dangerously hurt, filled Reginald's mind, and kept him awake long after
all besides in the room were asleep.