The next morning, after the early school-hours, Doctor Wilkinson kept
Reginald back as he was following the stream to breakfast, and led
the way into the class-room, where, after closing the door, he seated
himself, and motioning Reginald to draw closer to him, thus opened
his inquiry.
"I wish to know, Mortimer, how this affair began last night: it appears,
from all I can make out, to have been a most unprovoked attack on your
part, but as there is often more than appears on the surface, I shall
be glad to hear what you have to allege in extenuation of your savage
conduct."
Reginald colored very deeply, and dropping his eyes under the piercing
gaze of his master, remained silent.
"Am I to conclude from your silence that you have no excuse to make?"
asked the doctor in a tone of mixed sorrow and indignation; "and am I
to believe that from some petty insult you have allowed your temper
such uncontrolled sway as nearly to have cost your cousin his life?"
"I had very great provocation," said Reginald, sullenly.
"And what might that be?" asked his master. "If the wrong be on Digby's
side, you can have no hesitation in telling me what the wrong was."
Reginald made no answer, and, after a pause, Dr. Wilkinson continued:
"Unless you can give me some reason, I must come to the conclusion
that you have again given way to your violent passions without even
the smallest excuse of injury from another. The assertion that you
have been 'provoked' will not avail you much: I know that Digby is
teasing and provoking, and is therefore very wrong, but if you cannot
bear a little teasing, how are you to get on in the world? You are
not a baby now, though you have acted more like a wild beast than
a reasonable creature. I am willing and desirous to believe that
something more than usual has been the cause of this ebullition of
temper, for I hoped lately that you were endeavoring to overcome this
sad propensity of yours."
"I assure you, sir," said Reginald, raising his open countenance to his
master's, "I tried very much to bear with Frank, and I think I should
if he had not said so much about--about--"
Here Reginald's voice failed; a sensation of choking anger prevented
him from finishing his sentence.
"About what?" said the doctor, steadily.
"About my brother," said Reginald, abruptly.
"And what did he say about your brother that chafed you so much?"
Reginald changed color, and his eyes' lighted up with passion. He did
not reply at first, but as his master seemed quietly awaiting his answer,
he at length burst out,--
"He had been going on all the afternoon about Louis: he tried to put
me in a passion; he said all he could--every thing that was unkind and
provoking, and it was more than a fellow could stand. I bore it as long
as I could--"
"You are giving me a proof of your gentle endurance now, I suppose,"
said the doctor.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I can't help it,--I feel so angry when I
think of it, that I am afraid I should knock him down again if he were
to repeat it."
"For shame, sir!" said the doctor, sternly; "I should have thought that
you had already had a lesson you would not easily have forgotten. What
did he say of your brother that irritated you? I insist upon knowing."
"He said Louis was--that Louis did not speak the truth, sir. He said
that I believed it--that _I_ believed it"--and Reginald's passionate
sobs choked his utterance.
"Believed what?" asked the doctor.
"Something that happened yesterday," said Reginald; "he said that--he
was a hypocrite, and he went on taunting me about last summer."
"_About last summer!_" repeated the doctor.
"Yes, sir--about a mistake. Nobody makes allowances for Louis. I could
have borne it all if he had not said that _I_ knew Louis was a liar. I'd
knock any one down that I was able who should say so! Indeed," continued
Reginald, fiercely, "I begged him to leave off, and not provoke me, but
he would have it, and he knew what I was."
"Enough--enough--hush," said Dr. Wilkinson: "I beg I may hear no more
of knocking down. Don't add to your fault by working yourself into a
passion with me. Some provocation you certainly have had, but nothing
can justify such unrestrained fury. Consider what would have been your
condition at present, if your rage had been fatal to your cousin; it
would have availed you little to have pleaded the aggravation; your
whole life would have been embittered by the indulgence of your vengeful
feelings--one moment have destroyed the enjoyment of years. Thank God,
Mortimer, that you have been spared so terrible a punishment. But you
will always be in danger of this unless you learn to put a curb on your
hasty temper. The same feelings which urge you into a quarrel as a boy,
will hurry you into the duel as a man. It is a false spirit of honor and
manliness that makes you so ready to resent every little insult. In the
life of the only perfect Man that ever lived, our great Example and
Master, we do not see this impatience of contradiction: 'When He was
reviled, He reviled not again;' and if He, the Lord of all, could
condescend to endure such contradiction of sinners against Himself,
shall it be too much for us to bear a little with the contradiction of
our fellow-creatures? My boy, if we do not strive to bear a little
of the burden and heat of the day, we are not worthy to bear the noble
name of Christians."
"I am very sorry, sir," said Reginald, quite softened by the earnest
manner of his master; "I am very sorry I have been so hasty and wrong.
I dare not make any promises for the future, for I know I cannot
certainly keep them, but, with God's help, I hope to remember what
you have so kindly said to me."
"With His help we may do all things," said Dr. Wilkinson; "you may by
this help overcome the stumbling-stone of your violent passions, which
otherwise may become an effectual barrier in the way of your attaining
the prize of eternal life; and remember that 'he that is slow to anger
is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that
taketh a city.'"
There was a minute's silence, which Reginald broke by asking if he
might attend on Frank until he was well.
"Can I hope that you will be gentle," said the doctor; "that you will
remember he is in invalid--one of your making, Mortimer; and that if he
is impatient and fretful, you are the cause?"
"I will try, sir, to make amends to him," said Reginald, looking down;
"I hope I may be able to be patient."
"I will give orders that you may go to him," said the doctor; and after
a pause, he added, "another offence of this kind I shall visit with the
heaviest displeasure. I am in hopes that the anxiety you have undergone,
and the present state of your cousin, may be a lesson to you; but if
I find this ineffectual, I shall cease to consider you a reasonable
creature, and shall treat you accordingly."
Dr. Wilkinson then rose and left the room. Reginald lingered a few
minutes to compose himself before joining his school-fellows; his heart
was very full, and he felt an earnest desire to abide by his master's
counsel, as well as grateful for the leniency and kindness with which
he had been treated, which made him feel his fault much more deeply
than the severest punishment.
The breakfast time was very unpleasant for Louis that morning; he was
full of anxiety as to the result of Mr. Witworth's discovery, and his
sickness of heart entirely deprived him of appetite. When the meal was
dispatched, Reginald went off to Frank, whom he found in a darkened
room, very restless and impatient. He had passed a very bad night, and
was suffering considerable pain. Reginald had to endure much ill-nature
and peevishness; all of which he endeavored to bear with gentleness, and
during the time Frank was ill, he gave up all his play-hours to wait on
him and to amuse him as he grew better; and the exercise of patience
which this office entailed was greatly beneficial to his hasty and
proud spirit.
Mr. Danby was in the midst of the second-class lessons that morning,
when one of the first class brought him a little slip of paper. Mr.
Danby glanced at the few words written thereon, and when the class
had finished he desired Louis to go to Dr. Wilkinson. All remnant of
color fled from Louis' cheek, though he obeyed without making any reply,
and with a very sinking heart entered the room where the doctor was
engaged with the first class. The keen eye of his master detected him
the instant he made his appearance, but he took no notice of him until
he had finished his business; then, while his pupils were putting up
their books he turned to Louis, and pointing to a little table by his
side, said, "_There_ is a volume, Louis Mortimer, with which I suspect
you have some acquaintance."
Louis advanced to the table, and beheld the Key to Kenrick's Greek
Exercises.
"You know it?" said the doctor.
"Yes, sir, but I did not use it," said Louis.
"You will not deny that it was found among your books in the
school-room," said the doctor.
"I know, sir, Mr. Witworth found it, but I assure you I did not
put it there," replied Louis, very gently.
"Have you never used it at all?" asked Dr. Wilkinson.
"Never, sir," replied Louis, firmly.
At this moment, he met the eye of Hamilton, who was standing near
Dr. Wilkinson, and who looked very scornfully and incredulously at
him as he paused to hear the result of the inquiry. Louis remembered
that Hamilton had seen the key Churchill had left, and he hastily
exclaimed, "I assure you, Mr. Hamilton, I did not."
"What is this, Hamilton?" said Dr. Wilkinson, turning round.
"Do you know any thing of this matter?"
"I would much rather not answer," said Hamilton, abruptly,
"if you will excuse me, sir."
"I must, however, beg that you will, if you please," replied the doctor.
"I really know nothing positively, I can say nothing certainly. You
would not wish, sir, that any imagination of mine should prejudice
you to Louis Mortimer's disadvantage; I am not able to say any thing,"
and Hamilton turned away in some confusion, vexed that he should have
been appealed to.
Dr. Wilkinson looked half perplexed--he paused a moment and fixed his
eyes on the table. Louis ventured to say, "Mr. Hamilton saw a book once
before with my lesson books, but I never used it."
"What do you mean by _saw a book_?" asked the doctor. "What book did
Mr. Hamilton see? How came it there, and why was it there?"
"It was 'Kenrick's Greek Exercises,' sir."
"You mean the 'Key,' I suppose?"
Louis answered in the affirmative.
"Whose was it?" asked the doctor, with a countenance more ominous
in its expression.
"It was the one you took from Harrison, sir," replied Louis.
"Humph! I thought I took it away. Bring it here." Louis obeyed,
and the doctor having looked at it, continued, "Well, you had this
_with your lesson books_, you say. How did it come there?"
"One of the boys gave it to me, sir," replied Louis.
"And why did you not put it away?"
"I was going, sir;" and the color rushed into Louis' pale face. "I did
not use it--and I hope I should not."
"Who left the book?" asked Dr. Wilkinson.
"Churchill, sir."
"Call Churchill, Salisbury."
Salisbury obeyed; and during his absence a profound silence reigned in
the room, for all the first class were watching the proceedings in deep
interest. Dr. Wilkinson seemed lost in thought; and Louis, in painful
anxiety, scanned the strongly marked countenance of his master, now
wearing its most unpleasing mask, and those of Hamilton and Trevannion,
alternately. Hamilton did not look at him, but bent over a table at
a book, the leaves of which he nervously turned. Trevannion eyed him
haughtily as he leaned in his most graceful attitude against the wall
behind the doctor's chair; and poor Louis read his condemnation in his
eyes, as well as in the faces of most present.
Salisbury at length returned with Churchill, who was the more awe-struck
at the unwonted summons, as he was so low in the school as seldom to have
any business with the principal.
"Churchill," said the doctor, gravely, "I have sent for you to hear what
is said of you. Now, Louis Mortimer, who gave you this book on the day
Mr. Hamilton discovered it in your possession?"
"Churchill, sir," replied Louis, in great agitation; "you did, Churchill,
did you not? Oh! do say you did."
"Hush," said the doctor. "What have you to say against this, Churchill?"
"Nothing, sir--I did--I gave it to Louis Mortimer," stammered Churchill,
looking from Louis to the doctor, and back again.
"And how came you to give it to him?"
Churchill did not reply until the question was repeated, when he
reluctantly said, he had given it to Louis to assist him in his
exercise.
"Did Mortimer ask you for it?"
"No, sir."
"Did he wish for it?"
"No, sir, not that I know of."
"You know, Harry, that I asked you to put it away--did I not?"
cried Louis.
"I don't know--yes--I think you did," said Churchill, growing very hot.
"Why did you not put it away?" asked Dr. Wilkinson.
"Because I thought he wanted it, please sir."
"But I did not, Harry! I told you I did not," said Louis, eagerly.
Dr. Wilkinson desired Louis to be silent, and continued his questions--
"Did you try to persuade him to use it?"
Again Churchill paused, and again confessed, most unwillingly, that
he had done so--and received a severe reprimand for his conduct on the
occasion, and a long task to write out which would keep him employed
during the play-hours of that day.
He was then dismissed, and Dr. Wilkinson again addressed himself to
Louis: "I am glad to find that part of your story is correct; but I
now wish you to explain how my key found its way into the school-room
yesterday, when discovered by Mr. Witworth. The book must have been
deliberately taken out of this room into the school-room. You appear
to have been alone, or nearly so, in the school-room the greater part
of yesterday afternoon, and Mr. Witworth found the book half concealed
by your lesson books while you were writing your exercises."
"I assure you, sir, I did not take it," said Louis.
"Unhappily," replied Dr. Wilkinson, "I cannot take a mere assurance
in the present instance. Had not the case been so palpable, I should
have been bound to believe you until I had had reason to mistrust your
word--but with these facts I _cannot_, Louis;" and he added, in a very
low tone, so as to be heard only by Louis, who was much nearer to him
than the others, "Your honor has not always been sacred--beware."
His school-fellows wondered what made the red flush mount so furiously
in Louis' forehead, and the tears spring to his eyes. The painful feelings
called forth by his master's speech prevented him from speaking for a few
minutes. He was roused by Dr. Wilkinson saying--
"The discovery of this Key in your possession would involve your
immediate dismissal from the second class, a sufficient disgrace, but
the matter assumes a far more serious aspect from these assertions of
innocence. If you had not used the book when discovered, it must have
been taken either by you, or another, for use. The question is now,
who took it?"
"I did not, sir," said Louis, in great alarm.
"Who did, then? Were any of your class with you?"
"No, sir."
"Was any one with you?"
Louis paused. A sudden thought flashed across him--a sudden recollection
of seeing that book passed over and slipped among his books; an action he
had taken no notice of at the time, and which had never struck him till
this moment. He now glanced eagerly at Ferrers, and then, in a tremulous
voice, said, "I remember now, Ferrers put it there--I am almost sure."
"Ferrers!" exclaimed the young men, with one voice.
"What humbugging nonsense!" said Salisbury, in a low tone.
"Do you hear, Mr. Ferrers?" said the doctor: "how came you to put that
Key among Louis Mortimer's books?"
"I, sir--I never," stammered Ferrers. "What should I want with it?
What good could I get by it? Is it likely?"
"I am not arguing on the possibility of such an event, I simply wish
to know if you did it?" said the doctor.
"I, sir--no," exclaimed Ferrers, with an air of injured innocence.
"If I had done it, why did he not accuse me at once, instead of
remembering it all of a sudden?"
"Because I only just remembered that I saw you moving something
towards me, and I am _almost_ sure it was that book now--I think
so," replied Louis.
"You'd better be quite sure," said Ferrers.
Dr. Wilkinson looked from one to the other, and his look might have made
a less unprincipled youth fear to persist in so horrible a falsehood.
"Were you learning your lessons in the school-room yesterday afternoon,
Mr. Ferrers, at the same time with Louis Mortimer?" Ferrers acknowledging
this, Dr. Wilkinson sent for Mr. Witworth, and asked him if he had
observed either Ferrers or Louis go into the study during the afternoon,
and if he knew what each brought out with him. Mr. Witworth replied that
both went in, but he did not know what for.
"I went in to get an atlas for Ferrers," cried Louis, in great agitation.
"I got the atlas myself, Mortimer, you know," said Ferrers.
Louis was quite overcome. He covered his face with his hands, and burst
into tears.
"This is a sad business," said Dr. Wilkinson, very gravely; "much
worse than I expected--one of you must be giving utterance to the
most frightful untruths. Which of you is it?"
"What would Ferrers want with the Key to The Greek Exercises sir?"
suggested Trevannion, "unless he wished to do an ill turn to Mortimer,
which you cannot suppose."
"I have hitherto trusted Mr. Ferrers," replied Dr. Wilkinson; "and
am not disposed to withdraw that confidence without sufficient cause.
Mr. Ferrers, on your word of honor, am I to believe your statement?"
Ferrers turned pale, but the doctor's steady gaze was upon him, and all
his class-fellows awaited his reply--visions of disgrace, contempt, and
scorn were before him, and there was no restraining power from within to
check him, as he hastily replied, "On my word of honor, sir."
"I must believe you, then, as I can imagine no motive which could
induce you to act dishonorably by this boy, were I to discover that
any one in my school had acted so, his immediate expulsion should be
the consequence."
The dead silence that followed the doctor's words struck coldly on the
heart of the guilty coward.
"Now, Louis Mortimer," said the doctor, sternly, "I wish to give you
another chance of confessing your fault."
Louis' thick convulsive sobs only replied to this. After waiting a
few minutes, Dr. Wilkinson said, "Go now to the little study joining
my dining-room, and wait there till I come: I shall give you half an
hour to consider."
Louis left the room, and repaired to the study, where he threw himself
on a chair in a paroxysm of grief, which, for the first quarter of an
hour, admitted of no alleviation: "He had no character. The doctor had
heard all before. All believed him guilty--and how _could_ Ferrers act
so? How could it ever be found out? And, oh! his dear father and mother,
and his grandfather, would believe it."
By degrees the violence of his distress subsided, and he sent up his
tearful petitions to his heavenly Father, till his overloaded heart
felt lightened of some of its sorrow. As he grew calmer, remembrances
of old faults came before him, and he thought of a similar sin of his
own, and how nearly an innocent person had suffered for it--and this
he felt was much easier to bear than the consciousness of having
committed the fault himself; and he remembered the sweet verses in
the first Epistle of St. Peter: "What glory is it if, when ye be
buffeted for your faults, ye take it patiently; but if when ye do well
and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God.
For even hereunto ye were called, because Christ also suffered for us,
leaving us an example that we should follow His steps: who did no sin,
neither was guile found in His mouth; who, when He was reviled, reviled
not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself
to Him that judgeth righteously,"--and the feeling of indignation
against Ferrers was gradually changed into almost pity for him, for
Louis knew by experience the pain of a loaded conscience. While his
thoughts thus ran over the past and present, he heard the firm step
of Dr. Wilkinson crossing the hall, and nearly at the same moment that
gentleman entered the room. There was no pity in his countenance--the
dark lines in his face seemed fixed in their most iron mould; and
briefly announcing to his trembling pupil that the time allowed him
for consideration had expired, he asked whether he were prepared to
acknowledge his fault. Louis meekly persisted in his denial, which
had only the effect of making the doctor consider him a more hardened
offender; and after a few words, expressing the strongest reprehension
of his wickedness and cowardice, he gave him severe caning, and sent
him immediately to bed, although it was but the middle of the day.
In spite of the better feelings which urged poor Louis to acknowledge
the justice, under the circumstances, of his master's proceedings, he
could not help thinking that he had been very hardly treated. He hurried
up stairs, glad to indulge his grief in silence. How many times, in the
affliction of the next few hours, did he repeat a little hymn he had
learned at home:
"Thy lambs, dear Shepherd, that are weak,
Are thy peculiar care;
'Tis Thine in judgment to afflict,
And Thine in love to spare.
"Though young in years, yet, oh! how oft
Have I a rebel been;
My punishment, O Lord, is mild,
Nor equals all my sin.
"Since all the chastisements I feel
Are from Thy love alone,
Let not one murmuring thought arise,
But may Thy will be done.
"Then let me blush with holy shame,
And mourn before my Lord,
That I have lived to Thee no more,
No more obeyed Thy word."
--"Hymns for Sunday-Schools"
At last he fell asleep, and oh! to wake; from that sleep! It was surely
good to be afflicted, and in the happiness of his mind Louis forgot his
trouble. But he had yet to endure much more, and the bitterest part of
his punishment came the next morning, when, according to his master's
orders, he repaired to the study with his books. He had been desired to
remain in this room out of school-hours, and was forbidden to speak
to any of his school-fellows without leave. While he was sitting
there the first morning after the inquiry related in this chapter,
Dr. Wilkinson entered with a letter, and sat down at the table where
Louis was reading. As he opened his desk, he said, "I have a painful
task to perform. This is a letter from your father, Louis Mortimer,
and he particularly requests that I should give him an account of
your conduct and your brother's; you know what an account I can give
of you both."
Louis had listened very attentively to his master's speech, and when
it was concluded he gave way to such a burst of sorrow as quite touched
the doctor. For some minutes he wept almost frantically, and then
clasping his hands, he implored Dr. Wilkinson not to tell his father
what had happened: "It will break mamma's heart, it will break mamma's
heart, sir--do not tell my father."
"Confess your fault, Louis, and I may then speak of amendment,"
said the doctor.
"I cannot, indeed--indeed I cannot. It will all come out by and bye:
you will see, sir--oh! you will see, sir," sobbed Louis, deprecating
the gathering of the angry cloud on the doctor's face. "Oh! do not
tell mamma, for it is not true."
"I do not wish to hear any more, sir," said the doctor, sternly.
"Oh! what shall I do--what shall I do!" cried Louis; and he pushed
his chair quickly from the table, and, throwing himself on his knees
by Dr. Wilkinson, seized the hand that was beginning to date the
dreaded letter--"I assure you I did not, sir--I am speaking the truth."
"As you always do, doubtless," said the doctor, drawing his hand
roughly away. "Get up, sir; kneel to Him you have so deeply offended,
but not to me."
Louis rose, but stood still in the same place. "Will you hear only this
one thing, sir? I will not say any thing more about my innocence--just
hear me, if you please, sir."
Dr. Wilkinson turned his head coldly towards him.
Louis dried his tears, and spoke with tolerable calmness: "I have
one thing to ask, sir--will you allow me still to remain in the
second class, and to do my lessons always in this room? You will
then see if I can do without keys, or having any help."
"I know you can if you choose," replied Dr. Wilkinson, coldly,
"or I should not have placed you in that class."
"But, if you please, sir, I know all,"--Louis paused, he had promised
to say no more on that subject.
There was a little silence, during which Dr. Wilkinson looked earnestly
at Louis. At last he said, "You may stay in the class; but, remember,
you are forbidden to speak to any of your school-fellows for the next
week without express permission."
"Not to my brother, sir?"
"No; now go."
"May I write to mamma?"
"Yes, if you wish it."
After timidly thanking the doctor, Louis returned to his seat, and
Dr. Wilkinson continued his letter, which went off by the same post
that took Louis' to his mother.