Wearily and joylessly had the last week of the examination passed away
for Ferrers; although in one branch he had borne away the palm from all
competitors. His confession had, in some measure, atoned for his great
fault, in the eyes of his judicious master; for, however much it called
for the severest reprehension, the fact of the mind not being hardened
to all sense of shame and right feeling, made the doctor anxious to
improve his better feelings; and, instead of driving them all away by
ill-timed severity, considering how lamentably the early training of
Ferrers had been neglected, he endeavored, after the first emotion
of indignation had passed away, to rouse the fallen youth to a
sense of honor and Christian responsibility; and sought to excite,
as far as he was able, some feeling of compassion for him among his
school-fellows.
There were, however, few among them who had learned the Christian
duty of bearing one another's burdens; few among them, who, because
circumstances over which they had had no control, had placed them out
of the temptations that had overcome their penitent school-fellow, did
not esteem themselves better than he, and look scornfully upon him, as
though they would say with the proud Pharisee of old, "Stand by, for
I am holier than thou!" And is it not the case around us generally?
Alas! how apt we are all to condemn our fellow-creatures; forgetting
that, had we been throughout similarly situated, our course might have
been the same, or even worse. "Who is it that has made us to differ
from another?"
Louis, as I have mentioned, felt very deeply for Ferrers; for, besides
their late close connection, had he not known what it was to suffer for
sin? He knew what it was to carry about a heavy heart, and to wake in the
morning as if life had no joy to give; and he knew, too, what it was to
lay his sins at a Saviour's feet, and to take the light yoke upon him.
How anxious was he to lead his fellow-sinner there! Though his simple
efforts seemed impotent at the time, years after, when his school-fellow
had grown a steady and useful Christian, he dated his first serious
impressions to this time of disgrace; and the remembrance of Louis'
sweet conduct was often before him.
Louis' mind had been so chastened by his previous adversity that his
present prosperity was meekly though thankfully borne. It came like
sunshine after showers, cheering and refreshing his path, but not
too powerful; for he was gradually learning more and more, to fear
any thing that had a tendency to draw his mind to rest complacently
on himself.
But the prize-day came--the joyful breaking-up-day--the day that was
to bring his dear parents; and of all the bounding hearts, there were
none more so than those of the two brothers. Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer had
given their boys reason to expect them in the afternoon of that day,
and they were to go from Clifton to Heronhurst before returning home.
Although Dr. Wilkinson's breaking-up-day was not ostensibly a public
day, yet so many of the pupils' friends claimed admittance to the
hall on the occasion, that it became so in fact, and was usually very
respectably attended. Many of the doctor's old pupils came, to recall
their old feelings, by a sight of this most memorable exhibition. And
on this day, Vernon Digby was present with a younger brother, not to
witness Frank's triumph, for that young gentleman had none to boast of,
but to look on the theatre of his former fame, and to see how his place
was now filled.
Dr. Wilkinson's high desk had been removed from the dais, and in
its place stood a long table covered with a red cloth, on which were
arranged a number of handsomely bound books of different sizes; and in
front of the dais, in a semicircular form, were placed the rows of seats
for the boys. On each side of this semicircle, and behind and parallel
with Dr. Wilkinson's seat, was accommodation for the spectators. The
room was in the most inviting order, and had been hung with garlands
of flowers by the boys. At eleven o'clock the pupils assembled, and
under the inspection of two of the under masters, seated themselves in
the places assigned them, the little boys being placed in the front row.
As the exact fate of each was unknown, though tolerably accurately
guessed, there was much anxiety. Some of the youths were quite silent
and pale, others endeavored to hide their agitation by laughing and
talking quietly, and some affected to consider their nearest companion
as more sure than themselves. Even Hamilton was not free from a little
nervousness, and though he talked away to Vernon Digby, who was sitting
by him, he cast more than one fidgety glance at the red-covered table,
and perceptibly changed color when the class-room door opened to allow
the long train of ladies and gentlemen to enter, and closed after
Dr. Wilkinson, and a few of his particular friends, among whom were
two great scholars who had assisted in the examination of the past week.
When every one was comfortably settled, Dr. Wilkinson leaned forward
over the table, and drew a paper towards him. His preliminary "hem" was
the signal for many fidgety motions on the forms in front of him, and
every eye was riveted on him as he prefaced his distribution of the
prizes by a short statement of his general satisfaction, and a slight
notice of those particular points in which he could desire improvement.
He then spoke of his pleasure at the report his friends had made of
the proficiency of the upper classes, and particularly alluding to the
first class, stopped and mentioned by name those who had especially
distinguished themselves. Among these, as a matter of course, Hamilton
stood foremost, and carried away the prize for Latin composition, as
well as another. Ferrers gained that for mathematics--and two other
prizes were awarded to the next in order. Dr. Wilkinson mentioned
Frank Digby as having taken so high a place during the examination,
as to induce one of the gentlemen who assisted him to consider him
entitled to one of the classical prizes; but the doctor added that
Frank Digby's indifference and idleness during the term had made him
so unwilling that he should, by mere force of natural ability, deprive
his more industrious class-fellows of a hard-earned honor, that he had
not felt himself justified in listening to the recommendation, but
hoped that his talents would, the following term, be exerted from the
beginning, in which case, he should have pleasure in awarding to him
the meed of successful application.
Frank colored, half angrily, but said, _sotto voce_,
"I don't care--I just like to see whether I can't do as well as any one
else without fagging."
Vernon was half provoked and half amused at his brother's discomfiture.
Then came Reginald's turn, and he carried off three out of the
four prizes of his class, leaving one for John Salisbury.
As each one was called up to receive his reward, an immense clapping
and stamping took place, and Louis, all exuberance, stamped most
vigorously when his brother and his particular friends went up. There
were very slight manifestations when poor Ferrers was summoned, but
Louis exerted himself so manfully in the applauding department, that
the contagion spread a little before the despised recipient was seated.
The other classes were taken in order; and when all was finished,
Dr. Wilkinson took up a little morocco case, and, after clearing his
throat once or twice, began anew:
"There remains now but one reward to be assigned, but it is the greatest
of all, though undoubtedly that one which it is the most difficult to
adjudge rightly. It is the medal for good conduct. Hitherto it has been
my practice never to give it to any one who has not been with me the
whole term, but on the present occasion I am inclined to depart from
my custom in favor of a young gentleman whose conduct has been most
praiseworthy, though he has only been with me since Easter. Before
adjudging it, I will, however, appeal to the young gentlemen themselves,
and ask them who they think among them is the most deserving of this
honor?"
Dr. Wilkinson paused, and immediately a shout, led by Hamilton, arose,
of "Louis Mortimer."
"I expected it," said the doctor, with a smile: "Louis Mortimer
has been placed, perhaps, in a situation in the school a little
beyond him, and has, therefore, made no great figure in the
examination, but of his conduct I can speak in the highest terms,
and believe that his sense of duty is so strong that he only wants
the conviction that it is his duty to exert himself a little more,
to make him for the future as habitually industrious as he has been
during the last six weeks.--Louis Mortimer!"
Almost overcome with astonishment and delight, Louis hardly understood
the summons, but Reginald whispered, "Go, Louis, the doctor calls you,"
and all made way for him with the most pleasant looks of sympathy and
congratulation. His modesty and elegance prepossessed the spectators
greatly in his favor, as he passed timidly along the ranks to the table.
Dr. Wilkinson smiled kindly on him as he delivered the bright silver
medal, in its claret-colored case, saying as he did so,
"I have the greatest pleasure in giving this to you, and trust that you
will be encouraged, when you look on it, to go on as you have begun."
Louis was covered with blushes--he bowed, and as he turned away, the
most deafening applause greeted him; and, as the last prize was now
given, the boys left their seats and mingled among the company. Louis
was drawn immediately into a little coterie, composed of Hamilton,
Reginald, his three cousins, and one or two others, all of whom
congratulated him upon his distinction.
"And so, Louis, you are the hero," said Vernon; "and what is the
drama in which you have been acting so much to your credit?"
"Too long a tale to tell now," replied Hamilton, smiling on Louis;
"we will talk over it by and by. We have been treating him very ill,
Digby, but next half-year we shall understand him better--shall we
not, Louis?"
Louis was so full of delight that he could hardly speak--it was
especially a happy moment to stand before his cousin Vernon with
a right fame and well-established character.
"I said my magic knew who would gain the medal," said Frank.
"But your magic did not anticipate such magnificent honors for
yourself, I imagine," said Vernon.
"I was a little out," said Frank, carelessly; "for it has proved that
Lady Louisa has all the goodness, and I the genius. My head is quite
overloaded with the laurels Fudge heaped on me: I shan't be able to
hold it up these holidays."
"A good thing that something will press it down: it is generally high
enough," remarked Hamilton.
"How delighted father and mother will be to hear of your industry!"
said Vernon.
"I am sure," replied the incorrigible youth, "they ought to be proud of
having a son too clever to win the prizes. Louis, it puts me in mind
of the man in your tale, who had to bind his legs for fear he should
outrun the hares. I am, however, heartily glad for you, and amazingly
sorry we should have so misunderstood you."
"Louis Mortimer," cried a little boy, very smartly dressed, "mamma
wants to look at your medal--will you come and show it to her?"
"And go off, Reginald, with him, and tell Lady Stanhope all the news,"
said Vernon, as Louis went away with little Stanhope; "I will come and
pay my respects as soon as it is convenient for me to be aware of her
ladyship's presence."
Louis' medal was examined and passed from hand to hand, and many
compliments were made on the occasion. Lady Stanhope was very kind,
and would hear the history, a command Reginald was by no manner of
means unwilling to obey, though he suppressed the name of the guilty
party. The doctor was in great request, for many of the ladies were
very anxious to know more of "that lovely boy," but he was very guarded
in his accounts of the matter, though bearing the strongest testimony
to Louis' good conduct. He turned to Mr. Percy, who was present, and
said, quietly, "That, sir, is the boy you mentioned to me at Easter;
the son of Mr. Mortimer, of Dashwood."
The excitement was almost too much for Louis, tried as he had been
lately by unusual fagging and early rising. He was glad to get away
into the playground, and after watching one or two departures he ran
wildly about, now and then laughing aloud in his delight, "Oh! papa and
mamma, how glad they will be!" and then the well-spring of deep gladness
seemed to overflow, and the excess of happiness and gratitude made him
mute. His heart swelled with emotions too great for any words; a deep
sense of mercies and goodness of which he was unworthy, but for which
he felt as if he could have poured out his being in praise. Oh the
blessing of a thankful heart! How happy is he who sees his Father's
hand in every thing that befalls him, and in whom each mercy calls
forth a gush of gratitude!
"Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a thankful heart,
To taste those gifts with joy."
ADDISON.
The playground was empty, for the boys were either engaged with their
friends, or else departing; and Louis, from his little nook, saw many
vehicles of different descriptions drive away from the door. When the
dinner-bell rang he re-entered the house, but the dinner-table looked
very empty--there was not half the usual party.
"Where have you been, Louis?" asked Reginald, as he entered; "I have
been looking everywhere for you. Hamilton was quite vexed to go away
without bidding you goodbye, and he begged me to do it for him."
"I am very sorry, indeed," said Louis; "I have been in the playground.
Reginald, does it not make you feel very pleasant to see the heap of
boxes in the hall? I stood a long time looking at our directions."
"I am almost cracked," cried Reginald, joyously;--
"'Midsummer's coming again, my boys,
Jolly Midsummer and all its joys!'"
How far Reginald's reminiscences of his holiday song might have
continued, I cannot pretend to say, had it not been interrupted by
a desire from the presiding master, that "he would recollect himself,
and where he was;" but order was out of the question, most of the party
being in Reginald's condition--and, after several useless appeals to
the sense of gentlemanly decorum proper to be observed by the noisy
party, Mr. Witworth found his best plan would be to let every thing
pass that did not absolutely interfere with the business in hand, and,
dinner being over, the ill-mannered troop dispersed. Several of them,
among whom were Reginald and Louis, stopped in the hall to feast their
eyes on the piles of trunks and portmanteaus; and Reginald discovered
that a direction was wanting on one of theirs; "And I declare, Louis,
see what Frank has been doing."
Louis laughed, as he perceived that one of the directions on his luggage
was altered to "Lady Louisa Mortimer," and ran away to rectify it. When
he returned, the party in the hall was considerably enlarged, and Ferrers
came towards him to wish him good-bye. "Good-bye, Louis, I am coming back
next half-year," he said, in a low tone; "and you must help me to regain
my character." Louis squeezed his hand, and promised to write to him,
though he hoped, he said, that he should not come back himself; and when
Ferrers left the hall, the business of affixing the necessary directions
went on very busily. Reginald was in a state of such overflowing delight,
as to be quite boisterous, and now and then burst out into snatches of
noisy songs, rendered remarkably effective by an occasional squeak and
grunt, which proclaimed his voice to be rather unmanageable.
"Now, Louis, here's a piece of string, and my knife.
'Christmas is coming again, my boys!'"
"_Christmas_, Reginald--Midsummer!" cried Louis, laughing.
"Well then, ah, well! tie it tight.
'Midsummer's coming again, my boys,
Jolly Midsummer, and all its joys;
And we're all of us cracked, so we'll kick up a noise.
_Chorus_. Ri-toorul-loor, rul-loor, rul-loor-rul. Hip, hip, hurrah!
Hollo!'"
The sensible chorus was shouted at the utmost pitch of the voices
of the assembled youths, who waved hats, hands, and handkerchiefs,
during the process.
"Bravissimo!" exclaimed Reginald, quite red with his exertions, and
beaming with excitement. "But my beautiful voice is very unruly; the
last few times I have tried to sing, it has been quite disobedient.
I think it must be cracked, at last."
"Are you not pleased?" said Louis, archly.
"Not particularly," replied Reginald.
"You said you should be, last Christmas. Do you remember the ladies
at grandpapa's?"
"Well, there is that comfort at any rate," said Reginald, "we shan't
have any more of their humbug; but think of the dear old madrigals,
and--it's no laughing matter, Mr. Louis, for all your fun."
"Acknowledge, then, that you spoke rashly, when you said you should
be glad of it," said Louis, who was full of merriment at his brother's
misfortune.
And now Vernon, Arthur, and Frank Digby pressed forward, to bid good-bye.
As Vernon shook Louis' hand, he said, "I shall see you at Heronhurst,
I suppose."
"I suppose _I_ mustn't dare to go," said Frank.
"And now I shall go and gather some of those white roses by the wall,
for mamma," said Louis. "I hope it won't be very long, Reginald, they
must be here soon--oh, how delightful it will be!"
Louis ran off, and succeeded in finding a few half-blown roses for his
dear mother, and was engaged in carefully cutting off the thorns, when
one of his school-fellows ran up to him, and called out that his father
and mother were come.
"Papa and mamma! Where's Reginald?" he cried, and flew over the
playground without waiting for an answer. "Where are papa and mamma?
Where is Reginald?" he cried, as he ran into the hall. His hurried
question was as quickly answered; and Louis, jumping over the many
packages, made his way to the drawing-room. Here were his dear father
and mother, with Dr. Wilkinson. Reginald had been in the room several
minutes; and when Louis entered, was standing by his mother, whose arm
was round him, and close behind him stood his father.
"My Louis!" was his mother's affectionate greeting, and the next moment
he was in her arms, his own being clasped tightly round her neck, and he
could only kiss her in speechless joy, at first; and then, when the kind
arms that strained him to her bosom were loosened, there was his dear
father, and then words came, and as he looked with flashing eyes and
crimsoned cheek, from one to the other, he exclaimed, "Oh, mamma! I
have a medal--mamma, it is all come out! Papa, I am innocent; I have
a character now! Oh, dear mamma, I said it would--I am quite cleared!"
His head sank on his father's shoulder; a strange, dull sound in his
head overpowered him; a slight faintness seemed to blow over his face;
his eyes were fixed and glassy, and he became unconscious. Mr. Mortimer
changed color, and hastily catching the falling boy, he carried him to
the sofa. Dr. Wilkinson sent Reginald immediately for some water, but
before he could return, and almost before Mrs. Mortimer could raise her
dear boy's head from the pillow to her shoulder, the color came again,
and his eyes resumed their natural expression.
"What was the matter, my darling?" said his mother, kissing him.
"I don't know, mamma," replied Louis, sitting up. "I only felt giddy,
and something like a little wind in my face."
"I think he has been overwrought," said Dr. Wilkinson, kindly; "he has
gone through a great deal lately. We will take him up stairs and let
him lie down; I think he wants a little quiet."
"I am quite well now," said Louis.
"I will sit by your side; you had better go up stairs, dear,"
said his mother.
Louis yielded, and Mr. Mortimer assisted him up stairs, despite his
declarations that he was quite strong and well, and, being laid on a
bed, Mrs. Mortimer stationed herself by his side.
All they said I have not time to relate, but long Louis lay with his
mother's hand in both of his, telling her of the events of the last
two months, and often she bent her head down and kissed his broad
forehead and flushed cheek; and when she would not let him talk any
more, he lay very passively, his eyes filling with grateful tears,
and now and then in the overflowing of his heart, raising them to
his mother, with "Mamma, thank God for me. Oh, how very grateful
I ought to be!"
At length he fell asleep, and his mother sat still, watching the quiet
face, and the glittering tear-drop that trembled on his eyelash, and
she too felt that her mercies were very great--she did thank God for
him, and for herself.