"Be not deceived; evil communications corrupt good
manners."--1 Cor. xv. 32.
For the next few days Louis was regularly sent to Coventry, and
though Hamilton took no part in any thing that was said against him,
his manner had so entirely changed, and his tone was so cold when he
addressed or answered him, that Louis needed no further demonstration
to feel assured of the great difference in the feeling with which he
was regarded. Clifton alone remained unchanged, but he was so much
absorbed in his dear classics that he had hardly time to notice that
any thing was the matter: and as Reginald, thoroughly disappointed,
was also highly displeased with his brother, Louis was either thrown
entirely upon his own resources, or driven to seek the society of the
lower school; and, as he was in a very unhappy state, and could not
bear to be left alone, he naturally chose the latter. For the first
two days he struggled to assume an independent air, and, changing his
place of his own accord from Hamilton to Clifton, talked incessantly,
though nearly unheeded by the latter, to show how perfectly well able
he was to do his own business without assistance. Hamilton missed him,
and glanced down the table with a gaze of mingled disappointment and
displeasure. A few words from him might have recalled Louis, but they
were not spoken, and the only impression conveyed to the poor truant
was, that the friend he most cared about, in common with the rest,
considered him beneath his notice.
The third evening some affair was to be taken into consideration, of
which the proceedings were intended to be kept very secret. Louis was
sitting by Clifton, when Trevannion, who was to open the business,
entered with a folded paper and a pencil in one hand, and took his
place at the head of the long table. He looked down the table, and
his eyes meeting Louis', he laid down his pencil, and taking up a
book, began, or pretended to begin, to read.
"Hey! What's that, Trevannion?" asked Salisbury. "Are we to be prepared
with a choice quotation from Thucydides, or is it a hint that we are to
remember duty first and pleasure afterwards?"
"Rather," said Frank, "that some people have long ears and tongues."
"Perhaps," said Trevannion, looking over the top of his book,
"Louis Mortimer will have the civility to hasten his studies
this evening, as we have pressing business to perform."
"And why need I prevent it?" said Louis, crimsoning.
"Simply for this reason," said Trevannion, "that we do not choose
to have every thing that passes our lips this night carried over the
country; therefore, Master Louis, we can dispense with your company."
"Without so much circumlocution, either," said Jones. "We like your
room better than your company just now, Louis Mortimer; so please
to decamp."
"Evaporate!" said Meredith.
"I have my lessons to learn," said Louis.
"Is there any moral or physical impossibility in your lessons being
learned in the school-room?" asked Smith.
"I don't choose."
"Don't choose!" repeated Jones. "We'll see about that. Do you choose
to go quietly, or to be turned out, eh?"
"You have no right to do it," exclaimed Louis. "I have as much right
to be here as you."
"Ho, ho!" exclaimed Jones. "You'll find might is right here, my pretty
young gentleman. Salisbury, will you have the kindness to put the door
between us and his impertinence?"
"The procacity of the juvenile is progressing," remarked Frank.
Hamilton was not in the room, and there was no one to assist
Reginald in his resistance to the numbers by whom he was soon
overpowered, and in a few minutes, in spite of his exertions,
he found himself turned out with Louis, whom he had vainly
endeavored to defend.
Boiling with fury, Reginald at first attempted to kick open the door,
and then, being called to his senses by the interference of the usher
in the room, walked into the playground, and getting in at one of the
class-room windows, opened the door to Louis before his antagonists
had recovered from their surprise.
There was another scuffle, which was at length settled by the usher's
taking Louis' side, and desiring him to go in; but Louis found the study
so thoroughly uncomfortable, that in a few minutes he returned to the
school-room, and seated himself, in a restless, idle mood, by Casson.
The idle conversation of an idle, uprincipled boy is sure to be of a
hurtful description, and after Casson had heard Louis' grievances, and
condoled with him in the fashion of encouraging him in all that was bad,
the discourse fell upon Casson's last school, and many things Louis heard
and learned of which he had remained, till then, in blissful ignorance.
One or two ushers usually sat with the boys in the evening. One of these
was an elderly man, uncouth and ungainly in person, and possessed of a
very unfortunate temper, that was irritated in every possible manner by
those whose duty it was to have soothed the infirmities and considered
the trials of one whose life was spent in their service. Louis had felt
a great pity for the poor solitary man who never seemed to have a friend,
and now and then had spared a few minutes of his play-time to talk to
him, and would ask to be allowed to cut the pencil that was employed so
constantly in ruling the ciphering books; and when his flowers were in
bloom, a half-open rosebud was usually presented to Mr. Garthorpe to
put in his button-hole on Sunday morning. The poor usher loved Louis
as warmly as any one else in that house, nor would he have believed
that "that good lad," as he called him, could have spent a great part
of an evening in laughing at practical jokes played off on him, though
Louis could not yet be prevailed upon to take part in them.
The next few days were spent as might be expected. Louis had now put
himself under the guidance of some of the worst boys in the school,
and the consequence was (for the downward path is easy) the neglect of
all that was good, and the connivance at, if not actual participation
in all that was wrong. His place was lost, his lessons so ill prepared,
that, as formerly, he was kept in day after day, and Casson, his chief
adviser, persuaded him that Mr. Danby was unjust and tyrannical, and
instigated him to impertinence as a retaliation. Louis was miserable,
for miserable must he be who sins against light.
It was not long before Dr. Wilkinson became aware of a change in Louis'
conduct, and he took an early opportunity of speaking very seriously to
him on the subject. Louis was very humble, and longed to throw open all
his troubles to his master, the only person who had spoken kindly and
sensibly to him since his disgrace, yet foolishly afraid to declare the
whole truth to him, especially as, by the doctor's recommendation to him
to follow the example of his friends Hamilton and Clifton, he found that
his master was not aware that Hamilton was so much displeased with him.
Unhappily, Dr. Wilkinson did not know of Louis' intimacy with Casson,
nor had Casson been long enough with him to enable him to know more of
him than as an idle, troublesome dunce. The doctor's admonitions were
so far beneficial to Louis, that besides producing decidedly better
behavior for a few days, they were instrumental in restraining him
afterwards from the commission of many things which might have been
both hurtful to his well-doing and future peace of mind; but unassisted
by prayerful efforts on Louis' part, they could go no further than this;
and as he had not strength of mind to shake off his evil companions, he
soon fell back into much of his idle, giddy habits, and was classed with
some of the worst boys by those of the upper school who had formerly so
unwisely flattered and spoiled him. Oh, had they known how often his sad,
restless, though at times reckless mind, yearned for a little kindness
from them, that he might feel that every chance of retrieving their
esteem had not gone! Once, after standing some time by Hamilton, he
ventured to ask if he were still offended with him. Hamilton coldly
disclaimed any idea of offence, and declining all discussion on the
matter, hinted that Louis' conduct was too disreputable to be noticed.
Louis turned from him with a proud resolve never to speak to Hamilton
again. Hamilton's conscience smote him when he saw him a short time
after in company with Casson and Harris, whispering and laughing in a
corner, at no good, assuredly; but though he inwardly felt that he had
forced Louis, in some measure, to take refuge with these boys, he was
too proud to stoop from his throne of dignity to save him.
That day, when the boys returned from their walk, they entered at the
back of the playground from a lane, on the opposite side of which lay
some fields belonging to Dr. Wilkinson, and close on the edge of the
field nearest to the ditch bounding the lane, were some out-houses,
consisting of a cow-house, stables, and barn. As the lane was public
property, the boys were forbidden to wander beyond the boundary of
their playground, which on this side was a high wall, a wooden door
shutting out all communication with any thing beyond. Notwithstanding
the prohibition regarding this lane, there were now and then excursions
over the wall in the direction of the cottage of an old woman, who kept
a small day-school, and sold bull's-eyes and gingerbread, with other
dainties of a doubtful description, and who was, more than all, willing,
for "a consideration," to perform any hazardous errand for the young
gentlemen. Other sallies of a still more doubtful character occasionally
took place, and Dr. Wilkinson felt sure that his orchard had been robbed
more than once, though by what hands he did not always discover. On this
day the boys had just entered from the lane, and, as the ushers had not
been careful in seeing the door closed, it stood open for some time,
while several of the boys availed themselves of the crowd of their
school-fellows near it to slip out on their various errands to old
Mary Simmons. Louis had been collecting mineralogical specimens during
his walk, all of which he had consigned to the depths of a large green
baize bag which he carried with him. He stopped a few minutes near
the gate to talk about his treasures to Clifton, who had been walking
with him, but the concourse becoming rather greater than Clifton found
convenient, he presently moved away, and Louis was following him, his
bag in one hand and two unpromising-looking stones in the other, when
Casson arrested him with,
"I say, Louis, what a famous bag--lend it us a minute. I'm going to
old mother Simmons's; it would hold half her shop."
"There are stones in it," said Louis, drawing back.
Casson verbally execrated the stones, and, declaring it was of no
consequence, snatched the bag out of Louis' hand and ran away.
Rather startled by this abrupt manner of proceeding, Louis followed
Casson to the verge of the lane, and waited there till he came back.
"I haven't eaten your bag, you see, but I can't spare it till we get in."
"But are the stones there?" said Louis.
"To be sure; what do you suppose I've done with them? What a famous
receptacle! I say, Louis, did you ever see the inside of the stable
over the way?"
"No--I am not very fond of stables."
"But I suspect there's something worth seeing there," said Casson;
and he proceeded to tell Louis, under a promise of the strictest
secrecy, in a manner so exceedingly vulgar and improper that I do
not choose to write it, that he believed that the doctor kept his
winter apples in the loft of that stable, and concluded by hinting
that some of them meant to find them out and help themselves. "We
used to do it regularly at old Stennett's, where I went before,
Louis," he continued. "It's such fun: you must lend us your green
bag, and come with us."
"Oh! Casson, how can you think such a thing of me!" exclaimed Louis,
shrinking back.
The exclamation was so loud that Casson laid his hand upon his mouth
with a muttered angry ejaculation.
"One would think I had spoken of breaking open a house," said Casson.
"It's stealing," said Louis, in a tone of anger.
"Nonsense."
"I tell you, Casson, it is--don't talk to me any more about it--I
wish I had never known you!"
Casson burst out laughing. "What a ninny you are!" he exclaimed.
"You are as easily frightened as a bird with a pop-gun. And now,
I suppose, you will go with this nice little story to some good
friend and make something interesting and romantic out of nothing."
"Is it _really_ nonsense?" said Louis, after a pause. "Tell me,
Casson, truly, did you mean nothing just now?"
"Nothing, upon honor," said the unprincipled boy. "I wanted to see
you horrified."
Louis looked doubtfully at him. "Well, please give me my bag."
"What a hurry you are in!--you must wait till I've unloaded."
Louis followed him to the school-room, but, Casson's crowded desk not
holding all the contents of the bag, he was obliged, notwithstanding his
anxiety, to wait for his property for a day or two, at the expiration of
which time it was returned to him, and borrowed the next day for another
expedition to Mary Simmons.