"If hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender it here; I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit."
Two Gentlemen of Verona.--Act five, scene 4.
Next morning Walter was reconducted to the private room, and there, with
a kind of dull pain in head and heart, awaited the sentence which was to
decide his fate. His fancy had left Saint Winifred's altogether; it was
solely occupied with Semlyn, and the dear society at home. Walter was
rehearsing again and again in his mind the scene of his return; what he
should say to his father; how he should dry his mother's tears; and how
he should bear himself, on his return, towards his little brothers and
sisters. Would he, expelled from Saint Winifred's, ever be able to look
anyone in the face again at home?
While he was brooding over these fancies, someone, breathless with
haste, ran up to his room, and again a note was thrust underneath the
door. He seized it quickly, and read--
"Dear Walter,--I am so glad to be the first to tell you that you are
not to be expelled. Paton has begged you off. No time for more. I
have slipped away before morning school to leave you this news, and
can't stay lest I should be caught. Good-bye, from your ever
affectionate friend,
"H.K."
The boy's heart gave one bound of joy as he read this. If he were not
expelled he was ready to bear meekly any other punishment appointed to
his offence. But his banishment from the school would cause deep
affliction to others besides himself, and this was why he had dreaded it
with such a feeling of despair.
Alone as he was in the little room, he fell on his knees, and heartily
and humbly thanked God for this answer to his earnest, passionate,
reiterated prayer; and then he read Kenrick's note again.
"Paton has begged you off." He repeated this sentence over and over
again, aloud and to himself, and seemed as if he could never realise it.
Paton--Paton, the very man whom he had so deeply and irreparably
injured--had begged him off, and shielded him from a punishment which no
one could have considered too severe for his fault. Young and
inexperienced as Walter Evson was, he could not, of course, fully
understand and appreciate the _amount_ of the loss, the nature and
degree of the injury which he had inflicted; but yet, he _could_
understand that he had done something which caused greater pain to his
master than even the breaking of a limb, or falling ill of a severe
sickness. And he never prayed for himself without praying also that Mr
Paton's misfortune might in some way be alleviated; and even, impossible
as the prayer might seem, that he, Walter, might himself have some share
in rendering it more endurable.
It may seem strange that Walter should be apparently excessive in his
own self-condemnation. A generous mind usually is; but Walter, it may
be urged, never intended to do the harm he had done. If he mistook the
packet for a number of exercises the fault was comparatively venial,
comparatively--yes; for though it will be admitted that to break open a
private desk and throw its contents into the fire is bad enough in a
schoolboy under any circumstances, still it would be a far less
aggravated sin than the wilful infliction of a heavy damage out of a
spirit of revenge. But here lay the gravamen of Walter's fault; he
knew--though he had not said so--in his inmost heart he _knew_ that the
packet did not, and could not, consist merely of old exercises, like the
outer sheets, which were put to keep it clean. When he threw it into
the fire and thrust it down until it blazed away, he felt sure--and at
that wicked moment of indulged passion he rejoiced to feel sure--that
what he was consuming was of real value. Henderson's voice awoke in a
moment his dormant conscience; but then, however keen were the stings of
remorse, what had been done could never be undone. And "Paton had
begged him off"! It was all the more wonderful to him, and he was all
the more deeply grateful for it, because he knew that, in Mr Paton's
views, the law of punishment for every offence was as a law of iron and
adamant--a law as undeviating and beneficial as the law of gravitation
itself.
A slow and hesitating footstep--the sound of the key turning in the
door--a nervous hand resting on the handle--and Mr Paton stood before
him.
In an instant Walter was on his knees beside him, his head bent over his
clasped hands. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed, "please forgive me! I have
been longing to see you, sir, to implore you to forgive me; for when you
have forgiven me I shan't mind anything else. Oh, sir, forgive me, if
you can."
"Do you know, Evson, the extent of what you have done?" said Mr Paton,
in a constrained voice.
"Oh, sir, indeed I do," he exclaimed, bursting into tears. "Mr
Percival said I had destroyed years and years of hard work, and that I
can never, never, never make up for it, or repair it again. Oh, sir,
indeed I didn't know how much mischief I was doing; I was in a wicked
passion then, but I would give my right-hand not to have done it now.
Oh, sir, can you ever forgive me?" he asked, in a tone of pitiable
despair.
"Have you asked God's forgiveness for your passionate and revengeful
spirit, Evson?" said the same constrained voice.
"Oh, sir, I have, and I know God has forgiven me. Indeed I never knew,
I never thought before, that I could grow so wicked in a day. Oh, sir,
what shall I do to gain your forgiveness; I would do anything, sir," he
said, in a voice thick with sobs; "and if you forgave me, I could be
almost happy."
All this while Walter had not dared to look up in Mr Paton's face.
Abashed as he was, he could not bear to meet the only look which he
expected to find there, the old cold unpitying look of condemnation and
reproach. Even at that moment he could not help thinking that if Mr
Paton had understood him better, he would not have seemed to him so
utterly bad as then he must seem, with so recent an act of sin and folly
to bear witness against him.
He dared not look up through his eyes swimming with tears; but he had
not expected the kind and gentle touch of the trembling hand that rested
on his head as though it blessed him, and that smoothed again and again
his dark hair, and wiped the big drops away from his cheeks. He had not
expected the arm that raised him up from his kneeling position, and the
fingers that pushed back his hair from his forehead, and gently bent
back his head; or the pitying eyes, themselves dim, as though they were
about to well over with compassion--that looked so sorrowfully, yet so
kindly, into his own. He could not bear this. If Mr Paton had struck
him, as he did in the first moment of overwhelming anger; if he had
spurned him away, and ordered him any amount of punishment, it would
have been far easier to bear than this Christian gentleness; this ready
burying in pity and oblivion of the heaviest and most undeserved
calamity which the master had ever undergone at the hands of man.
Walter could not bear it; he flung himself on his knees again in a
passion of weeping, and clasped Mr Paton's knees, uttering in broken
sentences, "I can never make up for it, never repair it as long as I
live."
For a moment more the kind hand again rested on the boy's head, and
gently smoothed his dark hair; and then Mr Paton found voice to speak,
and lifting him up, and seating him upon his knee, said to him--
"I forgive you, Walter, forgive you freely and gladly. It was hard, I
own, at first to do so, for I will not disguise from you that this loss
is a very bitter thing to bear. I have been sleepless, and have never
once been able to banish the distress of mind which it has caused since
it occurred. And yet it is a loss which I shall _not_ feel fully all at
once, but most and for many a long day when I sit down again, if God
gives me strength to do so, to recover the lost stores and rearrange the
interrupted thoughts. But I, too, have learnt a lesson, Walter; and
when you have reached my age, my boy, you too, I trust, will have learnt
to control all evil passions with a strong will, and to bear meekly and
patiently _whatever_ God sends. And you too, Walter, learn a lesson.
You have said that you would give anything, do anything, to undo this
wrong, or to repair it; but you can do nothing, my child, give nothing,
for it cannot be undone. Wrong rarely can be mended. Let this very
helplessness teach you a truth that may remain with you through life.
Let it check you in wilful impetuous moments; for what has once been
done remains irrevocable. You may rue for years and years the work of
days or of moments, and you may _never_ be able to avoid the
consequences, even when the deed itself has been forgotten by the
generous and forgiven by the just." And all this so kindly, so gently,
so quietly spoken; every word of it sank into Walter's heart never to be
forgotten, as his tears flowed still but with more quiet sadness now.
"Yes, Walter, this occurrence," continued Mr Paton in a calm, low
voice, "may do us both good, miserable as it is. I will say no more
about it now, only that I have quite forgiven it. Man is far too mean a
creature to be justified in withholding forgiveness for any personal
wrong. It is far more hard to forgive one's-self when one has done
wrong. I have determined to bury the whole matter in oblivion, and to
inflict no punishment either on you or on any of the other boys who were
concerned in this folly and sin. I will not forgive by halves. But,
Walter, I will not wrong you by doubting that from this time forward you
will advance with a marked improvement. You will have something to
bear, no doubt, but do not let it weigh on you too heavily; and as for
me, I will try henceforth to be your friend."
What could Walter do but seize his hand and clasp it earnestly, and sob
out the broken incoherent thanks which were more eloquent than connected
words.
"And now, Walter, you are free," said Mr Paton. "From _us_ you will
hear no more of this offence. It is nearly dinner-time. Come; I will
walk with you to hall."
He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and they walked downstairs and
across the court. Walter was deeply grateful that he did so, for he had
heard rumours of the scorn and indignation with which the news of his
conduct had been received by the elder and more influential portions of
the school. He had dreaded unspeakably the first occasion when it would
be necessary to meet them again, but he felt that Mr Paton's
countenance and kindness had paved the way for him, and smoothed his
most formidable trial. It had been beyond his warmest hopes that he
should be able to face them so. He had never dared to expect this open
proof, that the person who had suffered chiefly from this act would also
be the first to show that he had not cast him off as helpless or
worthless, but was ready to receive him into favour once again.
The corridor was full of boys waiting for the dinner bell, and they
divided respectfully to leave a passage for Mr Paton, and touched their
hats as he passed them with his hand still on Walter's shoulder, while
Walter walked with downcast eyes beside him, not once daring to look up.
And as the boy passed them, humbled and penitent, with Mr Paton's hand
resting upon him, there was not one of those who saw it that did not
learn from that sight a lesson of calm forgiveness as noble and as
forcible as any lesson which they could learn at Saint Winifred's
School.
Walter sat at dinner pale and crying, but unpitied. "Alas for the
rarity of Christian charity under the sun!"--the worst construction had
assiduously been put upon what he had done, and nearly all the boys
hastily condemned it, not only as an ungentlemanly, but also as an
inexcusable and unpardonable act. One after another, as they passed him
after dinner, they cut him dead. Several of the masters, including Mr
Percival, whom Walter had hitherto loved and respected more than any of
them, because he had been treated by him with marked kindness, did the
same. Walter met Mr Percival in the playground and touched his cap;
Mr Percival glanced at him contemptuously for a moment, and then turned
his head aside without noticing the salute. It may seem strange, but we
must remember that to all who hear of any wrong act by report only, it
presents itself as a mere naked fact--a bare result without preface or
palliation. The subtle grades of temptation which led to it--the
violent outburst of passion long pent-up which thus found its
consummation--are unknown or forgotten, and the deed itself, isolated
from all that rendered it possible, receives unmitigated condemnation.
All that anyone took the trouble to know or to believe about Walter's
scrape was, that he had broken open a master's private desk, and in
revenge had purposely burnt a most valuable manuscript; and for this,
sentence was passed upon him broadly and in the gross.
Poor Walter! those were dark days for him; but Henderson and Kenrick
stuck fast by him, and little Arthur Eden still looked up to him with
unbounded gratitude and affection, and he felt that the case was not
hopeless. Kenrick, indeed, seemed to waver once or twice. He sought
Walter and shook hands with him at once, but still he was not with him,
Walter fancied, so much as he had been or might have been, till, after a
short struggle, his natural impulse of generosity won the day. As for
Henderson, Walter thought he could have died for him, so much he loved
him for his kindness in this hour of need; and Eden never left his side
when he could creep there to console him by merry playfulness, or to be
his companion when he would otherwise have been alone.
The boys had been truly sorry to hear of Mr Paton's loss; it roused all
their most generous feelings. That evening as they came out of chapel
they all gathered round the iron gates. The intention had been to groan
at poor Walter. He knew of it perfectly well, for Henderson had
prepared him for it, and expressed his determination to walk by his
side. It was for him a moment of keen anguish, and that anguish
betrayed itself in his scared and agitated look. But he was spared this
last drop in the cup of punishment. The mere sight of him showed the
boys that he had suffered bitterly enough already. When they looked at
him they had not the heart to hurt and shame him any more. Mr Paton's
open forgiveness of that which had fallen most severely on himself
changed the current of their feelings. Instead of groaning Walter they
let him pass by, and waited till Mr Paton came out of the chapel door,
and as he walked across the court the boys all followed him with hearty
cheers.
Mr Paton did not like the demonstration, although he appreciated the
kindly and honourable motives which had given rise to it. He was not a
man who courted popularity, and this external sign of it was, as he well
knew, the irregular expression of an evanescent feeling. So he took no
further notice of the boys' cheers than by slightly raising his cap, and
by one stately inclination of the head, and then he walked on with his
usual quiet dignity of manner to his own rooms. But after this he every
now and then took an opportunity to walk with Walter; and almost every
Sunday evening he might have been seen with him pacing, after morning
chapel, up and down the broad walk of the masters' garden, while Walter
walked unevenly beside him, in vain endeavours to keep step with his
long slow stride.
A letter from Dr Lane brought Walter's father to Saint Winifred's the
next day. Why dwell on their sad and painful meeting? But the pain of
it soon wore off as they interchanged that sweet and frank communion of
thoughts and sympathies that still existed as it had ever done between
them. They had a long, long walk upon the shore, and at every step
Walter seemed to in-breathe fresh strength, and hope, and consolation,
and Mr Evson seemed to acquire new love for, and confidence in, his
unhappy little son, so that when in the evening he kissed him and said
"good-bye," at the top of the same hill where they had parted before,
Mr Evson felt more happily and gratefully secure of his radical
integrity, now that the boy had acquired the strength which comes
through trial, through failure, and through suffering, than he had done
before when he had left him only with the strength of early principle
and untested innocence of heart.
But long years after, when Walter was a man, and when he had been
separated for years from all intelligence of Mr Paton, there emanated
from a quiet country vicarage a now celebrated edition of the "Major
Prophets," an edition which made the author a high reputation, and
secured for him in the following year the Deanery of --. And in the
preface to that edition the reader may still find the following passage,
which, as Walter saw even then, those long years after, he could not
read without a thrill of happy, yet penitent emotion. It ran thus--
"This edition of the `Major Prophets' has been the chosen work of the
author's leisure, and he is almost afraid to say how many of the best
years of his life have been spent upon it. A strange fortune has
happened to it. Years ago it was finished, and it was written out,
and ready for the press. At that time it was burnt--no matter under
what circumstances--by a boy's hand. At first, the author never hoped
to have the courage or power to resume and finish the task again. But
it pleased God, Who sent him this trial, to provide him also with
leisure, and opportunity, and resolution, so that the old misfortune
is now at last repaired. It is for the sake of one person, and one
person only, that these private matters are intruded on the reader's
notice; but that person, if his eye should ever fall on these lines,
will know also why the word `repaired' has been printed in larger
letters. And I would also tell him with all kindness, that it has
pleased God to bring out of the rash act of his boyhood nothing but
good. The following commentary is, I humbly trust, far more worthy of
its high subject, now that it has received the maturer consideration
of my advancing years, than it would have been had it seen the light
at Saint Winifred's long ago. I write this for the sake of the boy
who then wept for what seemed an _irreparable_ fault; and I add
thankfully, that never for a moment have I retracted my then
forgiveness; that I think of his after efforts with kindliness and
affection; and that he has, and always will have, my best prayers for
his interest and welfare.
"H. Paton."