Everard, Everard, which was the truest,
God in the future, and Time will show,
Ne'er will I stoop to defence or excuses--
If you despise me--be it so!
But, my Everard, still (for I love you)
This to the end my prayer shall be--
Ne'er may you be so sternly treated,
Never be judged as you judge me.--F.
Kenrick did not happen to meet Walter during the remainder of that
Sunday, because Walter was chiefly sitting in Mr Percival's room, but
the next day, still nursing the smouldering fire of his anger, he
determined to get the first opportunity he could of meeting him, in
order that he might tax him with his supposed false friendship and
breach of confidence.
Accordingly, when school was over next day, he went with Whalley to look
for him in the playground. Walter was walking with Henderson, never
dreaming that anything unpleasant was likely to happen. Henderson was
the first to catch sight of them, and as he never saw Whalley without
chaffing him in some ridiculous way or other--for Whalley's charming
good humour made him a capital subject for a joke--he at once began, as
might have been expected, to sing--
"O Whalley, Whalley up the bank,
And Whalley, Whalley down the brae,
And Whalley, Whalley, by yon burnside--"
whereupon his song was interrupted by Whalley's giving chase to him,
which did not end till he had been led a dance half round the school
buildings, while the ground was left clear for Kenrick's expostulations.
Walter came up to him as cordially as usual, but stopped short in
surprise, when he caught the scornful lowering expression of his
friend's face; but as Kenrick did not speak at once, he took him by the
hand, and said, "Why, Ken, what's the matter?"
Kenrick very coldly withdrew his hand.
"Evson, I came to ask you if--whether--if you've been telling to any of
the fellows all about me; all I told you about my father?"
As Walter instantly remembered that he had mentioned the story to Power,
he could not at once say "No," but was about to explain.
"Telling any of the fellows all about you and your father?" he repeated;
"I didn't know--"
"Please, I don't want any excuses. If you haven't, it's easy to say
`No'; if you _have_, I only want you to say `Yes.'"
"But you never told me that I wasn't to--"
"Yes or no?" said Kenrick, with an impatient gesture.
"Well, I suppose I must say `Yes,' then; but hear me explain. I only
mentioned it to--"
"That's enough, thank you. I don't want to hear any more. I don't want
to know whom you mentioned it to;" and Kenrick turned short on his heel,
and began to walk off.
"But hear me, Ken," said Walter eagerly, walking after him, and laying
his hand on his shoulder.
"My name's Kenrick," said he, shaking off Walter's hand. "You may
apologise if you like; but even then I shan't speak to you again."
"I have nothing to apologise for. I only told--"
"I tell you I don't care whom you `only' told. It's `only' all over the
school. And it's not the `only' time you've behaved dishonourably."
"I don't understand you," said Walter, who was rapidly getting into as
great a passion as Kenrick.
"Betraying confidence is _almost_ as bad as breaking open desks, and
burning--" Such a taunt, coming from Kenrick, was base and cruel, and he
knew it to be so.
"Thank you for the allusion," said Walter; "I deserve it, I own, but I'm
surprised, Kenrick, that _you_, of all others; should make it. _That_,
I admit, was an act of sin and strange folly for which I must always
feel humiliated, and implore to be forgiven. And every generous person
_has_ long ago forgiven me and forgotten it. But in _this_ case, if you
weren't in such a silly rage, I could show you that I've done nothing
wrong. Only I know you wouldn't listen _now_, and I shan't
condescend--"
"_Condescend_! I like that," said Kenrick, interrupting him with a
scornful laugh, which made Walter's blood tingle. "_You_ condescend to
_me_, forsooth." Higher words might have ensued, but at this moment
Henderson, still pursued by Whalley, came running up, and seeing that
something had gone wrong, he said to Kenrick--
"Hallo, Damon! what has Pythias been saying to you?"
Kenrick vouchsafed no answer, but turning his back on them, went off
abruptly.
"He's very angry with you, Evson," said Whalley, "because he thinks
you've been telling Jones and that lot his family secrets."
"I've done nothing whatever of the kind," said Walter, indignantly. "I
admit that I did thoughtlessly mention it to Power; and one other
overheard me. It never occurred to me for a moment that Kenrick would
mind. You know I wouldn't dream of speaking about it ill-naturedly, and
if that fellow wasn't blind with rage I could have explained it to him
in about five minutes."
"If you merely mentioned it to Power, I'm sure Kenrick would not so much
mind. I'll tell him about it when he's cooler," said Whalley.
"As you like, Whalley; Kenrick has no business to suspect me in that
shameful way, and to abuse me, and treat me as if I was quite beneath
his notice, and cast old faults in my teeth," answered Walter, with deep
vexation. "Let him find out the truth for himself. He can, if he takes
the trouble."
Both the friends were thoroughly angry with each other; each of them
imagined himself deeply wronged by the other, and each of them, in his
irritation, used strong and unguarded expressions which lost nothing by
repetition. Thus the "rift of difference" was cleft deeper and deeper
between them; and, chiefly through Kenrick's pride and precipitancy, a
disagreement which might at first have been easily adjusted became a
serious, and threatened to become a permanent, quarrel.
"Power, did you repeat what I told you about Kenrick to any one?" asked
Walter, next time he met him.
"Repeat it?" said Power; "why, Walter, do you suppose I would? What do
you take me for?"
"All right, Power; I know that you couldn't do such a thing; but Kenrick
declares I've spread it all over the school, and has just been abusing
me like a pickpocket." Walter told him the circumstances of the case,
and Power, displeased for Walter's sake, and sorry that two real friends
should be separated by what he could not but regard as a venial error on
Walter's part, advised him to write a note to Kenrick and explain the
true facts of the case again.
"But what's the use, Power?" said Walter; "he would not listen to my
explanation, and said as many hard things of me as he could."
"Yes, in a passion. He'll be sorry for them directly he's calm; for you
know what a generous fellow he is. You can forgive them, I'm sure,
Walter, and win the pleasure of being the first to make an advance."
Walter, after a little struggle with his resentment, wrote a note, and
gave it to Whalley to give to Kenrick next time he saw him. It ran as
follows:--
"My dear Kenrick,--I think you are a little hard upon me. Who can
have told Jones anything about you and your home secrets I don't know.
He _could_ not have learnt them through me. It's true I did mention
something about your father to Power when I was talking in the most
affectionate way about you. I'm very sorry for this, but I never
dreamt it would make you so angry. Power is the last person to repeat
such a thing. Pray forgive me, and believe me always to be--
"Your affectionate friend, Walter Evson."
Kenrick's first impulse on receiving this note was to seek Walter on the
earliest occasion, and "make it up" with him in the sincerest and
heartiest way he could. But suddenly the sight of Jones and Mackworth
vividly reminded his proud and sensitive nature of the scene that had
caused him such acute pain. He did not see how Jones _could_ have
learnt about the vehicle, at any rate, without Walter having laughed
over it to some one. Instead of seeking further explanation, or
thinking no evil and hoping all things, he again gave reins to his anger
and suspicion, and wrote:--
"I am bound to believe your explanation as far as it goes. But I have
reason to _know_ that _something_ more must have passed than what you
admit yourself to have said. I am astonished that you should have
treated me so unworthily. I would not have done so to you. I will
try to forget this unpleasant business; but it is only in a sense that
I can sign myself again.
"Your affectionate friend. H. Kenrick."
Walter had not expected this cold, ungracious reply. When Whalley gave
him Kenrick's note he tore it open eagerly, anticipating a frank renewal
of their former friendship; but a red spot rose to his cheeks as he saw
the insinuation that he had not told the whole truth, and as he tore up
the note, he indignantly determined to take no further step towards a
reconciliation.
Yet as he thought how many pleasant hours they had spent together, and
how firmly on the whole Kenrick had stood by him in his troubles, and
how lovable a boy he really was, Walter could not but grieve over this
difference. He found himself often yearning to be on the old terms with
Kenrick; he felt that at heart he still loved him well; and after a few
days he again stifled all pride, and wrote:--
"Dear Ken,--Is it possible that you will not believe my word? If you
still feel any doubt about what I have said, do come and see me in
Power's study. I am sure that I would convince you in five minutes
that you must be under some mistake; and if I have done you any wrong,
or if you _think_ that I have done you any wrong, Ken, I'll apologise
sincerely without any pride or reserve. I miss your society very
much, and I still am and shall be, whatever you may think and whatever
you may say of me.--Yours affectionately, W.E."
As he naturally did not wish any third person to know what was passing
between them he did not entrust this note to any one, but himself placed
it between the leaves of an Herodotus which he knew that Kenrick would
use at the next school. He had barely put it there when a boy who
wanted an Herodotus happened to come into the classroom, and seeing
Kenrick's lying on the table, coolly walked off with it, after the
manner of boys, regardless of the inconvenience to which the owner might
be put. As this boy was reading a different part of Herodotus from that
which Kenrick was reading, Walter's note lay between the leaves where it
had been placed, unnoticed. When the book was done with, the boy forgot
it, and left it in school, where, after kicking about for some days
unowned, it was consigned, with other stray volumes, to a miscellaneous
cupboard, where it lay undisturbed for years. Kenrick supposed that it
was lost, or that some one had "bagged" it; and, unknown to Walter, his
note never reached the hands for which it had been destined. In vain he
waited for a reply; in vain he looked for some word or sign to show that
Kenrick had received his letter. But Kenrick still met him in perfect
silence, and with averted looks; and Walter, surprised at his obstinate
unkindness, thought that he _could_ do nothing more to disabuse him of
his false impression, and was the more ready to forego a friendship
which by every honourable means he had endeavoured to retain.
Poor Kenrick! he felt as much as Walter did that he had lost one of his
truest and most pleasant friends, and he, too, often yearned for the old
intercourse between them. Even his best friends, Power, Henderson, and
Whalley, all thought him wrong; and in consequence a coolness rose
between them and him. He felt thoroughly miserable, and did not know
where to turn; yet none the less he ostentatiously abstained from making
the slightest overture to Walter; and whereas the two boys might have
enjoyed together many happy hours, they felt a continual embarrassment
at being obliged to meet each other very frequently in awkward silence,
and apparent unconsciousness of each other's presence. This silent
annoyance recurred continually at all hours of the day. They threw away
the golden opportunity of smoothing and brightening for each other their
schoolboy years. It is sad that since true friends are so few, such
slight differences, such trivial misunderstandings, should separate them
for years. If a man's penitence for past follies be humble and sincere,
his crimes and failings may well be buried in a generous oblivion; but,
alas! his own friends, and they of his own household, are too often _the
last_ to forgive and to forget. Too often they do not condone the fault
till years of unhappiness and disappointment have intervened; till the
wounds which they have inflicted are cicatrised; till the sinner's
loneliness has taught him to look for other than human sympathy; till he
is too old, too sorrowful, too heartbroken, too near the Great White
Throne, to expect any joy from human friendship, or any consolation in
human love.
Twice did chance throw the friends into situations in which a
reconciliation would have been easy. Once, when the school was
assembled to hear the result of some composition prizes, they found
themselves accidentally seated, one on each side of Power. The mottoes
on the envelopes which were sent in with the successful exercises were
always read out before the envelope was opened, and in one of the prizes
for which there had been many competitors, the punning motto, Ezousiazo,
told them at once that Power had again achieved a brilliant success.
The Great Hall was always a scene for the triumphs of this happy boy.
Both Walter and Kenrick turned at the same moment to congratulate him,
Walter seizing his right-hand and Kenrick his left. Power, after
thanking them for their warm congratulations, grasped both their hands,
and drew them towards each other. Kenrick was aware of what he meant,
and his heart fluttered as he now hoped to regain a lost friend; but
just at that moment Walter's attention happened to be attracted by Eden,
who, though sitting some benches off, wished to telegraph his
congratulations to Power. Unfortunately, therefore, Walter turned his
head away, before he knew that Kenrick's hand was actually touching his.
He did not perceive Power's kind intention until the opportunity was
lost; and Kenrick, misinterpreting his conduct, had flushed with sudden
pride, and hastily withdrawn his hand. On the second occasion Walter
had gone up the hill to the churchyard, by the side of which was a
pleasant stile, overshadowed by aged elms, on which he often sat reading
or enjoying the breeze and the view. It suddenly occurred to him that
he would look at Daubeny's grave, to see if the stone had yet been put
up. He found that it had just been raised, and he was sorrowfully
reading the inscription, when a footstep roused him from his mournful
recollections. A glance showed him that Kenrick was approaching,
evidently with the same purpose. He came slowly to the grave and read
the epitaph. Their eyes met in a friendly gaze. A sudden impulse to
reconciliation seized them both, and they were on the verge of shaking
hands, when three boys came sauntering through the churchyard--one of
them was the ill-omened Jones. The association jarred on both their
minds, and turning away without a word they walked home in different
directions.