Praepediuntur
Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens,
Nant oculi.
_Lucretius_, Three, 417.
Next evening when preparation began, Pietrie and Graham got everything
ready for the carouse in their classroom. Wildney, relying on the
chance of names not being called over (which was only done in case any
one's absence was observed), had absented himself altogether from the
boarders' room, and helped busily to spread the table for the banquet.
The cook had roasted for them the fowls and pigeons, and Billy had
brought an ample supply of beer and some brandy for the occasion. A
little before eight o'clock everything was ready, and Eric, Attlay, and
Llewellyn were summoned to join the rest.
The fowls, pigeons, and beer had soon vanished, and the boys were in the
highest spirits. Eric's reckless gaiety was kindled by Wildney's
frolicsome vivacity and Graham's sparkling wit; they were all six in a
roar of perpetual laughter at some fresh sally of fun elicited by the
more phlegmatic natures of Attlay or Llewellyn, and the dainties of
Wildney's parcel were accompanied by draughts of brandy and water, which
were sometimes exchanged for potations of the raw liquor. It was not
the first time, be it remembered, that the members of that young party
had been present at similar scenes, and even the scoundrel Billy was
astonished, and occasionally alarmed, at the quantities of spirits and
other inebriating drinks that of late had found their way to the
studies. The disgraceful and deadly habit of tippling had already told
physically on both Eric and Wildney. The former felt painfully that he
was losing his clear-headedness, and that his intellectual tastes were
getting not only blunted but destroyed; and while he perceived in
himself the terrible effects of his sinful indulgence, he saw them still
more indisputably in the gradual coarseness which seemed to be
spreading, like a grey lichen, over the countenance, the mind, and the
manners of his younger companion. Sometimes the vision of a Nemesis
breaking in fire out of his darkened future, terrified his guilty
conscience in the watches of the night; and the conviction of some
fearful Erinnys, some discovery dawning out of the night of his
undetected sins, made his heart beat fast with agony and fear. But he
fancied it too late to repent. He strangled the half-formed resolutions
as they rose, and trusted to the time when, by leaving school, he should
escape, as he idly supposed, the temptations to which he had yielded.
Meanwhile, the friends who would have rescued him had been alienated by
his follies, and the principles which might have preserved him had been
eradicated by his guilt. He had long flung away the shield of prayer
and the helmet of holiness, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the
word of God; and now, unarmed and helpless, Eric stood alone, a mark for
the fiery arrows of his enemies, while, through the weakened inlet of
every corrupted sense, temptation rushed in upon him perpetually and
unawares.
As the classroom they had selected was in a remote part of the building,
there was little immediate chance of detection. So the laughter of the
party grew louder and sillier; the talk more foolish and random; the
merriment more noisy and meaningless. But still most of them mingled
some sense of caution with their enjoyment, and warned Eric and Wildney
more than once that they must look out, and not take too much that night
for fear of being caught. But it was Wildney's birthday, and Eric's
boyish mirth, suppressed by his recent troubles, was blazing out
unrestrained. In the riot of their feasting the caution had been
utterly neglected, and the two boys were far from being sober when the
sound of the prayer-bell ringing through the great hall startled them
into momentary consciousness.
"Good heavens!" shouted Graham, springing up; "there's the prayer-bell;
I'd no notion it was so late. Here, let's shove these brandy bottles
and things into the cupboards and drawers, and then we must run down."
There was no time to lose. The least muddled of the party had cleared
the room in a moment, and then addressed themselves to the more
difficult task of trying to quiet Eric and Wildney, and conduct them
steadily into the prayer-room.
Wildney's seat was near the door, so there was little difficulty in
getting him to his place comparatively unobserved. Llewellyn took him
by the arm, and after a little stumbling helped him safely to his seat,
where he assumed a look of preternatural gravity. But Eric sat near the
head of the first table, not far from Dr Rowlands's desk, and none of
the others had to go to that part of the room. Graham grasped his arm
tight, led him carefully down stairs, and, as they were reaching the
door, said to him, in a most earnest and imploring tone--
"Do try and walk sensibly to your place, Eric, or we shall all be
caught."
It was rather late when they got down. Everybody was quietly seated,
and most of the Bibles were already open, although the Doctor had not
yet come in. Consequently, the room was still, and the entrance of
Graham and Eric after the rest attracted general notice. Eric had just
sense enough to try and assume his ordinary manner; but he was too giddy
with the fumes of drink to walk straight or act naturally.
Vernon was sitting next to Wright, and stared at his brother with great
eyes and open lips. He was not the only observer.
"Wright," whispered he in a timid voice; "just see how Eric walks. What
can be the matter with him? Good gracious, he must be ill!" he said,
starting up, as Eric suddenly made a great stagger to one side, and
nearly fell in the attempt to recover himself.
Wright pulled the little boy down with a firm hand.
"Hush!" he whispered; "take no notice; he's been drinking, Verny, and I
fear he'll be caught."
Vernon instantly sat down, and turned deadly pale. He thought, and he
had hoped, that since the day at "The Jolly Herring" his brother had
abandoned all such practices, for Eric had been most careful to conceal
from him the worst of his failings. And now he trembled violently with
fear for his discovery, and horror at his disgraceful condition.
The sound of Eric's unsteady footsteps had made Mr Rose quickly raise
his head; but at the same moment Duncan hastily made room for the boy on
the seat beside him, and held out his hand to assist him. It was not
Eric's proper place; but Mr Rose, after one long glance of
astonishment, looked down at his book again, and said nothing.
It made other hearts besides Vernon's ache to see the unhappy boy roll
to his place in that helpless way.
Dr Rowlands came in and prayers commenced.
When they were finished, the names were called, and Eric, instead of
quietly answering his "adsum," as he should have done, stood up, with a
foolish look, and said, "Yes, sir." The head-master looked at him for a
minute; the boy's glassy eyes and jocosely stupid appearance told an
unmistakable tale; but Dr Rowlands only remarked, "Williams, you don't
look well. You had better go at once to bed."
It was hopeless for Eric to attempt getting along without help so Duncan
at once got up, took him by the arm, and with much difficulty (for Eric
staggered at every step) conducted him to his bedroom, where he left him
without a word.
Wildney's condition was also too evident; and Mr Rose, while walking up
and down the dormitories, had no doubt left on his mind that both Eric
and Wildney had been drinking. But he made no remarks to them, and
merely went to the Doctor, to talk over the steps which were to be
taken.
"I shall summon the school," said Dr Rowlands, "on Monday, and by that
time we will decide on the punishment. Expulsion, I fear, is the only
course open to us."
"Is not that a _very_ severe line to take?"
"Perhaps; but the offence is of the worst character. I must consider
the matter."
"Poor Williams!" sighed Mr Rose, as he left the room.
The whole of the miserable Sunday that followed was spent by Eric and
his companions in vain inquiries and futile restlessness. It seemed
clear that two of them at least were detected, and they were
inexpressibly wretched with anxiety and suspense. Wildney, who had to
stay in bed, was even more depressed; his head ached violently, and he
was alone with his own terrified thoughts. He longed for the morrow,
that at least he might have the poor consolation of knowing his fate.
No one came near him all day. Eric wished to do so, but as he could not
have visited the room without express leave, the rest dissuaded him from
asking, lest he should excite further suspicion. His apparent neglect
made poor Wildney even more unhappy, for Wildney loved Eric as much as
it was possible for his volatile mind to love any one; and it seemed
hard to be deserted in the moment of disgrace and sorrow by so close a
friend.
At school the next morning the various masters read out to their forms a
notice from Dr Rowlands, that the whole school were to meet at ten in
the great schoolroom. The object of the summons was pretty clearly
understood; and few boys had any doubt that it had reference to the
drinking on Saturday night. Still nothing had been _said_ on the
subject as yet; and every guilty heart among those 250 boys beat fast
lest _his_ sin too should have been discovered, and he should be called
out for some public and heavy punishment.
The hour arrived. The boys, thronging into the great schoolroom, took
their places according to their respective forms. The masters in their
caps and gowns were all seated on a small semicircular bench at the
upper end of the room, and in the centre of them, before a small table,
sate Dr Rowlands.
The sound of whispering voices sank to a dead and painful hush. The
blood was tingling consciously in many cheeks, and not even a breath
could be heard in the deep expectation of that anxious and solemn
moment.
Dr Rowlands spread before him the list of the school, and said, "I
shall first read out the names of the boys in the first-fifth and
upper-fourth forms."
This was done to ascertain formally whether the boys were present, on
whose account the meeting was convened; and it at once told Eric and
Wildney that _they_ were the boys to be punished, and that the others
had escaped.
The names were called over, and an attentive observer might have told,
from the sound of the boys' voices as they answered, which of them were
afflicted with a troubled conscience.
Another slight pause and breathless hush.
"Eric Williams and Charles Wildney, stand forward."
The boys obeyed. From his place in the fifth, where he was sitting with
his head propped on his hand, Eric rose and advanced; and Wildney, from
the other end of the room, where the younger boys sat, getting up, came
and stood by his side.
Both of them fixed their eyes on the ground, whence they never once
raised them; and in the deadly pallor of their haggard faces you could
scarcely have recognised the joyous high-spirited friends, whose laugh
and shout had often rung so merrily through the playground, and woke the
echoes of the rocks along the shore. Every eye was on them, and they
were conscious of it, though they could not see it--painfully conscious
of it, so that they wished the very ground to yawn beneath their feet
for the moment and swallow up their shame. Companionship in disgrace
increased the suffering; had either of them been alone, he would have
been less acutely sensible to the trying nature of his position; but
that they, so different in their ages and position in the school, should
thus have their friendship and the results of it blazoned, or rather
branded, before their friends and enemies, added keenly to the misery
they felt. So with eyes bent on the floor, Eric and Charlie awaited
their sentence.
"Williams and Wildney," said Dr Rowlands in a solemn voice, of which
every articulation thrilled to the heart of every hearer, "you have been
detected in a sin most disgraceful and most dangerous. On Saturday
night you were both drinking, and you were guilty of such gross excess,
that you were neither of you in a fit state to appear among your
companions--least of all to appear among them at the hour of prayer. I
shall not waste many words on an occasion like this; only I trust that
those of your school-fellows who saw you staggering and rolling into the
room on Saturday evening in a manner so unspeakably shameful and
degrading, will learn from that melancholy sight the lesson which the
Spartans taught their children by exhibiting a drunkard before them--the
lesson of the brutalising and fearful character of this most ruinous
vice. Eric Williams and Charles Wildney, your punishment will be public
expulsion, for which you will prepare this very evening. I am unwilling
that for a single day, either of you--especially the elder of you--
should linger, so as possibly to contaminate others with the danger of
so pernicious an example."
Such a sentence was wholly unexpected; it took boys and masters equally
by surprise. The announcement of it caused an uneasy sensation, which
was evident to all present, though no one spoke a word; but Dr Rowlands
took no notice of it, and only said to the culprits--
"You may return to your seats."
The two boys found their way back instinctively, they hardly knew how.
They seemed confounded and thunderstruck by their sentence, and the
painful accessories of its publicity. Eric leaned over the desk with
his head resting on a book, too stunned even to think; and Wildney
looked straight before him, with his eyes fixed in a stupid and
unobservant stare.
Form by form the school dispersed, and the moment he was liberated Eric
sprang away from the boys, who would have spoken to him, and rushed
wildly to his study, where he locked the door. In a moment, however, he
re-opened it, for he heard Wildney's step, and, after admitting him,
locked it once more.
Without a word Wildney, who looked very pale, flung his arms round
Eric's neck, and, unable to bear up any longer, burst into a flood of
tears. Both of them felt relief in giving the reins to their sorrow,
and silently satiating the anguish of their hearts.
"Oh, my father! my father!" sobbed Wildney at length, "what will he say?
He will disown me, I know; he is so stern always with me when he thinks
I bring disgrace on him."
Eric thought of Fairholm, and of his own far-distant parents, and of the
pang which _his_ disgrace would cause their loving hearts; but he could
say nothing, and only stroked Wildney's dark hair again and again with a
soothing hand.
They sat there long, hardly knowing how the time passed; Eric could not
help thinking how very very different their relative positions might
have been; how, while he might have been aiding and ennobling the young
boy beside him, he had alternately led and followed him into wickedness
and disgrace. His heart was full of misery and bitterness, and he felt
almost indifferent to all the future, and weary of his life.
A loud knocking at the door disturbed them. It was Carter, the
school-servant.
"You must pack up to go this evening, young gentlemen."
"Oh no! no! no!" exclaimed Wildney; "I _cannot_ be sent away like this.
It would break my father's heart. Eric, _do_ come and entreat Dr
Rowlands to forgive us only this once."
"Yes," said Eric, starting up with sudden energy; "he _shall_ forgive
us--_you_ at any rate. I will not leave him till he does. Cheer up,
Charlie, cheer up, and come along."
Filled with an irresistible impulse, he pushed Carter aside, and sprang
down stairs three steps at a time, with Wildney following him. They
went straight for the Doctor's study, and without waiting for the answer
to their knock at the door, Eric walked up to Dr Rowlands, who sate
thinking in his arm-chair by the fire, and burst out passionately, "Oh,
sir, forgive us, forgive us this once."
The Doctor was completely taken by surprise, so sudden was the
intrusion, and so intense was the boy's manner. He remained silent a
moment from astonishment, and then said with asperity--
"Your offence is one of the most dangerous possible. There could be no
more perilous example for the school, than the one you have been
setting, Williams. Leave the room," he added with an authoritative
gesture; "my mind is made up."
But Eric was too excited to be overawed by the master's manner; an
imperious passion blinded him to all ordinary considerations, and,
heedless of the command, he broke out again--
"Oh, sir, try me but once, _only_ try me. I promise you most faithfully
that I will never again commit the sin. Oh, sir, do, do trust me, and I
will be responsible for Wildney too."
Dr Rowlands, seeing that in Eric's present mood he must and would be
heard, unless he were ejected by actual force, began to pace silently up
and down the room in perplexed and anxious thought; at last he stopped
and turned over the pages of a thick school register, and found Eric's
name.
"It is not your first offence, Williams, even of this very kind. That
most seriously aggravates your fault."
"Oh, sir! give us one more chance to mend. Oh, I feel that I _could_ do
such great things, if you will but be merciful, and give me time to
change. Oh, I entreat you, sir, to forgive us only this once, and I
will never ask again. Let us bear _any_ other punishment but this. Oh,
sir," he said, approaching the Doctor in an imploring attitude, "spare
us this one time for the sake of our friends."
The head-master made no reply for a time, but again paced the room in
silence. He was touched, and seemed hardly able to restrain his
emotion.
"It was my deliberate conclusion to expel you, Williams. I must not
weakly yield to entreaty. You must go."
Eric wrung his hands in agony. "Oh, sir, then if you must do so, expel
me only, and not Charlie. _I_ can bear it, but do not let me ruin him
also. Oh, I implore you, sir, for the love of God, do, do forgive him!
It is I who have misled him," and he flung himself on his knees, and
lifted his hands entreatingly towards the Doctor.
Dr Rowlands looked at him--at his blue eyes drowned with tears, his
agitated gesture, his pale, expressive face, full of passionate
supplication. He looked at Wildney too, who stood trembling with a look
of painful and miserable suspense, and occasionally added his wild word
of entreaty, or uttered sobs more powerful still, that seemed to come
from the depth of his heart. He was shaken in his resolve, wavered for
a moment, and then once more looked at the register.
"Yes," he said, after a long pause, "here is an entry which shall save
you this time. I find written here against your name, `April 3. Risked
his life in the endeavour to save Edwin Russell at the Stack.' That one
good and noble deed shall be the proof that you are capable of better
things. It may be weak perhaps--I know that it will be called weak--and
I do not feel certain that I am doing right; but if I err it shall be on
the side of mercy. I shall change expulsion into some other punishment.
You may go."
Wildney's face lighted up as suddenly and joyously as when a ray of
sunlight gleams for an instant out of a dark cloud.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, sir," he exclaimed, drying his eyes, and
pouring into the words a world of expression, which it was no light
pleasure to have heard. But Eric spoke less impulsively, and while the
two boys were stammering out their deep gratitude, a timid hand knocked
at the door, and Vernon entered.
"I have come, sir, to speak for poor Eric," he said in a voice low and
trembling with emotion, as, with downcast eyes, he modestly approached
towards Dr Rowlands, not even observing the presence of the others in
the complete absorption of his feelings. He stood in a sorrowful
attitude, not venturing to look up, and his hand played nervously with
the ribbon of his straw hat.
"I have just forgiven him, my little boy," said the Doctor kindly,
patting his stooping head; "there he is, and he has been speaking for
himself."
"O Eric, I am so, so glad, I don't know what to say for joy. O Eric,
thank God that you are not to be expelled," and Vernon went to his
brother and embraced him with the deepest affection.
Dr Rowlands watched the scene with moist eyes. He was generally a man
of prompt decision, and he well knew that he would incur by this act the
charge of vacillation. It was a noble self-denial in him to be willing
to do so, but it would have required an iron heart to resist such
earnest supplications, and he was more than repaid when he saw how much
anguish he had removed by yielding to their entreaties.
Once more humbly expressing their gratitude, the boys retired.
They did not know that other influences had been also exerted in their
favour, which, although ineffectual at the time, had tended to alter the
Doctor's intention. Immediately after school Mr Rose had been strongly
endeavouring to change the Doctor's mind, and had dwelt forcibly on all
the good points in Eric's character, and the promise of his earlier
career. And Montagu had gone with Owen and Duncan to beg that the
expulsion might be commuted into some other punishment. They had failed
to convince him; but perhaps, had they not thus exerted themselves, Dr
Rowlands might have been unshaken, though he could not be unmoved, by
Vernon's gentle intercession and Eric's passionate prayers.
Wildney, full of joy, and excited by the sudden revulsion of feeling,
only shook Eric's hands with all his might, and then darted out into the
playground to announce the happy news. The boys all flocked round him,
and received the intelligence with unmitigated pleasure. Among them all
there was not one who did not rejoice that Eric and Wildney were yet to
continue of their number.
But the two brothers returned to the study, and there, sorrowful in his
penitence, with his heart still aching with remorse, Eric sat down on a
chair facing the window, and drew Vernon to his side. The sun was
setting behind the purple hills, flooding the green fields and silver
sea with the crimson of his parting rays. The air was full of peace and
coolness, and the merry sounds of the cricket-field blended joyously
with the whisper of the evening breeze. Eric was fond of beauty in
every shape, and his father had early taught him a keen appreciation of
the glories of nature. He had often gazed before on that splendid
scene, as he was now gazing on it thoughtfully with his brother by his
side. He looked long and wistfully at the gorgeous pageantry of quiet
clouds, and passed his arm more fondly round Vernon's shoulder.
"What are you thinking of, Eric? Why, I declare, you are crying still,"
said Vernon playfully, as he wiped away a tear which had overflowed on
his brother's cheek; "aren't you glad that the Doctor has forgiven you?"
"Gladder, far gladder than I can say, Verny. O Verny, Verny, I hope
your school-life may be happier than mine has been. I would give up all
I have, Verny, to have kept free from the sins I have learnt. God grant
that I may yet have time and space to do better."
"Let us pray together, Eric," whispered his brother reverently, and they
knelt down and prayed; they prayed for their distant parents and
friends; they prayed for their school-fellows and for each other, and
for Wildney, and they thanked God for all His goodness to them; and then
Eric poured out his heart in a fervent prayer that a holier and happier
future might atone for his desecrated past, and that his sins might be
forgiven for his Saviour's sake.
The brothers rose from their knees calmer and more light-hearted in the
beauty of holiness, and gave each other a solemn affectionate kiss,
before they went down again to the playground. But they avoided the
rest of the boys, and took a stroll together along the sands, talking
quietly and happily, and hoping bright hopes for future days.