Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "His eyes were greedily fixed on the book; then he would
write a little, then look again, then write again. He was
cribbing."--WILTON SCHOOL, page 33.]
WILTON SCHOOL:
OR,
HARRY CAMPBELL'S REVENGE.
A Tale.
BY
FRED. E. WEATHERLY, B.A.,
AUTHOR OF "MURIEL, AND OTHER POEMS."
EDINBURGH:
W. P. NIMMO, HAY, & MITCHELL
1872
[Transcriber's note: In the original book, each page had its own
header. In this e-book, each chapter's headers have been collected
into an introductory paragraph at the start of that chapter.]
TO
My Little Brothers,
ALFRED, ARTHUR, HERBERT,
LEWIS, AND CECIL,
I DEDICATE
THIS TALE.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I.--A LONG GOOD-BYE
II.--WHY THE SAD GOOD-BYE WAS GIVEN
III.--SAD INFORMATION
IV.--WILTON SCHOOL
V.--MOTHER AND SON
VI.--INJURED INNOCENCE
VII.--A BOY FIGHT AT SCHOOL
VIII.--FRIENDS IN MISFORTUNE
IX.--HARRY PUT ON TRIAL
X.--SUNLIGHT
XI.--MOVING HOME
XII.--BULLYING
XIII.--FLIGHT
XIV.--AT SLEEP AT LAST
XV.--THE BITERS BIT
XVI.--BLEWCOME'S ROYAL MENAGERIE
XVII.--THE LOST FOUND
XVIII.--FATHER AND SON
XIX.--AT WILTON ONCE MORE
XX.--AVENGED AT LAST
ILLUSTRATIONS
"His eyes were greedily fixed on the book; then he would
write a little, then look again, then write again. He
was cribbing." . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"'Leave him to me,' said Warburton, a tall ungainly boy of
fourteen, as boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel
to himself."
"There he was, safe on the ground at last."
"He never uttered a word, but ate his breakfast, and enjoyed
it thoroughly."
WILTON SCHOOL
CHAPTER I.
A LONG GOOD-BYE.
Gathering shadows--Harry's wonder--Ambiguous--A long good-bye--The
anchor's weighed.
It was a sad evening in the little farm by the church of Wilton, yet
very sweet and summer-like without. Very sad it was in the low, dim,
oak-panelled parlour, whose diamonded window looked across the quiet
churchyard, with its swinging wicket, its gravel-path beneath green
aisles of lindens, and all the countless
"Grassy barrows of the happier dead."
Very sad were those three sitters in the summer twilight, there, at the
farm; for a good-bye had to be said--a long, long farewell between that
weeping pale woman, and the stout sailor, her husband. And Harry,
their blue-eyed, sunny-haired boy, did not understand what it all
meant;--why papa did not cheer mamma with hopes of soon coming home
again--why mamma did not try to console herself by saying, over and
over, that he would soon come back, as she always used in the old days
when papa had to go to sea. She had never cried so bitterly before,
although these good-byes had come so often. And now it made her cough;
she seemed scarcely to have strength to cry. And papa, who was always
so brave and stern, why was it even he could not stop the tears from
rolling down his bronzed cheeks? And so Harry sat in the window-seat,
quite unable to understand the meaning of all the sorrow, and looked
out of the window at the farmer's wife nursing her last baby in the
orchard, and then at the old sexton in the churchyard throwing up the
red earth, and wondered why he always whistled such a jovial tune,
while he himself felt so sad.
And the evening drew on over the straggling village, weary with its
long day's work. The last loaded waggon had passed down the lane by
the farm; the last troop of tired hay-makers had trudged gaily
homewards; and with the deepening dusk the winds grew cooler, blowing
in fresh, along the valley, from the sea.
And, all this while, poor Harry sat with his face pressed closely
against the window-pane; and his papa and mamma, apparently unheeding
him, sat talking in the far dim corner of the room, while ever anon her
great sobs broke the train of comforting words her husband strove to
utter.
Presently, he got up, moved to the window, and without saying a word,
took Harry's hand and led him across the room to his mother's side.
Then his faltering lips said:
"Harry, my boy, mamma is going away soon--before I come back;--I shall
not see her again."
"Not see her again, papa?" cried Harry in amazement. "And why is mamma
going away, with her cough so bad, too?"
"Mamma's cough won't trouble her long, my boy. You'll take care of her
for me, won't you, Harry? and see her safe off on her journey?"
He spoke very quietly now; but if he had not used those ambiguous
sentences, he would have broken down, he knew.
And then the good-bye was said. He kissed Harry tenderly, and then
gathered his weeping wife to his breast. And with an earnest "God
guard you!" that well-nigh seemed to break the bursting heart from
whence the words arose, he moved quickly from the room. So it was all
over now! The long good-bye had been said.
"Take care of her and the boy, Mrs Valentine," he said to the farmer's
wife, as she came hurrying up from the orchard to see him before he
left, "and God will reward you. It will not be for long, I fancy. The
boy must stay with you till I come back."
"I will, I will sir; bless her dear heart!" the farmer's wife cried,
while the tears started to her eyes. "Poor soul, poor soul!" she
murmured after him, as he passed bravely down the lane, villagewards.
And there, in the little farm by the church, sat the pale wife weeping
over her wondering boy, while the shadows of the summer night stole
ghost-like over the lands, till the window was but a faint dim square
in the sad darkness that was within.
That night the Queen's good ship "Thunderer" weighed anchor from the
roadstead where she had been lying off Wilton, and with canvass
stretched, and engines at full speed, swung down the Bristol channel on
the ebb tide, to join the flying squadron on a six months' cruise. And
though many a heart, of seamen and officer alike, felt heavy at parting
from sweetheart or wife, in none was there the dull, hopeless agony
that dwelt behind the stern face of Chief-engineer Campbell, as he
talked on deck with his fellow-officers, or issued his orders to his
men below.