FALLEN AMONG THIEVES
Why insist on rash personal relations with your friend? Why go to his
house, or know his mother and brother and sisters? Why be visited by
him at your own? Are these things material to our covenant? Leave this
touching and clawing. Let him be to me a spirit.--EMERSON.
Malcolm Herrick was a devout disciple of Emerson. He always spoke of
him as one of the master minds that dominated humanity. "He is the
chosen Gamaliel at whose feet I could sit for ever," he would say; "on
every subject he speaks well and wisely;" and once, when he was
strolling through Kensington Gardens with his sister-friend, Anna
Sheldon, he had electrified her by quoting a favourite passage from his
essay on friendship.
"Friendship requires that rare mean betwixt likeness and unlikeness
that piques each with the presence of power and of consent in the other
party. Let me be alone to the end of the world, rather than that my
friend should overstep, by a word or look, his real sympathy. I am
equally baulked by antagonism and by compliance. Let him not cease an
instant to be himself.... Better be a nettle in the side of your friend
than his echo."
Malcolm had uttered the last sentence in rather a tragic tone, but he
was somewhat offended when the girl laughed. "What an odd idea!" she
observed innocently. "I should strongly object to anything so stinging
as a nettle; perhaps it is because I am a woman that I should prefer
the echo;" but Malcolm, who had received a douche of cold water from
this feminine criticism, declined to be drawn into a discussion on the
subject.
"Women are so illogical," he muttered angrily, and Anna's heaven of
content was suddenly clouded. Malcolm's approval was vitally necessary
to her happiness--a chilling word from him had power to spoil the
fairest landscape and blot out the sunshine; nevertheless she took her
rebuff meekly and without retort.
A mere chance, an accident in the destinies of both men, had brought
about this acquaintance between Malcolm Herrick and Cedric Templeton.
The vice-president of Magdalene was an old friend of the Herrick
family, and was indeed distantly related to Mrs. Herrick; and after
Malcolm had taken his degree and left Lincoln, he often spent a week or
two with Dr. Medcalf. He was an old bachelor, and one of the most
sociable of men, and his rooms were the envy of his friends. Malcolm
was a great favourite with him, and was always welcome when he could
spare time to run down for a brief visit.
About two years before, he was spending a few days with his friend,
when one evening as he was strolling down Addison's Walk in the
gloaming, his attention was attracted by a young undergraduate. He was
seated on a bench with his head in his hands; but at the sound of
passing footsteps he moved slightly, and Malcolm caught sight of a
white boyish face and haggard eyes that looked at him a little wildly;
then he covered his face again. Malcolm walked on a few steps; his kind
heart was shocked at the lad's evident misery, but to his reserved
nature it was never easy to make the first advance; indeed, he often
remarked that he had rather a fellow-feeling with the Levite who passed
by on the other side.
"I daresay he was sorry for the poor traveller in his heart," he
observed, "but it takes a deal of moral courage to be a Good Samaritan;
it is not easy for a shy man, for example, to render first aid to a
poor chap with a fractured limb in the middle of a crowd of
sympathising bystanders--one's self-consciousness and British hatred of
a scene seem to choke one off."
So, true to his diffident nature, Malcolm walked to the other end of
Addison's Walk; then something seemed to drag at him, and he retraced
his steps slowly and reluctantly; finally, as though constrained by
some unseen power that overmastered his reserve, he sat down on the
bench and touched the youth lightly on the arm.
"You are in trouble, I fear; is there anything I can do to help you?"
The words were simple almost to bluntness, but they were none the worse
for that, for they rang true from a good heart.
Malcolm's voice was pleasant; when he chose, it could be both winning
and persuasive; to the lad sitting there in the Egyptian darkness of a
terrifying despair, it sounded honey-sweet. He put out a hot hand to
his new friend, and then broke into a fit of tears and sobs. "Oh, can
you help me?" he gasped out. "I wanted to drown or hang myself, sooner
than disgrace them; only I thought of Dinah and I couldn't do it;" and
then as he grew calmer a little judicious questioning and a few more
kind words brought out the whole story.
He had fallen into bad hands; two or three men older and richer than
himself had got hold of him for their own purposes, and had led him
into mischief. The culminating misfortune had happened the previous
evening, when they had induced him to play at cards; the stakes were
high, though the boy was too much fuddled by champagne to guess that.
"They made me drunk, sir," groaned Cedric; "and there was a
professional sharper there--Wright has just told me so--and he will not
let me off. If they found out things at headquarters I should be
rusticated, and I am only in my first term. The Proctor has vowed to
make an example of the next fellow caught gambling, and they say he
always keeps his word."
"How much do you owe?" asked Malcolm; and when Cedric in a low voice
mentioned the sum, Malcolm gave a whistle of dismay. No wonder he was
in despair.
"If I had not drunk too much, I should have stopped playing when I saw
I was losing," went on Cedric in a contrite tone; "but they plied me
with liquor, and I got reckless, and then I knew no more till I found
myself in bed with my clothes on."
Cedric was not shirking the truth certainly. The young prodigal already
realised the nature of the husks given to him; he was so low and abject
in his abasement that a word of rebuke would have seemed cruel. One
thing was certain, that matters were serious--gambling and drunkenness
were no light offences.
Malcolm had already been put into possession of the youth's domestic
history. His name was Cedric Templeton; his parents were dead, and he
was dependent on his half-sisters; his father had had heavy losses, and
Cedric's inheritance had been small. The first Mrs. Templeton had
brought her husband great wealth, but the money had been settled on the
daughters. Mr. Templeton's second wife was a penniless girl. She had
died two or three years after Cedric's birth, and Dinah, the elder
sister, had mothered him.
"You must put a good face on it and write to your sister," continued
Malcolm. "If you take my advice, Templeton, you will keep nothing
back--' the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth'--and
hang the consequences." Malcolm finished his sentence with a touch of
impatience, for the boy's scared face almost frightened him.
"No, no, no!" returned Cedric vehemently. "I would sooner drown myself
a hundred times over. Look here," plucking at Malcolm's coat-sleeve
with his feverish, restless hand, "you don't understand--you don't know
Dinah; she would break her heart, and Elizabeth too. They are such good
women, they don't allow for a fellow's temptation; and--and I have
broken my word."
"How do you mean, my dear lad?"
"I gave them my sacred promise not to play for money. I don't know why
Dinah was always so afraid of that. They never thought of the other
thing," and Cedric hung his head in shame--"they would not believe it
was possible; it was always debt and not paying one's bills that Dinah
feared."
"Your sister was right, Templeton," returned Malcolm somewhat sternly.
"Wait a moment, I must think over things and see what is to be done;"
and then he rose from the bench and paced slowly up and down. "A
hundred and twenty pounds lost in a single night to a professional
card-sharper," he thought. "The rogues ought to be shown up, only this
would involve the end of the lad's university career." Malcolm knew the
Proctor well--not even a first offence would receive a merciful verdict.
If only the boy would throw himself upon his sisters' compassion--women
were so soft-hearted and forgave so easily. But Cedric had refused
this; he had even used strong language when his adviser pressed it.
"Obstinate young beggar," he growled; "it would serve him right to let
him get out of the mess by himself;" and then he relented from his
severity, and rapidly added up some sums in his head. The result of his
calculation was satisfactory. He had just that amount lying idle at his
banker's. His mother made him a liberal allowance, and he was beginning
to turn an honest penny by literary work. At that time he was still an
occupant of his mother's house, so his expenses were not great.
"Yes, I will risk it," he thought, with one of those sudden impulses
that took other people as well as himself by surprise, and then he
walked quickly up to Cedric.
"Look here, Templeton," he exclaimed, "I have made up my mind to go
bail for the whole amount. It is too late now to do anything, but
to-morrow I will see those fellows and give them a bit of my mind. Your
friend the card-sharper will have to make tracks. Anyhow, I will pay
up."
"Good heavens, Mr. Herrick, you don't mean--you don't mean;" but here
Cedric could not utter a word more, for his voice was choked with sobs.
Malcolm could just gather a few incoherent
expressions--"benefactor"--"God bless him"--"eternal gratitude," or
some such phrases.
"Tut, nonsense," returned Malcolm testily; but his eyes were not quite
clear, and he laid a kindly hand on the boy's shoulder. "I want no
thanks, only you must promise me, on your word as an English gentleman,
never to play for money as long as you are here."
"I promise--I will vow if you like--there is nothing--nothing that I
would not promise you. Mr. Herrick, you have saved me from disgrace,
and Dinah from a broken heart."
"Hush, hush!"
"No, please let me say one thing more. It is a loan--of course I
understand that; it may be years before I pay it back, but if I live it
shall be paid back, every penny."
"Oh, we can talk about that in the future," returned Malcolm quickly.
He had little hope that Cedric would ever be able to repay him.
"It shall be paid," replied the lad firmly. "My sisters are very good
to me--and I have more than I need;" and Malcolm's good sense and
knowledge of human nature made him hold his tongue.
It would be a pity to damp the lad's good resolution, and probably the
small sacrifices and petty self-denials necessary to the settlement of
the debt would be valuable training, and help to make a man of him; so
he said nothing further on the subject, and a few minutes later they
parted.
Malcolm kept his promise, and before the next day was over he had paid
Cedric's debt of honour, with a stern word of caution to his tempters
that turned them chill with dismay.
From this day Cedric attached himself to his benefactor with a dog-like
fidelity and devotion that secretly touched Malcolm. During the
latter's brief visits to Oxford they were seldom apart; and in spite of
the disparity between their ages, and the marked difference in their
tastes, a warm mutual attachment sprang up between the two. Malcolm was
soon put in possession of Cedric's history and manner of life from his
boyhood; he listened to copious anecdotes of his home and school-days.
He was soon made aware of Cedric's crowning ambition to take part in
the Oxford and Cambridge race, and that this honour was the dream and
purpose of his life.
His other purpose, to compete for the Civil Service Examination at the
close of his university life, seemed relegated to the background and
scarcely entered into his thoughts at all; and though Malcolm dropped a
warning word from time to time, he dared not put too much pressure on
the lad, for he recognised intuitively how body and mind were
developing under an athlete's training. Cedric's fame as an oarsman
soon reached the ears of authority, and at the time of his visit to
Lincoln's Inn it was already a foregone conclusion that his name would
be entered for the next race.
They talked of this for some time; and then, as the storm still raged,
Malcolm handed his visitor his own copy of the Times, and sat down to
answer one or two pressing letters. As soon as these were finished and
Malachi had received his instructions for the next day, he tilted his
chair back from the table and disposed himself comfortably for further
talk.
But first there was a little dumb-show on Cedric's part; for he drew
from his breast-pocket a Russian leather cigarette-case and held it out
with a significant smile. But Malcolm waved it away.
"Avaunt, Satanus," he said with dignity. "Are you aware, my dear
fellow, that you are in a place of business--a venerable institution
sacred to the Muses--and that I have to live up to my reputation?"
"Oh, I thought you were boss of the whole concern," returned Cedric in
a discomfited tone. "You are pretty safe from visitors on such an
afternoon."
"Even if there are no clients, we have a minor prophet always on hand,"
replied Malcolm.
Then Cedric laughed.
"Mealy Murphy! Oh my prophetic soul, I forgot the youthful Malachi. I
say, Herrick, I was just thinking, as you were writing just now, how
odd it seems that I have known you just two years, and you have never
been near the Wood House yet."
"It has not been for want of invitations," returned his friend with a
smile. "Don't you remember that when you first kindly asked me I had
arranged to take my mother abroad, and the next time I was going to
Scotland with a friend?"
"Oh yes, and the third time you were moving into your new diggings in
Cheyne Walk." Cedric spoke with a touch of impatience.
"But we have often met at Oxford," observed Malcolm smilingly. And then
he coloured slightly and continued in an embarrassed voice, "I am
afraid, my dear fellow, that you have rather wondered that you have not
been invited to No. 27 Queen's Gate; but, as I once explained to you,
the house belongs to my mother."
"Just as the Wood House belongs to Dinah and Elizabeth," returned
Cedric.
"Ah, just so; but there is a difference. My mother is not quite like
other ladies. Her life, and I may say the greater part of her fortune,
are devoted to charitable objects. If I had invited you to stay with us
you would have been simply bored to death. Amusement, social
obligations, the duties we owe to society, do not belong to my mother's
creed at all. If I might borrow a word from a renowned novelist, I
would call her 'a charitable grinder,' for she grinds from morning till
night at a never-ceasing wheel of committees, meetings, and Heaven
knows what besides."
"She reminds me of the immortal Mrs. Jellyby," observed Cedric airily;
but Malcolm shook his head.
"No, there is no resemblance. My mother is a clear-headed, practical
woman. She manages her house herself, and the domestic machinery goes
like clockwork. The servants know their duty and do their work well;
and I have heard our old nurse say that one could eat off the floor;
but in spite of all this the word 'comfort' does not enter my mother's
vocabulary."
"Good gracious! Herrick."
"She has splendid health," continued Malcolm gravely, "and work is a
perfect passion with her. She is energy incarnate, and among her
fellow-workers she is much respected. Unfortunately she expects her
belongings to live up to her standard." Here Malcolm paused.
"You mean Miss Sheldon has to work too?" observed Cedric.
"Yes, I mean that," returned Malcolm slowly. "She is very fond of my
mother--they are much attached to each other--but there is no doubt
that Anna works too hard. You can see now," he went on hurriedly, "why
I thought it better to take rooms for myself. I was not in sympathy
with my mother's pursuits; and when I left Oxford I soon began to
realise that life was impossible under my mother's roof. The separation
was painful to us both, and it nearly broke Anna's heart, but at the
present moment I do not think that any of us repents of my action."
"You are all right now, Herrick?"
"Yes, I am all right, as you will see for yourself on Friday. My crib
just suits me. I have excellent companionship when I want it, or
solitude if I prefer it, and though life at Cheyne Walk is a trifle
Bohemian after Queen's Gate, I would not exchange it for a palace."
"I am so glad to hear you say that. But, Herrick, I begin to be afraid,
don't you know, that you will find the Wood House slow. Of course I
think no end of my sisters; but you see they are not young."
"So I imagine," returned Malcolm, who was secretly disposed to agree
with Cedric. Two maiden ladies of uncertain age might be endeared to
their brother; but Malcolm, who was rather fastidious on the subject of
female beauty, was not over-anxious to cultivate their acquaintance.
"Dinah is much older than Elizabeth," continued Cedric confidentially.
"There were two or three brothers and sisters between them, only they
died. She is over forty, you know, and Elizabeth is nearly thirty.
There is a good bit of difference--only she never makes herself out
young. You will be sure to like them," went on the lad eagerly; "they
are good women, and just your sort."
"Oh, I daresay we shall get on first-rate," returned Malcolm
mendaciously, for he was anything but certain of it. "Hallo, old
fellow," interrupting himself, "the storm is over and we can make
tracks now." And then they went out together.
As they parted at the Temple station, Cedric pushed a little sealed
packet into his friend's hand.
"It is the first instalment," he whispered, growing very red; "don't
open it till you get back." But Malcolm's curiosity would not allow him
to wait; and when Cedric had disappeared into the station he broke the
seal. To his surprise there were fifty pounds in notes and gold, the
saving and scrapings of two years.
"Good lad," he murmured approvingly, as he stowed it carefully away in
a breast-pocket, and a thrill of pride and pleasure shot through him.
Yes, he must keep it, he thought; he could not affront his young
manliness and independence by returning it. "It is what I should have
done in his case," he said to himself. And then he thought that he
would lay out part in buying a keepsake for Anna. There was a little
brooch she had much admired, a mere toy of a thing, a tiny quiver full
of arrows, studded with small diamonds and tipped with a pearl. The
shop where they had noticed it was close by, and he would buy it at
once. But as Malcolm hurried off on this kindly errand he little
realised what the joy of that possession would be to Anna Sheldon.