In a well-ordered school there is naturally less scope for adventure
than in an ill-conducted one--such as Grangewood had become during poor
Mr Sanford's illness.
Dr Graham was strict and regular, but the boys were far happier than
they had ever been before. He encouraged games of every description,
and all sorts of athletic exercises. He had gymnastic poles erected; a
large swimming-place made, into which a stream of clear water, hitherto
of little use, was conducted. He had also some boats built, and
launched on a large lake in the neighbourhood, which became the constant
resort of the boys during the half-holidays in summer. He did not allow
them to boat, however, till they had learned to swim well, not only
without their clothes, but in them. They were instructed also by an old
sailor, who lived near Grangewood, not only in rowing, but in sailing a
boat. Here Digby, from the knowledge he had gained from Toby Tubb,
found himself superior to nearly all the other fellows.
He soon gained as much popularity among the boys who had come with Dr
Graham as among his former companions. This might have been a dangerous
circumstance, had it not been for the good counsels of Arthur Haviland,
who, whenever he could do so judiciously, entreated him not to assume on
the popularity he was gaining.
"If you do, my dear Digby," said Arthur, "I shall almost wish that such
a fellow as you describe Scarborough to be was here to bully you a
little every now and then. I am certain a long course of prosperity is
injurious to every one, unless he is reminded on how slight a tenure he
holds it, and learns both to appreciate and be grateful for it."
Hard as this lesson was to learn, Digby acknowledged its importance, and
did his best not to let pride get the better of him. Julian Langley,
not intentionally, perhaps, was continually trying to counteract the
good advice which Arthur gave him. Finding that he himself was sinking
down in the estimation of his schoolfellows, he thought that he might
help himself up again by clinging closer than he had for some time done
to Digby. He had found that it did not answer to attempt to lead him
directly to do what was wrong; so in order to regain his confidence, he
set to work to flatter him in every way he could think of. He was
continually saying, "My dear Digby, you know a popular fellow like you
can do anything. I wonder you read so hard; you have talents enough to
help you without that. Besides, what does an English country gentleman
want with reading?"
Digby was not altogether insensible to flattery; and though he did not
trust Julian, he did not exert himself to shake him off so completely as
it would have been wise for him to have done.
Dr Graham was not influenced by any narrow-minded, foolish prejudices,
and he took care that so strict a supervision should be exercised over
the boys from one end of the twenty-four hours to the other, that no
glaring malpractices could exist long undetected. Altogether, when the
end of the half came, and Digby went home once more for his holidays, he
gave so favourable a report of the school, that, supported in it as he
was by Arthur Haviland, Mr and Mrs Heathcote resolved to send Gusty
back with him. He had now, he felt, a very important responsibility
thrown upon him, and he resolved to fulfil it to the utmost of his
power.
Except for the sake of being with his parents and sisters, he could not
help confessing that he liked school as much as home, and in high
spirits, with little Gusty under his charge, he returned to Grangewood.
They had not been there long before Julian Langley made a dead set at
Gusty, as if he wished to establish himself as his protector and
counsellor. At first Digby scarcely perceived this; then, when he at
length saw Julian frequently doing something or other for Gusty, he
thought it was very kind in him to take so much pains about the little
fellow. It did not occur to him, indeed, that Julian was doing his
brother any harm, till one day Gusty made use of some expressions and
uttered some sentiments which he felt sure must have been learned from
Julian. Happily, his eyes were at once opened, and he felt that, if he
would save his brother from the contaminating influence of his own
former companion, he must withdraw him at once from his society. He
knew enough of human nature to be aware that if he at once denounced
Julian as a dangerous character, Gusty would, as the moth is to the
candle, very likely be attracted towards him, and he would probably have
answered--"Why may I not talk to him? He is a friend of yours, I
thought, and you don't seem to fancy that he can do you harm."
In his difficulty he went to Arthur Haviland, who undertook to speak to
Gusty, and to warn him against Julian.
Arthur did so at once. He was one of those people who feel that if a
thing is to be done, the sooner it is done the better.
Gusty cried at first, and seemed very unhappy, but at last acknowledged
that Julian had invited him to join some expedition or other, but that
he had not promised, because he thought that it was not quite right, but
that he feared he should, notwithstanding this, have ultimately done so.
"I will not ask you what it is," said Arthur; "but promise me that you
will not be tempted to have anything to do with the matter."
Gusty easily promised this, and Arthur was thankful that he had not
delayed speaking.
Gusty slept in his brother's room. Two nights after this, another boy
in the same room was seen to leave it with his shoes in his hands.
Digby was awake, but said nothing. He saw Gusty lift up his head. The
other boy as he passed him whispered, "little Sneak," and went on.
Gusty answered, "I am not; you had better stay." But his advice was
unheeded.
Digby could not conceive what was going to happen, but felt very glad
that Gusty had refused to join the expedition, or meeting, or whatever
it was which was taking place. He tried to keep awake to speak to
Hanson, the boy who had gone out, to ascertain what he had been doing,
and he was sorry that he had not attempted to stop him by dissuading him
from doing what he had proposed. At last, however, he fell asleep, and
as he did not awake till the bell rang, he had not time, after he was
dressed, to speak to Hanson. The second bell rang, and the boys hurried
into school.
After prayers Dr Graham stood up in his desk, looking very grave.
"I had wished," he said, "to abolish flogging in the school; but while
any of the boys are guilty not only of ungentlemanly but dishonest
conduct, I must retain the custom, as I fear that it is the only
punishment which they are likely to dread. I regret to say that seven
boys, of different ages, were guilty, last night, of going out of the
house, and of robbing the orchard of a neighbour. He saw them, counted
their numbers, traced them back here. He believes that he will be able
to identify some of them. Instead of severely punishing them on the
spot, as they deserved, he came here this morning and told me of the
circumstance, that I may deal with them as I judge right. Those who
were engaged in this notable exploit come forward and let me know what
you have to say for yourselves."
The Doctor ceased. There was a pause, then a slight shuffling of feet,
and six boys left their desks, and slowly, and with evident reluctance,
walked up to the Doctor.
"I understood that there were seven. I hope the seventh will soon make
his appearance."
The seventh, however, did not come up. The Doctor then asked the six
who pleaded guilty what induced them to commit the crime.
One said, because he liked apples; another replied, because he had been
asked by others; but four of them confessed that they did it simply
because they liked the excitement and danger of the exploit.
"I believe that you have all told me the truth," answered the Doctor.
"One I shall flog, to teach him that he must not allow his appetite to
tempt him to commit a crime; the next, that he must not consent to do
what is wrong because another asks him; and the other four, because they
evidently require to have it impressed on their minds that taking that
which does not belong to them is a crime both in the sight of God and
man. After breakfast, you six come into my room. And now I wish the
seventh culprit to come forward. I have given him time to consider what
he will do."
No one moved.
"Julian Langley, why do you not come forward?" said the Doctor, in a
stern voice.
"Sir, I know nothing about it," answered Julian, in a sharp, quick
voice.
"Whose shoe is this?" asked the Doctor. "Come here, sir, and tell me."
Julian was now compelled to come forward. He walked with an unabashed
air up to the Doctor's desk, casting a look either of triumph or scorn
at the boys who had confessed their crime.
"If that is my shoe, somebody may have dropped it, wherever it was
found," he observed, coolly.
"Did anybody carry away this knife, with your name engraved on it?"
asked the Doctor; "and how was it that you had only one shoe by your
bedside this morning, the fellow of this one, covered with mud of the
same colour?"
"Really, sir, those are difficult questions to answer just at present,"
replied Julian; "all I can say is, that I cannot account for the
circumstances you speak of."
"I would fain not believe you guilty of a direct falsehood, and I must,
therefore, conclude that the seventh thief who stole Mr Ladgrove's
apples is yet to be found," said the Doctor, gravely. "But mark me,
Julian Langley, I especially charge these six boys, if they have any
respect for truth and honesty, and I also charge the rest of the school,
not to speak to you, not to hold any communication with you, for at
least a month to come, if they know you to be guilty of the crime which
you now deny. I fix a month, because I hope during that time, if you
are guilty, and are so punished, you will repent of the crime of
stealing, as also of that of falsehood. Now, sir, go back to your
seat."
The six boys who were to be flogged sat by themselves, and did not
approach, or even look at, Julian Langley. Digby greatly feared that
Julian was guilty. He watched them anxiously. Hanson was one of them.
How grateful he felt that Gusty was not, and he resolved to watch over
him with greater care than he had before done.
After breakfast, the boys went to the Doctor's room to be flogged. They
came back into school looking very unhappy, as boys are apt to do who
have been thus castigated. The play hours came round, not one of them
went near Julian. He approached one of them after the other, but they
all, even little Hanson, walked away from him. Others besides Digby
were watching what would take place.
At length Arthur Haviland, Digby, Ranger, Newland and others called a
council, and agreed to inquire into the matter. Although the guilty
boys considered themselves in honour bound not to confess to any of the
masters, yet when questioned directly by their own companions, they at
once owned that Julian Langley had not only been with them, but was
actually the very instigator of the expedition. The consequence was,
that Julian was sent strictly to Coventry by the whole school.
During that whole month not a boy spoke to him. Every one knew him to
be guilty. He tried to get them to speak to him, and constantly spoke
to fellows, but no one would answer him. The Doctor considered that he
was sufficiently punished, and those who had been flogged said that they
would a hundred times rather be flogged and get it over, than undergo
the punishment he had endured. He did not, however, appear to feel the
disgrace, or the complete loss of his character. As soon as the month
was over, he spoke to every one, and tried to enter into conversation
with all who would talk to him. The Doctor, of course, knew all that
had occurred, and though he hoped that Julian would have been
sufficiently punished, he kept a very watchful eye over him.
At last the holidays again came round, and the Squire asked his boys if
they would like to invite Julian Langley to spend some of the time with
them.
"Oh, no, no," answered Digby, "on no account. I am sure Kate does not
like him; nor do I as I used to do, and he is not a good companion for
Gusty."
Digby was quite surprised how rapidly the holidays came round and round.
Home was very pleasant, but so was school, and it was difficult to say
at which the time passed the quickest. It had been intended that Digby
should be sent to Eton, but Squire Heathcote was so pleased with Dr
Graham's system, and the progress his boys made in every way, that he
resolved to let them remain on at Grangewood.
"People say that boys ought to be sent to public schools to get their
pride knocked out of them, to be taught manners, and to make
acquaintances who are likely to be useful to them in their future life,"
observed the Squire. "Now, I may honestly boast that my boys have no
pride to be knocked out of them, their manners are good, and I hope that
they will make their own way without having to depend on others."
So Digby and Gusty remained on at Grangewood, Dr Graham did his utmost
to merit the confidence placed in him. He devoted all his time and
thoughts not only to the mental instruction of his boys, but to making
them religious, and happy, and healthy, and true gentlemen, in the
fullest sense of the word. Julian Langley did not long remain at the
school. After the occurrence before described he had lost all
influence, as well as respect, in the school. Still he contrived to
lead some of the other boys into mischief, and was, at length, guilty of
acts which induced the Doctor finally to expel him. Digby continued
steadily and honestly to do his duty. He became very popular with the
masters as well as with his companions--even Mrs Pike acknowledged that
she little thought when he first came that he would turn out so well.
He was one of the chief leaders at all games and sports, and few
surpassed him in any of their athletic exercises, at the same time that
no one read harder, or made better progress than he did. At length he
rose to be the head of the school; and then, after a year spent partly
with Mr Nugent, and partly travelling with Arthur Haviland abroad, he
went to Cambridge, where Arthur already was. Here, though one of the
most active boating and cricketing men, he read steadily and
perseveringly, and finally, very much to his own surprise, when he took
his degree, came out as a wrangler, though not so high up in the list as
his friend Arthur Haviland had been the year before. [Note: a wrangler
is a person at Cambridge University who has passed their finals in
Mathematics with First Class Honours.] During the long vacation, just
before his last term, he was reading with Mr Nugent, when, one evening,
a knock was heard at the door, and the maid-servant came in to say that
a person wished to see the Rector. Mr Nugent went out, and there he
saw a stout, but pale-faced, ragged, altogether disreputable-looking
young man.
"What is it you want with me?" asked Mr Nugent, looking hard at him.
"What, don't even you know me?" asked the stranger, in a hoarse tone.
Again the Rector scanned his features. "No, indeed I do not," he
answered. "I think that you must be labouring under some mistake or
other."
"Indeed I am not," answered the stranger. "I know you, Mr Nugent,
perfectly, and you once knew me. If I was to tell you my name you might
be astonished, perhaps, for I was once a pupil of yours. My name is
Julian Langley."
"Julian Langley!" exclaimed Mr Nugent, starting up. "Are you brought
to this miserable condition? But would not your father--would not your
friends assist you?"
"My father has discarded me, and I have no friends--no one who cares for
me," answered Julian, bitterly. "I am suffering from hunger and thirst,
and am but half clothed, as you see. I must die if I am not relieved.
Will you help me?"
"I will. Come in; you shall have food at once," answered Mr Nugent.
"You will find an old friend here who will afford you, I know, his
sincerest sympathy, my nephew, Digby Heathcote."
"He will afford me his supercilious pity and contempt," muttered Julian.
"No, no, no," said Mr Nugent, kindly; "come in."
"Beggars must not be choosers," answered Julian, gruffly, following Mr
Nugent into the study.
Digby, till Mr Nugent mentioned his name, did not recognise Julian.
The moment he did, he sprang up, and putting out his hand pressed it
warmly; but Julian, turning away his head, received the greeting with
coldness and indifference.
"And how is it that you come to us in such a plight?" asked Mr Nugent,
after supper had been placed on the table, and Julian had done ample
justice to it. "I inquire, pray understand, not for simple curiosity,
but that I may the better be able to help you."
"Thank you," answered Julian, filling a tumbler half full of brandy from
a spirit-case which stood on the table, and tossing off the contents.
"Oh, I have gone through all sorts of wonderful adventures. I have been
out in Spain, fighting for the Constitutionalists against Don Carlos,
but I got more kicks than half-pence there; and then I was shipwrecked;
and, finally, I have been leading a somewhat vagabond life about
England. I turned actor for a time, but the characters given me were
not very exalted, and I quarrelled with the manager, who was a brute,
and left the company. Not a very lucid account of myself; but, at all
events, here I am without a farthing in my purse, or rather, without
even a purse to put a farthing in if I had one." And with a look of
despair he turned his pockets inside out, and leant back in his chair.
Both Mr Nugent and Digby were silent. They felt sure that his own
misconduct had brought him to his present condition, and yet they were
unwilling to hint to him that such was the case. In the meantime he
once more leaned forward, and again helped himself largely from the
spirit-case. Mr Nugent and Digby looked at each other. They had no
difficulty in guessing the cause of his present condition. Some
conversation ensued with the unhappy young man, but they could scarcely
hope that they were eliciting the truth from him. There was no bed for
him in the house. He said that he infinitely preferred sleeping at the
inn. Against his better judgment, perhaps, as he was leaving the house,
Mr Nugent kindly put a five-pound note into his hand. The next day he
did not appear, and Digby set off into the town to look for him. He was
told that he was at the inn, in his room. He found him with a spirit
bottle by his side, sitting on the floor, and perfectly unconscious.
Digby, begging the people of the house, who were but too well accustomed
to such events, to put him to bed, left the place, feeling that he could
then do nothing for him. The next day, when Digby went back to the inn,
the landlord said that he had left it altogether, because he had refused
to supply him with more liquor. Digby, determining to make another
attempt to rescue him from destruction, on inquiry, found that he had
gone on to a neighbouring town. There he followed him, and there he
found him in the same condition as before, having spent the whole of Mr
Nugent's liberal gift. Digby waited till he had recovered his senses,
spoke to him earnestly and kindly, entreating him to abandon his evil
courses. At last Julian said that he had one aunt who would, he knew,
could he reach her house, try and reconcile him to his father, and that
he had resolved firmly to reform. Digby instantly offered him ten
pounds, urging him to set off without delay to his relative's house.
Thus the former friends, who had started together in life with such
equal advantages, parted.
Digby in vain waited to hear from Julian. He never reached his
relative's house. Nearly a year after that, Digby heard of his death in
a hospital, of _delirium tremens_, a most horrible complaint, brought on
by excessive drinking.
A couple of years after Arthur Haviland left College, the papers
announced his marriage with Katharine, third daughter of Digby
Heathcote, Esq, of Bloxholme, etc.
"I am truly thankful that my dear, dear little sister Kate has married
so excellent a fellow," wrote Digby to an old friend, when speaking of
the event. "What a contrast to that wretched being, Julian Langley,
whom my father and his had once intended for her. I have known Arthur
for a number of years. He is, and he always was as a boy, a thoroughly
high-principled, honourable fellow, a sincere, pious Christian, and as
kind-hearted, sensible, and judicious as any person I have ever met. I
am convinced of the truth of the saying that `the boy is the father of
the man.' I have had many proofs of it in my experience, and I should
always strongly recommend my friends to reflect what their friends were
as boys before they introduce them to their families, and especially to
their sisters, whose jealous guardians they should ever endeavour to
prove."
No one laboured harder to prepare the triumphal arches to welcome Miss
Kate, as he called her, on her first visit to Bloxholme after the event
mentioned above, than did John Pratt, and curious were the presents he
had prepared for her, most of which might have suited her early tastes,
but certainly not her present ones. Among other things were two young
kittens, a litter of ferrets, four pigeons, a flitch of bacon--this was
given, as he said, in advance--a puppy, and a nest of young owlets. He
continues as active as ever, and the constant attendant on Digby in all
rural sports whenever the young heir pays a visit to his home.
Toby Tubb, though grown somewhat fatter, still follows his calling on
the river; and Digby, whenever he goes to Osberton in the summer, seldom
fails to take a pull or a sail in his boat.
Though the companions of his boyhood are scattered far and wide over the
face of the globe, he keeps up a frequent correspondence with many of
them, and he has the satisfaction of finding that his honest,
courageous, straightforward character has secured that sincere
friendship and respect which neither distance nor time lessens or
alters.
May all the readers of Digby Heathcote's early life endeavour to deserve
and maintain the same character; and if his example induces any to
imitate it who might otherwise have taken a different course, the author
will be truly glad that he committed this history to paper.