Page79 the Doctor Makes a Discovery
“Don't let me disturb you—I only came to look for my eye-glass, which I think I must have dropped”.
“I see it, sir,” said I, springing forward and picking it up; “how lucky none of us happened to tread on it and break it!”
“Thank you, Fairlegh, it is an old friend, and I should have been sorry to have any harm happen to it,” replied he, as he turned to leave the room, without having once raised his eyes from the ground. Coleman, who up to this moment had considered a discovery inevitable, gave me a sign to open the door, and, believing the danger over, was proceeding to relieve his feelings by making a hideous face at his retiring tutor, when the bookcase, affected no doubt by the additional weight placed upon it, suddenly gave a loud crack.
“Bless my heart,” said Dr. Mildman, looking up in alarm, “what's that? Gracious me!” continued he, starting back as his eyes encountered Coleman, “there's something alive up there! why it's—eh?” continued he, levelling his newly restored eye-glass at the object of hisalarm; “yes, it certainlyisColeman; pray, sir, is it usually your 'custom of an afternoon,' as Shakspeare has it, to sit perched up there cross-legged, like a Chinese mandarin? It's a very singular taste.”
“Why, sir,” replied Coleman, for once completely taken aback, “you see I didn't—that is, I wasn't—I mean, if I hadn't—I shouldn't.”
“Hum,” resumed Dr. Mildman, with whom he was rather a favourite, and who, now that he had satisfied himself it was not some wild animal he had to deal with, was evidently amused by Coleman's embarrassment, “that sentence of yours is not particularly clear or explanatory; but,” continued he, as a new idea occurred to him, “how in the world did you get up there? you must have flown.”
“I didn't get up, I was—that is, he——” stammered
Coleman, remembering just in time that he could not explain without involving Oaklands.
“And how are you ever to get down again?” said Dr. Mildman.
“Has the pretty bird flown yet?” cried Oaklands, hastily entering the room; when, observing the addition the party had received during his absence, he started back, murmuring in an under tone, “The old gentleman, by Jove!” Quickly recovering himself, however, he sprang upon a chair, and, seizing Coleman in his arms, whisked him down with more haste than ceremony; and going up to Dr. Mildman said respectfully, “That was a bit of folly of mine, sir; I put him up there; I merely did it for a joke, and I hadn't an idea you would come in and find him”.
“Never mind,” replied Dr. Mildman, good-naturedly, “as you have contrived to get him down again safely there is no harm done;” adding as he left the room, “that young man is as strong as Hercules. I hope he'll never take it into his head to pop me up anywhere, for I am sure he could do it if he chose.”
“Play not for gain but sport; who plays for moreThan he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart.”—Herbert.“If you are so bold as to venture a blowing-up, look closelyto it! for the plot lies deadly deep... but of all things havea care of putting it in your pocket,... and if you can shunit, read it not;... consider well what you do, and lookto yourself,... for there is danger and jeopardy in it.”——Dr. Eachard.
IN the course of my walk that afternoon I called at the billiard-rooms in F—— Street, in order to pay Oaklands' subscription. On inquiring for Mr. Johnson, the proprietor, I was told that he was engaged at present, but that if I did not mind waiting for a few minutes, he would be able to attend to me. To this I agreed, and was shown into a small room downstairs, which, from its sanded floor, and a strong odour of stale tobacco which pervaded it, was apparently used as a smoking-room. It opened into what seemed to be a rather spacious apartment from which it was divided by a glass half-door, across the lower panes of which hung a green blind: this door, on my entrance, was standing slightly ajar. The day being cold, there was a bright fire burning on the hearth; near this I seated myself, and, seduced by its drowsy influence, fell into a kind of trance, in which, between sleeping and waking, my mind wandered away to a far different scene, among well-known forms and familiar faces that had been strangers to me now for many a long day. From this day-dream I was aroused by sounds, which, proceeding from the adjoining apartment, resolved themselves, as I became more thoroughly awake, into the voices of two persons apparently engaged in angry colloquy.
“I tell you,” said a gruff voice, which somehow seemed familiar to me—“I tell you it is the only chance for you; you must contrive to bring him here again, and that without loss of time.”
“Must I again repeat that the thing is impossible?” was the reply, in tones I knew but too well; “utterly impossible; when once his mind is made up, and he takes the trouble to exert himself, he is immovable; nothing can shake his determination.”
“And is this your boasted skill and management?”rejoined the first speaker; “how comes it, pray, that this overgrown child, who seemed the other day to be held as nicely in leading-strings as need be—this raw boy, whose hot-headedness, simplicity, and indolence rendered him as easy a pigeon to pluck as one could desire; how comes it, I say, that he has taken alarm in this sudden manner, so as to refuse to come here any more? you've bungled this matter most shamefully, sir, and must take the consequences.”
“That's just the point I cannot make out,” replied the second speaker, who, as the reader has probably discovered, was none other than Cumberland; “it's easy enough for you to lay it all to my mismanagement, Captain Spicer, but I tell you it is no such thing; did I not accommodate my play to his, always appearing to win by some accident, so that the fool actually believed himself the better player, while he was losing from twenty to thirty pounds a day? Didn't I excite him, and lead him on by a mixture of flattery and defiance, so that he often fancied he was persuading me to play against my will, and was so ready to bet that I might have won three times what I have of him, if you had not advised me to go on quietly, and by degrees? Did not you refuse when I wished you to take him in hand yourself, because you said I understood him best, and managed him admirably? No, I believe that detestable young Fairlegh is at the bottom of it: I observed him watching me with that calm, steadfast glance of his, that I hated him for from the first moment I saw him; I felt certain some mischief would arise from it.”
“Yes!” replied Spicer, “that was your fault too: why did you let the other bring him; every fool knows that lookers-on see most of the game.”
“I was afraid to say much against it, lest Oaklands should suspect anything,” rejoined Cumberland; “but I wish to Heaven I had now; I might have been sure no good would come from it—that boy is my evil genius.”
“I have no time for talking about geniuses, and such confounded stuff,” observed Spicer, angrily, “so now to business, Mr. Cumberland: you are aware you owe me two hundred pounds, I presume?”
Cumberland grumbled out an unwilling assent, to which he appended a muttered remark not exactly calculated to enhance the Captain's future comfort.
“Like a good-natured fool,” continued Spicer, “I agreed to wait for my money till you had done what you could with this Oaklands.”
“For which forbearance you were to receive fiftypounds extra, besides anything you could make out of him by private bets,” put in Cumberland.
“Of course I was not going to wait all that time for my money for nothing,” was the reply; “you have only as yet paid me fifty pounds, you tell me you can't persuade Oaklands to play again, so there's nothing more to be got from that quarter, consequently nothing more to wait for. I must trouble you, therefore, to pay me the two hundred pounds at once; for, to be plain with you, it won't do for me to remain here any longer—the air does not agree with my constitution.”
“And where on earth am I to get two hundred pounds at a minute's notice?” said Cumberland; “you are as well aware the thing is impossible as I am.”
“I am aware of this, sir,” replied the Captain with an oath, “that I'll have my money; ay, and this very day too, or I'll expose you—curse me if I don't. I know your uncle's address: yes! you may well turn pale, and gnaw your lip—other people can plot and scheme as well as yourself: if I'm not paid before I leave this place, and that will be by to-night's mail, your uncle shall be told that his nephew is an insolvent gambler; and the old tutor, the Rev. Dr. Mildman, shall have a hint that his head pupil is little better than a blackleg.”
“Now listen to me, Spicer,” said Cumberland quietly; “I know you might do what you have threatened, and that to me it would be neither more nor less than ruin, but—and this is the real question—pray what possible advantage (save calling people's attention to the share, a pretty large one, you have had in making me what I am) would it be to you?”
“To me, sir? eh! why, what do you mean, sir? your uncle is a man of honour, and, of course, as such would pay his nephew's debts for him, more particularly when he knows that if he refuses to do so that nephew will be sent to jail; yes, to jail, sir.”
“There; blustering is of no use with me, so you may save yourself that trouble, Captain,” replied Cumberland; “as to sending me to jail, that is absurd; you can't arrest a minor for debt, and I shall not be of age these two years. My uncle is, as you say, what is called a man of honour, but he is not one of those over-scrupulous fools who will pay any demand, however dishonest and unreasonable, rather than tarnish the family honour, forsooth! No! he will pay what the law compels him, and not a farthing more I leave you to decide whether the law is likely to be of much use to you in the presentcase. Now, listen to me; though you cannot obtain the money by the means you proposed, you can, as I said before, do me serious injury; therefore, if for no other reason but to stop your mouth, I would pay you the whole if I could, but I have not the power of doing so at present. What I propose then is this—Oaklands will pay me, in a day or two, one hundred pounds; this I will hand over to you at once, and will give you a written promise to pay you the rest in the course of the next six months; for before that time I must raise money somehow, even if I have to sell every farthing I expect to come into to the Jews, in order to do it.”
“Won't do,” was the reply; “the ready isn't enough; I must leave this country in a day or two, and I must have money to take with me; come, one hundred and fifty pounds down, and I'll let you off the other fifty.”
“It's impossible, I can get no other money yet, excepting the sum Oaklands is to pay me.”
“Yes! and how the devil am I to be sure he will pay you directly; I'm pretty certain the fool's hard up himself; he hasn't paid cash for a month past.”
“If that's all you're afraid of, I can soon convince you to the contrary; here's a letter to his father's banker, which I am going to put into the post directly, with a cheque for three hundred pounds in it; there, hold it up to the light, and you can see the figures yourself.”
“By Jove! so it is,” exclaimed Spicer: “I say, Cumberland,” he continued, and then the voices almost sunk into a whisper, so that I could not catch more than a word here and there, but by the tone I judged that the Captain was making some proposition, to which Cumberland refused to agree.
At length I heard the former say, “Fifty pounds down, and a receipt in full “.
Cumberland's reply was inaudible, but when the Captain spoke again I caught the following words: “Not the slightest risk, only you do as I say, and——”
At this moment the outer door of the room in which I was sitting opened, while the one communicating with the other apartment was violently slammed to from the farther side, and I heard no more.
The newcomer was a little slipshod girl in dirty curlpapers, who informed me that her master was sorry he could not see me that day as he was particularly engaged, but if I would do him the favour of calling to-morrow, at the same hour, he should be at leisure, etc. To this I answered something, I scarcely knew what, and, seizingmy hat, rushed out at the front door, to the great astonishment of the curl-papered damsel, who cast an anxious glance at the pegs in the hall, ere she could convince herself that I had not departed with more hats and coats than legitimately belonged to me.
It was not until I had proceeded the length of two or three streets, that I could collect my ideas sufficiently to form anything like a just estimate of the extraordinary disclosures with which I had so unexpectedly become acquainted, and no sooner had I in some measure succeeded in so doing, than the puzzling question presented itself to me, what line of conduct it would be advisable to adopt, in consequence of what I had heard. I asked myself too, to begin with, what right I had to make any use of a private conversation, which accident alone had caused me to overhear? Would not people say I had behaved dishonourably in having listened to it at all? But then again, by preserving Cumberland's secret, and concealing his real character from Oaklands, should not I, as it were, become a party to any nefarious schemes he might contemplate for the future? Having failed in one instance in his attempt on Oaklands' purse, would he not (having, as I was now fully aware, such a strong necessity for money) devise some fresh plan, which might succeed in its object, were Oaklands still ignorant of the real character of the person he had to deal with? And in such case should not I be answerable for any mischief which might ensue? Nay, for aught I knew, some fresh villainy might be afloat even now; what plan could Spicer have been urging, which Cumberland seemed unwilling to adopt, if not something of this nature, and which might be prevented were Oaklands made aware of all the circumstances?
This last idea settled the business. I determined to reveal everything to Oaklands in confidence, and to be guided in my subsequent conduct by his opinion. Having once arrived at this conclusion, the next thing was to carry my intentions into effect with as little loss of time as possible. I consequently started off at speed in a homeward direction, and succeeded in reaching my destination in rather less than ten minutes, having, at various times in the course of my route, run against and knocked over no less than six little children, to the manifest discomposure and indignation of as many nursery-maids, who evidently regarded me as a commissioned agent of some modern Herod, performing my master's work zealously.
On arriving at home my impatience was doomed to be disappointed, for Oaklands, who had gone out soon after I did, was not yet returned. This delay, in the feverish state of anxiety and excitement in which I was, appeared to me intolerable; and, unable to sit still, I kept striding up and down the room, clenching my fists, and uttering exclamations of impatience and vexation; which unusual conduct on my part so astonished and alarmed the worthy Thomas that, after remaining in the room till he had exhausted every conceivable pretext for so doing, he boldly inquired whether “I did not feel myself ill, no how?” adding his hope, that “I had not been a-exhaling laughing gas, or any sich rumbustical wegitable?” after which he favoured me with an anecdote of “a young man as he know'd, as had done so, wot conducted hisself more like a hideotic fool than a sanatory Christian, ever after”. Perceiving at length that his attentions were rapidly reducing me to the same state of mind as that of his friend, he very considerately left me.
After half an hour of anxious expectation, in the course of which I must have walked at least a mile or two over Dr. Mildman's parlour carpet, Oaklands and Lawless returned together. I instantly called the former aside, and told him I wished to speak to him alone, as I had something of importance to communicate. To this he replied that it was very near dinner-time; but that, if I would come up to his room, I could talk to him while he dressed. As soon as we were safely closeted together I began my relation, but scarcely had I got beyond “You asked me to go to the billiard-rooms, you know “—when a hasty footstep was heard upon the stairs; some one knocked at the door, and immediately a voice, which I knew to be that of Cumberland, asked to be let in, “as he had something particular to say”.
“The plot thickens,” said Oaklands, as, without rising from his seat, he stretched out an immense length of arm, and opened the door.
“Hear what I have to say first,” cried I; but it was too late, and Cumberland entered, breathless, and with his usually sallow complexion flushed with exercise and excitement.
“The most unfortunate thing”—he began; and stopping to draw breath, he added, “I have run all the way from the post-office, as hard as my legs would carry me—but I was going to tell you—as I went down, I met Curtis of the —th, who told me their band was going to play in Park Square, and asked me to go with him to hear it; and I'mafraid that, as I stood in the crowd, my pocket must have been picked, for when I got to the post-office I found that my letter, my pocket handkerchief, and I am sorry to say your letter also, had disappeared—so, remembering you had told me your letter was of importance, I thought the best thing I could do was to come home as fast as I could, and tell you.”
“By Jove,” exclaimed Oaklands, “that's rather a bore though; there was my father's cheque for three hundred pounds in it; I suppose something ought to be done about it directly.”
“Write a note to stop the payment; and—let me see—as it is too late for the post now, if you will make a parcel of it, I'll run down and give it to the guard of the mail, begging him to deliver it himself as soon as he gets to town—the cheque can't be presented till to-morrow morning, so that will be all right.”
“What a head you have for business, to be sure!” said Oaklands; “but why should you have the trouble of taking it? I dare say Thomas will go with it when we have done dinner, or I can take it myself.”
“Nay,” replied Cumberland, “as I have contrived to lose your letter, the least I can do is to take the parcel; besides, I should like to speak to the guard myself, so as to be sure there's no mistake.”
While this was going on it may be imagined that my thoughts were not idle. When Cumberland mentioned the loss of the letter my suspicions that some nefarious scheme might be on foot began for the first time to resolve themselves into a tangible form, but when I perceived his anxiety to have the parcel entrusted to him, which was to prevent the payment of the cheque, the whole scheme, or something nearly approaching to it, flashed across me at once, and, without reflecting for a moment on what might be the consequences of doing so, I said:—
“If Oaklands will take my advice, he will not entrust you with anything else, till you can prove that you have really lost the letter, as you say you have done”.
Had a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of us, it could scarcely have produced greater confusion than did this speech of mine. Oaklands sprang upon his feet, regarding me with the greatest surprise as he asked “if I knew what I was saying?” while Cumberland, in a voice hoarse from passion, inquired, “What the devil I meant by my insolence? what did I dare to insinuate he had done with the letter, if he had not lost it?”
"I insinuate nothing,” was my reply; “but I tell you plainly that I believe, and have good reason for believing, that you have not lost the letter, but given it to your gambling friend and accomplice, Captain Spicer, who, in return for it, is to give you a receipt in full for the two hundred pounds you owe him, and fifty pounds down.” On hearing this Cumberland turned as pale as ashes, and leaned on the back of a chair for support, while I continued, “You look surprised, Oaklands, as well you may; but when you hear what I have to tell, you will see that I do not make this accusation without having good grounds to go upon “.
“I shall not stay here,” said Cumberland, making an effort to recover himself, and turning towards the door, “I shall not remain here to be any further insulted; I wish you good-evening, Mr. Oaklands.”
“Not so fast,” said Oaklands, springing to the door, and locking it; “if all this be true, and Fairlegh would not have said so much unless he had strong facts to produce, you and I shall have an account to settle together, Mr. Cumberland; you will not leave this room till I know the rights of the affair. Now, Frank, let us hear how you learned all this.”
“Strangely enough,” replied I; and I then gave him an exact account of all that had passed at the billiard-rooms, repeating the conversation, word for word, as nearly as I could remember it, leaving Oaklands to draw his own inferences therefrom. During the whole of my recital Cumberland sat with his elbows resting on the table, and his face buried in his hands, without offering the slightest interruption, scarcely indeed appearing aware of what was going on, save once, when I mentioned the fact of the door between the two rooms being slightly open, when he muttered something about “what cursed folly!” When I had finished my account Oaklands turned towards Cumberland, and asked in a stern voice “what he had to say to this statement?” Receiving no answer, he continued: But it is useless, sir, to ask you: the truth of what Fairlegh has said is self-evident—the next question is, What is to be done about it?” He paused for a moment as if in thought, and then resumed: “In the position in which I now stand, forming one of Dr. Mildman's household, and placed by my father under his control, I scarcely consider myself a free agent. It seems to me, therefore, that my course is clear; it is evidently my duty to inform him of the whole affair, and afterwards to act as he may advise, Do you agree with me, Frank?”
"It is exactly what I should have proposed, had you not mentioned it first,” was my answer.
“For God's sake, Oaklands, don't,” exclaimed Cumberland, raising himself suddenly; “he will write to my uncle—I shall be expelled—my character lost—it will be utter ruin;—have pity upon me—I will get you back your money, I will indeed, only don't tell Mildman.”
“I have treated you up to the present time as a gentleman and a friend,” replied Oaklands; “you have proved yourself unworthy of either title, and deserve nothing at my hands but the strictest justice; no one could blame me were I to allow the law to take its course with you, as with any other swindler, but this I shall be most unwilling to do; nothing short of Dr. Mildman's declaring it to be my positive duty will prevail upon me. But our tutor ought to be informed of it, and shall: he is a good, kind-hearted man, and if his judgment should err at all, you may feel sure it will be on the side of mercy. Fairlegh, will you go down and ask Dr. Mildman if I can speak to him on a matter of importance, now, at once? you will find him in his study. Let me know when he is ready, and we will come down; for,” added he, turning to Cumberland, “I do not lose sight of you till this business is settled one way or other.”
When I had told my errand Dr. Mildman, who looked a good deal surprised and a little frightened, desired me (on receiving my assurance that the business would not do as well after dinner) to tell Oaklands to come to him immediately. To this Oaklands replied by desiring me to hold myself in readiness for a summons, as he should want me presently. Then, linking his arm within that of Cumberland, he half-led, half-forced, him out of the room. In another minute I heard the study-door close behind them.
“Now, Fairlegh,” said Dr. Mildman, when, in about a quarter of an hour's time, I had been sent for, “I wish you to repeat to me the conversation you overheard at the billiard-room, as nearly word for word as you can remember it.”
This I hastened to do; the Doctor listening with the most profound attention, and asking one or two questions on any point which did not at first appear quite clear to him. When I had concluded he resumed his inquiries by asking whether I had seen the parties who were speaking. To this I answered in the negative.
“But you imagined you recognised the voices?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Whose did you take them to be?”
"One I believed to be Cumberland's, the other that of a Captain Spicer, whom I had seen when I was there before.”
“How often have you been there?”
“Twice, sir; once about a week ago, and again to-day.”
“And have you the slightest moral doubt as to the fact of the persons you heard speaking being Cumberland and this Captain Spicer?”
“Not the slightest; I feel quite certain of it.”
“That is all clear and straightforward enough,” observed Dr. Mildman, turning to the culprit. “I am afraid the case is only too fully proved against you; have you anything to say which can at all establish your innocence?”
“It would be of no use if I were to do so,” said Cumberland, in a sullen manner; “it is all a matter of assertion; you choose to believe what they say, and if I were to deny it, you would not believe me without proof, and how can I prove a negative?”
“But do you deny it?” inquired Dr. Mildman, regarding him with a clear, scrutinising look. Cumberland attempted to speak, but, meeting Dr. Mildman's eye, was unable to get out a word, and turned away, concealing his face in his handkerchief.
“This is a sad piece of business,” said Dr. Mildman; “I suppose you mean to prosecute, Oaklands?”
“I shall be most unwilling to do so,” was the reply; “nor will I, sir, unless you consider it my positive duty; I would rather lose the money ten times over than bring such a disgrace upon Cumberland.”
“You are a kind-hearted fellow,” replied the Doctor; “it really is a very difficult case in which to know how to act. As a general principle, I am most averse to anything like hushing up evil.”
Page90 the Doctor Expels a Pupil
“For Heaven's sake have pity upon me, Dr. Mildman,” cried Cumberland, throwing himself on his knees before him; “I confess it all. I did allow Spicer to keep the cheque; he threatened to expose me, and I did it to escape detection; but promise you will not prosecute me, and I will tell you where he may be found, so that something may be done about it yet. I will pay anything you please. I shall come into money when I am of age, and I can make some arrangement. I don't care what I sacrifice, if I have to dig to earn my bread, only do not disgrace me publicly. Remember, I am very young, and oh! if you knew what it is to be tempted as I have been! Oaklands, Fairlegh, intercede for me; think how youshould feel, either of you, if you were placed in my situation!”
“Get up, Mr. Cumberland,” observed Dr. Mildman, in a grave, impressive manner; “it is equally needless and unbecoming to kneel to man for forgiveness—learn to consider that position as a thing set apart and sacred to the service of One greater than the sons of men—One, whom you have indeed grievously offended, and to whom, in the solitude of your chamber, you will do well to kneel, and pray that He who died to save sinners may, in the fulness of His mercy, pardon you also.” He paused, and then resumed: “We must decide what steps had better be taken to recover your cheque, Oaklands; it is true we can send and stop the payment of it—but if you determine not to prosecute, for Cumberland's sake, you must let off this man Spicer also, in which case it would be advisable to prevent his presenting the cheque at all, as that might lead to inquiries which it would be difficult to evade. You said just now you knew where this bad man was to be found, Mr. Cumberland.”
“Yes, sir, if he is not at the billiard-rooms in F—— Street, his lodgings are at No. 14, Richmond Buildings,” said Cumberland.
“Ay, exactly,” replied Dr. Mildman; and, resting his head upon his hand, he remained for some minutes buried in thought. Having at length apparently made up his mind, he turned to Cumberland, and said: “Considering all the circumstances of the case, Mr. Cumberland, although I most strongly reprobate your conduct, which has grieved and surprised me more than I can express, I am unwilling to urge Oaklands to put the law in force against you, for more reasons than one. In the first place, I wish to spare your uncle the pain which such an exposure must occasion him; and secondly, I cannot but hope that at your age, so severe a lesson as this may work a permanent change in you, and that at some future period you may regain that standing among honourable men, which you have now so justly forfeited, and I am anxious that this should not be prevented by the stigma which a public examination must attach to your name for ever. I will therefore at once go with you to the abode of this man Spicer, calling on my way at the house of a legal friend of mine, whom I shall try to get to accompany us. I presume we shall have no great difficulty in procuring restitution of the stolen letter, when the culprit perceives that his schemes are found out, and that it is consequently valueless to him. Having succeeded in this, we shallendeavour to come to some equitable arrangement in regard to his claims on you—do you agree to this?” Cumberland bowed his head in token of assent, and Dr. Mildman continued:—
“And you, Oaklands, do you approve of this plan?” “It is like yourself, Doctor, the perfection of justice and kindness,” replied Oaklands, warmly.
“That is well,” resumed Dr. Mildman; “I have one more painful duty to perform, which may as well be done at once—you are aware, Mr. Cumberland, that I must expel you?”
“Will you not look over my fault this once?” entreated Cumberland; “believe me, I will never give you cause for complaint again.”
“No, sir,” was the reply; “in justice to your companions I cannot longer allow you to remain under the same roof with them: it is my duty to see that they associate only with persons fitted for the society of gentlemen, amongst whom, I am sorry to say, I can no longer class you. I shall myself accompany you to town to-morrow, and, if possible, see your uncle, to inform him of this unhappy affair. And now, sir, prepare to go with me to this Captain Spicer;—on our return you will oblige me by remaining in your room during the evening. Oaklands, will you ask Lawless to take my place at the dinner-table, and inform your companions that Cumberland has been engaged in an affair, of which I so strongly disapprove, that I have determined on expelling him, but that you are not at liberty to disclose the particulars? I need scarcely repeat this caution to you, Fairlegh; you have shown so much good sense and right feeling throughout the whole business that I am certain you will respect my wishes on this head.”
I murmured some words in assent, and so ended one of the most painful and distressing scenes it has ever been my fate to witness.
“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,While proudly riding o'er the azure realm,In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm.”—Gray's Bard.“Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?”—Henry IV.
THE dinner passed off heavily; every attempt to keep up a continued conversation failed entirely; and a general feeling of relief was experienced when the time arrived for us to retire to the pupils' room. Even here, however, the state of things was not much better. Lawless and the others having in vain attempted to learn more of the affair from Oaklands and myself than we felt at liberty to tell them, lounged over a book, or dozed by the fire; whilst we, unable to converse on the subject which alone engrossed our thoughts, and disinclined to do so upon any other, were fain to follow their example. About half-past eight Dr. Mildman and Cumberland returned, and, after dinner, which was served to them in the Doctor's study, Cumberland retired to his room, where he remained during the rest of the evening. Oaklands then received a summons from the Doctor, and, on his return, informed us that (as we had already heard) Cumberland was to be expelled. He added that Dr. Mildman intended to take him to town himself the next morning, as he was anxious to see Cumberland's uncle, who was also his guardian: he would probably, therefore, not return till the following day, in consequence of which we should have a whole holiday, and he trusted to us to spend it in a proper manner, which, as Coleman remarked, proved that he was of a very confiding disposition indeed, and no mistake.
When we went up to bed Oaklands beckoned me into his room, and, as soon as he had closed the door, gave me an account (having obtained Dr. Mildman's permission to do so) of the interview with Spicer. They found him, it seemed, at his lodgings, preparing for his departure. At first he took a very high tone, denied the whole thing, and was extremely blustering and impertinent; but on being confronted with Cumberland, andthreatened by Dr. Mildman's legal friend with the terrors of the law, he became thoroughly crestfallen, restored the three-hundred-pound cheque, and consented, on the payment of fifty pounds, in addition to the fifty pounds he had already received, to give up all claims upon Cumberland, whereupon they paid him the money down, made him sign a paper to the above effect, and left him.
“And so, my dear Frank,” said Oaklands, “there is an end of that affair, and, if it only produces as much effect upon Cumberland as it has produced upon me, it will read him a lesson he will not forget for many a long day. I blame myself excessively,” he continued, “for my own share in this matter; if it had not been for my easy, careless way of going on, this scheme would never have been thought of—nay, I might, perhaps, have been able to rescue Cumberland from the hands of this sharper; but in this manner we neglect the opportunities afforded us of doing good, and—Frank,” he continued, with a sudden burst of energy, “I will cure myself of this abominable indolence.” He paused for some minutes in thought, and then added, “Well, I must not stand here raving at you any longer; it is getting very late: goodnight, old fellow! I shall be glad enough to tumble into bed, for I'm as tired as a dog: it really is astonishing how easily I am knocked up.”
The absurdity of this remark, following upon the resolution he had expressed with so much energy but a minute before, struck us both at the same instant, and occasioned a fit of laughter, which we did not check till we recollected with what dissonance any approach to mirth must strike the ear of the prisoner (for such he was in fact, if not in name) in the adjoining apartment.
“Now, sir; come, Mr. Fairlegh, you'll be late for breakfast,” were the first sounds that reached my understanding on the following morning: I say understanding, as I had heard, mixed up with my dreams, sundry noises produced by unclosing shutters, arranging water-jugs, etc., which appeared to my sleep-bewildered senses to have been going on for at least half an hour. My faculties not being sufficiently aroused to enable me to speak, Thomas continued, “You'll be late, Mr. Fairlegh”; then came an aside, “My wig, how he do sleep! I hope he ain't been a-taking lauddelum, or morpheus, or anything of a somnambulous natur. I wouldn't be master, always to have six boys a weighing on my mind, for all the wealth of the Ingies.—Mr. Fairlegh, I say!”
“There, don't make such a row,” replied I, jumpingout of bed and making a dash at my clothes; “is it late?”
“Jest nine o'clock, sir; master and Mr. Cumberland's been gone these two hours. Shocking affair that, sir; it always gives me quite a turn when any of our gents is expelled: it's like being thrown out of place at a minute's warning, as I said to cook only this morning. 'Cook,' says I, 'life's a curious thing,' there's——”
“The breakfast bell ringing, by all that's unlucky,” exclaimed I; and downstairs I ran, with one arm in, and one out of my jacket, leaving Thomas to conclude his speculations on the mutability of human affairs as he best might, solus.
“How are we going to kill time to-day?” inquired Oaklands, as soon as we had done breakfast.
“We mustn't do anything to outrage the proprieties,” said Coleman; “remember we are onparole d'honneur.”
“On a fiddlestick,” interrupted Lawless; “let's all ride over to the Duke of York, at Bradford, shoot some pigeons, have a champagne breakfast, and be home again in time for the old woman's feed at five o'clock. I daresay I can pick up one or two fellows to go with us.”
“No,” said Oaklands, “that sort of thing won't do to-day. I quite agree with Freddy, we ought not to do anything to annoy the Doctor upon this occasion; come, Lawless, I'm sure you'll say so too, if you give it a moment's thought.”
“Well, he's a good old fellow in his way, I know, but what are we to be at then? something I must do, if it's only to keep me out of mischief.”
“It's a lovely day; let us hire a boat, and have a row,” suggested Coleman.
“That's not against the laws, is it?” asked Oaklands.
“Not a bit,” replied Coleman; “we used to go pulling about like bricks last summer, and Mildman rather approved of it than otherwise, and said it was a very healthy exercise.”
“Yes, that will do,” said Lawless; “I feel savage this morning, and a good pull will take it out of me as well as anything. Now, don't go wasting time; let's get ready, and be off;” and accordingly in less than half an hour we were prepared, and on our way to the beach.
“How are we going to do it?” inquired Lawless; “you'll take an oar, Oaklands?”
Oaklands replied in the affirmative.
“Can you row, Fairlegh?”
I answered that I could a little.
"That will do famously, then,” said Lawless; “we'll have a four-oar; Wilson has a capital little boat that will be just the thing; Freddy can steer, he's a very fair hand at it, and we four fellows will pull, so that we need not be bothered with a boatman. I do abominate those chaps, they are such a set of humbugs.”
No objection was made to this plan. Lawless succeeded in getting the boat he wished for; it was launched without any misadventure, and we took our places, and began pulling away merrily, with the wind (what little there was) and tide both in our favour.
The morning was beautiful: it was one of those enjoyable days, which sometimes occur in early spring, in which Nature, seeming to overleap at a bound the barrier between winter and summer, gives us a delightful foretaste of the good things she has in store for us. The clear bright sea, its surface just ruffled by a slight breeze from the south-west, sparkled in the sunshine, and fell in diamond showers from our oars as we raised them out of the water, while the calm serenity of the deep blue sky above us appeared, indeed, a fitting emblem of that heaven, in which “the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest”.
The peaceful beauty of the scene seemed to impress even the restless spirits of which our little party was composed, and, by common consent, we ceased rowing, and suffered the boat to drift with the tide, merely pulling a stroke now and then to keep her head in the right direction. After drifting for some twenty minutes or so in the manner I have described Lawless, who never could remain quiet long, dropped the blade of his oar into the water with a splash that made us all start, exclaiming as he did so:—
“Well, this may be very sentimental and romantic, and all that sort of thing, but it doesn't strike me as particularly entertaining. Why, you fellows were all asleep, I believe.”
“Heigho!” exclaimed Oaklands, rousing himself, with a deep sigh, “I was in such a delicious reverie; what a barbarian you are, Lawless! you seem utterly ignorant of the pleasures of thedolce-far-niente.”
“Dolce-far-devilskin!” was the reply, in tones of the greatest contempt. “I would not be as lazy as you are, Oaklands, for any money. You are fitter to lounge about in some old woman's drawing-room, than to handle an oar.” “Well, I don't know,” answered Oaklands, quietly, “but I think I can pull as long as you can.”
"You do, do you?” rejoined Lawless, “it will be odd to me, if you can. I don't think I was stroke-oar in the crack boat at Eton for a year, without knowing how to row a little; what do you say to having a try at once?”
“With all my heart,” replied Oaklands, divesting himself of his waistcoat, braces, and neckcloth—which latter article he braced tightly round his waist—an example speedily followed by Lawless, who exclaimed, as he completed his preparations:—
“Now, you young shavers, pull in your oars, and we'll give you a ride, all free, gratis, for nothing”.
Mullins and I hastened to comply with Lawless's directions, by placing the oars and seating ourselves so as not to interfere with the trim of the boat; while he and Oaklands, each taking a firm grasp of his oar, commenced pulling away in real earnest. They were more evenly matched than may be at first imagined, for Lawless, though much shorter than Oaklands, was very square-built and broad about the shoulders, and his arms, which were unusually long in proportion to his height, presented a remarkable development of muscle, while it was evident, from the manner in which he handled his oar, that he was the more practised rower of the two. The boat, urged by their powerful strokes, appeared to fly through the water, while cliff and headland (we were rowing along shore about half a mile from the beach) came in view and disappeared again like scenes in some moving panorama. We must now have proceeded some miles, yet still the rival champions continued their exertions with unabated energy and a degree of strength that seemed inexhaustible. Greatly interested in the event, I had at first watched the contending parties with anxious attention, but, perceiving that the efforts they were making did not produce any visible effects upon them, and that the struggle was likely to be a protracted one, I took advantage of the opportunity to open a letter from my sister, which I had received just as I was leaving the house. I was sorry to find, on perusing it, that my father had been suffering from an inflammatory attack, brought on by a cold which he had caught in returning from a visit to a sick parishioner, through a pouring rain. A postscript from my mother, however, added that I need not make myself in the least uneasy, as the apothecary assured her that my father was going on as well as possible, and would probably be quite restored in the course of a week or so. On observing the date of the letter I found I ought to have received it the day before. Arguing from this (on the “no-news-being-good-news” system)that I should have heard again if anything had gone wrong, I dismissed the subject from my mind, and was reading Fanny's account of a juvenile party she had been at in the neighbourhood, when my attention was roused by Coleman, who, laying his hand on my shoulder, said:
“Look out, Frank, it won't be long now before we shall see who's best man; the work's beginning to tell”.
Thus invoked, I raised my eyes, and perceived that a change had come over the aspect of affairs while I had been engaged with my letter. Oaklands and Lawless were still rowing with the greatest energy, but it appeared to me that their strokes were drawn with less and less vigour each succeeding time, while their flushed faces, and heavy breathing, proved that the severe labour they had undergone had not been without its effect. The only visible difference between them was, that Lawless, from his superior training, had not, as a jocky would say, “turned a hair,” while the perspiration hung in big drops upon the brow of Oaklands, and the knotted, swollen veins of his hands stood out like tightly strained cordage.
“Hold hard!” shouted Lawless. “I say, Harry,” he continued, as soon as they left off rowing, “how are you getting on?”
“I have been cooler in my life,” replied Oaklands, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
“Well, I think it's about a drawn battle,” said Lawless; “though I am free to confess, that if you were in proper training, I should be no match for you, even with the oar.”
“What made you stop just then?” inquired Oaklands; “I'm sure I could have kept on for a quarter of an hour longer, if not more.”
“So could I,” replied Lawless, “ay, or for half an hour, if I had been put to it; but I felt the work was beginning to tell, I saw you were getting used up, and I recollected that we should have to row back with the wind against us, which, as the breeze is freshening, will be no such easy matter; so I thought if we went on till we were both done up we should be in a regular fix.”
“It's lucky you remembered it,” said Oaklands; “I was so excited, I should have gone on pulling as long as I could have held an oar; we must be some distance from Helmstone by this time. Have you any idea whereabouts we are?”
“Let's have a look,” rejoined Lawless. “Yes, that tall cliff you see there is the Nag's Head, and in the little baybeyond stands the village of Fisherton. I vote we go ashore there, have some bread and cheese, and a draught of porter at the inn, and then we shall be able to pull back again twice as well.”
This proposal seemed to afford general satisfaction; Mullins and I resumed our oars, and, in less than half an hour, we were safely ensconced in the sanded parlour of the Dolphin, while the pretty bar-maid, upon whom also devolved the duties of waitress, hastened to place before us a smoking dish of eggs and bacon, which we had chosen in preference to red herrings—the only other dainty the Dolphin had to offer us—Coleman observing that a “hard roe” was the only part of a herring worth eating, and we had had that already, as we came along.
“I say, my dear, have you got any bottled porter?” inquired Lawless.
“Yes, sir, and very good it is,” replied the smiling damsel.
“That's a blessing,” observed Coleman, piously.
“Bring us up a lot of it, my beauty,” resumed Lawless, “and some pewter pots—porter's twice as good out of its own native pewter.”
Thus exhorted, the blooming waitress tripped off, and soon returned with a basket containing six bottles of porter.
“That's the time of day,” said Lawless; “now for a corkscrew, pretty one; here you are, Oaklands.”
“I must own that is capital, after such hard work as we have been doing,” observed Oaklands, as he emptied the pewter pot at a draught.
“I say, Mary,” asked Coleman, “what's gone of that young man that used to keep company along with you—that nice young chap, that had such insinivatin ways with him?”
“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sir; I've nothink to say to no young man whatsumever,” replied the damsel addressed, shaking her curls coquettishly.
“Ah!” sighed Coleman, “if I were but single now.”
“Why, you never mean to say you've got a wife already, such a very young gentleman as you are?”
“Not only that, but a small family with a large appetite,” continued Coleman, pathetically.
“Well, I never,” exclaimed the bar-maid, surprised, for once, out of her company manners; then, observing a smile, at her expense, going the round of the party, she added, “I see how it is; you are making fun of me, sir;oh, fie, you're a wicked young gentleman, I know you are.”
“Never mind him, my dear,” said Lawless, “but give me another bottle of porter.”
In converse such as this the meal and the half-dozen of porter were finished; in addition to which Lawless chose to have a glass of brandy-and-water and a cigar. Having been rendered unusually hungry by the sea air and the unaccustomed exercise of rowing, I had both eaten and drunk more than I was in the habit of doing, to which cause may be attributed my falling into a doze; an example which, I have every reason to believe, was followed by most of the others. I know not how long my nap had lasted, when I was aroused by hearing Coleman exclaim:—
“Why I think it rains! Lawless, wake up! I don't much like the look of the weather.”
“What's the row?” inquired Lawless, leisurely removing his legs from the table on which they had been resting, and walking to the window—a feat, by the way, he did not perform quite as steadily as usual. “By Jove!” he continued, “the wind's blowing great guns; we must look sharp, and be off—we shall have the sea getting up.”
Accordingly, the bill was rung for and paid; Mary received half a crown and a kiss from Lawless, and down we ran to the beach, where difficulties we were little prepared for awaited us.