AND BECOMES A PERSONAGE.
The strange pair travelled in state. Comethup had been given such a sum of money by his aunt that the mere handling of the yellow and white coins in his pocket almost sufficed to take his breath away. The old lady was so jealous that the boy’s sovereignty should begin at once that she left the paying of porters and the purchase of first-class railway tickets entirely to him, merely tellinghim the amounts he was to pay, and being careful, in every instance, that the necessary homage in return for the coin was exacted from the man to whom it was given.
“Did he touch his cap to you? Was the rascal respectful?” These were her constant inquiries; and, to do her justice, it may be said that she held her head higher, as she walked with her hand on the boy’s shoulder, than she had been in the habit of doing. Indeed, her blindness seemed to affect her more than it had ever done before; she seemed anxious to know what was going on about her, and what notice they attracted. “Do people stare at us? Do they whisper? Why don’t you tell me everything, just as you would tell it to yourself? You must remember I’m walking in the dark; you are my eyes for the future.”
Again, when London was reached and he had helped her out of the railway carriage, she chuckled softly to herself as she leaned upon him, and nodded her head approvingly. “You walk well, boy; you carry yourself like a gentleman. A man always can, or a boy either, when he has money jingling in his pockets. And I swear that yours shall never be empty.”
A servant in livery approached them and touched his hat. He glanced with some surprise at the boy, and spoke to his mistress and offered his arm to her. But Miss Carlaw waved him scornfully aside. “You needn’t trouble, William; I can dispense with your help in the future. Where’s the carriage?”
The servant led the way across the station to where a fine carriage with two horses was drawn up; he opened the door, and Miss Carlaw got in, followed by Comethup, who began to realize that he had indeed entered upon a life of luxury. The noise and roar of the streets through which they drove surprised and startled him, after the sleepy quiet of the old town he had left. His aunt was eager with anticipations of all they were to do, and of all the changes she contemplated making in her own mode of life, for the boy’s comfort.
“Oh, we’ll do big things with you, Comethup; youshall be the best-known boy in London. By the Lord! I’ve never had a chance like this before. I’ll dress you like a prince, and let them see that I’ve got some one young and handsome—for youarehandsome, you dog, there’s not a doubt of that—some one young and handsome about me, who loves me. Oh, I’ll be good to you, Comethup, if you keep to your part of the bargain, for I’m precious hungry for somebody’s love, I can assure you. I’ve waited a devilish long time for it.”
The carriage drew up at the door of a large house in a square, with a huge garden, protected by an iron railing, in the center of the square. As they alighted, Comethup felt that it must be a very grand neighbourhood indeed, for other carriages were stopping at other doors, and elegant ladies were getting in and out of them. Almost before his aunt had alighted from her carriage the wide door at the top of the steps was opened, and Comethup had a glimpse of a hall beautifully furnished and hung with old-fashioned armour, such as he had heard the captain describe in giving accounts of historic battles—a hall large enough, the boy thought, to be a room itself, and not a mere passageway to other rooms, as it proved to be when they had passed through it. There seemed to be servants everywhere, both male and female, opening doors, and coming in noiselessly with tea, and bringing letters and other things which had arrived for Miss Carlaw during her absence.
It appeared to have been the work of a confidential servant—an elderly, staid woman, who was apparently the housekeeper—to open and read these letters aloud to her mistress; but when she was about to do this now, Miss Carlaw stopped her and turned to Comethup. “Can you read?” she asked, sharply.
“A little,” replied Comethup. “The captain taught me.”
“Give me one of those letters,” said Miss Carlaw, holding out her hand to the housekeeper. A letter was handed to her, over the back of which she swiftly passed her hand; she appeared to know in an instant from whomit came, by the crest on the back, and even muttered the name. This she handed to Comethup. “Open it,” she said, “and read it.”
Comethup opened it tremblingly, and floundered about for a moment among the strange, cramped handwriting; then blushingly confessed that he had not been used to reading writing.
“No, of course not; very foolish of me to think you would be able to,” replied his aunt, taking the letter from him. “For the present we shall have to go on in the old way, until you’ve learned a little more, Comethup; and then we’ll dispense with everybody else for our private matters.”
The letters were opened by the housekeeper, and read aloud, Miss Charlotte Carlaw making audible comments upon them as the reading proceeded. Then a minute account was given of all that had occurred in her absence—the names of callers, and what they had said and what messages they had left. When all was finished, and Miss Carlaw had drunk her tea and had seen that Comethup was also provided with refreshment, she gave orders that all the servants in the place were to be brought to her.
“Every Jack and Jill of ’em,” she exclaimed, emphatically; “I’ve something to say to them.”
When they were all wonderingly and somewhat sheepishly assembled, she delivered herself, proudly and firmly, of what she had made up her mind to say.
“Now, just attend to me, all of you, for I’m in deadly earnest, and I mean to see that my orders are carried, out. You see this young gentleman”—she indicated Comethup, who was seated beside her—“this is Master Willis, my nephew. For the future he takes a place in this house, and wherever I may be, second only to mine. If he says a thing is to be done, understand that it is to be done; if he gives an order to any one of you, it must be obeyed, as swiftly as though I had given it myself. You needn’t be alarmed, any of you; he’s not the sort of fellow to give any of you any trouble. But, trouble or no trouble, you will understand he’s the young masterhere, and the Lord help the man or the woman that forgets it! You know me, or you should by this time, and you know that, although I can’t actually see you, I know what you’re doing, every one of you, by night or by day. I know your tricks, and your humours, and your little tempers, and all the rest of it; but we’ll have no tricks or humours or tempers with Master Willis. As I say, you won’t find him exacting; but what he wants he’s to have. That’s all; I’ve nothing more to say.”
They appeared to understand very perfectly. One of them—Comethup thought it was the butler—even stepped forward and murmured a little incoherent speech, intended to convey the loyalty of himself and his fellow-servants to the young master. Miss Charlotte Carlaw nodded approval, even punctuated the broken speech with nods, and dismissed them all with a wave of her hand.
“Now you understand, Comethup,” she said, turning to the boy when they had gone, and putting her hand on his shoulder, “what your power here is. You’ll find, although I don’t think you need the advice, that all the money in the world won’t enable you to hold that power if you don’t set about your life in the right way. If you’re peevish, or tyrannical, or unjust—well, you must expect to get sour looks and unwilling service; if you are a gentleman, and show that you only demand what is your right, and demand it courteously—for servants are human beings, and have their feelings—you’ll be served gladly and faithfully; at least that’s whatI’ve found. Now come with me, and I’ll show you over the house, and I’ll show you your rooms.”
She appeared to know every inch of the great house, from the lowest floor to the garret, telling him instantly what each room was, even to the servants’ rooms. “I keep a butler and a housekeeper,” she explained, “but I like to know everything myself, and what everybody is doing. They used to think once they could cheat me because I couldn’t see ’em; but they found out their mistake long since.”
It was indeed a beautiful house, scrupulously kept,and very richly furnished. Rare pictures hung on the walls, and wonderful china stood on shelves in cabinets; and the tables and chairs and other articles of furniture were many of them richly inlaid with rare and precious woods. “I can’t see any of these things, you know, Comethup; I can only tell the shape of them, and I’m a pretty good judge in that way. But all these things are here because it pleases me to think that I can afford to buy them, and to delight other people’s eyes with them, perhaps even to make some of ’em a little envious. I was born to have eyes, if ever any creature was, for I love rich and beautiful things, even pictures. I’ve got a man who happens to be honest, and knows a good picture when he sees one. When you’ve grown older, and studied hard, you’ll know the value of all these things, Comethup, and you’ll be able to describe, in your own way, all the pictures to me; and that will please us both. Now come and look at your own rooms.”
The two rooms which had been allotted to him seemed, to his delighted eyes, the most beautiful in the house. They were quite high up, and quite simply furnished; but the windows of both looked out over the square, where all the life and bustle that were so fascinating went on; and each seemed to contain exactly everything that a boy could possibly need. In the sitting room were pictures of battle scenes, and deeds of daring generally, choice engravings and etchings for the most part; and on the tables and on shelves were numbers of books, beautifully bound, whose very titles, as he glanced at them, gave promise of the delights to be found within.
Miss Charlotte Carlaw stood perfectly still, with her hand upon his shoulder, until she heard his astonished gasps; then she chuckled with satisfaction and marched him through into the bedroom. Here a young man in a sober brown suit was unpacking his box and carefully arranging its contents in the wardrobe and in a huge press that stood at one side of the room. He was a round-faced, good-humoured-looking young man, and Comethup liked his appearance.
“Ah, is that you, Gwilt?” cried Miss Carlaw. “This is your young master, Master Willis.—Comethup, Gwilt will attend to you, and do everything you want—brush your clothes and keep them in order, and assist you to dress when necessary. He is your special servant, and will have no other duties. Now tell me; do you like these rooms?”
“I think they’re beautiful,” said Comethup.
“Well, just look round them, and tell me if you think there’s anything else you would like. What do you think of the pictures? I got a man specially to choose them, told him they must be bright, and just the sort of things a boy would like; no sickly love-making, or cottage interiors, or nonsense of that kind, but just a few with some blood in ’em—fighting, and chopping up, and highwaymen, and nice little delicacies of that kind. Like ’em, eh?”
“I don’t think I shall ever get tired of looking at them,” said Comethup. “And there are a heap of books here, too, aunt—quite the most beautiful books I’ve ever seen,” he added.
“Of course, I’d forgotten the books. I wrote to a bookseller to send me all he could think of that would be likely to appeal to you—same style as the pictures, you know. Now there isn’t much time before dinner, so just wash your hands, and come down to the drawing room when you hear the first bell. I’ll go and change my frock.”
She was going out of the room, with her stick moving before her, when Comethup sprang to her side. “Won’t you let me—let me take you——” he began.
She understood in a moment, and her face lighted up as she looked down at him. She did not merely put her hand on his shoulder, as she had done before; she drew it round his neck. “That’s my dear boy!” she said, almost in a whisper.
He conducted her safely to the door of her room, and then dashed upstairs again to his own. It was quite a new sensation to have some one to attend on him, to anticipatehis smallest wants, and be ready silently and respectfully with each thing he required. The young man was deft and quick, and seemed really proud of his young charge; he even delicately turned him round for inspection at the last moment, and smiled and nodded approval.
“There’s a tailor, and a bootmaker, and other people a-coming to-morrow, sir; Miss Carlaw’s orders, you know. Miss Carlaw says as she’ll be present for the measurin’, sir, so as to tell the men what she wants you to have, sir. They’ll be here at eleven in the morning, sir.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Comethup, a little staggered by the intelligence.
He found his aunt in the drawing room, pacing up and down in her old fashion, with her black stick lightly touching the carpet before her. Her hand upon his shoulder, as they went into the dining room, reminded her of the subject of his clothes; she moved her fingers over the cloth impatiently.
“Yes, we’ll change all this, Comethup,” she said. “I told you we’d dress you like a prince; we’ll have a velvet dinner suit for you. Lord! I’ll make ’em stare at you; I’ll give ’em something to talk about. They talk of their brats to me, and the beauty of them, and the cleverness, and the devil knows what; we’ll outshine ’em all, Comethup.”
They dined in solemn state that evening, Comethup sitting near his aunt at one end of the long table, with the grave butler—who looked so very great and so awe-inspiring that Comethup had felt a sudden inclination, on entering the room, to bow to him—and some three or four gigantic footmen in attendance. There were many courses, and Comethup was considerably at a loss as to how to manage, until he began to watch his aunt and to do exactly as she did, after which he got on pretty well.
Soon after dinner she dismissed him, telling him that she knew he must be tired, and that she should go soon to bed herself. He kissed her, and, out of the fulness of his heart, murmured a few grateful words to her; she laughed and thrust him gently away, telling him, as hewent out, to ring for his man if he wanted him. Comethup was too full of the joy of those wondrous rooms of his to want a stranger near him then; he rambled happily about the rooms for some time, looking at the pictures, and opening the books, and examining everything that was to be examined. Finally he undressed and got into bed and fell asleep, and dreamed that Gwilt had turned suddenly into an ogre and swallowed all his clothes, so that he could not get up, although his aunt was calling him from the bottom of the stairs, and a perfect army of servants were lined up and down the staircase, bowing and waiting for him to pass.
He was awakened in the morning by Gwilt, who looked anything but an ogre, with his fresh, cheerful, smiling face, with the information that his bath was ready. He was getting a little used by now to this wondrous change in his fortunes, and to the fact that grown men and women seemed to take a delight in ministering to the needs of such a small and insignificant boy as himself. He got through the day very well, passing through the ordeal of being measured for an enormous quantity of clothing, which he felt he should never under any circumstances wear out, and noting with surprise how completely his aunt seemed to understand exactly what she wanted him to wear, and how unerringly she knew the texture of cloth and velvet and laces by the mere touch of those quick fingers of hers.
On this second day there were again no visitors, a fact which Miss Carlaw explained to Comethup after the servants had been dismissed and while she was drinking her wine after dinner. “You see, Comethup, I don’t believe in half-measures. I’ve made up my mind to spring you on them all at once, as it were, to show you forth in all your glory. I’m quite sure you’re a handsome boy, even as you are in your country clothes; but I’m going to make you look handsomer yet. By the Lord, I’ll dazzle ’em!”
The clothes began to arrive in an incredibly short space of time, and in about a week from Comethup’s firstappearance in London his aunt informed him one morning that a big dinner party was to be given that night at which he was to be present. She was evidently very anxious about the matter—so much so that she communicated some of her anxiety to him, and it was an exciting day for both of them.
“The people who are coming are chatterers, fools, every one of ’em; but they’re just the people we want to give you a send-off and to blazon the whole thing right and left. You shall be dressed like a prince to-night, indeed; I’ve given Gwilt his orders. And understand that when you’ve taken me to my set,youare to take the one at the other end of the table; don’t forget that. You’ve nothing to be frightened at, child; they’ll rally you, and tease you, some of ’em, but you’ve only got to be yourself, and to be quite simple and natural, and I’m sure I sha’n’t blush for you. There are two golden rules for any one of the male sex entering society: one is, that every man he meets is a fine fellow, worthy of his admiration; and the other, that every woman, even if she’s ninety, and ugly as the devil, is a goddess to be bowed before. Let him remember that always, and, by the Lord! he’ll be popular.”
Comethup was dressed early that night, by his aunt’s instructions, in a soft, loose suit of brown velvet, with a wide lace collar on his shoulders—lace of a value which had made Comethup blink at the mere naming of the price in his hearing. Deep lace ruffles fell over his small hands, and he looked altogether a captivating little figure as he joined his aunt in the drawing room, where she was awaiting the arrival of her guests. She drew him toward her and ran her hands quickly all over him, to assure herself that everything was right.
“I wish I had eyes to-night, child,” she said, with a little sigh. “But I shall know what you look like by the impression you create.”
Comethup only dimly remembered that evening afterward. He knew that a great number of people came, all very richly dressed, and most of the ladies blazing withdiamonds; that a number of the ladies went into raptures over him, and that one of the gentlemen, who chuckled tremendously at everything any one said, dubbed him “Prince Charming”; that, seated at his end of the table, with a gigantic footman standing behind him, he sent every one within hearing into paroxysms of laughter by returning what he thought were perfectly polite and natural answers to questions which were asked him; that Miss Carlaw leaned her head sideways to catch what was said, and nodded and smiled, and was altogether immensely delighted with the success her nephew was achieving.
Indeed, the astute old lady made quite a mystery of him; hinted at a romantic parentage, and refused to say where she had discovered him, or anything about him. She called him to her, as the ladies were leaving the room, and put her arm about his neck and bent down and whispered: “You’re a wonder, Comethup; I’m very well pleased with you, Prince Charming.”
His last sleepy recollection of that night was of standing with his aunt in the hall, where she was bidding her guests good-night, with the summer-night wind blowing in upon them through the open door, and the lights of the carriages outside, while every man gravely shook hands with him, and every woman insisted on kissing him. He wondered then what they would have thought if he had suddenly saluted in the fashion the captain had taught him. And with that thought he wondered what the captain was doing then, and whether he had missed his small boy friend.
THE CAPTAIN SPEAKS HIS MIND.
If Miss Charlotte Carlaw, through all her strange life, had lived for such pleasures as she might manage to squeeze out of each day, with the aid of her wealth, itmay be said that with Comethup’s appearance she began to live for the gratification of her vanity in regard to the boy. She was fiercely jealous of him—jealous almost of any thought he gave to any one but herself; and yet she was as jealous, on the other hand, for his success in attracting notice, and in winning that very admiration the expression of which aroused her jealousy. She was torn always between two feelings in regard to him: she must be first and everything in his life; and yet others must worship him, and hold him, if possible, to be first in theirs.
It was a strange, unnatural life for a child. He saw no one of his own age; he was waited on, at every hour of the day, by bowing, obsequious men and women, to whom often he would have been glad, but for the fear of his aunt, to be on a more friendly footing, and to have chatted naturally with; he met strange people, day after day, who talked of things he could not understand; and, despite all that was done for him, it must be confessed that he was often desperately lonely.
Tutors had been provided for him, not only for elementary subjects, but for music and painting and other accomplishments. He had a passionate desire to learn, to become a great and clever man, if it were possible, although, of course, with the inconstancy of childhood, he changed his ideas of a profession at least once in every twenty-four hours. But of all the strange, unnatural life he led, perhaps the strangest and most unnatural times of all were some of the nights he spent with his aunt’s guests.
For it must be said at once that Miss Charlotte Carlaw had not been dubbed eccentric for nothing. The one passion of her life had been to be amused. A creature of moods, subject to horrible fits of depression and melancholy, she sought eagerly, and had sought all her days, for something to keep her mind employed and to drive away dulness. Her first dinner party had been highly respectable, because it was necessary that Comethup should be seen and valued by the best people; but some of the subsequent ones were of a different order altogether.
Comethup thought that that second order of gathering was a much more jolly function than the first—the men were so very amusing and laughed so heartily, and were such jovial good fellows, and the women were so very, very pretty, and had such bright eyes. Then, too, at those gatherings everybody seemed to talk at once and to shout out the most extraordinary things, with roars of laughter to accompany each speech or story. The stories Comethup did not understand in the least, which perhaps was well for him. Again, they had a delightful fashion, both men and women, of calling each other by their Christian names, which Comethup thought was very nice and familiar, and saved a lot of trouble.
But it was after dinner that the real excitement of the evening began, for the ladies—there were always a less number of ladies than gentlemen—did not go into the drawing room, as on the more formal occasions; they stopped and chatted, while the gentlemen smoked. Indeed, some of the ladies puffed a cigarette in the most natural manner, quite as though they liked it, and then, later on, they would all troop noisily into the drawing room, Comethup and his aunt leading the way; and there mysterious games were played.
To his utter astonishment, he discovered that his aunt was a most wonderful card-player; she had the cards pricked through, in some curious fashion, so that she knew unerringly what each was by the lightest touch; and she was said, by all who knew her, to be a most formidable antagonist. Certainly she took the keenest delight in every game, and staked largely. Indeed, they all did that, and Comethup soon ceased to think with any surprise of the sums which changed hands in one evening.
Then, too, there were other mysterious games played—some on a green table with squares marked upon it—games at which every one grew very eager indeed, and some of them very silent. There were beautiful little square cubes, with dots marked upon them, which were shaken up in a silver-mounted box and turned out on a table amid shouts and exclamations and mutterings; andall the time, in every game, the money clinked and rattled and changed about from one to the other.
One night Miss Carlaw suddenly called out his name, and he went to her. “Here, we can’t have Prince Charming standing about looking at others playing. He’s the master here, and, by the Lord! he shall play himself. Turn out your pockets; let’s see what money you’ve got. I have had the devil’s own luck to-night, and perhaps you’ll be able to fleece some of these good folk too. Turn out your pockets, you rascal!”
The boy did as he was told, and she counted it rapidly over, touching each piece with her fingers. Then she took some coins from a pile of gold and silver before her and added it to Comethup’s stock, and thrust the whole lot in his hand.
“There, take that and sit down here. If you’re sharp you’ll soon get into the way of it; and if any of these people take advantage of your youth and innocence, I’ll be the death of them. Now, boys and girls, on we go again!”
Comethup, child though he was, soon got into the excitement of the thing. With promptings from the others, he learned what to do and what to say, and, fortune favouring him, he went to his room that night with his stock of money still further increased. Altogether, he thought it was rather a glorious business, and couldn’t quite understand why some of the men wore sour looks when they went away.
It became quite a regular thing for the child to take his place among those excited, eager gamblers. Time after time he went to bed in the small hours of the morning, sometimes so worn out that he was glad to let the sympathetic Gwilt undress him and lift him into bed. Sometimes he made horrible blunders with the cards and lost heavily; sometimes he won. But, under any circumstances, it did not affect him, for his aunt was careful to see that he always had plenty of money.
They drove out nearly every day, and seemed to spend a great part of their time in shops. Miss Charlotte Carlawhad a perfect passion for buying. Anything that was pointed out to her, and of which she approved, or anything that the boy noticed, was bought at once. She encouraged Comethup to spend his money royally, and never hesitated for an instant about anything she thought he would like, however costly it might be. The whirl and the excitement and the intoxication of the new life were upon him, so that he had but little time for thought; yet sometimes he found his thoughts straying back to the simple life in the old town, which seemed all so very far away, and to the simple people he had known and loved there. He ventured to approach his aunt on the subject one day when they were alone.
“Aunt, I’ve been thinking—about the captain,” he began timidly.
“What captain?” she asked sharply.
“Thecaptain—Captain Garraway-Kyle. You remember he was very kind to me.”
“Ah! So you’re getting tired of me, are you?”
“Indeed, no,” said Comethup. “I’m sure you don’t think that. But I’ve thought of the captain very often, and I shouldn’t like him to think that I’d forgotten him. Besides, you asked him to come and see me yourself.”
“Quite right, Comethup, quite right. I’m a foolish old woman, and you’re a good fellow not to forget your old friend. Write to him to-night, and ask him to come here and stay as long as he likes. Tell him to let you know by what train he is coming, and on what day, and you can drive down to the station to meet him. Will that satisfy you?”
Comethup thanked her gratefully, and wrote to the captain within the hour, begging him to come to town at the earliest possible moment and to stay as long as he could. He wrote the letter very carefully, and scanned it anxiously afterward; but finally sent it, and began to count the hours before a reply could be received. He began, too, to arrange what should be done for the captain’s entertainment when he arrived.
Two days elapsed, and then there came a letter addressedto Master Comethup Willis in a small, stiff, rather cramped handwriting. The letter was brought to him while he sat at breakfast with his aunt; he tore it open eagerly, and exclaimed at once, “Oh, he’s coming, he’s coming!”
“The captain?” inquired his aunt.
“Yes. He writes very nicely. He says he will be most—where is it?—oh, he says he’ll be ‘most delighted to accept, and will come on Thursday’; that’s to-morrow. He’s very particular; he’s written quite plainly the name of the station, and the time the train arrives.”
“Well, order the carriage, and go down to meet him. And don’t forget you’re to give him a good time while he’s in London; if you think he’d like to go to any particular place, take him there. You ought to know by this time that you can do as you like in those matters. Besides, I want the captain to understand who Prince Charming is, and what position he takes. You’d better interview Mrs. Currie, and tell her a gentleman is coming to stay with you, and that she is to make arrangements about his room. Give your orders, Prince Charming, give your orders.”
It happened that on the day fixed for the captain’s arrival a dinner party had been arranged at Miss Charlotte Carlaw’s house—a dinner party of the more riotous kind. The captain had decided upon so late a train that he reached London but little before the dinner hour. Comethup, who was to play his usual part in the festivities, had to be dressed in all his glory before setting out for the station; there would have been no time for dressing afterward. Thus it happened that the simple old gentleman, stepping out of the railway carriage in the dusk of an autumn evening, was confronted by a gaily dressed little figure in the costume, on a miniature scale, of a gallant of the days of Charles I, with plumed hat and lace ruffles and everything complete. Beside this figure stood a tall footman.
The captain had some difficulty in recognising his young friend, and, even when he did so, he did not appearto be quite at his ease. The footman who took his small portmanteau from his hand evidently overawed him; it is impossible to say what dream the captain had had as he travelled to town, but it is certain that he had not expected to meet the child in this fashion.
Comethup got into the carriage, and it was only then that they really began to talk to each other. Comethup had slipped one hand timidly into the captain’s and the captain’s fingers had closed over it; the man looked down at the child beside him.
“Well, little friend!” he said.
“Oh, sir,” said Comethup, with a deep sigh of content, “you don’t know how glad I am to see you! It seemed such a long time before your letter came; I thought all sorts of horrible things must have happened—that you had gone away—or—or anything. But it’s all right now, and I’m so glad you’ve come.”
“That’s good, Comethup, that’s good,” murmured the captain, more moved than he cared to show. “This is quite a holiday for me, and we must make the most of it, eh?”
“Oh, yes, we’ve arranged lots of things for you, so as to give you what aunt calls a good time while you’re in London. There’s a dinner party to-night—that’s why I was obliged to come looking such a swell, as aunt calls it; I didn’t mean to come to meet you like this, you know, but there wouldn’t have been time to dress after I got back—and a lot of nice people are coming; youwillenjoy yourself.”
“I hope so, I’m sure,” said the captain. “And I’m sure I don’t mind you’re being a swell in the least, Comethup. I suppose,” he added, a little wistfully, “I suppose your aunt is very good to you?”
Comethup nodded and laughed. “There never was anybody half so good—except you, sir, of course. She gives me everything I want, and some things that I scarcely want at all. It’s really quite wonderful; I really didn’t think anybody could have so much money.”
“And you’re quite happy?” asked the captain.
“Y—yes,” replied Comethup, after turning the matter over in his mind for a moment. “You see, I can’t help thinking sometimes about you, and ’Linda, and——”
“Ah, that reminds me,” said the captain. “I saw ’Linda to-day, and told her I was coming to see you. She sends her love to you; I think she would have liked to come with me.”
The carriage drew up at the house, and the captain alighted. He held himself very erect, shabby little figure that he was, as he went up the steps and into the house. He was conducted at once to the room which had been set apart for him, and presently made his appearance in the drawing room, where quite a number of people had already assembled, and approached Miss Carlaw. She stood, as usual, with her hand on the boy’s shoulder. She seemed to know the captain’s step at once, and greeted him cordially.
“Well, captain, so you’ve really come to see how Prince Charming likes his kingdom? What do you think of him now, eh? Are you prepared, like every other Jack and Jill, to prostrate yourself and worship? What do you think of him?”
“I think he looks—looks very well,” said the captain.
“He’s reason to be,” she retorted, with a little note of defiance in her voice. “Prince Charming knows he’s only got to clap his hands, and his foolish old fairy godmother will get whatever he wants, if it’s to come from the other end of the world. Oh, we do things properly here, I’ll warrant you, sir—don’t we, my prince?”
Comethup took his usual place at table, at the opposite end to his aunt, and had the captain at his right hand. The boy, young as he was, could not but remark to himself what an incongruous figure the captain cut in that assembly; his quiet, delicate, old-world face and manner contrasted so strongly with the faces about him; his dress, perfectly neat though it was, seemed to belong to a bygone day when compared with theirs. Once or twice, too, when things were said and stories told which Comethup did not understand, the captain was the only one who didnot laugh; indeed, he stiffened a little in his chair, and once laid his hand upon Comethup’s, where it rested on the table, and pressed it slightly, as though in sympathy.
Miss Charlotte Carlaw had been in a strange mood all the evening, had told her wildest stories, had laughed more loudly than any of her guests. After the men had lighted their cigars and cigarettes, and some of the women had begun also to smoke, she suddenly clapped her hands and cried out: “Where’s Prince Charming?—Come here, you dog, I want you.”
The captain, watching her after the boy had run to her, saw her with her arm about him, whispering something to him, insisting upon something; the child was hanging back and blushing, and pleading with her, also in a whisper. At last he laughed, and appeared to consent. She clasped her hands again, and cried for silence.
“Silence for Prince Charming! Boys and girls, you have not yet learned all our prince’s accomplishments. He can play like a born gambler; he can whisper a pretty speech in a lady’s ear; now you shall hear him sing. Oh, you need not be afraid; he has lessons daily from one of the best masters.—Come, up with you, Comethup!”
One of the men caught him up and put him on the table just in front of his aunt; she held one of his legs, so that he might not overbalance. One of the ladies ran to the piano and played a few notes, and then Comethup, very timidly at first, but more boldly as he went on, sang his song.
It was a foolish thing for a child to sing under any circumstances—a riotous chant of drinking, and women’s eyes, and red lips, and what not; but it had a rousing refrain, and after he had sung it once, they all stood up, shouting, with their glasses in their hands, and roared it all over again. Comethup, for his part, seemed to see none of them; he sang with all his might and main and put his heart into the wretched ditty, and he sang to the captain. And the captain sat still, with his head resting on his hand, and watched him.
The uproar as he finished was deafening, and as theytrooped into the drawing room two of the men carried him shoulder-high between them, and some one started to sing, “For he’s a jolly good fellow.” It was taken up by them all except, perhaps, by the captain, who walked quietly along in the rear.
The cards and dice were got out at once, and Miss Carlaw plunged into the game. Comethup had slipped away, and had stolen over to where the captain sat apart; he drew near him, and the old man put his arm about him and held him close, without speaking. Presently, however, Miss Carlaw remembered the boy, and stopped her game to call aloud for him.
“Where’s Comethup? He’s been winning people’s money all the week, now he’s got to give them a chance of revenge.—A man can’t slink away with full pockets, you know, Prince Charming. Where are you? Come and take a hand here at once.”
The boy rose obediently, and the captain rose with him. Indeed, the captain walked with him to Miss Carlaw’s side, and then ventured to interpose, in a low voice, “You surely do not let this child play, madam, and for money?”
She turned her face up to him, with a frown upon it. “And why not, pray? He’s got money enough and to spare; let him win or lose as he will. Don’t spoil sport, captain; sit down, and take a hand yourself.”
“No, no; I am but a poor gentleman, and have nothing to lose; it is as well to be frank on such matters.” He turned and walked back to his former place, changed his mind, and came back to watch the child play.
Comethup was in luck that night; more than once Miss Carlaw patted his shoulder approvingly when the money was pushed toward him. When at last play was finished, and the guests had departed, the captain lingered a little uneasily, glancing once or twice at the old woman, as though he wished to speak. Perhaps she guessed his intention, for she kept her hand obstinately on Comethup’s shoulder and said pointedly: “Well, I suppose we’reall tired, and had better get to bed.—Why, you’re quite sleepy, Prince Charming.”
The captain raised his head. “If you would spare me a matter of five minutes, madam, I should be glad. There is something I wish to say——”
“What, at this time of night? Won’t it keep till morning?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied the captain, quietly.
“Just like a man—so devilish unreasonable! Very well, let’s have it.”
“Not before the child,” said the captain, in the same tone as before.
“Oh! You seem determined to have your own way, so I suppose I must humour you. If I fall asleep, don’t accuse me of rudeness.—Prince Charming, go to bed.”
Comethup, wondering a little, kissed his aunt and gravely shook hands with the captain. When he had gone, and the door was closed, Miss Carlaw seated herself, rested her hands on the top of her stick and her chin on her hands, and waited for the captain to begin. He seemed somewhat at a loss, and paced about nervously for a few moments before speaking.
“Miss Carlaw, what I am—about to say—may appear—I fear it must—in the light of an impertinence. I know that I have no right to say anything, no right to interfere; but I happen, lonely old fellow though I am, to have a great affection for this child you have so generously taken under your care.” The captain paused for a moment and then swung round and spoke almost fiercely, “In God’s name, madam, what are you making of him?”
“That’s good,” said Miss Carlaw, in a tone of approval. “I like a man to come to the point and hit out straight. So you want to know what I’m making of him, do you?” She started up from her chair, and advanced toward the captain threateningly. “I’ll tell you, sir. I’m making a gentleman of him; I’m showing him what the world is like, and——”
“The worst side of the world, madam,” said the captain, indignantly.
“It’s good enough for me,” she retorted.
“That may be; you are a woman of the world, and can choose for yourself. This child is helpless; his fresh young mind can take in everything he sees about him. You stand at the present moment as everything to him—his benefactress, almost his goddess. What you do must be right, simply because you do it. You told me just now that you were training this boy to be a gentleman; I tell you, madam, you are training him to be a blackguard, and probably worse, if there is anything worse.”
Miss Carlaw had stopped, and was listening intently. Her brows were drawn down, but she nodded sternly as the captain finished speaking. “Go on, sir,” she said.
“I’ve known this boy, madam, since he was a baby—he’s little more than a baby now—and I’ve never found a sweeter, cleaner, purer soul on this muddy old earth of ours yet. He turns naturally to sweet things, to everything that has the sunlight and free air upon it; he’s as clear as crystal. Think of his age, madam! Is it an age when he should be mixing with men and women—forgive the discourtesy, I beg of you—with men and women not too choice in their conversation or their manners? Is it an age when he should be gambling and tossing gold about at an hour when he should be in bed? Believe me, I do not stand before you as a prig, or as one who would have a word to say against anything in its proper place or its proper season; you choose your own guests, and your choice is doubtless a right one, for every man and every woman chooses in this world according to his or her need. But with this boy—this baby—it’s different. His soul is in your hands, to do what you will with it. And I say, frankly, madam, that you are doing with it badly.”
She did not speak; she turned about, and went to her chair and sat down in the same attitude as before, except that she rested her forehead on her hands instead of her chin. After a pause the captain spoke again.
“I trust—I beg that you will forgive me if anything I have said appears harsh. I am not used to women’s ways, and have been but little in their society, but Ihave spoken out of the depths of my heart. It hurt me when the child left me, but I was glad, for his sake, and I readily recognise the unstinted generosity you appear to display toward him. But, madam, I entreat you to remember not only the child, but the man who is growing up under your hands.”
She sat for a long time in the same attitude, and when, presently, she raised her head and spoke, he saw with contrition that her lips were quivering; she even stretched one hand toward him for a moment, as though to ask his pardon.
“You’re a good man,” she said, in a curiously altered voice. “And I am—well, I’m a wicked old fool. I’ve been treating this child like a toy, holding him before all my friends, that they might see what a beautiful thing I had managed to secure. Friends, indeed!” she cried, fiercely, getting up and beginning to pace about, “there isn’t one of them I care a brass farthing for; there isn’t one of them I wouldn’t show the door to-morrow. Oh, you’re right; you’re very right, and I’m a monster. I’ve been given this glorious thing from God, and I don’t even know how to take care of it. Captain, I’m sorry to think, from what I know of the world, that there are very few men who would have been brave enough to say what you have said to-night. But there’s a Providence in your coming—a Providence that set the boy longing to see you. I—I am more glad than I can say that you came here. I’ve been blind—blind in two senses—but I’ll end it. By the Lord! I’ll make this boy what you say he should be; he sha’n’t minister to my whims any longer.” She began to laugh, and shook her head at him whimsically. “Oh, I like you; it’s refreshing to meet a man like you occasionally—you’re precious rare. By George! you did more for the boy than I did, and knew more about him—upon my word you did. Oh, I’ll be good to him, I’ll be proud of him. I want—I want to think about all this; and then I’ll talk to you about what’s best to be done for him. Give me your hand. Will you promise to stay here a week at least—now, I’ll take no denial—aweek at least? It’ll make the boy happy, and it’ll do him good, and it’ll take him away from me, which’ll do him good too.”
“Then I won’t stay,” said the captain, with a smile.
“Very well then,” she exclaimed, “we’ll do what we can with him together. Oh, you needn’t be afraid; I haven’t spoiled him yet. But you’ve got to advise me what to do. It’s evident, although it hurts me to say it, that I’m no good at the game.”
So the captain remained in town for a week, while Comethup’s fate was decided. Long discussions were held late at night, after he had gone to bed, between Miss Carlaw and his earlier friend. During the day the boy, blissfully unconscious of any change being contemplated, drove about with the captain and his aunt to every conceivable quarter of London, in the frantic desire to give the captain what he called “a good time.” It often happened that they drifted, quite naturally, toward one of the large barracks, or down to the Horse Guards, where the captain cocked his head knowingly and became at once, in the eyes of his admiring young friend, an expert; indeed, the mere passing of a soldier in the streets stiffened the little old gentleman’s figure and gave a sternness to his eyes, which showed, Comethup thought, that he ought really to have been a very great and very wonderful general indeed.
No more dinner parties were given during that week; but once or twice the three, after dining together, went to a theatre, Miss Carlaw appearing to understand the play, whatever it might be, quite as clearly as her companions. She had a wonderful faculty for locating a voice; and when once Comethup, in a rapid whisper, had explained to her what the scene was, she appeared to know exactly where each particular character came on, and how he or she moved about, and when they made their exits. It was truly wonderful, and Comethup lost a great part of the real business of the stage by watching her eager, listening face, and wondering that the loss of her eyes was really so little of a loss after all.
The captain’s visit was drawing to a close when one evening after dinner Miss Carlaw turned to him and waved a hand toward the boy, and said abruptly, “Now tell him all about it.”
Comethup looked from one to the other, while the captain cleared his throat and coughed, flushed a little, and drew himself up in his chair. Miss Carlaw waited impatiently, lightly tapping her fingers on the table before her. At last the captain spoke.
“You must know, Comethup, that your aunt, Miss Carlaw”—he bowed with much ceremony toward that lady—“your aunt has been good enough to ask my advice, and to place some confidence in me, in regard to your future. Of course, Comethup, I need hardly say that she is far more competent than I can hope to be to——”
“No, no,” ejaculated Miss Carlaw, shaking her head vigorously. “But go on.”
“To put the matter briefly, my dear boy, your aunt feels that there is not only a time for play but a time for work. We are both very proud of you; we hope to be prouder still. No man can do anything in this world unless he learns to work; unless he learns to fight his way with others, and find out what the world is like, and learn some of its lessons.”
“Well put, captain, excellently put,” interrupted Miss Carlaw again.
“To come to the point, Comethup, your aunt thinks that it would be wiser for you to mix with boys of your own age, and she intends to send you to school. She has already selected a good school, and——”
“And look here, Prince Charming,” broke in the old woman, “I think I know my boy well enough by this time to know that he’ll do whatever we think best, for his own sake as well as for ours. The captain here has told you very prettily why we think it’s necessary; just let me say that if you don’t like it when you get there, you can just come straight back again. I’m sure you’re brave enough to like it, and to make the best of it, although you’re only a little chap. And you shall come to me every holiday—oh,they’ve got precious long holidays, I can tell you—and you shall see the captain whenever you like. This school is only a few miles from your old home, and is right close to the sea. Of course I don’t know, but I should think it’s extremely likely that our good friend here might find time to run over to see you occasionally on half holidays.”
“Most assuredly,” said the captain.
“Well, what do you say to it all?” inquired Miss Carlaw.
Comethup’s heart had been beating a little faster than usual while they spoke; but the prospect was really more alluring than they thought, and the pill they desired him to swallow needed no gilding, for the boy’s life had been recently an unnatural one—strange and wonderful, but still unnatural; and the prospect of meeting boys of his own age, the greater prospect of learning something, and becoming a clever man, made his heart leap indeed. Then, too, the thought of frequently meeting the captain, of being within but a few miles of him, was attractive; he could scarcely hope for better fortune. After a pause he said slowly: “Of course, I should like to go to school, and—and learn; and it would be nice to see the captain, and to come back to you for the holidays. I’m quite sure I should like it.”
Miss Carlaw clapped her hands and smiled. The captain nodded at the boy approvingly. “I knew just what he’d say,” exclaimed Miss Carlaw.—“Come here, Prince Charming.”
The boy slipped down from his seat and went to her side. She drew her arm about him and said, with a tenderness that was strange to her: “You mustn’t think, Comethup, that I want to get rid of you—God forbid! But you’re all I have in the world, all I’ve got to think of or to be proud of. And I want you to be a clever man; I want to be able to point to you and say: ‘There’s my boy; match him if you can!’ That’s what I want to think. And so you’ll work hard and grow fast, and this foolish old aunt of yours will wait at home in patienceuntil you come back to her.” Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper, and he felt her lips lightly touch his hair before she pushed him gently from her.
The final details were arranged on the morrow, not without conflicts between Miss Carlaw and the captain. The old lady would have sent the boy to school dressed as a prince; the captain was for plain clothes in order that there might be no distinction between him and his fellows, and the captain had his way. The next serious point of difference was on the question of pocket money, Miss Carlaw having firmly made up her mind that the boy must be possessed of no less a sum than a sovereign a week, and the captain urging that a half-crown would be more than he possibly could spend. The two worthy creatures came to high words over the matter, and finally arrived at a compromise: Comethup was to have five shillings a week, and the captain exacted a promise from Miss Carlaw that this was not to be supplemented by any additional sum, at all events for the present.
It had been arranged that the captain was to accompany the boy to the school and see him safely established there; it was scarcely necessary for Miss Carlaw to go, when the place was really almost on the captain’s road home. The captain, proud of having got his own way in the matter, and prouder still of his mission, was very particular in discussing matters with the principal of the school about the airing of beds and the arrangements generally for the boy’s comfort; quite gave himself airs, in a gentlemanly fashion, over the matter. But when it was all done and the two had parted at the school gate, and the captain had watched the figure of the child going back slowly across the deserted playground to his new life, the little gentleman drooped a little, and was not so cheery or confident as he had been; lingered about so long, indeed, near the gate, that he nearly lost the last train to the dull little town in which he lived, and had to make a run for it.
A RETROSPECT—AND A FLUTTERING OF HEARTS.
Comethup Willis had passed his sixteenth birthday, and could afford to smile, with something of complacency, at the thought of that small and trembling boy who, eight long years before, had parted from the captain at the school gate on a certain summer evening. Yet, looking back over the years themselves, though they had been long in the going, the span of them seemed not so great after all. Comethup thought, with a comfortable sigh of content, what happy years they had been; what a wonderful time of close, strong friendships, and boyish vows of faithfulness; what days of work and play, and strong and vigorous life; what nights of perfect, dreamless sleep!
It had indeed been a happy time; he wondered, in his grateful heart, if ever boy had been so blessed before. The school had been a good and healthy one—a place where a boy was taught to work hard and to play harder; and Comethup, in the atmosphere of it, had grown into a tall, straight-limbed lad, with a strength about him which his dreamy face and slow, quiet smile belied.
He sat on a seat in the playground, with his head leaning against the trunk of a tree, and dreamily watched the boys at play, and thought about the eight years that had slipped so peacefully by. To-morrow was to be his last day at school; to-morrow the captain was coming, quite early in the morning, and they were going away together in the evening. The captain always came early on great match days; and to-morrow was a great match day, and Comethup was to play for the school for the last time.
Comethup thought of the captain with tenderness; remembered his many visits to the school, and the keen delight he had taken in his young friend’s progress. Was it not the captain who had been present on that memorable occasion when Comethup Willis made his first century? That was two years ago, before the boy had shownsigns of growing to his present height. It is a matter for doubt as to which of them—the captain or Comethup—trembled the most on that occasion. It had been one of those disastrous days, from the schoolboy’s standpoint, when luck had gone clean against them; when unfeeling rivals had bowled balls and manipulated catches in a manner which appeared to leave no hope of victory. Comethup had gone in last but one, and it was the first great match he had played in. He remembered now, as though it were yesterday, how he had seemed to see a crowd of faces in a great square about him, and here and there a little patch of colour from a lady’s dress; remembered, too, how he had passed the captain on his way to the wicket, and of how the captain, in a trembling voice, had whispered to him huskily to save the day. As he bent over his bat for a moment he murmured a prayer—for which he may surely be forgiven—that God would let him save the day and please the captain.
His heart leaped a little, even now, at the thought of that day; at the thought of how he managed to get most of the bowling, while the other batsmen “kept his end up”; of the cheering, frantic crowd of boys as he hit as he had never hit before—as one inspired, indeed—while the score crept steadily up on the board; of the wild tumult when the hit was made which assured them of victory; of the carrying out of his bat, while a score of youngsters struggled for the honour of bearing him shoulder-high to the tent. He remembered it all perfectly, and smiled at the recollection; smiled, too, to think how the captain had marched proudly in front while the boy was carried along; and of how, when he grasped Comethup’s hand, there had been tears in the little gentleman’s eyes.
In everything that had happened in his school life the captain seemed to have taken a prominent place. There was scarcely a boy in the great school who did not know him—scarcely one, indeed, with whose name he was not familiar. Nearly every half-holiday had seen his erect figure turn in at the gates, and his quick eyes, under thegray eyebrows, look about in search for Comethup. On summer days, when the cricket field was dotted with white fingers and the pleasant click of bat against ball was heard in the drowsy afternoon, the captain was there, and never a stroke, good or bad, escaped him; on winter days, when the snow was deep and boys were blowing on cold fingers, and the sharp cries and shouts of the sliders cut keenly through the frosty air, there was the captain again, buttoned to the chin, clapping his gloved hands furiously, and laughing with the best of them. He had become, in time, quite an institution, and may be said to have again considerably renewed his youth, in that place where youth was monarch of all.
And to-morrow was to end it; to-morrow the last farewells must be said, and he would go away, appropriately enough, with the captain. It had been arranged that he was to stay for a week with the captain in the place of his birth before going on to London to join his aunt; after that the plans for him were indefinite.
Curiously enough, during all the years of his school life he had never once visited the old town; something had always occurred to prevent his doing so. It was but a few miles distant from the sea; but the captain had visited him so frequently, and was always to be expected on half-holidays; and his own holidays were spent, from start to finish, with his aunt in London, so that he really had had no opportunity of going back to the old place. But now the captain had begged him to spend a week at his cottage, and Comethup, after consulting Miss Carlaw, had gladly accepted.
The boy had heard frequently, through the captain, of the welfare of those in whom he was interested. Not having seen them since he had been a child himself, it was difficult to realize that changes could have taken place, or that others, as well as himself, must have grown older. He thought of ’Linda still as a little child wandering in the garden among the drifting leaves and under the whispering trees; saw Medmer Theed, the shoemaker, hammering away at his work, without an additionalwrinkle; was forced to believe, in a vague fashion, that Brian must have grown, because he himself had grown, and Brian was certainly older. The captain had shaken his head more than once at the mention of Brian’s name, and hinted that father and son did not pull well together.
“Not the lad’s fault, you know, Comethup,” he had said, “although I never liked the boy. But Robert Carlaw ought never to have been a father—ought never to have been anything, for the matter of that. And yet the boy’s clever, I’m told; but it’s a cleverness, an infernal smartness, I don’t like.”
The afternoon wore away, and Comethup was roused from his reverie by the clanging of the bell summoning the boys to roll-call. He got up lazily and stretched himself, and suddenly saw a small boy standing before him, panting and eager.
“Willis, there’s some one to see you.”
“See me? Where?” He thought at first that it might be the captain, who had not been able to wait longer, in his eagerness for the morrow.
“Out by the gate there,” said the small boy, pointing behind him. “A man—a young man. Asked me to find you.”
“All right,” cried Comethup, and went leaping and striding toward the gate. There seemed to be no one there at first, until he went out a pace or two into the road; and there, leaning easily with his back against the wall, was a young man smoking a cigarette. “Did you want to see——” began Comethup; and then, as the young man turned quickly, the boy stopped, and looked at him with a puzzled expression for a moment; as the other smiled and threw back his head, Comethup gasped out, “Why—it’s Brian!”
Brian nodded, and stepped forward and shook Comethup by the hand. It was the first time they had met since Comethup had left the old place with his aunt; yet there were things about this tall, handsome fellow of eighteen that were the things he had known in the Brian who had been a child. It was the same smile that brokeover his face suddenly, like light; the dark eyes, that seemed to see so much farther and so much more than any other eyes; the brown hair, waving back from his forehead, and worn rather long; the slightly swaggering fashion of carrying himself—the fashion which his father had carried to an excess. There were, besides all this, a carelessness of dress and a recklessness of manner that seemed to be a part of his natural growth, too.
“Yes; it’s Brian. I thought I might be able to see you. By Jove! you haven’t altered a bit, my cousin of the queer name. Of course you’re bigger, but you’ve still got that angelic face and that maiden air of goodness. I’ll put you into a poem some day, only no one will believe I’ve drawn you from life. There, let’s stop jesting; I want you to help me. The truth of the matter is, there’s been a kick-up between my father and myself; we never did hit it; his ways are not my ways, and he’s a blackguard, and not with my sort of blackguardism either.” He laughed, and clapped a hand on Comethup’s shoulder. “Look here, old boy, I’m not envying you the plums of life you’ve got, but I want—oh, I have the right, as far as that goes—I want you to help me.”
“Why, of course,” began Comethup, “if I can——”
“You can do everything. According to my father, you stole my birthright from me, you rascal, although that wasn’t your fault. Some of us get the bread in this world, and the others, for all the asking, get the stone. Let’s cut all this and come to the point. I’m going to London; it’s the only place where a man with brains—and Iama man now, although I am only eighteen, and I know I’ve got the brains—it’s the only place where a man can do anything, or show what stuff is in him. In the country, among these grinning, slow, dead-and-alive yokels, one can’t move; one seems to get stuck in their beastly clayey soil, and to take root there and never to move again. London’s the place; I saw it once when I was a boy; I’ve dreamed of it ever since. I know what I can do there; I’ll make men recognise me. But I’m a beggar, so far as money is concerned, and I’m heavily indebt. I don’t care a hang about the debts; dad’ll have to pay them; that was what the row was about. However, it’s his own fault, and in any case it doesn’t matter now. What I want to know is this: can you let me have enough money to take me to London, and give me a bit over until I find my feet? I know you’ve got plenty, and I don’t know any one else to whom I can turn. I knew you were here, because I saw the captain—that old starched chap—a day or two back, and he told me where you were.”
“I’ll gladly help you,” said Comethup. “How much money do you want? I am afraid I haven’t very much.”
“Well, have you got five pounds you can spare?”
Now it happened that within the past year Miss Charlotte Carlaw, in the pride of her heart, had been in the habit of breaking her promise to the captain and forwarding sums of money to Comethup whenever she could find an excuse for so doing—whenever, for instance, he had made a big score at cricket, or had written her a letter with which she was particularly pleased. Moreover, as every bill—and they were not many—which he contracted was promptly paid, without question, by his aunt, he found it somewhat difficult, as a mere schoolboy, to get rid of all the money he had, although it seemed to slip through his fingers pretty quickly. Only on the previous day Miss Carlaw had sent him twenty pounds in bank notes, with a message to the effect that, as he was visiting the captain, he would probably want some money to spend, and ten pounds was for that; and, as he was now a gentleman at large and his school days were left behind, he would want some further money in his pocket, and ten pounds was for that.
“I don’t think five pounds is much good to you,” said Comethup. “Hadn’t you better take ten?”
“By all means,” exclaimed Brian, with much alacrity. “Hadn’t the least idea you’d got so much. By George! I shall be a millionaire; ten pounds will last a deuce of a long time.”
Comethup put his hand into his pocket and producedthe money. “Don’t you think,” he said, “that it would be better for you to go and see my aunt—youraunt, too, you know—and tell her what you mean to do? She’s awfully good, and I know that she——”
“No, thanks, I’d rather not; I had one experience with the old girl, and that was enough. Oh, I’ll get on capitally. And if I want anything more, I can easily come to you. You won’t mind, will you?”
“Not a bit,” said Comethup. “I’ll give you our address in London, and you can write to me. I shall be up there in a week’s time.”
He wrote it down on the back of an envelope and gave it to Brian. They shook hands again quite heartily, and Brian, retaining Comethup’s hand for a moment, said, in his friendly fashion: “Wish me luck. I’m going to set the Thames on fire, if ever a man set it flaring yet. You know what that means, don’t you? They say that of any one who’s going to do something more wonderful than any one else. I know what’s in me; I know what I can do. And that wretched old sleepy hollow where you and I once lived, Comethup—I’ve done with the infernal place. It shall be proud of me some day—proud to think that I lived there, that I was born there; oh, I’ll make them whisper my name with awe, and condone all my past offences. Good-bye, old chap; it’s awfully good of you, and some day, when I’m rich and famous, I’ll pay it back—I will, indeed. Good-bye; I’ll write and let you know how I get on. But you’ll hear of me—oh, you’ll hear of me.”
He crammed the envelope and the notes into his pocket and set off down the road, turning once to wave his hand to Comethup, who stood at the gate watching him.
The captain turned in briskly at the school gates on the following morning immediately after breakfast. He seemed to glow with the conscious pride of one intimately associated with the most important man of the day; to be proud of the fact that he was bearing off the boy whom it was the school’s delight to honour, forComethup was the head boy of the school and captain of the Eleven—a man whom little boys regarded with awe, as he, when a little boy, had once regarded the captains who had long since passed out of the school. Very proud, too, was the captain to have this big lad slip his hand under his own weaker arm and stroll with him about the playground and among groups of admiring boys; prouder still when the head master, whom the modest captain regarded as a very wonder for learning, came to him and shook hands and murmured a few appropriate words about the loss the school would suffer with the departure of Comethup Willis.
The day, with its cricket match—in which Comethup covered himself, for the last time, with glory—came to an end, and the captain and the boy were free to depart. A fly was at the gate; Comethup’s boxes were piled upon it, and a crowd of younger boys had gathered about to see him go and to give him a final cheer. In the pride of the hour he had determined to drive the captain the whole of the way home, in order to save the trouble of the short train journey; the captain had expostulated, but Comethup had laughingly had his way.
As the fly started, the eldest boy, who would be captain next term in Comethup’s place, cried lustily, “Three cheers for Willis!” and Captain Garraway-Kyle stood up in the vehicle, snatched off his hat and waved it, and responded heartily. As he sat down again, and the fly, turning the corner of the road, left the familiar faces behind, he said in a gratified tone: “That’s music, boy; that’s the best of all music. When it comes from the throats of those who love you, it’s the finest orchestra in the world; sometimes it comes falsely, and means nothing; and then, if you have but the right ears to hear, the music is all jangled horribly, and means nothing but lies, and fawnings, and hypocrisy. But that’s the right music, boys—the music that comes from those who love us.”
They drove on for some time in silence, and then the captain said abruptly: “I had a visitor this morning, ina state of great excitement; he hasn’t been near me since you went to London. Can you guess?”