CHAPTER VII.

Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow. "I don't know how long. I was in that state. For more than a day, I know; for I was quite conscious, and lived my outer life all the time, and took my medicines, and spoke to my mother, and heard what they said. But I didn't take much note of time; I thought time was over for me, and that that tomb was what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, as I seemed to lie in that tomb, alone, as I thought, forever and ever, the black dead wall was cleft in two, and I was caught up and borne into the light by some great power, some living mighty spirit. Tom, do you remember the living creatures and the wheels in Ezekiel?[18]It was just like that: 'When they went, I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise of great waters, as the voice of the Almighty, the voice of speech, as the noise of an host; when they stood, they let down their wings'—'and they went every one straight forward;—whither the spirit was to go they went, and they turned not when they went.' And we rushed through the bright air, which was full of myriads of living creatures, and paused on the brink of a great river. And the power held me up, and I knew that that great river was the grave, and death dwelt there; but not the death I had met in the black tomb,—that I felt was gone forever. For on the other bank of the great river I saw men and women and children rising up pure and bright, and the tears were wiped from their eyes, and they put on glory and strength, and all weariness and pain fell away. And beyond were a multitude which no man could number, and they worked at some great work; and they who rose from the river went on and joined in the work. Theyall worked, and each worked in a different way, but all at the same work. And I saw there my father, and the men in the old town whom I knew when I was a child; many a hard stern man, who never came to church, and whom they called atheist and infidel. There they were, side by side with my father, whom I had seen toil and die for them, and women and little children, and the seal[19]was on the foreheads of all. And I longed to see what the work was, and could not; so I tried to plunge into the river, for I thought I would join them, but I could not. Then I looked about to see how they got into the river. And this I could not see, but I saw myriads on this side, and they too worked, and I knew that it was the same work; and the same seal was on their foreheads. And though I saw that there was toil and anguish in the work of these, and that most that were working were blind and feeble, yet I longed no more to plunge into the river, but more and more to know what the work was. And as I looked I saw my mother and my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, and you, Tom, and hundreds more whom I knew. And at last I saw myself, too, and I was toiling and doing ever so little a piece of the great work. Then it all melted away, and the power left me, and as it left me I thought I heard a voice say: 'The vision is for an appointed time; though it tarry, wait for it, for in the end it shall speak and not lie, it shall surely come, it shall not tarry.'[20]It was early morning I know then, it was so quiet and cool, and my mother was fast asleep in the chair by my bedside; but it wasn't only a dream of mine. I know it wasn't a dream. Then I fell into a deep sleep,and only woke after afternoon chapel; and the Doctor came and gave me the Sacrament as I told you. I told him and my mother I should get well—I knew I should; but I couldn't tell them why. Tom," said Arthur, gently, after another minute, "do you see why I could not grieve now to see my dearest friend die? It can't be—it isn't all fever or illness. God would never have let me see it so clear if it wasn't true. I don't understand it all yet—it will take me my life, and longer, to do that—to find out what the work is."

When Arthur stopped, there was a long pause. Tom could not speak; he was almost afraid to breathe, lest he should break the train of Arthur's thoughts. He longed to hear more, and to ask questions. In another minute nine o'clock struck, and a gentle tap at the door called them both back into the world again. They did not answer, however, for a moment, and so the door opened and a lady came in, carrying a candle.

She went straight to the sofa, and took hold of Arthur's hand, and then stooped down and kissed him.

"My dearest boy, you feel a little feverish again. Why didn't you have lights? You've talked too much, and excited yourself in the dark."

"Oh, no, mother, you can't think how well I feel. I shall start with you to-morrow for Devonshire. But, mother, here's my friend, here's Tom Brown—you know him?"

"Yes indeed, I've known him for years," she said, and held out her hand to Tom, who was now standing up behind the sofa. This was Arthur's mother; tall, and slight, and fair, with masses of golden hair drawn back from the broad white forehead, and the calm blue eye meeting hisso deep and open,—the eye that he knew so well, for it was his friend's over again, and the lovely tender mouth that trembled while he looked. She stood there a woman of thirty-eight, old enough to be his mother, and one whose face showed the lines that must be written on the faces of good men's wives and widows,—but he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. He couldn't help wondering if Arthur's sisters were like her.

Tom held her hand, and looked her straight in the face; he could neither let it go nor speak.

"Now, Tom," said Arthur, laughing, "where are your manners? You'll stare my mother out of countenance." Tom dropped the little hand with a sigh. "There, sit down, both of you. Here, dearest mother, there's room here," and he made a place on the sofa for her. "Tom, you needn't go; I'm sure you won't be called up at first lesson." Tom felt that he would risk being floored at every lesson for the rest of his natural school-life sooner than go; so sat down. "And now," said Arthur, "I have realized one of the dearest wishes of my life,—to see you two together."

And then he led away the talk to their home in Devonshire, and the red bright earth, and the deep green combes,[21]and the peat[22]streams like cairngorm[23]pebbles, and the wild moor[24]with its high cloudy Tors[25]for a giant background to the picture,—till Tom got jealous, and stood up for the clear chalk streams, and the emerald watermeadows and great elms and willows of the dear old Royal county, as he gloried to call it. And the mother sat on quiet and loving, rejoicing in their life. The quarter-to-ten struck, and the bell rang for bed, before they had well begun their talk as it seemed.

Then Tom rose with a sigh to go.

"Shall I see you in the morning, Geordie?" said he, as he shook his friend's hand. "Never mind, though; you'll be back next half, and I sha'n't forget the house of Rimmon."

Arthur's mother got up and walked with him to the door, and there gave him her hand again, and again his eyes met that deep loving look, which was like a spell upon him. Her voice trembled slightly as she said, "Good-night,—you are one who knows what our Father has promised to the friend of the widow and the fatherless. May He deal with you as you have dealt with me and mine!"

Tom was quite upset; he mumbled something about owing everything good in him to Geordie—looked in her face again, pressed her hand to his lips, and rushed down stairs to his study, where he sat till old Thomas came kicking at the door to tell him his allowance[26]would be stopped if he didn't go off to bed. (It would have been stopped anyhow, but that he was a great favorite with the old gentleman, who loved to come out in the afternoon into the close to Tom's wicket, and bowl slow twisters[27]to him, and talk of the glories of bygone Surrey[28]heroes, with whom he had played in former generations.)

So Tom roused himself, and took up his candle to go to bed; and then for the first time was aware of a beautiful new fishing-rod, with old Eton's[29]mark on it, and a splendidly bound Bible, which lay on his table, on the title-page of which was written: "Tom Brown, from his affectionate and grateful friends, Frances Jane Arthur; George Arthur."

I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what he dreamt of.

FOOTNOTES[1]Bequest: something given by will.[2]Marylebone match(merrybun): a match by the London cricket club of that name. It is the leading cricket club of the world. The celebrated Lord's grounds in London are its property.[3]Geordie: Georgie (his full name was George Arthur).[4]Pie-Match: a match for a supper.[5]Dot and go one: with a skipping movement.[6]Ethnology: that science which treats of races of men.[7]Cock medicine-man: chief doctor.[8]Boomerang: a throw-stick in use as a weapon among the natives of Australia. It is so shaped that when thrown at any object it returns to the thrower.[9]Blackies: rooks.[10]Clerk: a clergyman's assistant—he reads the responses in the English Church service.[11]Gammon: pretend.[12]Cribs: translations, "ponies."[13]His flank was turned: he was taken at a disadvantage.[14]Agamemnon, etc.: a Greek tragedy. Thucydides was a Greek historian; "The Birds," a Greek comedy; Tacitus, a Latin historian.[15]2 Kings v. 18.[16]Isa. xxxviii. 19.[17]Eccl. ix. 10.[18]Ezek. i. 24.[19]Seal: here, mark of acceptance.[20]Hab. ii. 3.[21]Combes: valleys.[22]Peat: a kind of turf used as fuel.[23]Cairngorm: a yellow or brown variety of crystallized quartz found in Cairngorm, Scotland.[24]Moor: an extensive waste plain covered with heath.[25]Tors: high-pointed hills or rocks.[26]Allowance: spending-money.[27]Twisters: balls thrown with a twisting motion.[28]Surrey: a county in the south of England.[29]Eton: a noted maker of fishing-rods, etc.

[1]Bequest: something given by will.

[2]Marylebone match(merrybun): a match by the London cricket club of that name. It is the leading cricket club of the world. The celebrated Lord's grounds in London are its property.

[3]Geordie: Georgie (his full name was George Arthur).

[4]Pie-Match: a match for a supper.

[5]Dot and go one: with a skipping movement.

[6]Ethnology: that science which treats of races of men.

[7]Cock medicine-man: chief doctor.

[8]Boomerang: a throw-stick in use as a weapon among the natives of Australia. It is so shaped that when thrown at any object it returns to the thrower.

[9]Blackies: rooks.

[10]Clerk: a clergyman's assistant—he reads the responses in the English Church service.

[11]Gammon: pretend.

[12]Cribs: translations, "ponies."

[13]His flank was turned: he was taken at a disadvantage.

[14]Agamemnon, etc.: a Greek tragedy. Thucydides was a Greek historian; "The Birds," a Greek comedy; Tacitus, a Latin historian.

[15]2 Kings v. 18.

[16]Isa. xxxviii. 19.

[17]Eccl. ix. 10.

[18]Ezek. i. 24.

[19]Seal: here, mark of acceptance.

[20]Hab. ii. 3.

[21]Combes: valleys.

[22]Peat: a kind of turf used as fuel.

[23]Cairngorm: a yellow or brown variety of crystallized quartz found in Cairngorm, Scotland.

[24]Moor: an extensive waste plain covered with heath.

[25]Tors: high-pointed hills or rocks.

[26]Allowance: spending-money.

[27]Twisters: balls thrown with a twisting motion.

[28]Surrey: a county in the south of England.

[29]Eton: a noted maker of fishing-rods, etc.

"The Holy Supper is kept indeed,In whatso we share with another's need—Not that which we give, but what we share,For the gift without the giver is bare:Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three,Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me."Lowell, "The Vision of Sir Launfal."

Lowell, "The Vision of Sir Launfal."

The next morning, after breakfast, Tom, East, and Gower met as usual to learn their second lessons together. Tom had been considering how to break his proposal of giving up the crib to the others, and having found no better way (as indeed none better can ever be found by man or boy), told them simply what had happened; how he had been to see Arthur, who had talked to him upon the subject, and what he had said; and for his part he had made up his mind, and wasn't going to use cribs any more; and being quite sure of his ground, took the high and pathetic tone, and was proceeding to say, "how, that, having learned his lessons with them for so many years, it would grieve him much to put an end to the arrangement, and he hoped at any rate that, if they wouldn't go on with him, they should still be just as good friends, and respect one another's motives—but——"

Here the other boys, who had been listening with open eyes and ears, burst in:—

"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Gower. " Here, East, get down the crib and find the place."

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy!" said East, proceeding to do as he was bidden, "that it should ever have come to this. I knew Arthur'd be the ruin of you some day, and you of me. And now the time's come"—and he made a doleful face.

"I don't know about ruin," answered Tom; "I know that you and I would have had the sack[1]long ago, if it hadn't been for him. And you know it as well as I."

"Well, we were in a baddish way before he came, I own; but this new crotchet of his is past a joke."

"Let's give it a trial, Harry; come—you know how often he has been right and we wrong."

"Now, don't you two be jawing away about young Squaretoes,"[2]struck in Gower. "He's no end of a sucking wiseacre,[3]I dare say, but we've no time to lose, and I've got the fives'-court at half-past nine."

"I say, Gower," said Tom, appealingly, "be a good fellow, and let's try if we can't get on without the crib."

"What! in this chorus?[4]Why, we sha'n't get through ten lines."

"I say, Tom," cried East, having hit on a new idea, "don't you remember, when we were in the upper fourth, and old Momus[5]caught me construing off the leaf of a crib which I'd torn out and put in my book, and which would float out on to the floor, he sent me up to be flogged for it?"

"Yes, I remember it very well."

"Well, the Doctor, after he'd flogged me, told me himself that he didn't flog me for using a translation, but for taking it into lesson, and using it there, when I hadn't learnt a word before I came in. He said there was no harm in using a translation to get a clew to hard passages, if you tried all you could first to make them out without."

"Did he, though?" said Tom, "then Arthur must be wrong."

"Of course he is," said Gower, "the little prig! We'll only use the crib when we can't construe without it. Go ahead, East."

And on this agreement they started: Tom, satisfied with having made this confession, and not sorry to have alocus penitentiæ,[6]and not to be deprived altogether of the use of his old and faithful friend.

The boys went on as usual, each taking a sentence in turn, and the crib being handed to the one whose turn it was to construe. Of course Tom couldn't object to this, as was it not simply lying there to be appealed to in case the sentence should prove too hard altogether for the construer? But it must be owned that Gower and East did not make very tremendous exertions to conquer their sentences before having recourse to its help. Tom, however, with the most heroic virtue and gallantry rushed into his sentence, searching in a high-minded manner for nominative and verb, and turning over his dictionary frantically for the first hard word that stopped him. But in the meantime Gower, who was bent on getting to fives, would peep quietly into the crib, and then suggest, "Don't youthink this is the meaning?" "I think you must take it this way, Brown;" and as Tom didn't see his way to not profiting by these suggestions, the lesson went on about as quickly as usual, and Gower was able to start for fives'-court within five minutes of the half-hour.

When Tom and East were left face to face, they looked at one another for a minute, Tom puzzled and East chock-full of fun, and then burst into a roar of laughter.

"Well, Tom," said East, recovering himself, "I don't see any objection to the new way. It's about as good as the old one, I think; besides the advantage it gives one of feeling virtuous, and looking down on one's neighbors."

Tom shoved his hand into his back hair. "I'm not so sure," said he; "you two fellows carried me off my legs; I don't really think we tried one sentence fairly. Are you sure you remember what the Doctor said to you?"

"Yes. And I'll swear I couldn't make out one of my sentences to-day. No, nor ever could. I really don't remember," said East, speaking slowly and impressively, "to have come across one Latin or Greek sentence this half that I could go and construe by the light of nature. Whereby I am sure Providence intended cribs to be used."

"The thing to find out," said Tom, meditatively, "is how long one ought to grind at a sentence without looking at the crib. Now, I think, if one fairly looks out all the words one doesn't know, and then can't hit it, that's enough."

"To be sure, Tommy," said East, demurely, but with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Your new doctrine, too, old fellow," added he, "when one comes to think of it, is a cutting at the root of all school morality. You'll take away mutual help, brotherly love, or, in the vulgar tongue,'giving construes,' which I hold to be one of our highest virtues. For how can you distinguish between getting a construe from another boy and using a crib? Hang it, Tom, if you're going to deprive all our school-fellows of the chance of exercising Christian benevolence and being good Samaritans, I shall cut the concern."

"I wish you wouldn't joke about it, Harry. It's hard enough to see one's way, a precious sight harder than I thought last night. But I suppose there's a use and an abuse of both, and one'll get straight enough somehow. But you can't make out anyhow that one has a right to use old Vulgus-books and copy-books."

"Hullo, more heresy! How fast a fellow goes down hill when once he gets his head before his legs! Listen to me, Tom. Not use old Vulgus-books! Why, you Goth,[7]aren't we to take the benefit of the wisdom, and admire and use the work of past generations? Not use old copy-books! Why, you might as well say we ought to pull down Westminster Abbey, and put up a go-to-meeting-shop with churchwarden windows;[8]or never read Shakespeare, but only Sheridan Knowles.[9]Think of all the work and labor that our predecessors have bestowed on these very books, and are we to make their work of no value?"

"I say, Harry, please don't chaff; I'm really serious."

"And, then, is it not our duty to consult the pleasure of others rather than our own; and, above all, that of our masters? Fancy, then, the difference to them in looking over a Vulgus which has been carefully touched andretouched by themselves and others, and which must bring them a sort of dreamy pleasure, as if they'd met the thought or expression of it somewhere or another,—before they were born, perhaps,—and that of cutting up, and making picture-frames round all your and my false quantities and other monstrosities. Why, Tom, you wouldn't be so cruel as never to let old Momus hum over the 'O genus humanum' again, and then look up doubtingly through his spectacles, and end by smiling and giving three extra marks for it; just for old sake's sake, I suppose."

"Well," said Tom, getting up in something as like a huff as he was capable of, "it's deuced hard that when a fellow's really trying to do what he ought, his best friends'll do nothing but chaff him and try to put him down." And he stuck his books under his arm, and his hat on his head, preparatory to rushing out into the quadrangle, to testify with his own soul of the faithlessness of friendships.

"Now don't be an ass, Tom," said East, catching hold of him; "you know me well enough by this time; my bark's worse than my bite. You can't expect to ride your new crotchet without anybody's trying to make him kick you off: especially as we shall have to go on foot still. But now sit down, and let's go over it again. I'll be as serious as a judge."

Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and waxed eloquent about all the righteousness and advantages of the new plan, as was his wont whenever he took up anything; going into it as if his life depended upon it, and sparing no abuse which he could think of, of the opposite method, which he denounced as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying, and no one knows what besides. "Very cool of Tom," as East thought, but didn't say, "seeing as howhe only came out of Egypt[10]himself last night at bed-time."

"Well, Tom," said he, at last, "you see, when you and I came to school there were none of these sort of notions. You may be right—I dare say you are. Only what one has always felt about the masters is that it's a fair trial of skill and last[11]between us and them—like a match at foot-ball, or a battle. We're natural enemies in school, that's the fact. We've got to learn so much Latin and Greek and do so many verses, and they've got to see that we do it. If we can slip the collar, and do so much less without getting caught, that's one to us. If they can get more out of us, or catch us shirking, that's one to them. All's fair in war, but lying. If I run my luck against theirs, and go into school without looking at my lessons, and don't get called up, why am I a snob[12]or a sneak? I don't tell the master I've learnt it. He's got to find out whether I have or not; what's he paid for? If he calls me up, and I get floored, he makes me write it out in Greek and English. Very good; he's caught me, and I don't grumble. I grant you, if I go and snivel to him, and tell him I've really tried to learn it, but found it so hard without a translation, or say I've had a toothache, or any humbug of that kind, I'm a snob. That's my school morality; it's served me, and you too, Tom, for the matter of that, these five years. And it's all clear and fair, no mistake about it. We understand it, and they understand it, and I don't know what we're to come to with any other."

Tom looked at him pleased, and a little puzzled. Hehad never heard East speak his mind seriously before, and couldn't help feeling how completely he had hit his own theory and practice up to that time.

"Thank you, old fellow," said he. "You're a good old brick to be serious and not put out with me. I said more than I meant, I dare say, only you see I know I'm right; whatever you and Gower and the rest do, I shall hold on—I must. And as it's all new and an up-hill game, you see, one must hit hard and hold on tight at first."

"Very good," said East; "hold on and hit away, only don't hit under the line."[13]

"But I must bring you over, Harry, or I sha'n't be comfortable. Now, I'll allow all you've said. We've always been honorable enemies with the masters. We found a state of war when we came, and went into it of course. Only don't you think things are altered a good deal? I don't feel as I used to the masters. They seem to me to treat one quite differently."

"Yes, perhaps they do," said East; "there's a new set, you see, mostly, who don't feel sure of themselves yet. They don't want to fight till they know the ground."

"I don't think it's only that," said Tom. "And then the Doctor, he does treat one so openly, and like a gentleman, and as if one was working with him."

"Well, so he does," said East; "he's a splendid fellow, and when I get into the sixth I shall act accordingly. Only you know he has nothing to do with our lessons now, except examining us. I say, though, "looking at his watch, "it's just the quarter. Come along."

As they walked out they got a message, to say "thatArthur was just starting and would like to say good-bye"; so they went down to the private entrance of the School-house, and found an open carriage, with Arthur propped up with pillows in it, looking already better, Tom thought.

They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands with him, and Tom mumbled thanks for the presents he had found in his study, and looked round anxiously for Arthur's mother.

East, who had fallen back into his usual humor, looked quaintly at Arthur, and said:—

"So you've been at it again, through that hot-headed convert of yours there. He's been making our lives a burden to us all the morning about using cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second lesson, if I'm called up."

Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck in:—

"Oh, it's all right. He's converted already; he always comes through the mud, after us, grumbling and spluttering."

The clock struck, and they had to go off to school, wishing Arthur a pleasant holiday, Tom lingering behind a moment to send his thanks and love to Arthur's mother.

Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, and succeeded so far as to get East to promise to give the new plan a fair trial.

Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when they were sitting alone in the large study, where East lived now almost, "vice[14]Arthur on leave," after examining the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced to be thegenuine article ("play[15]enough to throw a midge[16]tied on a single hair against the wind, and strength enough to hold a grampus[17]") they naturally began talking about Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over with last night's scene and all the thoughts of the last week, and wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, which he could never do without first going through the process of belaboring somebody else with it all, suddenly rushed into the subject of Arthur's illness, and what he had said about death.

East had given him the desired opening; after a seriocomic grumble, "that life wasn't worth having now they were tied to a young beggar who was always 'raising his standard';[18]and that he, East, was like a prophet's donkey, who was obliged to struggle on after the donkey-man who went after the prophet; that he had none of the pleasure of starting the new crotchets, and didn't half understand them, but had to take the kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all the fun," he threw his legs up on to the sofa, and put his hands behind his head, and said:—

"Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little fellow I ever came across. There isn't such a meek, humble boy in the school. Hanged if I don't think now really, Tom, that he believes himself a much worse fellow than you or I, and that he doesn't think he has more influence in the house than Dot Bowles, who came last quarter, and isn't ten yet. But he turns you and me round his little finger, old boy—there's no mistake about that." And East nodded at Tom sagaciously.

"Now or never!" thought Tom; so, shutting his eyes and hardening his heart, he went straight at it, repeating all that Arthur had said, as near as he could remember it, in the very words, and all he had himself thought. The life seemed to ooze out of it as he went on, and several times he felt inclined to stop, give it all up, and change the subject. But somehow he was borne on, he had a necessity upon him to speak it all out, and did so. At the end he looked at East with some anxiety, and was delighted to see that that young gentleman was thoughtful and attentive. The fact is, that in the stage of his inner life at which Tom had lately arrived, his intimacy with and friendship for East could not have lasted if he had not made him aware of, and a sharer in, the thoughts that were beginning to exercise him. Nor indeed could the friendship have lasted if East had shown no sympathy with these thoughts; so that it was a great relief to have unbosomed himself, and to have found that his friend could listen.

Tom had always had a sort of instinct that East's levity was only skin-deep; and this instinct was a true one. East had no want of reverence for anything that he felt to be real, but he was one of those natures that burst into what is generally called recklessness and impiety the moment they feel that anything is being poured upon them for their good, which does not come home to their inborn sense of right, or which appeals to anything like self-interest in them. Daring and honest by nature, and outspoken to an extent which alarmed all respectabilities, with a constant fund of animal health and spirits which he did not feel bound to curb in any way, he had gained for himself with the steady part of the school (includingas well those who wished to appear steady as those who really were so) the character of a boy with whom it would be dangerous to be intimate; while his own hatred of everything cruel, or underhand, or false, and his hearty respect for what he could see to be good and true, kept off the rest.

Tom, besides being very like East in many points of character, had largely developed in his composition the capacity for taking the weakest side. This is not putting it strongly enough; it was a necessity with him; he couldn't help it any more than he could eating or drinking. He could never play on the strongest side with any heart at foot-ball or cricket, and was sure to make friends with any boy who was unpopular, or down on his luck.

Now, though East was not what is generally called unpopular, Tom felt more and more every day, as their characters developed, that he stood alone, and did not make friends among their contemporaries; and therefore sought him out. Tom was himself much more popular, for his power of detecting humbug was much less acute, and his instincts were much more sociable. He was at this period of his life, too, largely given to taking people for what they gave themselves out to be; but his singleness of heart, fearlessness and honesty were just what East appreciated, and thus the two had been drawn into great intimacy.

This intimacy had been interrupted by Tom's guardianship of Arthur.

East had often, as has been said, joined them in reading the Bible, but their discussion had almost always turned upon the characters of the men and women of whom they read, and not become personal to themselves.In fact, the two had shrunk from personal religious discussion, not knowing how it might end; and fearful of risking a friendship very dear to both, and which they felt somehow, without quite knowing why, would never be the same, but either tenfold stronger or sapped[19]at its foundation, after such communing together.

What a bother all this explaining is! I wish we could get on without it. But we can't. However, you'll all find, if you haven't found it out already, that a time comes in every human friendship when you must go down into the depths of yourself, and lay bare what is there to your friend, and wait in fear for his answer. A few moments may do it; and it may be (most likely will be, as you are English boys) that you will never do it but once. But done it must be, if the friendship is to be worth the name. You must find what is there, at the very root and bottom of one another's hearts; and if you are at one there, nothing on earth can, or at least ought to, sunder you.

East had remained lying down until Tom finished speaking, as if fearing to interrupt him; he now sat up at the table and leant his head on one hand, taking up a pencil with the other, and working little holes with it in the table cover. After a bit he looked up, stopped the pencil, and said: "Thank you very much, old fellow; there's no other boy in the house would have done it for me but you or Arthur. I can see well enough," he went on, after a pause, "all the best big fellows look on me with suspicion; they think I'm a devil-may-care, reckless young scamp. So I am,—eleven hours out of twelve,—butnot the twelfth. Then all our contemporaries worth knowing follow suit, of course; we're very good friends at games and all that, but not a soul of them but you and Arthur ever tried to break through the crust, and see whether there was anything at the bottom of me: and then the bad ones I won't stand, and they know that."

"Don't you think that's half fancy, Harry?"

"Not a bit of it," said East, bitterly, pegging away with his pencil. "I see it all plain enough. Bless you, you think everybody's as straightforward and kind-hearted as you are."

"Well, but what's the reason of it? There must be a reason. You can play all the games as well as any one, and sing the best songs, and are the best company in the house. You fancy you're not liked, Harry. It's all fancy."

"I only wish it was, Tom. I know I could be popular enough with all the bad ones, but that I won't have, and the good ones won't have me."

"Why not?" persisted Tom; "you don't drink or swear, or get out at night; you never bully, or cheat at lessons. If you only showed you liked it, you'd have all the best fellows in the house running after you."

"Not I," said East. Then, with an effort, he went on: "I'll tell you what it is. I never stop during the Sacrament. I can see, from the Doctor downward, how that tells against me."

"Yes, I've seen that," said Tom, "and I've been very sorry for it, and Arthur and I have talked about it. I've often thought of speaking to you, but it's so hard to begin on such subjects. I'm very glad you've opened it. Now, why don't you!"

"I've never been confirmed,"[20]said East.

"Not been confirmed!" said Tom, in astonishment. "I never thought of that. Why weren't you confirmed with the rest of us nearly three years ago? I always thought you'd been confirmed at home."

"No," answered East, sorrowfully; "you see this was how it happened. Last confirmation was soon after Arthur came, and you were so taken up with him, I hardly saw either of you. Well, when the Doctor sent round for us about it, I was living mostly with Green's set—you know the sort. They all went in—I dare say it was all right, and they got good by it; I don't want to judge them. Only all I could see of their reasons drove me just the other way. 'Twas 'because the Doctor liked it'; no boy got on who didn't stay the Sacrament; it was 'the correct thing,' in fact, like having a good hat to wear on Sundays. I couldn't stand it. I didn't feel that I wanted to lead a different life, I was very well content as I was, and I wasn't going to sham religious to curry favor[21]with the Doctor, or any one else."

East stopped speaking, and pegged away more diligently than ever with his pencil. Tom was ready to cry. He felt half sorry at first that he had been confirmed himself. He seemed to have deserted his earliest friend, to have left him by himself at his worst need for those long years. He got up and went and sat by East, and put his arm over his shoulder.

"Dear old boy," he said, "how careless and selfish I've been! But why didn't you come and talk to Arthur and me?"

"I wish to Heaven I had," said East, "but I was a fool. It's too late talking of it now."

"Why too late? You want to be confirmed now, don't you?"

"I think so," said East. "I've thought about it a good deal; only often I fancy I must be changing, because I see it's to do me good here—just what stopped me last time. And then I go back again."

"I'll tell you now how 'twas with me," said Tom, warmly. "If it hadn't been for Arthur, I should have done just as you did. I hope I should. I honor you for it. But then he made it out just as if it was taking the weak side before all the world—going in once for all against everything that's strong and rich and proud and respectable, a little band of brothers against the whole world. And the Doctor seemed to say so, too, only he said a great deal more."

"Ah!" groaned East, "but there again, that's just another of my difficulties whenever I think about the matter. I don't want to be one of your saints, one of your elect,[22]whatever the right phrase is. My sympathies are all the other way; with the many, the poor wretches who run about the streets and don't go to church. Don't stare, Tom; mind, I'm telling you all that's in my heart,—as far as I know it,—but it's all a muddle. You must be gentle with me if you want to land me.[23]Now I've seen a deal of this sort of religion: I was bred up in it, and I can't stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world are to be left to uncovenanted mercies,[24]and that sort of thing,which means in plain English to go to destruction and the other twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why—"

"Oh I but, Harry, they're not, they don't," broke in Tom, really shocked. "Oh! how I wish Arthur hadn't gone! I'm such a fool about these things. But it's all you want, too, East; it is indeed. It cuts both ways somehow—being confirmed and taking the Sacrament. It makes you feel on the side of all the good and all the bad, too, of everybody in the world. Only there's some great, dark, strong power, which is crushing you and everybody else. That's what Christ conquered, and we've got to fight. What a fool I am. I can't explain. If Arthur were only here!"

"I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean," said East.

"I say, now," said Tom, eagerly, "do you remember how we both hated Flashman?"

"Of course I do," said East; "I hate him still. What then?"

"Well, when I came to take the Sacrament, I had a great struggle about that. I tried to put him out of my head; and when I couldn't do that, I tried to think of him as evil, as something that the Lord who was loving me hated, and which I might hate too. But it wouldn't do. I broke down; I believe Christ himself broke me down; and when the Doctor gave me the bread and wine, and leaned over me praying, I prayed for poor Flashman, as if it had been you or Arthur."

East buried his face in his hands on the table. Tom could feel the table tremble. At last he looked up. "Thank you again, Tom," said he; "you don't know what you may have done for me to-night. I think I see now how the right sort of sympathy with poor wretches is got at."

"And you'll stop for the Sacrament next time, won't you?" said Tom.

"Can I, before I'm confirmed?"

"Go and ask the Doctor."

"I will."

That very night, after prayers, East followed the Doctor and the old verger bearing the candle, up stairs. Tom watched and saw the Doctor turn round when he heard foot-steps following him closer than usual, and say "Hah, East! Do you want to speak to me, my man?"

"If you please, sir;" and the private door closed, and Tom went to his study in a state of great trouble of mind.

It was almost an hour before East came back; then he rushed in breathless.

"Well, it's all right," he shouted, seizing Tom by the hand. "I feel as if a ton weight were off my mind."

"Hurrah!" said Tom. "I knew it would be, but tell us all about it."

"Well I just told him all about it. You can't think how kind and gentle he was,—the great grim man, whom I've feared more than anybody on earth. When I stuck, he lifted me, just as if I had been a little child. And he seemed to know all I'd felt, and to have gone through it all. And I burst out crying,—more than I have done this five years,—and he sat down by me, and stroked my head; and I went blundering on, and told him all; much worse things than I've told you. And he wasn't shocked a bit, and didn't snub me, or tell me I was a fool, and it was all nothing but pride or wickedness, though I dare say it was. And he didn't tell me not to follow out my thoughts, and he didn't give me any cut-and-dried explanation. But when I'd done he just talked a bit,—Ican hardly remember what he said, yet; but it seemed to spread round me like healing, and strength, and light; and to bear me up, and plant me on a rock, where I could hold my footing, and fight for myself. I don't know what to do, I feel so happy. And it's all owing to you, dear old boy!" and he seized Tom's hand again.

"And you're to come to the Communion?" said Tom.

"Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays."

Tom's delight was as great as his friend's. But he hadn't yet had out all his own talk, and was bent on improving the occasion; so he proceeded to propound Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his friends' death, which he had hitherto kept in the background, and by which he was much exercised;[25]for he didn't feel it honest to take what pleased him and throw over the rest, and was trying vigorously to persuade himself that he should like all his best friends to die off-hand.

But East's powers of remaining serious were exhausted, and in five minutes he was saying the most ridiculous things he could think of, till Tom was almost getting angry again.

Despite of himself, however, he couldn't help laughing and giving it up, when East appealed to him with: "Well, Tom, you aren't going to punch my head, I hope, because I insist on being sorry when you get to earth?"[26]

And so their talk finished for that time, and they tried to learn first lesson, with very poor success, as appeared next morning, when they were called up and narrowly escaped being floored, which ill-luck, however, did not sit heavily on either of their souls.

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