Orville College. A story

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VOLUME II. LONDON: TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRANO. 1867. [The Ri,jht of Translation and Reproduction is reserved.] LONDON : wyman and sons, printers, great queen street, Lincoln's inn fields, w.c. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. Chap. Pack I . — IE THE BOYS HAD BUT SEEN ! . . I 2. — OVER THE WATER 1 9 3. — DICK'S BATH 51 4. — -THE DUEL 72 5. MR. LEEK IN CONVULSIONS ... 95 6. — TOLD AT LAST 122 7. — A VISITOR FOR SIR SIMON . . . 144 8. AS IF ILL LUCK FOLLOWED HIM . 1 68 9. THE OUTBREAK . . . . . . 1 94 IO. BEFORE THE EXAMINERS . . . . 226 II. FALLING FROM A PINNACLE . . . 244 12. IN THE QUADRANGLE 270 13. VERY PEACEFULLY 278 14. THE END

Chapter I. If The Boys Had But Seen

! THE long worked-for Oxford examination was over, and the results were at length known. Irby and Fullarton had not passed ; Powell had not gone up for it by the decision of the Head Master; the rest had passed, including Paradyne. All George Paradyne's apprehensions, and the school's forebodings had proved alike mistaken, for Dr. Brabazon had sent up Paradyne in spite of the damaged essay. In his glee, George Paradyne heartily forgave all, and was his own bright self again. B ji. The studies went on again vigorously until July : the great prize, the Orville, had to be competed for yet. In July the school rose for the long vacation, and Dr. Brabazon could no longer put off the explanation with Mr. Henry, which he had deemed it well to defer until the term should be over. To say the truth, he shrank from it.

To convict this hardworking, pains taking gentleman of theft — and such a theft ! — was a most unpleasant task to enter on. He let a day or two pass, and while he was seeking for an opportunity to speak, it was afforded by Mr. Henry himself. The heat, or something else, seemed to be retaining its spite against the German master, and on the third day of the vacation, when he was giving Miss Rose her usual lesson, he fainted away without notice, just as he had that other day at Mr. Gall's. He had a short cough occa sionally, and symptoms of blood-spitting. The doctor sent Bose away and sat with him when he was restored, and rang for Mr. Henry's favourite beverage, coffee. "You ! 3 shall not go until you have taken some, and the child's lesson can be continued another day," said he, peremptorily and kindly, in answer to remonstrances.

" Do you think you can be very well ? " he continued, the weary look of pain on Mr. Henry's face striking him forcibly. " Not very ; perhaps I have a httle over worked myself," was Mr. Henry's reply. " Sometimes I think this place — the air, I mean — does not agree with me." " Have you anything on your mind ? " asked the doctor; and either the nature of the question or its suddenness brought a flush to Mr. Henry's face. They were in the study, seated opposite each other near the large window, the deserted playground, silent now, lying beyond it in the vista ; so that the quick flush was perfectly perceptible to Dr. Brabazon. " Now," thought he, " for my opportunity : I could not have a better. Mr. Henry," he resumed, aloud, " I have for some time fancied that you had some care or B trouble, that you were concealing especially from me."

A pause. A yearning look of what seemed like detection — detection pleading for pardon — crossed Mr. Henry's countenance. The hour, which he had been dreading for months, was come ; and he was not ready for it ! He sat in uncomfortable suspense, not knowing how much or how Httle the master knew, pressing his thin fingers together, his elbows resting on the arm of the chair. " That some unpleasant trouble was on your mind I have undoubtedly seen," resumed the doctor. " Now that the opportunity for explanation has come, I think you must afford it to me." " I cannot disclose it to you now, sir," said Mr. Henry slowly, and with evident pain. " Perhaps in a day or two " " But suppose no disclosure is needed ? — suppose I know it aheady ? " interrupted the master. " Is that so ? " asked Mr. Henry, lifting his face. ! 5 " It is.

The affair has unhappily come to my knowledge ; not, of course, the induce ment — the — the leading motive for yielding to the temptation. I cannot describe to you how it has pained me. Had you been a son of mine I could scarcely have felt it more. It seemed that I might so fully trust you." " Since when have you known it ? " asked Mr. Henry in a low tone. " For some weeks now. I did not stir in it at the time," continued the master, brush ing a large fly off his black waistcoat, " on account of not interrupting the classes of the boys who were going up for the examination. And, that over, I thought things might re main as they were until the vacation, as they had gone on so long." " Then you intend to discharge me, Dr Brabazon? " The doctor could not help thinking it was rather an assuming question.

He played with his paper weight on the table. " What do you think about that, Mr. Henry?" " Of course I have feared so. But yet ' " But yet what ? " " Oh, sir, I'd rather not go on. I was going to speak of leniency — of consideration; but you might think it only made my offence worse." " I will show you^all the leniency in my power. I think my having delayed the ex planation proves that my intentions are not hostile, and I will be your friend if I can. You were, I conclude, led into this by some overwhelming pecuniary pressure, as others have been before you, and then found that you could not redeem your act. This is Emma's view of the case as well as mine. Why did you not make a friend of me, and tell me your difficulty ? I would have lent you the money." " What money, sir ? " The money you had need of.

It was a poor sum to peril one's future for — seven pounds. And why did you use Mr. Jebb's name ? " Mr. Henry had been staring with all his ! 7 eyes, as if the words bewildered him. " I don't quite understand, sir, what it is you are talking of." " Of my pencil, that you took from this room and pledged in Oxford Street for seven pounds," returned the Head Master in terse language, nettled at the assumption of igno rance and innocence. " Why do you force me to speak out so plainly ? " Mr. Henry rose up ; his whole attitude, his face, one entire questioning astonishment. " Why, Dr. Brabazon, what is it that you would accuse me of ? " he exclaimed. "Of the theft of the gold pencil. Of your having taken it out of this inkstand — this inkstand," laying his hand angrily upon the article — " and making money upon it."

The charge was so exceedingly different from the one feared by Mr. Henry, and seemed in itself so entirely absurd and ludicrous, that he burst into a laugh — laughed, it might be, in very relief. " I beg your pardon, sir, a thousand times. You cannot seriously suspect me capable of such a thing. Steal your pencil ! " " Yes, my pencil," replied Dr. Brabazon, feeling rather bewildered. " Did you not come in at this window and take it; and then pledge it the next day in Oxford Street for seven pounds, and say you were a master here, and give in Mr. Jebb's name instead of your own ? " " Certainly not. What can possibly have induced you to fancy it ? Oh, sir, don't you see that you might trust me better than that?" " Well, I had thought I could," answered the doctor, feeling in a hopeless maze.

" I said so to Emma. You see, one of the boys had noticed you that night walking about before the window ; and there were other attendant circumstances — never mind them now. I am very sorry to have said this to you if you are innocent." " Which of the boys was it that saw me?" " Trace, I think. It was he who spoke to Emma." And the doctor, feeling a convic- ! 9 tion that his accusation was really a mistaken one, gave a summary of the details. Mr. Henry distinctly and decisively denied the charge, and the doctor could doubt no longer. Bui; — that no shadow of uncertainty might remain — Mr. Henry urged him to accompany him at once to the jeweller's shop, that the matter might be set at rest: nay, demanded it. " A moment ere we start, Mr. Henry," said the master. " If this is not the trouble on your mind, what is that trouble ?

You cannot deny that there's something. What is its nature? " " Spare me the question a little while, Dr. Brabazon," came the answer, givan in a strangely-impassioned tone. " I have been wishing to tell you aU along, but I — I — have been unable ; and the conflict has robbed my days of peace, my nights of rest. Perhaps — ■ in a few days — in a day even, I may disclose it to you." "What can it be?" cried the wondering doctor, gazing at him earnestly. "Have you done anything wrong ? " "Yes, very wrong. But — it is neither theft nor murder," he added, his eyes light ing up with their luminous smile. A smile that so strangely, one could not tell how, imparted a feeling of confidence in him to whomsoever it was cast upon. They took the first conveyance, and were soon in Oxford Street. The master of the shop was in, as before, and listened to a few offered words of explanation.

He called the same young man in — Simms. "Look at this gentleman," he said, indi cating Mr. Henry. " Do you recognize him as one of our customers ? " Mr. Simms ran his eyes over Mr. Henry, and shook his head conclusively. " Nq, sir ; I don't remember ever to have seen him." "Is he the gentleman' who pledged that gold pencil with the diamond top ? " " Oh dear no, sir. That person was older than this gentleman. They are not in the least alike." "Just so," said Dr. Brabazon. "Will you give me a description of that person ? " ! 11 Mr. Simms complied. " A party getting on for thirty -five, I should say, sir : rather shabby than not, but talked off-hand hke a gentleman. Hair had a reddish cast ; and party walked, I believe, a little lame." " Lame ! " exclaimed the doctor, in a startled tone. " You did not mention any lameness the other day, Simms," interposed the jeweller.

" No, sir ; I didn't know it then. When I was telling Watson afterwards about questions being asked as to who had pledged that article, he said the party walked lame ; least ways, that he hmped in going out of the shop. I hadn't noticed it, and so I told him ; but Watson was positive." Dr. Brabazon looked like a man who has received a blow. He went home leaning on Mr. Henry's arm, as if he needed the sup port. " Forgive me for having entertained a doubt of you," he murmured, as he wrung his hand at parting. " Perhaps when you tell me of this trouble of yours I may be able to make OEVILLE COLLEGE. it up to you. I know now who it was took my pencil." And so did Mr. Henry know ; for he had recognized the description and the lameness. Mr. Tom Brabazon was the culprit ; and had no doubt enjoyed amazingly the joke of giving in the Reverend Mr. Jebb's name, and taking in the shopmen with his assumption of in nocent inexperience.

Before the time had expired for the running out of the pledge, he would probably have enclosed the ticket to Dr. Brabazon, or to Emma, with Mr. Jebb's name on it as large as hfe. As Mr. Henry was turning from the college gate, Sir Simon Orville's pony carriage drew up, himself and Trace in it, the latter driving. Sir Simon ran after Dr. Brabazon, who was then crossing the lawn ; Trace, conveniently near-sighted to the German master, remained in the carriage, and turned his head the other way. However, Mr. Henry went up to him. " Trace, I have a question to ask you. I understand you have been suspecting that ! 13 it was I who took the Head Master's pencil. Will you tell me what reason you had for this ? " Trace felt uncommonly taken to. He had not a great deal of moral courage. "Oh," said he, shuffling with the reins, "that's an old affair now ; past and gone."

" Not quite past and gone yet, Trace. What could have led to your suspecting me ? Will you tell me the truth, so far ? I have a reason for asking." " Of course it was only a doubt. Some one must have gone in and taken it, and Lamb saw you there before the window. And — you appear to be always so inconve niently short of money as to make a few pounds an object," candidly added Trace, plucking up his courage. " Pardon my al luding to it." " Slight grounds. I don't think I should have suspected you on such. Was there no other reason ? " " Except that you are a sneak and a cad," rose to Trace's lips. But he did not consider it would be convenient to speak it, and an swered with a monosyllable, " None.' " Then was it a kind or a good thing of you to go with these suspicions to Miss Brabazon, my master's daughter ?

Had the doctor been a different man from what he is, you might have utterly ruined me. A charge of this nature cannot be refuted, in most cases, as easily as it is made." " Have you refuted this one ? " asked Trace, turning full upon him. " Yes ; at once and entirely. I did not know until to-day that it stood against me." " Then I must tender you my apologies," returned Trace. Not that there was the least sign of apology in his tone ; rather, it seemed to have borrowed the haughty rinoof his cousin's, Bertie Loftus. " There was no harm done, it appears, so don't let us have a fuss raised now." " I am not one to raise a fuss. You cannot but be conscious that to you, Trace, I have been especially tolerant — some might say ! 15 forbearing. I fear it has been lost upon you." "You have been very kind, no doubt," cynically returned Trace.

"I do not wish more tolerance or forbearance shown to me than others get. Neither am I conscious of having: received more." " No ? Yet I have been keeping some of your secrets, Trace. Suppose I had be trayed you in the matter of Paradyne's essay ? " "Of Paradyne's essay?" echoed Trace, seizing the whip and flicking the ear of one of the pretty ponies. " I don't think you know what you are talking of." " Yes I do. And so do you. When I saw the blotches of inkon your wristband that afternoon, and asked what had caused them, that you should be so sedulous to tuck it out of sight, you knew as well as I did that I guessed the secret. I did not tell of you. It woidd have been a shocking thing, ruining you with the school and with the masters. Not even to forward the interests of Paradyne in a just cause, would I injure you.

I wonder if you will ever understand me, Trace ; or get to learn that I would be your friend and not your enemy ?" Trace cut the air with his whip ; but he gave no answer. At that moment Sir Simon came back, holding out his hand in his cor dial manner. " You are not looking fat and rosy, Mr. Henry. Fagged with the term : it has been a heavy one. Why don't you do as we are going to do — take a trip over the water ? " " To Germany, Sir Simon ? " " Germany ! — that's your paradise, " laug-hed Sir Simon. " We are sroingr to Boulogne — not much crossing there, you know, which I confess doesn't agree with me. We get over in an hour and a half. You should try it yourself. Good day ! " The pony carriage rattled off, and Mr. Henry turned to Mrs. Paradyne's. He had a little matter of business to arrano-e with her.

But matters of business were not always palatable to that lady ; and there ! 17 ensued an unprofitable argument between herself and her visitor. He sat at the table in the little drawing-room, his elbow on it, his thin cheek resting on his two fingers. Mrs. Paradyne, dropping her work, a glove of George's that she was mending, talked at him from the sofa, and in her quiet, per sistent way, allowed no reasoning but hers to be heard. Seated near her mother was Mary Paradyne, a bright-looking girl of twenty, with her brother George's great grey eyes. She had come home in June, having left the school in Derbyshire, and was seeking daily teaching near home. A Mrs. Hill, living near Pond Place, was negotiating with her. "Where's George?" asked Mr. Henry, when he at length rose to leave. Mrs. Paradyne would not answer.

She was resenting something that Mr. Henry had said. He approached Miss Paradyne to shake hands, but she left her seat and followed him out. "You are right and mamma is wrong," she whispered, with the handle of the closed u. c door in her hand, and the tears gathering in her eyes as she lifted them to his. " Oh, I wish she would not be so unjust to you. George is spending the day at WiUiam Gall's." All the answer Mr. Henry made was to bend down and kiss her lips. A very sug gestive action, and certainly not discreet. If the boys had but seen !

Chapter II Over The Water

IT1HE fine passenger boat was ploughing its -*- way across the channel, receding from Folkestone, gaining on Boulogne-sur-Mer. Sir Simon Orville and his three nephews were on board. It was a fine, warm, calm day in August ; and as Sir Simon Orville sat on the upper deck, steadily as he could have sat in one of his own chairs at home, he thought what a charming passage that was between the two points, and how silly he had been never to have tried it before. For — if the truth must be told — Sir Simon Orville had never made but three water trips in his life : the one to Ramsgate, from c London; the other two, the short crossing to the Isle of Wight. He had caUed them all equally " going to sea; " and as it happened that the water had been very particularly rouo-h on each of the three occasions, and Sir Simon terribly ill, his reminiscences on the subject were not pleasant.

To find himself, therefore, gliding along as smoothly as if the channel were a sea of glass, was both unexpected and delightful. The sky was blue over head ; the water was blue underneath; the slight breeze caused by the motion of the vessel was grateful on the warm day ; and Sir Simon thought he was in Paradise. And now, as they were nearing the French town, there came gliding towards them the steamer that had just put off from it ; her deck crowded with merry-faced passengers, congratulating themselves, like Sir Simon, at the easy voyage. The vessels exchanged salutes, and passed, each on her way. And now the harbour was gained and traversed; the boat was made fast to the side, and the passengers began to land. The first thing Sir Simon did on terra firma was to turn himself about and gaze around, per fectly bewildered with the strange scene and the strange tongue.

It was so new to him : he had never been out of his own country in his life. Bertie Loftus, who knew some thing of the place, and prided himself on his French, consequently felt obliged to speak it as soon as he landed, drew his uncle to the custom-house through the sea of gazing faces, and said, "Par ici." That passed, and the egress gained, they found themselves in the midst of a crowd of touters, shouting out the names of their respective hotels and thrusting forward cards. " Hotel du Nord," said Bertie, grandly, waving his hands to keep off the men, with an air of deprecating condescension. " But what is it ? What do they want ? What are these cards ? " reiterated Sir Simon. " My goodness me, boys, what's that?" " That " was a string of the fishwomen in their matelotte costume, dark cloth short petticoats, red bodies, and broad webbing bracers.

They were harnessed to a heavy truck of luggage, already cleared, and start ing with it to one of the hotels. " Uncle, we shall never get on if you stay like this," said Bertie. " That's nothing : the women do all the work here." Up came four or five more women and surrounded the party, bawling into Sir Simon's stunned ears with their shrill and shrieking voices, evidently asking something. " What on earth are they saying of, Bertie?" Now Mr. Bertie's French only did for polite table hfe, and Anglo-French inter course. To be set upon by a regular Frenchman with his perplexing tongue, and (as it seemed) rapid utterance, puzzled Bertie always : what must it have been then when these fishwomen attacked him with their broad patois ? " Come along, uncle ; they don't want anything. Allez vous en," rather wrathfully added Bertie to the ladies, which only made them talk the faster.

" Bertie, I shall not go along : the poor women must want something, and I should hke to know what." What — do — you — want — please?" asked Sir Simon in his politeness, laying a stress upon each word. " Spake Anglish ? No spake French, me." Jabber and shriek, jabber and shriek, all the five voices at once, for there were five of them. Sir Simon put up his hands and looked helplessly at Bertie ; who was feeling rather helpless himself just then. " They are asking if you have any luggage, and if they may carry it to your hotel, Sir Simon," spoke a free, pleasant voice, evidently on the burst of laughter. And Sir Simon turned to behold George Paradyne, and seized his hand in gladness at being relieved from his dilemma. To hear the boy interpreting between Sir Simon and the women ; to note that his French tongue was ready and fluent as theirs and with rather a more refined sound in it, was somewhat mortifying to Bertie Loftus.

The women disappeared, George talking fast and laughing after them. " What brings you here ? When did you come ? " asked Sir Simon, keeping him by his side. " We came yesterday, Sir Simon. I am with the Galls. They kindly invited me to accompany them. We are at the Hotel du Nord." " The Galls here, and at the Norde ! " almost shouted Sir Simon in his delight. " I shall have somebody that I can speak English with." Yes ; the Galls had made friends with George Paradyne and brought him to Boulogne with them. Mrs. Gall, a woman of the kindest and truest nature, had told her husband, told her son, that she should make the school ashamed of its prejudice against Paradyne. William Gall had not accompanied them : he was coming later. Sir Simon had known nothing of their move ments : he had been a week and more from home.

The Talbots were coming ; the Browns were coining ; Leek and his mother, Lady Sophia, were already there. As Sir Simon remarked, it seemed like an arranged party. Such, however, was not the case. "What a lingo, to be sure!" cried Sir Simon, as he trotted up the hot and blazing port. " Why, actually those little street urchins are jabbering French ! Halloa ! stop ! " he added, coming to a sudden halt opposite the goods' custom-house : " Where's Dick ! " Nobody remembered to have seen Dick since the landing. "He'll turn up, sir," returned Loftus, slightly annoyed at the unequal progress they were making. " Dick won't get lost." Sir Simon did not feel so sure upon the point ; he thought he might get lost himself in that helpless foreign town; be coming, as he was, more strange and bewildered every moment.

But Dick came running up from behind, dragging with him a tall, square-built man with a thoughtful face and grey hair. Sir Simon nearly shook his hands off, for it was Mr. Gall. " What a mercy ! " said he. " I never was so glad in all my hfe; did not know any thing of your coming. We have been a week at Chatham, staying near my poor brother Joe, the hop-dealer, who made that sad failure of it. You know him, Gall. I wanted to see how he and the wife and chicks were off, poor things, and we put up at an inn there." Dick shook hands with Paradyne. Dick listened to the news that Onions was in the town, and that Talbot was arriving, with a sort of rapture : the Browns too, major and minor. Dick would have stood on his head had there been room on the port to do it. A few days more, and the different friends and schoolmates had collected there.

It was indeed as if they had premeditated the gathering. Some went grandly via Folke stone, some more economically by the boat from London : that little muff, Sticro-ino-s, who 3 Oo O " was fond of writing to Miss Rose, made the trip in a sailing vessel, invited to it by the captain ; he was awfully sick all the way, and landed more dead than alive. The Galls and Sir Simon's party were at the Hotel du Nord ; the Talbots had small lodgings in the Rue Neuve Chaussee ; the Browns took a furnished house in the open country, beyond the Rue Royale ; and Lady Sophia Leek, who had no acquaintance with the rest, and made none with them, was staying at the Hotel des Bains. And the time went on. But that Sir Simon Orville was the most unsuspicious of men, he had undoubtedly not failed to detect that some ill-feeling was rife between his friend Gall's eldest son, and Bertie Loftus.

For three whole days after William Gall's arrival, thy did not exchange a word with each other; on the fourth, a quarrel, not loud, but bitter, took place on the sands ; and those low, concentrated, bitter quarrels are worse than loud ones. People, scattered in groups at only a few yards' distance, did not hear it; but they might have seen the white faces raised on each other with an angry glare, had they been less occupied with themselves, with their gossip, with the picking up of shells. Bertie Loftus was cherishing the remembrance of his insult, and paying it off fourfold in superciliousness now. Sir Simon's mind was too agreeably filled to afford leisure for detecting feelings not on the surface : everything was new to him, everything delightful. The free and easy life in the French town ; the unceremonious habits ; the sociable salon, where they sat with the windows open to the street; the passing intimacy made with the rest of the guests ; the sufficientlywell-appointed meals in the dining-room — the lino-erin^ breakfast o o o at will, the chance lunch, the elaborate dinner — were what he had never before met with.