Part 37 (2/2)

observed the Squire. ”Now, I may honestly boast that my boys have no pride to be knocked out of them, their manners are good, and I hope that they will make their own way without having to depend on others.”

So Digby and Gusty remained on at Grangewood, Dr Graham did his utmost to merit the confidence placed in him. He devoted all his time and thoughts not only to the mental instruction of his boys, but to making them religious, and happy, and healthy, and true gentlemen, in the fullest sense of the word. Julian Langley did not long remain at the school. After the occurrence before described he had lost all influence, as well as respect, in the school. Still he contrived to lead some of the other boys into mischief, and was, at length, guilty of acts which induced the Doctor finally to expel him. Digby continued steadily and honestly to do his duty. He became very popular with the masters as well as with his companions--even Mrs Pike acknowledged that she little thought when he first came that he would turn out so well.

He was one of the chief leaders at all games and sports, and few surpa.s.sed him in any of their athletic exercises, at the same time that no one read harder, or made better progress than he did. At length he rose to be the head of the school; and then, after a year spent partly with Mr Nugent, and partly travelling with Arthur Haviland abroad, he went to Cambridge, where Arthur already was. Here, though one of the most active boating and cricketing men, he read steadily and perseveringly, and finally, very much to his own surprise, when he took his degree, came out as a wrangler, though not so high up in the list as his friend Arthur Haviland had been the year before. [Note: a wrangler is a person at Cambridge University who has pa.s.sed their finals in Mathematics with First Cla.s.s Honours.] During the long vacation, just before his last term, he was reading with Mr Nugent, when, one evening, a knock was heard at the door, and the maid-servant came in to say that a person wished to see the Rector. Mr Nugent went out, and there he saw a stout, but pale-faced, ragged, altogether disreputable-looking young man.

”What is it you want with me?” asked Mr Nugent, looking hard at him.

”What, don't even you know me?” asked the stranger, in a hoa.r.s.e tone.

Again the Rector scanned his features. ”No, indeed I do not,” he answered. ”I think that you must be labouring under some mistake or other.”

”Indeed I am not,” answered the stranger. ”I know you, Mr Nugent, perfectly, and you once knew me. If I was to tell you my name you might be astonished, perhaps, for I was once a pupil of yours. My name is Julian Langley.”

”Julian Langley!” exclaimed Mr Nugent, starting up. ”Are you brought to this miserable condition? But would not your father--would not your friends a.s.sist you?”

”My father has discarded me, and I have no friends--no one who cares for me,” answered Julian, bitterly. ”I am suffering from hunger and thirst, and am but half clothed, as you see. I must die if I am not relieved.

Will you help me?”

”I will. Come in; you shall have food at once,” answered Mr Nugent.

”You will find an old friend here who will afford you, I know, his sincerest sympathy, my nephew, Digby Heathcote.”

”He will afford me his supercilious pity and contempt,” muttered Julian.

”No, no, no,” said Mr Nugent, kindly; ”come in.”

”Beggars must not be choosers,” answered Julian, gruffly, following Mr Nugent into the study.

Digby, till Mr Nugent mentioned his name, did not recognise Julian.

The moment he did, he sprang up, and putting out his hand pressed it warmly; but Julian, turning away his head, received the greeting with coldness and indifference.

”And how is it that you come to us in such a plight?” asked Mr Nugent, after supper had been placed on the table, and Julian had done ample justice to it. ”I inquire, pray understand, not for simple curiosity, but that I may the better be able to help you.”

”Thank you,” answered Julian, filling a tumbler half full of brandy from a spirit-case which stood on the table, and tossing off the contents.

”Oh, I have gone through all sorts of wonderful adventures. I have been out in Spain, fighting for the Const.i.tutionalists against Don Carlos, but I got more kicks than half-pence there; and then I was s.h.i.+pwrecked; and, finally, I have been leading a somewhat vagabond life about England. I turned actor for a time, but the characters given me were not very exalted, and I quarrelled with the manager, who was a brute, and left the company. Not a very lucid account of myself; but, at all events, here I am without a farthing in my purse, or rather, without even a purse to put a farthing in if I had one.” And with a look of despair he turned his pockets inside out, and leant back in his chair.

Both Mr Nugent and Digby were silent. They felt sure that his own misconduct had brought him to his present condition, and yet they were unwilling to hint to him that such was the case. In the meantime he once more leaned forward, and again helped himself largely from the spirit-case. Mr Nugent and Digby looked at each other. They had no difficulty in guessing the cause of his present condition. Some conversation ensued with the unhappy young man, but they could scarcely hope that they were eliciting the truth from him. There was no bed for him in the house. He said that he infinitely preferred sleeping at the inn. Against his better judgment, perhaps, as he was leaving the house, Mr Nugent kindly put a five-pound note into his hand. The next day he did not appear, and Digby set off into the town to look for him. He was told that he was at the inn, in his room. He found him with a spirit bottle by his side, sitting on the floor, and perfectly unconscious.

Digby, begging the people of the house, who were but too well accustomed to such events, to put him to bed, left the place, feeling that he could then do nothing for him. The next day, when Digby went back to the inn, the landlord said that he had left it altogether, because he had refused to supply him with more liquor. Digby, determining to make another attempt to rescue him from destruction, on inquiry, found that he had gone on to a neighbouring town. There he followed him, and there he found him in the same condition as before, having spent the whole of Mr Nugent's liberal gift. Digby waited till he had recovered his senses, spoke to him earnestly and kindly, entreating him to abandon his evil courses. At last Julian said that he had one aunt who would, he knew, could he reach her house, try and reconcile him to his father, and that he had resolved firmly to reform. Digby instantly offered him ten pounds, urging him to set off without delay to his relative's house.

Thus the former friends, who had started together in life with such equal advantages, parted.

Digby in vain waited to hear from Julian. He never reached his relative's house. Nearly a year after that, Digby heard of his death in a hospital, of _delirium tremens_, a most horrible complaint, brought on by excessive drinking.

A couple of years after Arthur Haviland left College, the papers announced his marriage with Katharine, third daughter of Digby Heathcote, Esq, of Bloxholme, etc.

”I am truly thankful that my dear, dear little sister Kate has married so excellent a fellow,” wrote Digby to an old friend, when speaking of the event. ”What a contrast to that wretched being, Julian Langley, whom my father and his had once intended for her. I have known Arthur for a number of years. He is, and he always was as a boy, a thoroughly high-principled, honourable fellow, a sincere, pious Christian, and as kind-hearted, sensible, and judicious as any person I have ever met. I am convinced of the truth of the saying that 'the boy is the father of the man.' I have had many proofs of it in my experience, and I should always strongly recommend my friends to reflect what their friends were as boys before they introduce them to their families, and especially to their sisters, whose jealous guardians they should ever endeavour to prove.”

No one laboured harder to prepare the triumphal arches to welcome Miss Kate, as he called her, on her first visit to Bloxholme after the event mentioned above, than did John Pratt, and curious were the presents he had prepared for her, most of which might have suited her early tastes, but certainly not her present ones. Among other things were two young kittens, a litter of ferrets, four pigeons, a flitch of bacon--this was given, as he said, in advance--a puppy, and a nest of young owlets. He continues as active as ever, and the constant attendant on Digby in all rural sports whenever the young heir pays a visit to his home.

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