Part 5 (1/2)

”Caroline Vinsear.”

But when morning came, Sp.r.o.ng resumed her ascendency, and by raking up and blowing the cooled embers of her patroness' wrath, succeeded once more in fanning them to the old red heat, after which she poured vinegar upon them, and they exploded in the pungent fumes of the note which told our hero that he was not to hope, for the future, to be one day owner of a handsome fortune.

Of course, at first he was a little downcast; and in talking to Lillyston, compared himself to Gautier sans avoir, and ”Wilfred the disinherited.”

”Never mind, Julian; it matters very little to _you_,” said Lillyston proudly.

”Anyhow I must have no more fits of idleness,” answered Julian.

And indeed the only pain it caused him arose from the now necessary decision that he must go to Saint Werner's College _as a sizar_, or not at all. But for all that he went home with a light heart, and had once more gained the proud distinction of head-remove--one for which, at that time, I very much doubt whether he would have exchanged the prospect of a rich inheritance.

And the misfortune proved an advantage to Cyril too, as we shall see.

”So here's the little rogue who has lost me a thousand a year,” said Julian laughingly, when he got home, and took Cyril on his knee by the fireside after dinner. The next moment he was very sorry he had said it, for Cyril hung his head, and seemed quite disconcerted; but his brother laughed away his sorrow, as he thought, and no further allusion to the subject was made.

But that night, as Julian looked into his brother's bedroom before he went to bed, he found Cyril crying, and his pillow wet with tears.

”Cyril, what's the matter, my boy?--you're not ill, are you?”

Cyril sat up, his eyes still swimming, and threw his arms round his brother's neck. ”I've ruined you, Julian,” he said.

”My dear child, what nonsense! Nay, my foolish little fellow,” answered Julian, ”this is really a mistake of yours. Aunt Vinsear was angry with me for my letters,--not with you. Don't cry so, Cyril, for I really don't care a rush about it; but I shall care if it vexes you. But shall I tell you why you ought to know of it, Cyril?”

”Why?”

”Because, my boy, it affects you too. You know, Cyril, that we are very poor now. Well, you see we shall have to support ourselves hereafter, and mother and Violet depend on us so you must work hard, Cyril, will you? and don't be idle at Marlby, as I'm afraid you have been. Eh, my boy?”

The boy promised faithfully, and performed the promise well in after days; but that night Julian did not leave him until he was fast asleep.

We shall tell only one more scene of Julian's Harton life, and that very briefly.

It is a glorious summer afternoon; four o'clock bell is just over, and it is expected that in a few minutes the examiner, (an old Hartonian and senior cla.s.sic), will read out the list which shall give the result of many weeks' hard work. The Newry scholars.h.i.+p is to be announced at the same time: Bruce and Home are the favourite names.

A crowd of boys throng round the steps, but Julian is not among them; he is leaning over the rails of the churchyard, under the elm-trees by Peachey's tomb, filled with a trembling and almost sickening anxiety.

Bruce, confident of victory, is playing racquets, just below the schoolyard.

The Examiner suddenly appears from the speech-room door. There is a breathless silence while he reads the list, and then announces, in an emphatic voice--

”The Newry scholars.h.i.+p is adjudged to Julian Home!”

Off darts Lillyston, bounds up the hill into the churchyard, and has informed the happy Julian of his good fortune long before the ”three cheers for Mr Burton,” and ”three cheers for Home,” have died away.

CHAPTER FIVE.

SAINT WERNER'S.

”So soon the boy a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran.”

Rogers' _Human Life_.