Part 2 (2/2)
What I imagined my father would have said or done under these circ.u.mstances was fated to remain a mystery, as my eloquence was brought to a sudden conclusion by my consternation, when a series of remarkable phenomena, which had been developing themselves during my harangue in the countenance of Thomas, terminated abruptly in what appeared to me a fit of most unmitigated insanity. A look of extreme astonishment, which he had a.s.sumed at the beginning of my speech, had given place to an expression of mingled surprise and anger as I continued; which again in its turn had yielded to a grin of intense amus.e.m.e.nt, growing every moment broader and broader, accompanied by a spasmodic twitching of his whole person; and, as I mentioned his master's purloining my trousers, he suddenly sprang up from the floor nearly a yard high, and commenced an extempore _pas seul_ of a Jim Crow character, which he continued with unabated vigour during several minutes. This ”_Mazurka d'ecstase_,” or whatever a ballet-master would have called it, having at length, to my great joy, concluded, the performer of it sank exhausted into a chair, and regarding me with a face still -19--somewhat the worse for his late violent exertions favoured me with the following geographical remark:--
”Well, I never did believe in the existence of sich a place as Greenland before, but there's nowhere else as you could have come from, sir, I am certain.”
”Eh! why! what's the matter with you? have I done anything particularly 'green,' as you call it? what are you talking about?” said I, not feeling exactly pleased at the reception my virtuous indignation had met with.
”Oh! don't be angry, sir; I am sure I did not mean to offend you; but really I could not help it, when I heard you say about master's having stole your things. Oh lor!” he added, holding his sides with both hands, ”how my precious sides do ache, sure-ly!”
”Do you consider that any laughing matter?” said I, still in the dark.
”Oh! don't, sir, don't say it again, or you will be the death of me,” replied Thomas, struggling against a relapse; ”why, bless your innocence, what could ever make you think master would take your clothes?”
”Make me think? why, Lawless told me so,” answered I, ”and he also said it was not the first time such a thing had occurred either.”
”You'll have enough to do, sir, if you believe all our young gents tell you; why, master would as soon think of flying as of stealing anything.
It was Mr. Coleman as put them up the chimbley; he's always a playing some trick or another for everlasting.”
A pause ensued, during which the whole affair in its true bearings became for the first time clear to my mind's eye; the result of my cogitations may be gathered from the following remark, which escaped me as it were involuntarily--”What a confounded a.s.s I have made of myself, _to be sure_!”
Should any of my readers be rude enough to agree with me in this particular, let them reflect for a moment on the peculiar position in which I was placed. Having lived from childhood in a quiet country parsonage, with my father and mother, and a sister younger than myself, as my sole companions, ”mystification”--that is, telling deliberate falsehoods by way of a joke--was a perfectly novel idea to me; and, when that joke involved the possibility of such serious consequences as offending the tutor under whose care we were placed, I (wholly ignorant of the impudence and recklessness of public school boys) considered such a solution of the mystery inconceivable. Moreover, everything around me was so strange, and so entirely -20--different from the habits of life in which I had been hitherto brought up, that for the time my mind was completely bewildered. I appeared to have lost my powers of judgment, and to have relapsed, as far as intellect was concerned, into childhood again. My readers must excuse this digression, but it appeared to me necessary to explain how it was possible for a lad of fifteen to have been made the victim of such a palpably absurd deception without its involving the necessity of his not being ”so sharp as he should be”.
The promised ”something warm” made its appearance ere long, in the shape of tea and toast, which, despite my alarming seizure, I demolished with great gusto in bed (for I did not dare to get up), feeling, from the fact of my having obtained it under false pretences, very like a culprit all the while. Having finished my breakfast, and allowed sufficient time to elapse for my recovery, I got up, and, selecting a pair of trousers which appeared to have suffered less from their sojourn in the chimney than the others, dressed myself, and soon after eleven o'clock made my appearance in the pupils' room, where I found Dr. Mildman seated at his desk, and the pupils apparently very hard at work.
”How do you find yourself now you are up, Fairlegh?” inquired my tutor kindly.
”Quite well, sir, thank you,” I replied, feeling like an impostor.
”Quite recovered?” continued he.
”Everything--entirely, I mean,” stammered I, thinking of my trousers.
”That's well, and now let us see what kind of Latin and Greek lining you have got to your head.”
So saying, without appearing to notice the t.i.ttering of the pupils, he pointed to a seat by his side, and commenced what I considered a very formidable examination, with the view of eliciting the extent of my acquaintance with the writers of antiquity, which proved to be extremely select. When he had thoroughly satisfied (or dissatisfied) himself upon this point, he recommended Horace and Xenophon to my particular notice, adding, that Coleman was also directing his attention to the sayings and doings of the same honourable and learned gentlemen--and that, therefore, we were to work together. He then explained to me certain rules and regulations of his establishment, to which he added a few moral remarks, conveying the information, that, if I always did exactly what he considered right, and scrupulously avoided everything he deemed wrong, I might relieve my mind from all fears of -21--his displeasure, which was, to say the least, satisfactory, if not particularly original.
Exactly as the clock struck one Dr. Mildman left the room (the morning's ”study,” as it was called, ending at that hour), leaving us our own masters till five, at which time we dined. Lest any kind reader should fancy we were starved, let me add, that at half-past one a substantial luncheon was provided, of which we might partake or not as we pleased.
As well as I remember we generally did graciously incline towards the demolition of the viands, unless ”metal more attractive” awaited us elsewhere--but I am digressing.
CHAPTER III -- COLD-WATER CURE FOR THE HEARTACHE
”Oh! grief for words too deep, From all his loved ones parted,
He could not choose but weep, He was so lonely-hearted.”
--Shortfellow.
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