Part 15 (2/2)

”There, don't make such a row,” replied I, jumping -95--out of bed and making a dash at my clothes; ”is it late?”

”Jest nine o'clock, sir; master and Mr. c.u.mberland's been gone these two hours. Shocking affair that, sir; it always gives me quite a turn when any of our gents is expelled: it's like being thrown out of place at a minute's warning, as I said to cook only this morning. 'Cook,' says I, 'life's a curious thing,' there's----”

”The breakfast bell ringing, by all that's unlucky,” exclaimed I; and downstairs I ran, with one arm in, and one out of my jacket, leaving Thomas to conclude his speculations on the mutability of human affairs as he best might, solus.

”How are we going to kill time to-day?” inquired Oaklands, as soon as we had done breakfast.

”We mustn't do anything to outrage the proprieties,” said Coleman; ”remember we are on _parole d'honneur_.”

”On a fiddlestick,” interrupted Lawless; ”let's all ride over to the Duke of York, at Bradford, shoot some pigeons, have a champagne breakfast, and be home again in time for the old woman's feed at five o'clock. I daresay I can pick up one or two fellows to go with us.”

”No,” said Oaklands, ”that sort of thing won't do to-day. I quite agree with Freddy, we ought not to do anything to annoy the Doctor upon this occasion; come, Lawless, I'm sure you'll say so too, if you give it a moment's thought.”

”Well, he's a good old fellow in his way, I know, but what are we to be at then? something I must do, if it's only to keep me out of mischief.”

”It's a lovely day; let us hire a boat, and have a row,” suggested Coleman.

”That's not against the laws, is it?” asked Oaklands.

”Not a bit,” replied Coleman; ”we used to go pulling about like bricks last summer, and Mildman rather approved of it than otherwise, and said it was a very healthy exercise.”

”Yes, that will do,” said Lawless; ”I feel savage this morning, and a good pull will take it out of me as well as anything. Now, don't go wasting time; let's get ready, and be off;” and accordingly in less than half an hour we were prepared, and on our way to the beach.

”How are we going to do it?” inquired Lawless; ”you'll take an oar, Oaklands?”

Oaklands replied in the affirmative.

”Can you row, Fairlegh?”

I answered that I could a little.

-96--”That will do famously, then,” said Lawless; ”we'll have a four-oar; Wilson has a capital little boat that will be just the thing; Freddy can steer, he's a very fair hand at it, and we four fellows will pull, so that we need not be bothered with a boatman. I do abominate those chaps, they are such a set of humbugs.”

No objection was made to this plan. Lawless succeeded in getting the boat he wished for; it was launched without any misadventure, and we took our places, and began pulling away merrily, with the wind (what little there was) and tide both in our favour.

The morning was beautiful: it was one of those enjoyable days, which sometimes occur in early spring, in which Nature, seeming to overleap at a bound the barrier between winter and summer, gives us a delightful foretaste of the good things she has in store for us. The clear bright sea, its surface just ruffled by a slight breeze from the south-west, sparkled in the suns.h.i.+ne, and fell in diamond showers from our oars as we raised them out of the water, while the calm serenity of the deep blue sky above us appeared, indeed, a fitting emblem of that heaven, in which ”the wicked cease from troubling, and the wear are at rest”.

The peaceful beauty of the scene seemed to impress even the restless spirits of which our little party was composed, and, by common consent, we ceased rowing, and suffered the boat to drift with the tide, merely pulling a stroke now and then to keep her head in the right direction.

After drifting for some twenty minutes or so in the manner I have described Lawless, who never could remain quiet long, dropped the blade of his oar into the water with a splash that made us all start, exclaiming as he did so:--

”Well, this may be very sentimental and romantic, and all that sort of thing, but it doesn't strike me as particularly entertaining. Why, you fellows were all asleep, I believe.”

”Heigho!” exclaimed Oaklands, rousing himself, with a deep sigh, ”I was in such a delicious reverie; what a barbarian you are, Lawless! you seem utterly ignorant of the pleasures of the _dolce-far-niente_.”

”_Dolce-far-devilskin_!” was the reply, in tones of the greatest contempt. ”I would not be as lazy as you are, Oaklands, for any money.

You are fitter to lounge about in some old woman's drawing-room, than to handle an oar.” ”Well, I don't know,” answered Oaklands, quietly, ”but I think I can pull as long as you can.”

-97--”You do, do you?” rejoined Lawless, ”it will be odd to me, if you can. I don't think I was stroke-oar in the crack boat at Eton for a year, without knowing how to row a little; what do you say to having a try at once?”

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