Part 20 (1/2)
”Yes, it's off. I am not sure but it will break out again. You must take care.”
”Oh, bother! let it. I should like to have polished off that Pierce senior as he deserves. A little coin of the same sort would do Galloway no harm. Were I senior of the school, and Arthur not my brother, Mr. Mark should hear a little home truth about sneaks. I'll tell it him in private, as it is; but I can't put him up for punishment, or act in it as Gaunt could.”
”Arthur is our brother, therefore we feel it more pointedly than Gaunt,” sensibly remarked Charley.
”I'd advise you not to spell forth that sentimental rubbish, though you are a young lady,” retorted Tom. ”A senior boy, if he does his duty, should make every boy's cause his own, and 'feel' for him.”
”Tom,” said the younger and more thoughtful of the two, ”don't let us say anything of this at home.”
”Why not?” asked Tom, hotly. He would have run in open-mouthed.
”It would pain mamma to hear it.”
”Boy! do you suppose she would fear Arthur?”
”You seem to misconstrue all I say, Tom. Of course she would not fear him--you did not fear him; but it stung you, I know, as was proved by your knocking down Pierce.”
”Well, I won't speak of it before her,” conciliated Tom, somewhat won over, ”or before my father, either; but catch me keeping it from the rest.”
As Charles had partially foretold, they had barely entered, when Tom's face again became ornamented with crimson. Annabel shrieked out, startling Mr. Channing on his sofa. Mrs. Channing, as it happened, was not present; Constance was: Lady Augusta Yorke and her daughters were spending part of the day in the country, therefore Constance had come home at twelve.
”Look at Tom's face!” cried the child. ”What has he been doing?”
”Hold your tongue, little stupid,” returned Tom, hastily bringing his handkerchief into use again; which, being a white one, made the worse exhibition of the two, with its bright red stains. ”It's nothing but a scratch.”
But Annabel's eyes were sharp, and she had taken in full view of the hurt. ”Tom, you have been fighting! I am sure of it!”
”Come to me, Tom,” said Mr. Channing. ”Have you been fighting?” he demanded, as Tom crossed the room in obedience, and stood close to him. ”Take your handkerchief away, that I may see your face.”
”It could not be called a fight, papa,” said Tom, holding his cheek so that the light from the window fell full upon the hurt. ”One of the boys offended me; I hit him, and he gave me this; then I knocked him down, and there it ended. It's only a scratch.”
”Thomas, was this Christian conduct?”
”I don't know, papa. It was schoolboy's.”
Mr. Channing could not forbear a smile. ”I know it was a schoolboy's conduct; that is bad enough: and it is my son's, that is worse.”
”If I had given him what he deserved, he would have had ten times as much; and perhaps I should, for my temper was up, only Gaunt put in his interference. When I am senior, my rule will be different from Gaunt's.”
”Ah, Tom! your 'temper up!' It is that temper of yours which brings you harm. What was the quarrel about?”
”I would rather not tell you, papa. Not for my own sake,” he added, turning his honest eyes fearlessly on his father; ”but I could not tell it without betraying something about somebody, which it may be as well to keep in.”
”After that lucid explanation, you had better go and get some warm water for your face,” said Mr. Channing. ”I will speak with you later.”
Constance followed him from the room, volunteering to procure the warm water. They were standing in Tom's chamber afterwards, Tom bathing his face, and Constance looking on, when Arthur, who had then come in from Mr. Galloway's, pa.s.sed by to his own room.
”Hallo!” he called out; ”what's the matter, Tom?”
”Such a row!” answered Tom. ”And I wish I could have pitched into Pierce senior as I'd have liked. What do you think, Arthur? The school were taking up the notion that you--you!--had stolen old Galloway's bank-note. Pierce senior set it afloat; that is, he and Mark Galloway together. Mark said a word, and Pierce said two, and so it went on. I should have paid Pierce out, but for Gaunt.”
A silence. It was filled up by the sound of Tom splas.h.i.+ng the water on his face, and by that only. Arthur spoke presently, his tone so calm a one as almost to be unnatural.
”How did the notion arise?”
”Mark Galloway said he heard b.u.t.terby talking with his uncle; that b.u.t.terby said the theft could only have been committed by Arthur Channing. Mark Galloway's ears must have played him false; but it was a regular sneak's trick to come and repeat it to the school. I say, Constance, is my face clean now?”
Constance woke up from a reverie to look at his face. ”Quite clean,” she answered.
He dried it, dried his hands, gave a glance at his s.h.i.+rt-front in the gla.s.s, which had, however, escaped damage, brushed his hair, and went downstairs. Arthur closed the door and turned to Constance. Her eyes were seeking his, and her lips stood apart. The terrible fear which had fallen upon both the previous day had not yet been spoken out between them. It must be spoken now.
”Constance, there is tribulation before us,” he whispered. ”We must school ourselves to bear it, however difficult the task may prove. Whatever betide the rest of us, suspicion must be averted from him.”
”What tribulation do you mean?” she murmured.
”The affair has been placed in the hands of the police; and I believe--I believe,” Arthur spoke with agitation, ”that they will publicly investigate it. Constance, they suspect me. The college school is right, and Tom is wrong.”
Constance leaned against a chest of drawers to steady herself, and pressed her hand upon her shrinking face. ”How have you learnt it?”
”I have gathered it from different trifles; one fact and another. Jenkins said b.u.t.terby was with him this morning, asking questions about me. Better that I should be suspected than Hamish. G.o.d help me to bear it!”
”But it is so unjust that you should suffer for him.”
”Were it traced home to him, it might be the whole family's ruin, for my father would inevitably lose his post. He might lose it were only suspicion to stray to Hamish. There is no alternative. I must screen him. Can you be firm, Constance, when you see me accused?”
Constance leaned her head upon her hand, wondering whether she could be firm in the cause. But that she knew where to go for strength, she might have doubted it; for the love of right, the principles of justice were strong within her. ”Oh, what could possess him?” she uttered, wringing her hands; ”what could possess him? Arthur, is there no loophole, not the faintest loophole for hope of his innocence?”
”None that I see. No one whatever had access to the letter but Hamish and I. He must have yielded to the temptation in a moment of delirium, knowing the money would clear him from some of his pressing debts--as it has done.”
”How could he brave the risk of detection?”
”I don't know. My head aches, pondering over it. I suppose he concluded that suspicion would fall upon the post-office. It would have done so, but for that seal placed on the letter afterwards. What an unfortunate thing it was, that Roland Yorke mentioned there was money inside the letter in the hearing of Hamis.h.!.+”
”Did he mention it?” exclaimed Constance.
He said there was a twenty-pound note in the letter, going to the cousin Galloway, and Hamish remarked that he wished it was going into his pocket instead. ”I _wish_” Arthur uttered, in a sort of frenzy, ”I had locked the letter up there and then.”
Constance clasped her hands in pain. ”I fear he may have been going wrong for some time,” she breathed. ”It has come to my knowledge, through Judith, that he sits up for hours night after night, doing something to the books. Arthur,” she s.h.i.+vered, glancing fearfully round, ”I hope those accounts are right?”
The doubt thus given utterance to, blanched even the cheeks of Arthur. ”Sits up at the books!” he exclaimed.
”He sits up, that is certain; and at the books, as I conclude. He takes them into his room at night. It may only be that he has not time, or does not make time, to go over them in the day. It may be so.”
”I trust it is; I pray it may be. Mind you, Constance, our duty is plain: we must screen him; screen him at any sacrifice to ourselves, for the father and mother's sake.”
”Sacrifice to you, you ought to say. What were our other light troubles, compared with this? Arthur, will they publicly accuse you?”