Part 27 (1/2)
”Thank you for your defence of Arthur,” said Tom Channing to Roland Yorke, as the latter was striding away.
Roland looked back. ”I am ashamed for all the lot of you! You might know that Arthur Channing needs no defence. He should not be aspersed in my school, Gaunt, if I were senior.”
What with one thing and another, Roland's temper had not been so aroused for many a day. Gaunt ran after him, but Roland would not turn his head, or speak.
”Your brothers are excited against Tom Channing, and that makes them hard upon him, with regard to this accusation of Arthur,” observed Gaunt. ”Tom has gone on above a bit, about Gerald's getting his seniors.h.i.+p over him and Huntley. Tom Channing can go on at a splitting rate when he likes, and he has not spared his words. Gerald, being the party interested, does not like it. That's what they were having a row over, when you came up.”
”Gerald has no more right to be put over Tom Channing's head, than you have to be put over Pye's,” said Roland, angrily.
”Of course he has not,” replied Gaunt. ”But things don't go by 'rights,' you know. This business of Arthur Channing's has been quite a windfall for Gerald; he makes it into an additional reason why Tom, at any rate, should not have the seniors.h.i.+p. And there only remains Huntley.”
”He does, does he!” exclaimed Roland. ”If the dean-”
Roland's voice--it had not been a soft one--died away. The dean himself appeared suddenly at the door of the chapter-house, which they were then pa.s.sing. Roland raised his hat, and Gaunt touched his trencher. The dean accosted the latter, his tone and manner less serene than usual.
”What is the cause of this unusual noise, Gaunt? It has disturbed me in my reading. If the cloisters are to be turned into a bear-garden, I shall certainly order them to be closed to the boys.”
”I'll go and stop it at once, sir,” replied Gaunt, touching his trencher again, as he hastily retired. He had no idea that the dean was in the chapter-house.
Roland, taking no time for consideration--he very rarely did take it, or any of the Yorkes--burst forth with the grievance to the dean. Not that Roland was one who cared much about justice or injustice in the abstract; but he was feeling excessively wroth with Gerald, and in a humour to espouse Tom Channing's cause against the world.
”The college boys are in a state of semi-rebellion, Mr. Dean, and are not so quiet under it as they might be. They would like to bring their cause of complaint to you; but they don't dare.”
”Indeed!” said the dean.
”The senior boy leaves the school at Michaelmas,” went on Roland, scarcely giving the dean time to say the word. ”The one who stands first to step into his place is Tom Channing; the next is Huntley; the last is Gerald Yorke. There is a belief afloat that Mr. Pye means to pa.s.s over the two first, without reference to their merits or their rights, and to bestow it upon Gerald Yorke. The rumour is, that he has promised this to my mother, Lady Augusta. Ought this to be so, Mr. Dean?--although my asking it may seem to be opposed to Lady Augusta's wishes and my brother's interests.”
”Where have you heard this?” inquired the dean.
”Oh, the whole town is talking of it, sir. Of course, that does not prove its truth; but the college boys believe it. They think,” said Roland, pointedly, ”that the dean ought to ascertain its grounds of foundation, and to interfere. Tom Channing is bearing the brunt of this false accusation on his brother, which some of the cowards are casting to him. It would be too bad were Pye to deprive him of the seniors.h.i.+p!”
”You think the accusation on Arthur Channing to be a false one?” returned the dean.
”There never was a more false accusation brought in this world,” replied Roland, relapsing into excitement. ”I would answer for Arthur Channing with my own life. He is entirely innocent. Good afternoon, Mr. Dean. If I stop longer, I may say more than's polite; there's no telling. Things that I have heard this afternoon have put my temper up.”
He strode away towards the west door, leaving the dean looking after him with a smile. The dean had been on terms of friends.h.i.+p with Dr. Yorke, and was intimate with his family. Roland's words were a somewhat singular corroboration of Arthur Channing's private defence to the dean only an hour ago.
Meanwhile Gaunt had gone up to scatter the noisy crew. ”A nice row you have got me into with your quarrelling,” he exclaimed. ”The dean has been in the chapter-house all the time, and isn't he in a pa.s.sion! He threatens to shut up the cloisters.”
The announcement brought stillness, chagrin. ”What a bothering old duffer he is, that dean!” uttered Bywater. ”He is always turning up when he's not wanted.”
”Take your books, and disperse in silence,” was the command of the senior boy.
”Stop a bit,” said Bywater, turning himself round and about for general inspection. ”Look at me! Can I go home?”
”My!” roared the boys, who had been too preoccupied to be observant. ”Haven't they come to grief!”
”But can I go through the streets?”
”Oh yes! Make a rush for it. Tell the folks you have been in the wars.”
CHAPTER x.x.x.
THE DEPARTURE.
I like to see fair skies and suns.h.i.+ne on the morning fixed for a journey. It seems to whisper a promise that satisfaction from that journey lies before it: a foolish notion, no doubt, but a pleasant one.
Never did a more lovely morning arise to gladden the world, than that fixed upon for Mr. and Mrs. Channing's departure. The August sky was without a cloud, the early dew glittered in the sunbeams, bees and b.u.t.terflies sported amidst the opening flowers.
Mr. Channing was up early, and had gathered his children around him. Tom and Charles had, by permission, holiday that morning from early school, and Constance had not gone to Lady Augusta Yorke's. The very excitement and bustle of preparation had appeared to benefit Mr. Channing; perhaps it was the influence of the hope which had seated itself in his heart, and was at work there. But Mr. Channing did not count upon this hope one whit more than he could help; for disappointment might be its ending. In this, the hour of parting from his home and his children, the hope seemed to have buried itself five fathoms deep, if not to have died away completely. Who, in a similar position to Mr. Channing's, has not felt this depression on leaving a beloved home?
The parting had been less sad but for the dark cloud hanging over Arthur. Mr. Channing had no resource but to believe him guilty, and his manner to him had grown cold and stern. It was a pleasing sight--could you have looked in upon it that morning--one that would put you in mind of that happier world where partings are not.
For it was to that world that Mr. Channing had been carrying the thoughts of his children in these, the last moments. The Bible was before him, but all that he had chosen to read was a short psalm. And then he prayed G.o.d to bless them; to keep them from evil; to be their all-powerful protector. There was not a dry eye present; and Charles and Annabel--Annabel with all her wildness--sobbed aloud.
He was standing up now, supported by Hamish, his left hand leaning heavily, also for support, on the shoulder of Tom. Oh! Arthur felt it keenly! felt it as if his heart would break. It was Tom whom his father had especially called to his aid; he was pa.s.sed over. It was hard to bear.
He was giving a word of advice, of charge to all. ”Constance, my pretty one, the household is in your charge; you must take care of your brothers' comforts. And, Hamish, my son, I leave Constance to your care. Tom, let me enjoin you to keep your temper within bounds, particularly with regard to that unsatisfactory matter, the seniors.h.i.+p. Annabel, be obedient to your sister, and give her no care. And Charley, my little darling, be loving and gentle as you always are. Upon my return--if I shall be spared to return--”
”Father,” exclaimed Arthur, in a burst of irrepressible feeling, ”have you no word for _me_?”
Mr. Channing laid his hand upon the head of Arthur. ”Bless, oh bless this my son!” he softly murmured. ”And may G.o.d forgive him, if he be indeed the erring one we fear!”
But a few minutes had elapsed since Mr. Channing had repeated aloud the pet.i.tion in the prayer taught us by our Saviour--”Lead us not into temptation!” It had come quickly to one of his hearers. If ever temptation a.s.sailed a heart, it a.s.sailed Arthur's then. ”Not I, father; it is Hamish who is guilty; it is for him I have to bear. Hamish, whom you are caressing, was the true culprit; I, whom you despise, am innocent.” Words such as these might have hovered on Arthur's lips; he had nearly spoken them, but for the strangely imploring look cast to him from the tearful eyes of Constance, who read his struggle. Arthur remembered One who had endured temptation far greater than this; Who is ever ready to grant the same strength to those who need it. A few moments, and the struggle and temptation pa.s.sed, and he had not yielded to it.
”Children, I do not like these partings. They always sadden my heart. They make me long for that life where partings shall be no more. Oh, my dear ones, do you all strive on to attain to that blessed life! Think what would be our woeful grief--if such can a.s.sail us there; if memory of the past may be allowed us--should we find any one of our dear ones absent--of you who now stand around me! I speak to you all--not more to one than to another--absent through his own fault, his own sin, his own carelessness! Oh, children! you cannot tell my love for you--my anxious care!--lest any of you should lose this inconceivable blessing. Work on; strive on; and if we never meet again here--”
”Oh, papa, papa,” wildly sobbed Annabel, ”we shall meet again! You will come back well.”
”I trust we shall! I do trust I may! G.o.d is ever merciful and good. All I would say is, that my life is uncertain; that, if it be His will not to spare me, I shall have but preceded you to that better land. My blessing be upon you, my children! G.o.d's blessing be upon you! Fare you well.”
In the bustle of getting Mr. Channing to the fly, Arthur was left alone with his mother. She clung to him, sobbing much. Even her faith in him was shaken. When the rupture occurred between Mr. Yorke and Constance, Arthur never spoke up to say: ”There is no cause for parting; I am not guilty.” Mrs. Channing was not the only one who had expected him to say this, or something equivalent to it; and she found her expectation vain. Arthur had maintained a studied silence; of course it could only tell against him.
”Mother! my darling mother! I would ask you to trust me still, but that I see how difficult it is for you!” he said, as hot tears were wrung from his aching heart.
Hamish came in. Arthur, not caring to exhibit his emotion for every one's benefit, retired to a distant window. ”My father is in, all comfortable,” said Hamish. ”Mother, are you sure you have everything?”
”Everything, I believe.”
”Well--put this into your private purse, mother mine. You'll find some use for it.”
It was a ten-pound note. Mrs. Channing began protesting that she should have enough without it.