Part 47 (1/2)
”Shall I help you in, father!”
”I can help myself now, Hamish. I remember you promised me I should have no fly on my return. You have thought better of it.”
”Yes, sir, wis.h.i.+ng to get you home before bed-time, which might not be the case if you were to show yourself in the town, and stop at all the interruptions.”
Mr. Channing stepped into the fly. Hamish followed, first giving the driver a nod. ”The luggage! The luggage!” exclaimed Mrs. Channing, as they moved off.
”The porter will bring it, mother. He would have been a month putting it on to the fly.”
How could they suppose anything was the matter? Not a suspicion of it ever crossed them. Never had Hamish appeared more light-hearted. In fact, in his self-consciousness, Hamish a little overdid it. Let him get them home before the worst came!
”We find you all well, I conclude!” said Mrs. Channing. ”None of them came up with you! Arthur is in college, I suppose, and Tom and Charles are in school.”
”It was Arthur's hour for college,” remarked Hamish, ignoring the rest of the sentence. ”But he ought to be out now. Arthur is at Galloway's again,” he added. ”He did not write you word, I believe, as you were so shortly expected home.”
Mr. Channing turned a glance on his son, quick as lightning. ”Cleared, Hamish?”
”In my opinion, yes. In the opinion of others, I fear not much more than he was before.”
”And himself?” asked Mr. Channing. ”What does he say now?”
”He does not speak of it to me.”
Hamish put his head out at the window, nodding to some one who was pa.s.sing. A question of Mr. Channing's called it in again.
”Why has he gone back to Galloway's?”
Hamish laughed. ”Roland Yorke took an impromptu departure one fine morning, for Port Natal, leaving the office and Mr. Galloway to do the best they could with each other. Arthur buried his grievances and offered himself to Mr. Galloway in the emergency. I am not quite sure that I should have been so forgiving.”
”Hamis.h.!.+ He has nothing to forgive Mr. Galloway. It is on the other side.”
”I am uncharitable, I suppose,” remarked Hamish. ”I cannot like Mr. Galloway's treatment of Arthur.”
”But what is it you say about Roland Yorke and Port Natal?” interposed Mrs. Channing. ”I do not understand.”
”Roland is really gone, mother. He has been in London these ten days, and it is expected that every post will bring news that he has sailed. Roland has picked up a notion somewhere that Port Natal is an enchanted land, converting poor men into rich ones; and he is going to try what it will do for him, Lord Carrick fitting him out. Poor Jenkins is sinking fast.”
”Changes! changes!” remarked Mr. Channing. ”Go away only for two or three months, and you must find them on return. Some gone; some dying; some--”
”Some restored, who were looked upon as incurable,” interrupted Hamish. ”My dear father, I will not have you dwell on dark things the very moment of your arrival; the time for that will come soon enough.”
Judy nearly betrayed all; and Constance's aspect might have betrayed it, had the travellers been suspicious. She, Constance, came forward in the hall, white and trembling. When Mrs. Channing shook hands with Judy, she put an unfortunate question--”Have you taken good care of your boy?” Judy knew it could only allude to Charles, and for answer there went up a sound, between a cry and a sob, that might have been heard in the far-off college schoolroom. Hamish took Judy by the shoulders, bidding her go out and see whether any rattletraps were left in the fly, and so turned it off.
They were all together in the sitting-room--Mr. and Mrs. Channing, Hamish, Constance, Arthur, and Annabel; united, happy, as friends are and must be when meeting after a separation; talking of this and of that, giving notes of what had occurred on either side. Hamish showed himself as busy as the rest; but Hamish felt all the while upon a bed of thorns, for the hands of the timepiece were veering on for five, and he must get the communication over before Tom came in. At length Mrs. Channing went up to her room, accompanied by Constance; Annabel followed. And now came Hamish's opportunity. Arthur had gone back to Mr. Galloway's, and he was alone with his father. He plunged into it at once; indeed, there was no time for delay.
”Father!” he exclaimed, with deep feeling, his careless manner changing as by magic: ”I have very grievous news to impart to you. I would not enter upon it before my mother: though she must be told of it also, and at once.”
Mr. Channing was surprised; more surprised than alarmed. He never remembered to have seen Hamish betray so much emotion. A thought crossed his mind that Arthur's guilt might have been brought clearly to light.
”Not that,” said Hamish. ”It concerns--Father, I do not like to enter upon it! I shrink from my task. It is very bad news indeed.”
”You, my children, are all well,” cried Mr. Channing, hastily speaking the words as a fact, not as a question. ”What other 'very bad' news can be in store for me?”
”You have not seen us all,” was Hamish's answer. And Mr. Channing, alarmed, now looked inquiringly at him. ”It concerns Charles. An--an accident has happened to him.”
Mr. Channing sat down and shaded his eyes. He was a moment or two before he spoke. ”One word, Hamish; is he dead?”
Hamish stood before his father and laid his hand affectionately upon his shoulder. ”Father, I wish I could have prepared you better for it!” he exclaimed, with emotion. ”We do not know whether he is dead or alive.”
Then he explained--explained more in summary than in detail--touching lightly upon the worst features of the case, enlarging upon his own hopeful view of it. Bad enough it was, at the best, and Mr. Channing found it so. He could feel no hope. In the revulsion of grief, he turned almost with resentment upon Hamish.
”My son, I did not expect this treatment from you.”
”I have taken enough blame to myself; I know he was left in my charge,” sadly replied Hamish; ”but, indeed, I do not see how I could have helped it. Although I was in the room when he ran out of it, I was buried in my own thoughts, and never observed his going. I had no suspicion anything was astir that night with the college boys. Father, I would have saved his life with my own!”
”I am not blaming you for the fact, Hamish; blame is not due to you. Had I been at home myself, I might no more have stopped his going out than you did. But you ought to have informed me of this instantly. A whole month, and I to be left in ignorance!”
”We did it for the best. Father, I a.s.sure you that not a stone has been left unturned to find him; alive, or--or dead. You could not have done more had you hastened home; and it has been so much suspense and grief spared to you.”
Mr. Channing relapsed into silence. Hamish glanced uneasily to that ever-advancing clock. Presently he spoke.
”My mother must be told before Tom comes home. It will be better that you take the task upon yourself, father. Shall I send her in?”
Mr. Channing looked at Hamish, as if he scarcely understood the meaning of the words. From Hamish he looked to the clock. ”Ay; go and send her.”
Hamish went to his mother's room, and returned with her. But he did not enter. He merely opened the door, and shut her in. Constance, with a face more frightened than ever, came and stood in the hall. Annabel stood there also. Judy, wringing her hands, and sending off short e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns in an undertone, came to join them, and Sarah stood peeping out from the kitchen door. They remained gazing at the parlour door, dreading the effect of the communication that was going on inside.
”If it had been that great big Tom, it wouldn't matter so much,” wailed Judith, in a tone of resentment. ”The missis would know that _he'd_ be safe to turn up, some time or other; a strong fellow like him!”
A sharp cry within the room. The door was flung open, and Mrs. Channing came forth, her face pale, her hands lifted. ”It cannot be true! It cannot be! Hamis.h.!.+ Judith! Where is he?”
Hamish folded her hands in his, and gently drew her in again. They all followed. No reason why they should not, now that the communication was made. Almost at the same moment, Mr. Huntley arrived.
Of course, the first thought that had occurred to the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Channing was, that had they been at home to direct affairs in the search, Charley would have been found. It is the thought that would occur to us all: we never give others credit for doing as much as we should have done. ”This might have been tried, and the other might have been tried.” It makes little difference when told that they have been tried; for then we fall back upon some other suggestion. Mrs. Channing reproached Hamish with keeping it from them.
”My dear lady, you must blame me, not him,” interposed Mr. Huntley. ”Left to himself, Hamish would have started Arthur off to you, post haste. It was I who suggested the desirability of keeping you in ignorance; it was I who brought Hamish to see it: and I know that, when the brunt of your grief shall have pa.s.sed, you will acknowledge that it was the best, the wisest, and the kindest course.”
”But there are so many things that we could have suggested; that perhaps none but a father or mother would think of!” urged Mrs. Channing, lifting her yearning face. They wished they could see her weep.
”You could have suggested nothing that has not been done,” returned Mr. Huntley. ”Believe me, dear Mrs. Channing! We have had many good counsellors. b.u.t.terby has conducted the search.”
Mr. Channing turned to them. He was standing at the far window. ”I should like to see b.u.t.terby.”
”He will be here in an hour's time,” said Hamish. ”I knew you would wish to see him, and I requested him to come.”
”The worst feature of the whole,” put in Judith, with as much acrimony as ever was displayed by Mr. Ketch, ”is that them boys should not have got their deserts. They have not as much as had a birching; and I say that the college masters ought to be hooted. I'd 'ghost' 'em!”