Part 28 (1/2)
”Williams,” he said, ”I have had a great regard for you, and felt a deep interest in you from the day I first saw you, and knew your excellent parents. At one time I had conceived great hopes of your future course, and your abilities seemed likely to blossom into excellent fruit. But you fell off greatly, and grew idle and careless. At last an event happened, in which for a time you acted worthily of yourself; and which seemed to arouse you from your negligence and indifference. All my hopes in you revived; but as I continued to watch your course (more closely perhaps than you supposed), I observed with pain that those hopes must be again disappointed. It needs but a glance at your countenance to be sure that you are not so upright or right-minded a boy as you were two years ago. I can judge only from your outward course; but I deeply fear, Williams--I deeply fear, that in _other_ respects also you are going the down-hill road. And what am I to think now, when, on the _same_ morning, you and your little brother _both_ come before me for such serious and heavy faults? I cannot free you from blame even for _his_ misdoings, for you are his natural guardian here; I am only glad that you were not involved with him in that charge.”
”Let _me_ bear the punishment, sir, instead of him,” said Eric, by a sudden impulse; ”for I misled him, and was there myself.”
Dr Rowlands paced the room in deep sorrow. ”You, Williams! on the verge of the sixth-form. Alas! I fear, from this, that the state of things among you is even worse than I had supposed.”
Eric again hung his head.
”No; you have confessed the sin voluntarily, and therefore at present I shall not notice it; only, let me entreat you to beware. But I must turn to the other matter. What excuse have you for your intolerable conduct to Mr Rose, who, as I know, has shown you from the first the most unusual and disinterested kindness?”
”I cannot defend myself, sir. I was excited, and could not control my pa.s.sion.”
”Then you must sit down here, and write an apology, which I shall make you read aloud before the whole school at twelve to-day.”
Eric, with trembling hand, wrote his apology, and Dr Rowlands glanced at it. ”That will do,” he said; ”I am glad you take a right view of the matter. Come to me again at twelve.”
At twelve all the school were a.s.sembled, and Eric, pale and miserable, followed the Doctor into the great schoolroom. The masters stood at one end of the room, and among them Mr Rose, who, however, appeared an indifferent and uninterested spectator of the transaction. Every glance was fixed on Eric, and every one pitied him.
”We are a.s.sembled,” said Dr Rowlands, ”for an act of justice. One of your number has insulted a master publicly, and is ashamed of his conduct, and has himself written the apology which he will read. I had intended to add a still severer punishment, but Mr Rose has earnestly begged me not to do so, and I have succ.u.mbed to his wishes. Williams, read your apology.”
There was a dead hush, and Eric tried once or twice in vain to utter a word. At last, by a spasmodic effort, he regained his voice, and read, but in so low and nervous a tone, that not even those nearest him heard what he was saying.
Dr Rowlands took the paper from him. ”Owing,” he said, ”to a very natural and pardonable emotion, the apology has been read in such a way that you could not have understood it. I will therefore read it myself.
It is to this effect--'I, Eric Williams, beg humbly and sincerely to apologise for my pa.s.sionate and ungrateful insult to Mr Rose.'”
”You will understand that he was left quite free to choose his own expressions; and as he has acknowledged his shame and compunction for the act, I trust that none of you will be tempted to elevate him into a hero, for a folly which he himself so much regrets. This affair--as I should wish all bad deeds to be after they have once been punished--will now be forgiven, and I hope forgotten.”
They left the room and dispersed, and Eric fancied that all shunned and looked coldly on his degradation. But not so: Montagu came, and taking his arm in the old friendly way, went a walk with him. It was a constrained and silent walk, and they were both glad when it was over, although Montagu did all he could to show that he loved Eric no less than before. Still it was weeks since they had been much together, and they had far fewer things in common now than they used to have before.
Eric's sprightliness, once the delight of all his friends, was now rarely exhibited, except in the company of Wildney and Graham.
”I'm so wretched, Monty,” said Eric at last; ”do you think Rose despises me?”
”I am _sure_ of the contrary. Won't you go to him, Eric, and say all you feel?”
”Heigh ho! I shall never get right again. Oh, to recover the last two years!”
”You can redeem them, Eric, by a wiser present. Let the same words comfort you that have often brought hope to me--'I will restore the years which the locust hath eaten.'”
They reached the school-door, and Eric went straight to the library.
Mr Rose was there alone. He received him kindly, as usual, and Eric went up to the fireplace where he was standing. They had often stood by that library fire on far different terms.
”Forgive me, sir,” was all Eric could say, as the tears rushed to his eyes.
”Freely, my boy,” said Mr Rose sadly. ”I wish you could feel how fully I forgive you; but,” he added, laying his hand for the last time on Eric's head, ”you have far more, Eric, to forgive yourself. I will not talk to you, Eric; it would be little good, I fear; but you little know how much I pity and tremble for you.”
While these scenes were being enacted with Eric, a large group was collected round the fireplace in the boarders' room, and many tongues were loudly discussing the recent events.
Alas for grat.i.tude! There was not a boy in that group to whom Mr Rose had not done many an act of kindness; and to most of them far more than they ever knew. Many a weary hour had he toiled for them in private, when his weak frame was hara.s.sed by suffering; many a sleepless night had he wrestled for them in prayer, when, for their sakes, his own many troubles were laid aside. Work on, Walter Rose, and He who seeth in secret will reward you openly! but expect no grat.i.tude from those for whose salvation you, like the great tender-hearted apostle, would almost be ready to wish yourself accursed.
Nearly every one in that noisy group was abusing Mr Rose. It had long been Brigson's cue to do so; he derided him on every opportunity, and delighted to represent him as hypocritical and insincere. Even his weak health was the subject of Brigson's coa.r.s.e ridicule, and the bad boy paid in deep hatred the natural tribute which vice must ever accord to excellence.