Wilton School Part 2

"But will mamma die before papa comes home?"

"She may die very--very soon," sobbed Mrs Valentine.

By this time they were at the door, and Mrs Valentine left Harry to run quietly upstairs to his mother's room. He found her in bed, looking fearfully white, saving two red hectic spots glowing in her wasted cheeks. Her hands were dry and hot; and when she began to speak, a fit of coughing made utterance impossible. Harry sat by the bedside, and burst out crying. After a few minutes, Mrs Campbell said in a low voice, but so cheerfully--

"Well, Harry dear, how did the examination go off?"

"It's not over, mamma; and, please, don't talk about that. Are you really going to die, mamma? Tell me, is it really true?"

"Yes, darling boy, I am really going away from you now, and soon, too--very soon."

"What shall I do when you are gone, mamma? How shall I----" and here Harry fairly broke down; he could speak no more.

"Don't cry, Harry; it makes me so sad. Don't you know I am going to heaven, and there will be no pain there. I shall not cough any more.

You mustn't cry so. Tell me about school; I like to hear it all. I am not going to die to-day, darling boy. We shall have a little longer together. Tell me about the examination."

How Harry longed to pour his story out to her, of Egerton and Mr Prichard. But he wouldn't do so now. He would bear it by himself. He had run home so quickly, meaning to tell her all, and knowing she would believe and pity him, and tell him what to do. But how could he distress her now? So he only answered very quietly--

"I did the paper pretty well, mamma; I think; the examiner doesn't come for two or three days; but--but--you won't be here--then," and back came the memory of the fateful message, back came the fears at the thought that he would be alone in the world then.

"How hot the room is," sighed Mrs Campbell. "It makes me feel so weak."

"Ah! the air isn't like it was at Malta; is it, mamma? You told me it was so cool and sweet there; didn't you, mamma?"

"Yes, dear boy; but those cool winds have made me like this. It was sitting out, in the evenings there, that first gave me my cough. But it was G.o.d's will," she said half to herself, "and why should one look to second causes?"

"Go and have your dinner, Harry dear or you will be late for school,"

she said to him.

"Must I go to school, mamma, and leave you?"

"Yes, dear," she answered, "it is far better for you to go, as usual.

They shall send for you if--if-- Go down now, dear," she added, falteringly.

And when Harry hesitatingly left the room, Mrs Campbell turned her face to the wall, and prayed to G.o.d, to guard the motherless child; to guard the toilers on the sea; and then she thought of her girlhood, of her bright, strong, healthy days; and then of her marriage in the ominous Scotch mists, of the sojourning at Malta, of the journeyings to and fro; and chiefly of her husband's love, and of her happy life; and from the depths of her heart she thanked G.o.d for it all, and confessed that it had indeed "been well."

CHAPTER VI.

INJURED INNOCENCE.

A surprise--Public opinion--Questioned--Circ.u.mstantial evidence--Inexorable.

With a heavy heart Harry set out for school; but it was a walk of a mile, and his spirits were very elastic; so that by the time he had settled to his afternoon's work, all his old interest and excitement in the examination had returned. Again the cla.s.s sat writing in their corner-cla.s.sroom, with busy fingers and hushed voices.

At half-past four Mr Prichard rose, contrary to his ordinary custom, to collect the papers. Harry had just opened his desk hastily for some blotting paper, and as he took the piece from its wonted corner, what was his astonishment to see Egerton's crib lying there. As he was making a.s.surance doubly sure, that it really was the delectus-crib, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and starting suddenly, found Mr Prichard standing, looking over him into his desk.

"Give me your paper, Campbell," said Mr Prichard; "and that book!" he added, sternly.

Harry's heart seemed to rise into his mouth. He was too frightened to utter a word, but gave up the book immediately with his paper. The whole affair had so astonished him that he scarcely knew whether he stood on his head or his heels.

"Stay after school-prayers, Campbell," said Mr Prichard, as he pa.s.sed on, collecting the papers as he went.

Shortly after, the whole cla.s.s rose, and many were the murmurs, "Sneak!

cribber!" that greeted Harry's burning ears as they all hurried along towards the big schoolroom.

Poor boy! he felt in a sad strait, for he well knew how hard it would be to clear himself. However, the consciousness of his innocence gave him a brave heart. His mother had always told him that, no matter what the consequences were, so long as his conscience told him he was in the right, it was all well; and that seeming misfortunes would but work to his final good.

Prayers over, Harry took up his position at Mr Prichard's desk. It so happened no boys were kept in that evening, so the rest of the masters were soon gone; but somehow or other the room did not clear so speedily as usual. Harry's cla.s.s especially was among the lingerers. The report had soon spread through the school. And the boys (the younger ones chiefly), always glad of a row when not themselves concerned, stood peeping through the open doors.

"Leave the room at once, all of you," shouted Mr Prichard, "unless you want an imposition?"

Waiting calmly and deliberately till the room was clear, and the doors shut, while Harry longed, and yet dreaded for him to begin, Mr Prichard turned and said--

"Well, Campbell, what have you to say for yourself? This morning, I catch you in the act of copying, or attempting to copy, from Egerton's paper; and, now, this afternoon, I find you with a book in your possession, which, you know, you have no business whatever to have. I suppose this will account for the correctness of your work during the past half-year? Do you feel very proud of your performance," he added, sneeringly, "when none of it was your own labour or cleverness?"

Meek-hearted Harry was in tears long before this oration was concluded; and the streaming face and crimson blushes only tended to confirm Mr Prichard's conviction of his guilt.

"Please, sir, I wasn't copying off Egerton this morning," sobbed Harry; "I wasn't copying off him; and it isn't my book. It's--it's--it isn't mine, sir!"

"It isn't yours, sir?" cried Mr Prichard, indignantly. "Have you the face to contradict me flatly, sir, and say the book does not belong to you? Whose name is that?" he cried, holding the delectus-translation, open at its fly-leaf, to Harry.

And there plain enough it was--_Harry Campbell_.

"No, sir, no; it isn't mine," persisted Harry, through his tears. "It isn't mine. I never saw it till this morning."

"You are only adding to your wrong conduct, Campbell," said Mr Prichard very gravely. "It is bad enough for you to take unfair advantage of your school-fellows; but you make the whole matter ten times worse by telling a deliberate falsehood. The book is yours. Your name is in it."

In vain Harry protested his innocence; Mr Prichard remained inexorable.

"You will come with me to Dr Palmer to-morrow," and putting the book into his pocket, he stalked from the room.

CHAPTER VII.

A BOY FIGHT AT SCHOOL.

Lynch law--At bay--Bully Warburton--Single combat--The deciding round--Harry is victorious.

If Harry felt heavy-hearted when he started for home that afternoon, what must he have felt now? Deeper than ever he was plunged in the trouble from which he knew not how to extricate himself. His thoughts, however, soon flew to his mother. He knew that there he would find comfort, that there, at least, he would be believed. So carefully wiping away all traces of his tears, and putting on as brave a face as he could, he strapped his books together, and ran down the broad stone stairs into the lobby.

For some time, however, he could not find his cap. It did not need much reflection to tell him what this meant or foreboded. It was the beginning of persecution. But after rumaging about among the boxes kept in the lobby, his patience was at length rewarded. There, in a corner, was the missing cap; but torn and dirty and much injured.