St. Winifred's Part 19

"Let's come and see Dubbs before tea," said Walter, on rejoining the other two. "Henderson told me he was ill in bed, poor fellow."

They went at once to the cottage, detached from the rest of the school buildings, to which all invalids were removed, and they were allowed to go to Daubeny's room; but although he was expecting their visit he had fallen asleep. They noticed a worn and weary expression upon his countenance, but it was pleasant to look at him; for although he was a very ordinary-looking boy, with somewhat heavy features, yet whatever beauty can be infused into any face by honesty of purpose and innocence of heart, was to be found in his, and you could not speak to Daubeny for five minutes without being attracted by the sense that you were talking to one whose character was singularly free from falsehood or vanity, and singularly unstained by evil thoughts.

"There lies one of the best and worthiest fellows in the school,"

whispered Power, as he raised the candle to look at him.

Low as he had spoken, the sound awoke the sleeper. He opened his eyes dreamily at first, but with full recognition afterwards, and said, "O, you fellows, I'm so delighted to set you; when I saw Henderson last, he told me that you hadn't come back, and that people were beginning to fear some accident; and I suppose that's the reason why I've been dreaming so uneasily, and fancying that I saw you tumbling down the rift, and all kinds of things."

"Well, we were very near it, Dubbs, but, thanks to Walter, we escaped all right," said Power.

Daubeny looked up inquiringly. "We must tell you all about it to-morrow," said Power. "How are you feeling?"

"O, I don't know; not very well, but it's no matter; I daresay I shall be all right soon."

"Hush, you young gentlemen," said the nurse; "this'll never do; you oughtn't to have awoke Master Daubeny just as he was sleeping so nice."

"Very sorry, nurse; good-night, Dubbs; hope you'll be all right to-morrow," said they, and then adjourned to Power's study.

The gas was lighted in the pretty little room, and the matron, regarding them as heroes, had sent them a very tempting tea. They ate it almost in silence, for they were quite tired out. It seemed an age since they had started in the morning with Henderson and Daubeny. Directly tea was finished, Kenrick, exhausted with fatigue and excitement, fell asleep in his chair, with his head thrown back and his lips parted.

"There, I think that's a sign that we ought to be going to bed," said Walter, laughing as he pointed at him.

"O no," said Power, "not yet; it's so jolly sitting here; don't wake him, but come and draw your chair next to mine by the fire and have a chat."

Walter obeyed the invitation, and for a few minutes they both sat gazing into the fire, reading faces in the embers, and pursuing their own thoughts. Each of them was happy in the other's presence; and Walter, though more than a year Power's junior, and far below him in the school, was delighted with the sense of fully possessing, in the friends.h.i.+p of this most promising and gifted boy, a treasure which any one in the world might well have envied him.

"It's been a strange day, hasn't it, Walter?" said Power at last, laying his hand on Walter's, and looking at him. "I shall never forget it; you have thrown a new light on one's time here."

"Have I, Power? How? I didn't know it."

"Why, on the top of Appenfell there, you opened my eyes to the fact that I've been living here a very selfish life. I know that I get the credit of being very conceited and exclusive, and all that sort of thing; but being naturally shy, I thought it better to keep rather aloof from all but the very few towards whom I felt at all drawn. I see now," he said sadly, "that at the bottom this was mainly selfishness. Why, Walter, all the time I've been here, I haven't done as much for any single boy as you, a new fellow, have done for little Eden this one half-year. But there's time to do better yet; and by G.o.d's help I'll try. I'll give Eden the run of my study to-morrow; and as there's plenty of room, I'll look out for some other little chap who requires a refuge for the dest.i.tute."

"Thank you, for Eden's sake," said Walter; "I'm sure you'll soon begin to like him, if he gets at home with you."

"But that's the worst of it," continued Power; "so few ever do get at home with me. I suppose my manner's awkward--or something; but I'd give anything to make fellows friendly in five minutes as you do. How do you manage it?"

"I really don't know; I never think about my own manner or anything else. I suppose if one feels the least interest in any fellow, that he will probably feel some interest in me; and so, somehow, I'm on the best terms with all I care to know."

"Well, Ken and I had a long talk after you left us, to cross the Devil's Way; and I hope that the memory of that may make us three friends firm and fast, tender and true, as long as we live. We were in a horrible fright about you, and I suppose that, joined to our own danger, gave a solemn cast to our conversation; but we agreed that if we three, as friends, were united in the silent resolution to help others, and especially new fellows and young, as much as ever we can, we might do a great deal. Tell me, Walter, didn't you find it a very hard thing when you first came, to keep right among All sorts of temptations?"

"Yes, I did, Power, very hard; and I confess, too, that I sometimes wondered that not one boy, though there are, as I see now, lots of thoroughly good and right fellows here, ever said one word, or did one thing to help me."

"It's all wrong, all wrong," said Power; "but it was you first who made me see it. Walter, I shall pray to-night that G.o.d, Who has kept us safe, may teach and help us here to live less for ourselves. Who knows what we might not do for the school?"

They both sat for a short time in thoughtful silence. Boys do not often talk openly together about prayer or religion, though perhaps they do so even more than men do in common life. It is right and well that it should be so; it would be unnatural and certainly harmful were it otherwise. And these boys would probably never have talked to each other thus, if a common danger had not broken down completely the barriers of conventional reserve. Never again from this day did they allude to this sacred resolution; but they acted up to it, or strove to do so, not indeed unwaveringly, yet with manful courage, in the strength of that pure, strong, beautiful unity of heart and purpose which this day had cemented between them for the rest of their school-life.

"But you seem to aim higher than I do, Power," said Walter; "I certainly found lots of wickedness going on here, but I never hoped to change that. All I hoped to do was to save one or two fellows from being cruelly bullied and spoiled. We can't alter the wrong tone which nearly all the fellows have on some matters."

"Yet," said Power, "there was once a man, a single man, in a great corrupted host, who stood between the living and the dead, and the plague was stayed."

"Then rose up Phinees and prayed, and so the plague ceased," whispered Walter to himself.

All farther conversation was broken by Kenrick, who at this moment awoke with a great yawn, and looking at his watch, declared that they ought to have been in bed long ago.

"Good-night, Ken; I hope we shall sleep as sound as you," said Power.

"Walter here will dream of skeletons and moonlit precipices, I bet,"

said Kenrick.

"Not I, Ken; I'm far too tired. Good-night, both."

Sleepy as they were, _two_ of those boys did not fall asleep that night till they had poured out with all the pa.s.sion of full hearts, words of earnest supplication for the future, of trembling grat.i.tude for the past. Two of them--for Kenrick, with all the fine points of his character, was entirely dest.i.tute of any sense of religion, and had in many points the standard of a schoolboy rather than that of a Christian.

When Walter reached his room, the rest were asleep, but not Eden. He sat up in his bed directly Walter entered, and his eyes were sparkling with animation and pleasure.

"O Walter," he said, "I couldn't go to sleep for joy; Every one's praising you to the skies. I am so proud of you, and it is so very good of you to be friends with me."

"Tush, Arty," said Walter smiling; "one would think I'd done something great to hear you talk, whereas really it was nothing out of the way. I meant to have taken you with us, but I thought it would be too far for you."

"Taken me with you, and Kenrick, and Power!" said Eden, opening his large eyes; "how kind of you, Walter! but only fancy Power or Kenrick walking with me!"

"Why not, Arty? Power's going to ask you to-morrow to sit in his study, and learn your lessons there whenever you like."

"Power ask _me_!"

"You! Why not?"

"Why, he's _such_ a swell."

"Well, then, you must try and be a swell too."

"No, no, Walter; I'm doing ten times as well as I did, but I shall never be a swell like Power," said the child simply. "And I know it's all your doing, not his. O, how shall I ever learn to thank and pay you for all you do for me?"

"By being a good and brave little boy, Arty. Good-night, and G.o.d bless you."

"Good-night, Walter."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE MARTYR-STUDENT.

Impositique rogis juvenes ante ora parentum.

Georgic Four, 1 71.

The days that followed, as the boys resumed the regular routine of school work, pa.s.sed by very rapidly and pleasantly--rapidly, because the long-expected Christmas holidays were approaching; pleasantly, because the boys were thoroughly occupied in working up the subjects for the final examination. For Walter especially, those days were lighted up with the warm glow of popularity and success. He was aiming with boyish eagerness to win one more laurel by gaining the first place in his form, and whenever he was not taking exercise, either in some school game or by a ramble along his favourite cliffs and sands, he was generally to be found hard at work in Mr Percival's rooms, learning the voluntary repet.i.tions, or going over the trial subjects with Henderson, who had now quite pa.s.sed the boundary line which separated the idle from the industrious boys.