CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
HOW MY MASTER FARED AT SAINT GEORGE'S COLLEGE AND MET AN OLDACQUAINTANCE OF THE READER'S THERE.
It is not my intention in these pages to give a full and particularaccount of George Reader's college life. It would neither be on thewhole interesting, nor would it be found to have much bearing on my owncareer, which is the ostensible theme of the present veracious history.
Stories of college life have furnished amusing material for many a bookbefore now, to which the reader must turn, should his curiosity in thatdirection require to be satisfied. The life of a hard--a too hard-working student in his cell under the college staircase is neitheramusing nor sensational, and it is quite enough to say that, after hisfirst eventful evening, George Reader pursued his studies withunflagging ardour, though with greater precaution than ever.
He soon discovered which hours of the day and night were most favourablefor uninterrupted work.
He made a point of taking his constitutional during the hour madehideous by the ill-starred aspirant on the ophicleide. He invested in atrap for the rats, which, with the aid of his mother's cheese, yieldedhim a nightly harvest of victims, and he arranged with Benson, the"gyp," not to interrupt him, preferring rather to wait on himself--nay,even to dust out his own room--than have to sacrifice precious timewhile the same offices were being performed by another, especially bysuch an overpowering and awe-inspiring person as Benson.
So he set himself to work, attending lectures by day, reading everynight into the small hours, spending scarcely anything, shrinking fromall acquaintanceships, taking only a minimum of recreation, and livingalmost the life of a hermit, until I could see his cheeks grow pale, andhis eyes dark round the rims, and feared for his health.
He treated me uniformly well. Of course, as the gift of his fellow-villagers, he prized me highly, but by no means consigned me to thestately repose of a purely ornamental treasure. I lay nightly besidehis elbow on the table, and counted for him the hours as they sped fromnight to morning. I lay beneath his pillow at night, and helped him torise betimes. I insured his punctual attendance at lectures, and drovehim home from his scanty walks in the fresh air more quickly than Imyself would have cared to do if I could have helped it. In short, Ifound myself in the satisfactory position of one thoroughly useful inhis sphere of life, and on the whole, though my first young masterreturned constantly to my thoughts, I contrived to be very happy in mynew capacity.
Two events, however, both of a pleasant nature, served to vary themonotony of George's second term at college. The first of these was avisit from his friend and patron, Dr Wilkins, the rector ofMuggerbridge.
George was sitting at his modest breakfast one morning, when his doorsuddenly opened, and the well-known and beloved face of his old tutorlit up the apartment.
My master sprang to his feet, and with unaffected joy rushed forward towelcome his guest, before it had do much as occurred to him into whatuninviting quarters he was receiving him.
"How good of you to come, sir!" he cried. "I never expected suchhappiness."
"You don't suppose I should go through Cambridge and never beat up yourquarters, my boy! But, dear me, how ill you are looking!"
"Am I? I don't feel ill."
"Humph! you're overdoing it. But aren't you going to offer me somebreakfast?"
George coloured, and his spirits sank as his eyes fell on the scantyfare of which he himself had been partaking.
"It's only bread-and-butter," he said.
"And what better?" said Dr Wilkins, sitting down; "and I warrant thebutter's good if it's your mother's making."
"So it is," said George, beginning to recover his spirits. "And how didyou leave them at home, sir?"
"First-rate, my boy;--looking much better than you are. And so this isyour den? Well, it's--"
"Nothing very grand," put in George.
"Exactly, nothing very grand; but I dare say you find it as good a placeto read in as a drawing-room, eh? Now tell me all about yourself, myboy, while I drink this good tea of yours."
And George, with light heart and beaming face, told his good friend ofall his doings, his hardships, his difficulties, his triumphs, and hisambitions.
And Dr Wilkins sat and listened with pride and thankfulness at heart,to find his young _protege_ the same earnest, unaffected boy he hadparted with from Muggerbridge six months before. They talked for a longtime that morning. The tutor and boy passed in review all the workhitherto accomplished and discussed the programme of future study. Manywere the wholesome counsels the elder gave to the younger, and many werethe new hopes and resolutions which filled the lad's heart as he openedall his soul to his good friend.
"And now," said Dr Wilkins, "I want you to take me to see your collegeand chapel."
George looked perplexed. Who was _he_ to conduct a Doctor of Divinityover his college. Such a hermit's life had he led that he hardly knewthe ins and outs of the place himself, and there was not a single man inthe college to whom he was not a stranger.
"I'm afraid you've chosen a bad guide," faltered he. "I don't know anyof the men, and very little of the place."
"Oh, never mind that," said the doctor; "it will be all the moreinteresting to make a tour of discovery, so come along!"
George put on his cap and gown and obeyed. For a moment he wished thegown had been long enough to conceal the patch on the knee of histrousers, but the next he laughed at himself for his vanity.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," thought he, "and if it _is_patched--well, it is."
And thus consoling himself, he accompanied the doctor across thequadrangle.
Men certainly did stare at him as he passed, and some of them deemed hima queer "specimen," and others wondered what Saint George's was comingto. But my master, if he noticed their looks, disregarded them, and asfor Dr Wilkins, he smiled to himself to think how prone mankind is tojudge by appearances.
"Unless I mistake," mused he to himself, "these young sparks of SaintGeorge's will some day think fit to be proud of their poor fellow-collegian."
The two made the tour of the college, and finished up with the grand oldGothic chapel. It was easy to guess why George's face lit up as heapproached the place. The deep notes of an organ were sounding acrossthe quadrangle, and as they entered the door a flood of harmony swepttowards them down the long aisles. Dr Wilkins could feel the boy's armtremble, and heard the sigh of delight which escaped his lips. Withouta word they sat in the nearest stalls, and listened while the music wenton. How it rose and fell, how it trembled in the oak arches of theroof, and swept through the choir down to where they sat! It was onlyan ordinary organist's practice; but to George, after his hard work, andwith the memories of home revived by the presence of his dear tutor, itcame as a breath from heaven. Daily, nearly, had he heard that organsince his coming to Cambridge, but never had it delighted him as it didnow.
"Can we see the organ?" he said, when the last chord had died away.
"Let us try," said the doctor.
The gallery door was open, and ascending the stairs to the organ loft,they found the organist preparing to depart.
"We have been a clandestine audience," said the doctor, "and couldn'thelp coming to thank you for the treat you have given us. My youngfriend here is music mad."
The organist smiled.
"You took me at a disadvantage," he said, "I was only amusing myself."
"Whatever you were doing for yourself, you delighted us," said thedoctor.
"Would you like to try the organ?" presently said the organist toGeorge.
Oh, what a bound of delight I could feel in my master's breast at theinvitation.
"May I?" he exclaimed.
"Certainly, if you like--and if you can," added the other, hesitatingly,as if not sure whether the lad's skill would be equal to his enthusiasm.
George sat down on the bench, and laid his fingers lovingly on the keys.But he withdrew them before he had sounded a note. "I would ra
ther youdid not watch me too closely," he said, nervously, "for I am only abeginner."
"Let us go and sit down stairs," suggested the doctor.
The organist looked still more doubtful than before, and began to repenthis offer. However, he retired with the doctor, and made up his mind tobe excruciated. They sat down in two of the stalls and waited.
And then George began to play. What he played I cannot tell. It beganfirst in a faint whisper of music which swelled onward into a purechoral melody. Then suddenly the grand old roof trembled with the clashof a martial movement, strong and steady, which carried the listeneronward till he was, with the sound, lost in the far distance. Then, inwailing minor numbers the music returned, slowly working itself up intothe tumult and fury of a pent-up agony, and finally sweeping all beforeit in a wild hurricane of bitterness. Then a pause, and then sweetlyand in the far distance once more rose the quiet hymn, and after thatall was silence.
After the first few notes the organist had uttered a startledejaculation, and drawn the doctor to another seat farther down the nave,where, till all was over, he sat motionless as a statue. But the momentthe music had ceased he ran up the stairs with a face full of pleasureand admiration, and actually seized George by the hand.
"You're a genius, sir. That was not at all bad, I can tell you."
A happy smile was all the answer George could give.
"Not at all bad," repeated the organist. "I was telling your friend,"added he to Dr Wilkins, who had returned more slowly to the organ,"that was not at all bad. He must come here often."
"Nothing, I am sure, would delight him more," said the doctor. "Eh, myboy?"
"Nothing, indeed," said George, "but--"
"But your reading, I suppose."
"Never mind your reading, sir!" exclaimed the organist. "What's that tomusic? Take my advice, and go in for music."
Poor George! for a moment he felt tempted to abandon all his ambitionsand resolutions at the prospect of a career so delightful and congenial.
But he was made of firmer stuff than Tom Drift, and replied,--
"I cannot do that, sir; but if I may come now and then--"
"Come whenever you like," said the organist; and so saying he shookGeorge and his friend by the hand, and hurried from the chapel.
This was the event which of all others brightened George Reader's firstyear at college.
Instead of aimless walks, he now stole at every spare moment (withoutcutting into his ordinary work) to the organ, and there revelled inmusic.
His acquaintance with the college organist increased and developed intoa friendship, of which mutual admiration formed a large element, and onehappy Sunday, a year after his arrival at Cambridge, he received, forthe first time, the much coveted permission to preside at the organduring a college service, a task of which he acquitted himself so well--nay, so remarkably well--that not only did he frequently find himselfagain in the same position, but his playing came to be a matter ofremark among the musical set of Saint George's.
"Who is the fellow who played to-day?" a man inquired one day of theorganist; "is he a pupil of yours?"
"No. I might be a pupil of his in some things. He's a boy, and, markmy words, if he goes on as he's begun he'll be heard of some day."
"What's his name, do you know?" inquired the youth.
"I don't even know that, I never-- Here he comes!"
"Introduce me, will you?"
"With pleasure. Allow me to introduce Mr Halliday," said the organistto George.
Halliday! Wasn't that a familiar name to me? Was it possible? Thisfine fellow, then, was no other than Jim Halliday, whom I had last seenas a boy on the steps of Randlebury, with his chum Charlie Newcome,waving farewell to Tom Drift.
Ah, how my heart beat at being thus once more brought back into thelight of those happy days by this unexpected meeting!
My master by no means shared my delight at the incident. He had alwaysshrunk from acquaintanceships among his fellow-collegians. With none,hitherto, but the organist had he become familiar, and that only byvirtue of an irresistible common interest. His poverty and humblestation forbade him to intrude his fellowship on the clannish gentry ofSaint George's, and certainly his cravings for hard study led him, sofar from considering the exclusion as a hardship, to look upon it as amercy, and few things he desired more devoutly than that thissatisfactory state of affairs might continue.
I do not say George was right in this. Sociability is, to a certainextent, a duty, and one that ought not without the soundest reason to beshirked. George may have carried his reserve rather too far, but at anyrate you will allow he erred on the right side, if he erred at all, andcarried his purpose through with more honesty and success than poor TomDrift had displayed in a very similar situation.
Now, however, his hermitage was in peril of a siege, and he quailed ashe acknowledged the introduction offered him.
"How are you?" said Halliday, with all his own downrightness. "I and alot of fellows have liked your playing, and I don't see why I shouldn'ttell you so. How are you?"
"I'm quite well, thank you," faltered George.
"You're a freshman, I suppose?" asked Jim.
"No, I'm in my second year."
"Are you? I thought I knew all the men in the college; but perhaps youlive in the town?"
"No, I live in college."
"Where are your rooms?" asked the astonished Jim.
"In, or rather under, H staircase," replied George. "Perhaps you wouldknow the place best as the `Mouse-trap.'"
Jim could not resist a whistle of surprise and a rapid scrutiny of hisnew acquaintance.
"The `Mouse-trap'! That's an awful hole, isn't it?"
"Yes," said George, his candour coming to his rescue to deliver him fromthis cross-examination, "but it's cheap--"
Jim looked as afflicted as if he had been seized with a suddentoothache.
"What a blundering jackass I am! Please excuse my rudeness; I nevermeant to annoy you."
"You have not done so. You are not the sort of man I should mindknowing I was poor--"
"Of course not; so am I poor; but don't let's talk of that. Will youcome to my rooms?"
George hesitated, and then answered,--
"I'd rather not, please. I'm reading hard, and, besides--"
"Besides what?"
"I've no right to expect you to associate with me."
"Why _ever_ not?"
"I may as well tell you straight out. My father is a gamekeeper, and Iam a gamekeeper's son."
Jim laughed pleasantly.
"Well, really your logic is perfect, but I can't say as much for yoursense. Bless you, man, aren't we all of us lineal descendants of agardener? Come along!"
"Please excuse me," again faltered George; "you are very kind, but yourfriends may not thank you for--"
"My friends!--oh, yes!" blurted out Jim. "What on earth business havethey to put their noses into my affairs. Like their impudence, all ofthem!"
Jim, you will see, was still a boy, though he had whiskers.
"Don't blame them till they have offended. Anyhow, Mr Halliday, pleaseexcuse me. I want to read, and have made a rule never to go out."
"Look here--what's your name?" began Jim.
"Reader," replied my master.
"Reader! Are you the fellow who's in for the Wigram Scholarship?" criedJim, in astonishment.
"Yes," replied George; "how did you know?"
"Only that some of the fellows are backing you for winner."
George laughed. "They'll be disappointed," he said.
"I hope not," said Jim, "for if you get it you'll be free of thecollege, and get into rather better quarters than the `Mouse-trap.' Butlook here, Reader, do come to my rooms, there's a good fellow; if _you_don't want any friends, don't prevent my having one."
This was irresistible, and George had nothing for it but to yield, andwith many misgivings to accompany his new friend.
The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch Page 21