CHAP. IV.
A fortnight had now nearly elapsed, and the affair began, in somemeasure, to wear off. Indeed, it was seldom mentioned, except by thoseboys who appeared, from the commencement, so desirous of obtaining averdict against Henry. His school-fellows, generally, were anxious toplay with him, and endeavoured to rouse his spirits by every means intheir power. They never commenced a new game, but he was solicitedto join them; and they never went for a walk, but he was anxiouslyrequested to accompany them. All their endeavours however, werefruitless: they could not make him what he was before this charge wasbrought against him. He evidently had something preying upon his mind;for instead of being one of the most lively boys in the school--one whohad hitherto shown a desire to join in any good-natured frolic--he wasnow become quite serious, and even melancholy. In vain did his friendGeorge use every exertion: he who before could have persuaded him toany thing, and to whose advice he had always paid a great regard, nowentreated him, in vain, to cheer his drooping spirits. Mrs. Harris,with her two daughters, also endeavoured to laugh him out of what theycalled his sulky mood; but he replied, that he could not help it; thathe should never again be happy till it was discovered who it wasthat stole Scott's money; and that its being lost while he was hisbed-fellow, certainly threw a suspicion upon him that he could not getover, and to labour under which made him truly miserable.
Dr. Harris felt a great deal of uneasiness about the matter, not merelybecause he saw Henry labouring under so serious a charge, but that anaffair of such a nature should remain so long undetected, and thathe should hitherto have been foiled in his attempts to clear up themystery. In this state he continued, when, one morning, after he hadreturned from his usual early walk, and was crossing the lawn thatled from the school to the parsonage-house, he observed a poor woman,rather shabbily dressed, looking in at the school-room window. Notappearing to find the object of her search, she was turning towardsthe house, when she encountered the person of the Doctor.
"Who are you looking for, good woman?" asked he.
"I--I want," apparently somewhat disturbed by meeting the master, "Iwant to see one of the little boys, Sir," she said, curtsying very low.
"What little boy do you want? and what do you want him for?"
"I don't know his name, Sir; but he wears a short blue jacket andnankeen trowsers, and a white hat, Sir. He has black hair, and he is avery handsome boy, Sir."
"Is his name Henry," said Dr. Harris.
"I think that was the name the other lad called him by, Sir; for therewas another fresh-coloured little gentleman came to the cottage withhim."
"What did they come to your cottage about, my good woman?"
"Oh, Sir, I and my poor dear sick husband ought to be very thankful forthe help they gave us. And I now want to see them, to thank them fortheir goodness, and to tell them that my husband will, by God's mercy,be able to go to work very soon. That's all I wanted, Sir," she said,again curtsying, though with some degree of alarm; for she feared thather peeping about for the boys might have offended Dr. Harris.
"What did they do for your sick husband then?" asked Dr. Harris. "I donot think they had the power of rendering you much assistance."
"Oh yes, Sir, they had," she replied: "Master Henry gave us,altogether, sixteen shillings. And I am sure, that if he had nothelped us, we should all have been starved. But the Lord is always verygood, and sends something to those who are in want."
At this recital Dr. Harris felt amazed; and the circumstance of Scott'smoney being lost, immediately recurred to his memory. "It must be so,"he said to himself: "these boys, anxious to do a service to this poorfamily, have taken Scott's money from his box, where I suppose theythought it was lying useless, and appropriated it to relieving theirwants.--Step in doors, my good woman," he said, as he hastened acrossthe lawn: "step in: I wish to ask you a few questions."
Martha Watson, (for that was the name of this poor woman) now repentedhaving come to the school at all, as she feared, from the anxiety inDr. Harris's face, that the boys might get scolded for coming to thecottage without leave of their master; and she followed him to thehouse with a faltering step.
The servant having opened the door, Dr. Harris led the way into alittle room, which was his study, and desired Martha Watson to enter,when he closed the door, and they both sat down. "Where do you live,pray?" asked the Doctor.
"In one of those poor cottages, Sir, in the lane that leads on to thecommon."
"You say these boys gave you sixteen shillings: I wish you would tellme what it was that first induced them to come to your cottage, andevery thing you know about them."
Martha Watson now felt very uneasy, and anxiously asked whether theyhad done any thing wrong, which she the more feared, as she had notseen them for some time past. Dr. Harris begged of her to answer hisquestion, and assured her that there was no cause for her alarm.
She then related to him the following circumstance: "About a month ago,Sir, as my little son Jack, who is about six years old, was coming fromFarmer Miles's, with a pitcher full of milk, and making all the hastehe could to get home with it for his daddy's supper, these two younggentlemen were hastening off the common, and in their hurry to turn thecorner of the lane, they did not see little Jack, but ran against him.So, Sir, they ran so violently, that they knocked him down, spilled themilk, broke the pitcher into a hundred pieces, and cut poor Jack's arm,which bled very much indeed."
"They did not do him a very serious injury, I hope," said the Doctor.
"No, Sir; only cut his arm a little. Finding, however, that Jack wasafraid to go home alone, they came with him to our cottage, when theytold me the whole affair, and said how sorry they were they had spiltthe milk and broke the pitcher; and did all they could to pacify littleJack. When they found how poor we were, and saw my dear husband sick inbed, they asked me many questions: how long he had been ill, what moneywe had, and many others; and when I told them that he had kept his bedfor five weeks, and was not then able to get up; and that we had nomoney, but the little I and my eldest girl could earn in the fields,they talked together a little while, and the young gentleman in thewhite hat said, that he would see me again in about an hour, and payme for the pitcher and the milk, and give me something for my husband."
Henry & George visiting the poor Cottager.
_See page 56_]
"Did they return then in about an hour?" said Dr. Harris.
"No, Sir; they did not call again till next morning, when they asked mewhether my poor husband was better, and how Jack's arm was. One of thempulled out of his pocket a guinea, and----"
"A guinea!" exclaimed Dr. Harris, interrupting the woman: "are youpositive it was a guinea?"
"I am sure it was a golden coin, Sir; because they asked me to changeit. But that was impossible, for I had no money at all in the house."
"Well, my good woman, and what did they do then?" asked Dr. Harris,evidently much agitated.
"Why, Sir, finding I had no money, they went into the town and got thegolden coin changed, and gave me ten shillings of it. In a few days,Sir, they came again, and gave me six more shillings."
"Did they ever call after that time?"
"Once, Sir, which was about ten days ago; and as I have not seen themsince, I made free to call here this morning; because I am sure theywould be glad to hear that my poor dear husband was getting better,and would soon be able to work. If the young gentlemen had not been sokind to us, I don't know what we should have done. I am afraid my poorhusband must have died for want of proper things. But the Lord willreward them for their kindness; and I am sure they are good boys."
Dr. Harris congratulated the cottager upon the restoration of herhusband to health, and said that Mrs. Harris should visit her family;and that he would also tell Henry and George that she had called tothank them; but that it was not convenient for her to see them justthen. Having again asked her where she resided, he bade her goodmorning, and she immediately returned home.
When Martha Watson had
gone, Dr. Harris joined his family at thebreakfast-table, and related the whole of the affair to them, addinghis conviction of Henry's guilt, and that he was sorry to find he hadbeen so deceived by him. George too, he said, was equally guilty; forhe had been a party in giving away the stolen property. "I shall writeto their parents this evening," he added; "for I am at a loss to knowhow to punish such duplicity and wickedness."
Mrs. Harris and her daughters, although staggered by the statementwhich the Doctor had made to them, suggested the propriety of callingin Henry and George. "For," said Mrs. Andrews, "although it looks verysuspicious, I never can believe them guilty until it is plainly proved."
"I think this is sufficient proof," he said, rather angrily; for hefelt vexed to think of the trouble this affair would give to theirparents.
"True; so it is, my dear," answered his wife, "if not contradicted; butI hope that they will be able to give such an explanation as will besatisfactory to us all."
"And that I am sure they will," said Eliza, rising from her chair; "andpray, papa, let me call them in."
The servant at this moment entered the room to take away thebreakfast-things, when Dr. Harris desired her to send in Master Wardourand Master Harrington.
The boys had but just taken their seats in the school-room, when theservant summoned them into the parlour. Henry, who still continued inthe same desponding mood, felt gratified by hearing that he was wantedthere; but it was only a momentary pleasure. He at first thought hemight be wanted to accompany Eliza and Juliana to the garden, or becommissioned by Mrs. Harris to go into the town for her; but when hefound that George was also wanted, and that they were to go together,he felt convinced of some fresh trouble; for he was not the samecheerful boy he used to be. Fear seemed to have taken possession ofhis whole frame; when George, thinking he observed a tear starting inhis eye, grasped his hand with the warmth of sincere friendship, andcheered him up by saying, "Now for it, Henry: it is all settled, and weare wanted to hear the good news;" and they went, hand in hand, intothe parlour.
After making their obedience, they walked up to the table; and Dr.Harris, with a look somewhat more stern than usual, said, "Henry, doyou know a woman named Martha Watson, who lives near the common?"
"Yes, Sir," said George, "I know her: a very poor woman."
"I asked Henry," said Dr. Harris; "and I expect that he will answer me."
But poor Henry, from some cause or other, was, at the moment, unableto reply. George, therefore, seeing his friend at a loss, immediatelygave the answer; and Henry, recovering his self-possession, now gavea direct answer to every question that the worthy master put to him,and proceeded to explain how they became possessed of so much money."George and I," he said, "were one day walking through the town, whenwe met a gentleman on horseback, who had lately seen our parents inLondon. He told us that he was going to call upon us at the school; butas he had met us, that would do as well. He then gave us a new coin,which is called a sovereign; and after staying with us about a quarterof an hour, he shook hands with us, and rode off."
"And the same evening," added George, "we had the misfortune to runover little Jack Watson, and break his pitcher. We then thought it ourduty to see him safe home, and to pay for the pitcher and milk. Whenwe got to the cottage, we saw the poor man stretched on a wretchedstraw mattress, where he said he had been above a month; and the tearrolled down his cheek when he looked round the room, and saw fivelittle children, who were all anxiously waiting for the milk which wehad been so unfortunate as to knock out of little Jack's hand. Indeed,Sir," George continued, "we never before saw so much wretchedness; andHenry said, that as we had plenty to eat and drink, and pocket-moneybesides, we might as well get the new coin changed, and give them someof it, saying, he wished we had more. I agreed to give nearly all myshare; and the next morning we went to the cottage, and gave most ofthe money to the poor people."
"But why did you not tell me or Mrs. Harris of this distressedcottager, and also that you had had so much money given to you, Henry?"
"Because, Sir, you had given strict orders that no boy should enter aplace of sickness, for fear of bringing away a fever. We should nothave gone there; but we had hurt poor Jack, and he was afraid to gohome, after having lost all the milk. He said his mother would notbelieve him, if he told her that some one had broken the pitcher."
The plain and unassuming manner in which the boys told their tale,threw an unusual cheerfulness round the whole family. Dr. Harris felthimself satisfied with the account which they had given; while Mrs.Harris and her daughters were overjoyed to find that the boys couldgive an explanation so very creditable to their feelings. "It is not,"said the lady, when the boys had left the room, "because my belief intheir ability to give an explanation is confirmed, that I feel thissatisfaction; but that they should have shown themselves so susceptibleof the finest feelings of our nature. That they should have pitied andrelieved the wants of their suffering fellow-creatures; and that, too,without ostentation or parade, convinces me, at once, that neither ofthem would be guilty of the charge made against Henry. And I sincerelywish that some light may be speedily thrown upon this unpleasant andmysterious affair, or I shall have great cause to fear the consequenceswith regard to his health."
Dr. Harris then left the table for the school-room, heartily concurringin every word that his amiable lady had uttered. Upon entering, hefound the boys in deep consultation; for, immediately upon the returnof Edward and George, they were questioned by their school-fellows asto the result of so long an interview. George, who would, from modesty,have readily refrained from stating a circumstance so creditableto himself, as well as to his friend, had he not feared a wrongconstruction would have been put upon his silence, immediately relatedthe whole of what had passed in the parlour. The majority of the boysfelt a little disappointed that nothing more conclusive had transpired;not perceiving, that boys who were capable of giving away their moneyin the manner that Henry and George had done, were unlikely to robanother of the little he possessed.
Greene and a few others, however, with a malignity that spoke aninterested motive, did not fail to turn this statement into ridicule.Greene in particular, who had displayed great anxiety and uneasinessduring the absence of Henry and George, at the conclusion of the talewhich the boys had requested George to relate, burst into loud andexcessive laughter, and exclaimed, "This is one of the finest tales Iever heard. Is it likely, in the first place, that any gentleman wouldgive them a sovereign? Did any of you ever receive so much at onetime; and that, too, from a poor traveller? And is it likely that, ifthey had had it given to them, as they wish us to believe, that theywould have parted with it in the manner they say they have? It is alla made-up story. I don't know where Scott's money is; but I think, ifit has been given to the poor cottagers, he ought to have the credit ofit."
Several of the boys then joined him in the loud laugh with which heconcluded this base insinuation. Poor Henry was again driven back intohis low-spiritedness, and gave, first a look of contempt at Greene,and then cast his eyes upon George, as his only refuge and supportagainst this fresh and unexpected attack. It is difficult to say howGreene would have fared, had not Dr. Harris at this moment enteredthe school; for George was never more indignant, nor never felt agreater inclination to tell Greene what he thought of his cowardlyconduct, than he did at this moment. Little Ned, however, did not failto whisper in his ear as he passed, that which was at all times anunwelcome sound: "Who stole the cakes?" said he, loud enough for therest of the boys to hear. Greene looked vexed, and went to his seat.
Some time passed away, and nothing transpired to clear up thismysterious affair; while the few enemies that Henry had in the schoolappeared to increase, from the construction which Greene and someothers had put upon George's explanation concerning the money. Henry,unable to bear up against the stigma, not only grew melancholy, butbegan to lose his appetite, and looked very thin and ill. Mrs. Harrisreally felt somewhat alarmed, and said every thing she could to comforthim; but,
alas! it was all in vain. Scott also, to do him justice, didevery thing in his power to relieve him, but without avail; and Henrybegan to think he should fall a victim to a false accusation, for hehad no sleep by night, nor ease by day.
Dr. Harris now proposed to send for his father, which he did; andhe arrived in a few days. Dr. H. made him acquainted with the wholeaffair, from first to last; and Henry was sent for into the parlour.His father was shocked at his appearing in such ill health, andthe agony of his feelings was intense at the cause of his illness.He entreated him, by the love he bore towards him and his mother,to confess the truth. "If, my dear boy," he said, "you have, in anunguarded moment, been led into an error, the only reparation is openlyto confess it. In that case I will pay the boy the money, and you shallreceive my forgiveness."
Henry assured him that he knew nothing at all of the money--that itmade him very unhappy indeed--that he had had no sleep for the lastthree or four nights--and that he had lost his appetite; when, throwinghis arms round his father's neck, he burst into an agony of tears, andcould only exclaim, "I am innocent! I am innocent!"
Mrs. Harris having pacified Henry, said that it would perhaps be bestfor Mr. Wardour to take him home for a short time; but to this Henryhimself objected, as he knew very well that there were boys who wouldturn that to his disadvantage. His father, therefore, procured himsome medicine, to calm his spirits and allay the slight fever which heappeared to have; and then went to transact some business at a shortdistance from the village, promising to see him again in a few days,and determining, in his own mind, to take Henry home with him, shouldnothing transpire in the mean time to free him from this accusation.
The Friends; or, The Triumph of Innocence over False Charges Page 4