by Lewis Hough
CHAPTER THREE.
FROM GAY TO GRAVE.
Tea was a comfortable meal at Harton in the winter half of the year,when the boys had fires in their rooms, at least, for social fellows whoclubbed together. Not but what it is cosy to linger over the meal witha book in your hand, or propped up, as you sit alone at the corner ofthe table, half turned to the hearth.
But Forsyth, Strachan, and Kavanagh liked to mess together, andStrachan's room being the largest of the three, they selected that tohave their breakfast and tea in. All their cups, saucers, and so on,were kept in a cupboard in that room, but toasting or such other lightcookery as their fags performed for them was done in their respectiveapartments, for the avoidance of overcrowding and dispute amongst theoperators. Also, when bloaters, sprats, or sausages were in question,it was well not to feed in the room in which the smell of preparationwas most powerful.
Though the half was drawing to its close, the evening board wasbountifully spread; for Forsyth's birthday had come off two days before,and brought with it a token from home--a wicker token which the LordMayor himself would not have despised. There was a ham, succulent andtender; a tongue, fresh, not tinned, boiled, not stewed, of mosteloquent silence; a packet of sausages, a jar of marmalade, and, mostdelicious of all, some potted shrimps. Harry knew, but did not tell,that every one of those shrimps had been stripped of its shell by thehands of Trix, who plumed herself, with unquestionable justice, upon hershrimp-potting. Unfathomable is the depth of female devotion; fancy anyone being able to skin a shrimp, prawn, or walnut, and not eat it! Theshrimps, the sausages, were gone, the tongue was silent for ever, butthe ham and the marmalade remained.
The three friends were the oldest boys in the house, and almost in theschool. Two of them, Strachan and Kavanagh, were to leave at the end ofthe half, and Forsyth was to do so after the next.
"Where's Kavanagh?" said the latter, coming into the room and sittingdown by the fire.
"At his tutor's," said Strachan; "he is bound to be in directly. Letthe tea brew a bit longer."
"It's uncommonly cold this evening; going to snow, I think. I hate snowin February; there is no chance of real frost for skating, and it spoilsthe football. Oh, here's Kavanagh."
The youth named strolled deliberately in at the moment, sat down at thetable, and began to shave off a slice of ham.
"Has the cold wind made you hungry, or has the effort to understand thatchorus in Euripides exhausted you?"
"I never try to understand what I firmly believe to have no meaningwhatever," drawled Kavanagh; "and I am never hungry. I consider it badform to be hungry; it shows that a fellow does not eat often enough.Now the distinguishing mark of a gentleman is that he has too many mealsa day ever to feel hungry."
"I see; then you are only carving the ham for us."
"That does not exactly follow. Never jump to conclusions. A fire maynot actually require coals, yet you may put some on to keep it going; soit is with a gentleman's stomach. You may take ham to appease hunger,or you may take it to prevent the obtrusion of that vulgar sensation.Not that I object to helping you fellows. The carving of ham is an art,a fourpenny piece representing the maximum of thickness which the leanshould obtain. With a carving-knife and fork this ideal is not too easyof attainment, but with these small blunt tools it requires a first-rateworkman to approach it. Now this slice, which I sacrifice on the altarof friendship, is, I regret to say, fully as thick as a shilling."
At this moment a little boy, Kavanagh's fag, came into the room bearinga muffin on a toasting-fork.
"Devereux!" said Kavanagh, severely, "do you know what Louis theFourteenth of France said when his carriage drew up, as he steppedoutside his front door?"
"No."
"He said, `I almost had to wait!' Now I, too, say to you that my tea ispoured out, my ham cut, and I almost had to wait. Not quite, happilynot quite, or the consequences to you would have been--terrible!"
The little boy did not look very frightened, in spite of the tone inwhich the last word was uttered. Kavanagh had never been known wilfullyto hurt anything weaker than himself in his life. As he was tall andstrong, this is saying a great deal.
The two other fags grinned; one of them filled up the tea-pot, and thenStrachan said "Go!" and all three lower boys vanished in a twinkling toprepare their own teas.
"We shall not have many more teas together," said Forsyth.
"No, but we may dinners," replied Strachan.
"Suppose we all get into the same regiment."
"The job is to get into any regiment at all," said Kavanagh. "There isthat abominable examination to be got over. Awfully clever and hardreading fellows get beaten in it every time, I can tell you."
"Well, but I believe it is easier through the Militia than direct intoSandhurst, is it not? And that is the way you and I are going to try.At any rate, then we can go into the same Militia regiment, and thatwill give us two trainings, besides preliminary drills, and so forth, tohave some fun together. And Forsyth must come in too."
"I have not quite made up my mind to go into the army, or rather to tryfor it, at all yet," said Forsyth. "It seems such a waste of time tosap for it, and then be sold after all. I can never do half so well asI fairly ought in an examination, because I take so long to rememberthings I know quite well, even if I have plenty of time to think themout. I can learn, but I can't cram, so I fear I should never be in it."
"Oh, have a shy, man; it is only going in for something else if youfail. And there is no life like the army if you succeed."
"If we fail, we fail. `But screw your courage to the sticking-place,and we'll not fail,'" quoted Kavanagh.
"Well, it is very tempting; perhaps I shall try," said Forsyth.
"Look here, then," said Strachan, "there are two vacancies amongst thesub-lieutenants in the fourth battalion of the Blankshire, and my fatheris a friend of the Colonel. I am to have one, and I have no doubt you,Kavanagh, will get the other. There is almost sure to be anothervacancy before the next training, and if there is, don't you think yourfriends would let you leave Harton at once, and take it? Then you couldserve one training this year, and another next year, and be ready to goin for the Competitive at the same time that we do."
"Thanks, old fellow," said Forsyth. "I will talk it over with my peoplewhen I go home at Easter, and will let you know as quickly as I can."
"That is settled then. Oh, we won't say good-bye yet awhile."
"It is a strange thing," said Kavanagh, who, having finished his tea,had tilted his chair so that his back leaned against the wall, while hisfeet rested on another chair, less for the comfort of the position, thanto afford him an opportunity of admiring his well-cut trousers, hisstriped socks, and his dandy shoes; "it is a strange thing that thereshould only be one career fit for a fellow to follow, and that it shouldbe impossible for a fellow to get into it."
"It sounds rather like a sweeping assertion that, doesn't it?" observedStrachan, who was helping himself to marmalade.
"That is because you do not grasp the meaning which I attach to the word_fellow_. I do not allude to the ordinary mortal, who might be alawyer, or a parson, or a painter, or fiddler, or anything, and whomight get any number of marks in an examination. I mean by fellows, thehigher order of beings, who are only worth consideration; I do notdefine them, because that is impossible; you must know, or you mustn'tknow, according to your belonging to them or not. Anyhow, there theyare, and everything and everybody else is only of value so far as he,she, or it is conducive to their comfort and well-being. For them thearmy is the only fit profession, and only a few of them can get enoughmarks to enter it."
"Am I one of these extra superfines?" asked Strachan.
"You may be, perhaps, if you don't eat too much marmalade."
"Come, you are pretty fond of jam yourself, Kavanagh," cried Forsyth.
"Well, yes; we all have our little weaknesses."
"That reminds me," said Strachan, turning round and
poking the fire."Our school career is drawing to a close, and I have never made myconfession. I committed a crime last November which I have never owned,which no one suspects, but which weighs, whenever I think of it, on myconscience."
"Unburden," said Kavanagh.
"Well, then, you may remember that the weather was very mild up to theseventh of the month."
"Don't; but grant it. Go ahead."
"On the eighth of November it grew suddenly colder, and I got out mywinter things, and in the afternoon I changed. Having done so, I put mypencil in the right-hand waistcoat pocket. There was something roundand hard there--a lozenge? No, a shilling, which had remained thereever since I changed my winter clothes in the spring. Now at that timewe were reduced to anchovy paste for breakfast, and our bare rations fortea. Money was spent, tick was scarce, stores were exhausted. Faithfulto a friendship which has all things in common. I went out to Dell'sand bought a pot of apricot jam for tea, the time for which had arrived.As ill-luck would have it, both you fellows were detained at somethingor another--French, I rather think. I had to go to my tutor myself atseven, so I could not wait, and began my tea alone. Well, the jam wasgood, very good, hanged good; I never ate such jam! Had I had quite athird of it? Not quite, perhaps; I gave myself the benefit of thedoubt. But, then, the gap looked awful. Happy thought! I would turnit out into a saucer, and you might take it for a sixpenny pot. Afterall, not expecting any, you would be pleased with that. But it lookedrather more than a sixpenny pot, so I had a bit more to reduce. Andthen--you would not come, and you knew nothing about it. Why make twobites of a cherry? I finished it, threw the pot out of window, and heldmy tongue. But oh! Next day, when Kavanagh received his weeklyallowance, and laid it out in treacle and sprats for the public good, Idid indeed feel guilty."
"But you ate the sprats and treacle all the same, I expect."
"I did. I would not shirk my punishment, and flinch from the coals offire which were heaped on my head. I even enjoyed them. But myconscience has been very sore, and feels better now than it has done fora long time."
"You have not got absolution yet," said Forsyth.
"Not by long chalks," cried Kavanagh. "Jam! And apricot of all jams.If you really want to wipe out the crime you must make restitution."
"Gladly; but would not that be difficult?"
"Not at all; you can do it in kind. At compound interest three potswill clear you, I should say; or, if it don't run to that, say two."
"Two will do," echoed Forsyth. "Who's that at the door?"
"It's me," said a youth--dressed in a chocolate coat with brassbuttons--entering the room.
"Oh, happy Josiah!" exclaimed Kavanagh; "careless of rules, and allowingyour nominative and accusative cases to wander about at their own sweetwill; what pangs would be yours at mid-day to-morrow if you were ascholar instead of a page, and said `_Hominem sum_,' or uttered anyother equivalent to your late remark! Shades of Valpy and Arnold--`It'sme!'"
"Mr Wheeler wants to see you at once," said Josiah, not listening tothe criticism on his grammar, and addressing Forsyth.
"My tutor wants to see me? What on earth about, I wonder?"
Obviously, the best way to satisfy his curiosity on this head was to goat once, and this he did.
Mr Wheeler sat at the paper-laden desk in his private study, under thebrilliant light of a lamp with a green glass shade over it. There wasno other light in the room, which was consequently in shadow, while thetutor was in a flood of illumination.
"Sit down, Forsyth," he said. "I am sorry to say I have bad news foryou from home."
"My mother!"
"No, no, my boy; bad enough, but not so bad as that. There are moneylosses. Your father was connected with a bank, and it has beenunfortunate. It seems that it was a great shock to him, and he was notin very good health. You may have known that?"
"Yes, sir, yes. I noticed that he looked ill when I went home atChristmas."
"To be sure--yes. Then you will not be surprised at this sudden blowhaving affected him very seriously?"
Harry could not take it all in at once; he had to sit silent awhile, andlet the meaning of his tutor's words sink in. At length he asked--"Ishe dead?" And the sound of his own voice uttering the word made himgive a sob.
"No," said Mr Wheeler; "he is very ill, and insensible, but living, andwhile there is life there is hope, you know. People often recover fromfits, and this seems to be an attack of that nature. But it is as wellthat you should go home at once. Put a few things together, and youwill catch the 8:30 train. A fly and your travelling money shall beready by the time you are."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry, and went back to his Dame's House in adazed state. Strachan and Kavanagh heard him come upstairs, and as hewent straight to his own room they followed him.
"Well, have you got the medal for alcaics?" asked Strachan, for they hadconcluded that that was the news his tutor had for him. But seeing hisfriend's face he stopped short.
"Something the matter, old fellow, I am afraid," he said. "Bad newsfrom home?"
"Yes," said Harry, in a voice he just kept from faltering. "I must gohome to-night; my father is ill."
"I am awfully sorry," said Strachan, uncomfortably, wanting to dosomething to aid or cheer his friend, and unable to think what.Kavanagh made no remark, but, seeing at a glance how the land lay, tooka candle to the box-room, caught up a travelling bag belonging toForsyth, and brought it down to him just as he was going to call Josiahto find it for him.
It was not long before he got some things into it, and was ready tostart. A grip of the hand from each of his friends and he was gone.
What a bad time he had during that short journey; feverishly impatient,and yet dreading to get to the end of it. It was an express train, andhe got to London in an hour, and was just in time for another on theshort line to his home. So he reached Holly Lodge by eleven. Before hecould ring the door opened. Trix was listening for the wheels, and ranto let him in. She had been crying, but was very quiet.
"He is alive, but cannot see or hear," she said. "Come."
His mother was there, and two doctors, who looked very grave. One soonleft, but the other, who was the regular medical attendant and a friend,remained, not, as he plainly said, that he could do anything for thesick man, who was dying. And in the course of the night he passed awaywithout regaining consciousness.
But there is no good in dwelling upon that, or on the gloom of the nextfew weeks. Poor Mr Forsyth had a heart disease, and when the GreatTransit Bank came to final smash, the agitation killed him then andthere.
For he was quite ruined. It was not only the money he had invested inthe bank which was gone, but, as a large shareholder, he was responsiblefor the enormous sums due to those who had dealt with the bank.
Harry thought at first that they were penniless, and wondered almost indespair how he should be able to support his mother and sister. For hehad learned no trade, he was not a skilled artisan, and mere manuallabour and clerk-work are, he knew, very poorly paid.
But when Mrs Forsyth had recovered sufficiently from the first shock ofher grief to grapple with the cares of every-day life, she showed himthat it was not so bad as he had feared.
"There is my five thousand pounds," she said--"my very own, which I hadbefore marriage, and which is secured to me. Two hundred and fiftypounds a year I get from it, and it has always been a little pocket-money which I had, without going to your dear father for every penny.And now we must manage to live upon it."
Of course they had to go into a very small house, and could not take thewhole of that. And Harry did not go back to Harton, but began to try atonce for immediate employment which might bring some little grist to themill. And he was more fortunate than young fellows generally are whenstarting on that heart-breaking search, for he had something to go upon.He went straight to the London representative of the Egyptian house ofbusiness with which his father had been connected, told his story, anda
sked for employment.
"But your father was bought out fully, and you have no claim on us, youknow," said the merchant.
"I make no claim, sir," replied Harry; "I ask a favour. I don't knowwhy you should employ me more than anybody else, but still I thought theconnection might interest you. My father had a hand in establishing thebusiness, and I had a hope that that might weigh with you, if you havefound it a good one."
"Well, you have had a hard trial, and it is to your credit that you wantto go to work at once instead of sitting down in despair. The worst ofit is that you have been educated at Harton, and can know nothing ofwhat is useful in an office. What sort of hand do you write?"
"A shocking bad one, I fear, but any one can read it. And I am not sovery bad at figures. And I am ready to learn. Won't you give me achance, and pay me nothing till I am useful?"
"There is one thing, at any rate, you have learned at Harton," said theother, with a smile, "and that is to speak up boldly, and to speak outplainly. I was a friend of your poor father's, and shall be glad tohelp you, since you are reasonable and see matters in their right light.But you must not expect much."
So Harry was taken into the office as a clerk just for a month on trial.And he showed so much zeal and intelligence that he was taken intoregular employment at the end of it, and received a five-pound note forhis work during the time of probation. And the joy and triumph withwhich he brought home this, the first money he had ever earned, to hismother and sister in the evening, cheered them all up in a manner towhich they had been strangers since ruin and death had fallen upon thehousehold.
Many castles did they build in the air that evening, but they were notextravagant, their highest present ambition being to have the wholecottage, which was but eight-roomed, to themselves, and to keep twomaids instead of one. And this, if Harry's salary rose to a hundred andfifty, they thought they might manage. Of course it was a dreary lifefor him after what he had been accustomed to, but he made the best ofit, and really interested himself in Egyptian trade, till he became aconnoisseur in gum. His principal recreation was shooting at theWimbledon butts on Saturday afternoons, he having joined a volunteercorps for that purpose. He had done so at Harton, and was the best shotthere. He now had to compete with the best in the world, but he had amarvellous eye, and up to three hundred yards could hold his own withanybody. At any rate he won enough in prizes to pay all his expenses,and a little over.
Even when their resources looked lowest, he never thought of selling thesapphires his mysterious uncle had given him. He did not look upon themas his own till the ten years were up, or to be used for any purpose butthat of going to find him. They, together with the silver casecontaining the parchment and the ring, were locked up in his old-fashioned, brass-bound desk which he kept in his bedroom. Nobody, noteven Trix, knew anything about them.
That was the one secret the brother and sister did not share. Beatricewas disrespectful to her Mohammedan relative, and always called himUncle Renegade till Harry read Byron's "Siege of Corinth" aloud oneevening. After that she called him Uncle Alp.
But Harry Forsyth was destined to go to Egypt without needing his uncle.He became more and more trusted by the firm which employed him, and atlast it was determined to send him out to the house at Cairo onimportant business. His absence was a desolation for Mrs Forsyth andBeatrice; but it meant money for one thing, and, what was far moreimportant in the mother's estimation, it was a change for Harry from thegloomy monotony of a London office. As for the future she was under noconcern. She knew of Richard Burke's will, and that her children at allevents would be comfortably provided for by it, though she herself mightnot outlive her elder brother.
Harry, as he was actually going to the country to which his uncle hadprophesied he would, took to wearing his ring, and carried the silvercase in an inner waistcoat pocket. The sapphires he left in his desk.