"That's the thing," said Cecil. "I mean it fast enough at home, and when my mother talks to me and I look at my brothers' graves, but it all gets swept away at Eton. It won't now, though, if you are different, Brownlow. I never liked any fellow like you I knew you were best, even when you were worst. So if you go in for doing right, I shan't care for anyone else-not even Cressham and Bulford."
"If they choose to make asses of themselves they must," said Jock. "It will be a bore, but one mustn't mind things. I say, Evelyn, suppose we make that promise of Armine's over again together now."
"It is only the engagement we made when we were sworn into Christ's army at our baptism," said the much more fully instructed Cecil. "We always were bound by it."
"Yes, but we knew nothing about it then, and we really mean it now," said Jock. "If we do it for ourselves together, it will put us on our honour to each other, and to Christ our Captain, and that's what we want. Lay hold of my hand."
The two boys, with clasped hands, and grave, steadfast eyes, with one voice, repeated together-
"We, John Lucas Brownlow and Cecil Fitzroy Evelyn, promise with all our hearts manfully to fight under Christ's banner, and continue His faithful soldiers and servants to our lives' end. Amen."
Then Cecil touched Lucas's brow with his lips, and said-
"Fellow-soldiers, Brownlow."
"Brothers in arms," responded Jock.
It was one of those accesses of deep enthusiasm, and even of sentiment, which modern cynicism and false shame have not entirely driven out of youth. Their hearts were full; and Jock, the stronger, abler, and more enterprising had always exercised a fascination over his friend, who was absolutely enchanted to find him become an ally instead of a tempter, and to be no longer pulled two opposite ways.
"Ought we not to say a prayer to make it really firm? We can't stand alone, you know," he said, diffidently.
"If you like; if you know one," said Jock.
Cecil knelt down and said the Lord's Prayer and the collect for the Fourth Epiphany Sunday.
"That's nice," was Jock's comment. "How did you know it?"
"Mother made us learn the collects every Sunday, and she wrote that in my little book. I always begin the half with it, but afterwards I can't go on."
"Then it doesn't do you much good," was the not unnatural remark.
"I don't know," said Cecil, hesitating; "may be all this-your getting right, I mean, is the coming round of prayers-my mother's, I mean, for if you take this turn, it will be much easier for me! Poor mother! it's not for want of her caring and teaching."
"My mother doesn't bother about it."
"I wish she did," said Cecil. "If she had gone on like mine, you would have been ever so much better than I."
"No, I should have been bored and bothered into being regularly good- for-nothing. You don't know what she's really like. She's nicer than anyone-as jolly as any fellow, and yet a lady all over."
"I know that," said Cecil; "she was uncommonly jolly to me at Eton, and I know my mother and she will get on like a house on fire. We're too old to have a scrimmage about them like disgusting little lower boys," he added, seeing Jock still bristling in defence of Mother Carey.
This produced a smile, and he went on-
"Look here, Skipjack, we will be fellow-soldiers every way. My Uncle James can do anything at the Horse Guards, and he shall have us set down for the same regiment. I'll tell him you are my good influence."
"But I've been just the other way."
"Oh, but you will be-a year or two will show it. Which shall it be? Do you go in for cavalry or infantry? I like cavalry, but he's all for the other."
Jock was wearied enough not to have much contribution to make to the conversation, and he thus left Cecil such a fair field as he seldom enjoyed for Uncle James's Indian and Crimean campaigns, and for the comparative merits of the regiments his nephew had beheld at reviews.
He was interrupted by a message from the guide that there was a cloud in the distance, and the young Herr had better set off quickly unless he wished to be weather-bound.
Johnny was on his feet as soon as there was a step on the stairs, and was congratulated on his ready powers of sleeping.
"It's in the family," said Jock. "His brother Rob went to sleep in the middle of the examination for his commission."
"Then I should think he could sleep on the rack," said Cecil.
"I'm sure I wish I could," rejoined Jock.
"What a sell for the torturers, to get some chloroform!" said John. And so Cecil departed amid laughter, which gave John little idea how serious the talk had been in his absence.
The rain came on even more rapidly than the guide had foretold, and it was a drenched and dripping object that rode into the court of the tall hotel at Leukerbad, and immediately fell into the hands of Dr. Medlicott and Reeves, who deposited him ignominiously in bed, in spite of all his protestations and murmurs. However, he had the comfort of hearing that his little fag was recovering from the exhaustion of the journey. He had at first been so faint that the doctor had watched, fearing that he would never revive again, and he had not yet attempted to speak; but his breathing was certainly already less laboured, and the choking, struggling cough less frequent. "He really seems likely to have a little natural sleep," was Lord Fordham's report somewhat later, on coming in to find Cecil sitting up in bed to discuss a very substantial supper. "I hope that with Reeves and the doctor to look to him, his mother may get a little rest to-night."
"Have you seen her?"
"Only for a moment or two, poor thing; but I never did see such eyes or such a wonderful sad smile as she tried to thank us with. Medlicott is ready to do anything for her husband's sake; I am sure anyone would do the same for hers. To get such a look is something to remember!"
"Well done, Duke!" ejaculated Cecil under his breath, for he had never seen his senior so animated or so enthusiastic. "Then you mean to stay, and let Medlicott look after them?"
"Of course I do," said Fordham, in a much more decided tone than he had used in the morning. "I'm not going to do anything so barbarous as to leave them to some German practitioner; and when we are here, I don't see why they should have advice out from home-not half so good probably."
"You're a brick, Duke," uttered Cecil; and though Fordham hated slang, he smiled at the praise.
"And now, Duke, be a good fellow, and give me some clothes. That brute Reeves has not brought me in one rag."
"Really it is hardly worth while. It is nearly eight o'clock, and I don't know where your portmanteau was put. Shall I get you a book?"
"No; but if you'd get me a pen and ink, I want to write to mother."
Such a desire was not too frequent in Cecil, and Fordham was glad enough to promote it, bringing in his own neat apparatus, with only a mild entreaty that his favourite pen might be well treated, and the sheets respected. He had written his own letter of explanation of his first act of independence, and he looked with some wonder at his brother's rapid writing, not without fear that some sudden pressure for a foolish debt might have been the result of his tete-a-tete with his dangerous friend. Cecil's letters were too apt to be requests for money or confessions of debts, and if this were the case, what would be Mrs. Evelyn's view of the conduct of the whole party in disregarding her wishes?
Had he been with his mother, he would have probably been called into consultation over the letter, but he was forced to remain without the privilege here offered to the reader:-
"Baden Hotel, Leukerbad, June 14.
"Dearest Mother,-Duke has written about our falling in with the Brownlows, and how pluckily Friar caught us up. It was a regular mercy, for the little one couldn't have lived without Dr. Medlicott, and most likely Lucas is in for a rheumatic fever. He has been telling me all about it, and how frightful it was to be all night out on the edge of the glacier in a thick fog with his ankle strained, and how little Armine went on with his texts and hymns and wasn't a bit afraid, but quite happy. You neve
r would believe what a fellow Brownlow is. We have had a great talk, and you will never have to say again that he does me harm.
"Mammy, darling, I want to tell you that I was a horrible donkey last half, worse than you guessed, and I am sorrier than ever I was before, and this is a real true resolution not to do it again. Brownlow and I have promised to stand by one another about right and wrong to our lives' end. He means it, and what Brownlow means he does, and so do I. We said your collect, and somehow I do feel as if God would help us now.
"Please, dearest mother, forgive me for all I have not told you.
"Duke is very well and jolly. He is quite smitten with Mrs. Brownlow, and, what is more, so is Reeves, who says she is 'such a lady that it is a pleasure to do anything for her.'
"Your loving son, "C. F. E."
Cecil's letter went off with his brother's in early morning; but it was such a day as only mails and postmen encounter. Mountains, pine- woods, nay, even the opposite houses, were blotted out by sheets of driving rain, and it was impossible to think of bringing Jock down! Dr. Medlicott heard and saw with dismay. What would the mother say to him-nay, what ought he to have done? He could hardly expect her not to reproach him, and he fairly dreaded meeting her eyes when they turned from the streaming window.
But all she said was, "We did not reckon on this."
"If I had--" began the doctor.
"Please don't vex yourself," said she; "you could not have done otherwise, and perhaps the move would have hurt him more than staying there. You have been so very kind. See what you have done here!"
For Armine, after some hours that had been very distressing, had sunk into a calm sleep, and there was a far less oppressed look on his wan little face.
The doctor would have had her take some rest, but she shook her head. The only means of allaying the gnawing anxiety for Jock, and the despairing fancies about his suffering and Johnny's helplessness, was the attending constantly to Armine.
"Anyway, I will see him to-day," said Dr. Medlicott, impelled far more by the patient silence with which she sat, one hand against her beating heart, than he would have been by any entreaty. But how she thanked him when she found him really setting forth! She insisted on his taking a guide, as much for his own security as to carry some additional comforts to the prisoners, and she committed to him two little notes, one to each boy, written through a mist of tears. Yes; tears, unusual as they were with her, were called forth as much by the kindness she met with as by her sick yearning after the two lonely boys. And when she knew the doctor was on his way, she could yield to Armine's signs of entreaty, lie back in her chair and sleep, while Reeves watched over him.
When the doctor, by a strong man's determination, had made his way up the pass, he found matters better than he had dared to expect. The patient was certainly not worse, and the medicine had kept him in a sleepy, tranquil state, in which he hardly realised the situation. His young attendant was just considering how to husband the last draught, when the welcome, dripping visitor appeared. The patient was not in bad spirits considering, and could not but feel himself reprieved by the weather. He was too sleepy to feel the dulness of his present position, and even allowed that his impromptu nurse had done tolerably well. Johnny had been ready at every call, had rubbed away an attack of pain, hurt wonderfully little in lifting him, and was "not half a bad lot altogether"-an admission of which doctor and nurse knew the full worth.
Johnny himself was pleased and grateful, and had that sort of satisfaction which belongs to the finding out of one's own available talent. He had done what was pronounced the right thing; and not only that, but he had liked the doing it, and he declared himself not afraid to encounter another night alone with his cousin. He had picked up enough vernacular German to make himself understood, and indeed was a decided favourite with Fraulein Rosalie, who would do anything for her dear young Herr. It was possible to get a fair amount of sleep, and Dr. Medlicott felt satisfied that the charge was not too much for him, and indeed there was no other alternative. The doctor stayed as long as he could, and did his best to enliven the dulness by producing a pocketful of Tauchnitzes, and sitting talking while the patient dozed. Johnny showed such intelligent curiosity as to the how and why of the symptoms and their counteraction, that after some explanation the doctor said, "You ought to he one of us, my friend."
"I have sometimes thought about it," said John.
"Indeed!" cried the doctor, like an enthusiast in his profession; and John, though not a ready speaker, was drawn on by his notes of interest to say, "I don't really like anything so much as making out about man and what one is made of."
"Physiology?"
"Yes," said the boy, who had been shy of uttering the scientific term. "There's nothing like it for interest, it seems to me. Besides, one is more sure of being of use that way than in any other."
"Capital! Then what withholds you? Isn't it _swell_ enough?"
Johnny laughed and coloured. "I'm not such a fool, but I am not sure about my people."
"I thought your uncle was Joseph Brownlow."
"My aunt would be delighted, but it is my own people. They would say my education-Eton and all that-was not intended for it."
"You may tell them that whatever tends to make you more thoroughly a man and gentleman, and less of a mere professional, is a benefit to your work. The more you are in yourself, the higher your work will be. I hope you will go to the university."
"I mean to go up for a scholarship next year; but I've lost a great deal of time now, and I don't know how far that will tell."
"I think you will find that what you may have lost in time, you will have gained in power."
"I do want to go in for physical science, but there's another difficulty. One of my cousins does so, but the effect on him has not made my father like it the better-and-and to tell the truth-" he half mumbled, "it makes me doubt-"
"The effect on his faith?"
"Yes."
"If faith is unsettled by looking deeper into the mysteries of God's works it cannot have been substantial faith, but merely outward, thoughtless reception," said the doctor, as he met two thoughtful dark eyes fixed on him in inquiry and consideration.
"Thank you, sir," after a pause.
"Had this troubled you?"
"Yes," said John; "I couldn't stand doubt there. I would rather break stones on the road than set myself doubting!"
"Why should you think that there is danger?"
"It seems to be so with others."
"Depend upon it, Doubting Castle never lay on the straight road. If men run into it, it is not simple study of the works of creation that leads them there; but either they have only acquiesced, and never made their faith a living reality, or else they are led away by fashion and pride of intellect. One who begins and goes on in active love of God and man, will find faith and reverence not diminished but increased."
"But aren't there speculations and difficulties?"
"None which real active religion, and love cannot regard as the mere effects of half-knowledge-the distortions of a partial view. I speak with all my heart, as one who has seen how it has been with many of my own generation, as well as with myself."
Johnny bent his head, and the young physician, somewhat surprised at finding himself saying so much on such points, left that branch of the subject, and began to talk to him about his uncle.
CHAPTER XXII. SHUTTING THE STABLE DOOR.
Presumptuous maid, with looks intent, Again she gazed, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between. Grey.
"Hurrah! It's Johnny!"
"Georgie. Recollect yourself."
"But, mamma, it was Johnny."
"Johnny does not come till evening. Sit still, children, or I shall have to send you to dine in the nursery."
"Somebody did pass the window, mamma, but I thought it was Rob," said Jessie, now grown into a very fine-looking, tall, handsome maiden, with a grandly-formed head and shoulders, and pleasant soft brown eyes.
"It was Johnny," reiterated little George; and at that moment the dining-room door opened, and the decorum of the luncheon dinner entirely giving way, the three little ones all precipitated themselves towards the entering figure, while Jessie and her mother rose at their two ends of the table, and the Colonel, no luncheon eater, came in from the study.
"What, Johnny, already!"
"The tidal train was earlier than I expected, so I have another half- day. "Well! are you all well?"
"Quite well. Why-how you are grown! I thought it was Rob when you passed my window," said his father.
"So did I at first," added Jessie, "but Rob is much broader."
"Yes," said his mother. "I am glad you are come back, Johnny; you look thin and pale. Sit down. Some mutton or some rabbit-pie? No, no, let Jessie help you; you shan't have all the carving; I'm sure you are tired; you don't look at all well."
"I was crossing all night, you know," said Johnny laughing, "and am as hungry as a hunter, that's all. What a blessing to see a nice clean English potato again without any flummery!"
"Ah! I thought so," said his mother; "they didn't know how to feed you. It was an unfortunate business altogether."
"How did you leave those poor boys, Johnny?" asked his father.
"Better," said Johnny. "Jock is nearly well,-will be quite so after the baths; and Armine is getting better. He sat up for an hour the day before I came away."
"And your aunt?" said his father.
"Wonderful," said John, with a quiver of feeling on his face. "You never saw anything like her. She keeps up, but she looks awfully thin and worn. I couldn't have left her, if Dr. Medlicott and Lord Fordham and his man had not all been bent on saving her whatever they could."
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