by F. W. Farrar
CHAPTER TEN.
UPHILLWARDS.
"But that Conscience makes me firm. The boon companion, who her strong breastplate Buckles on him that feels no guilt within, And bids him on and fear not."
Dante, c. xxviii.
"Qui s'excuse s'accuse." "If a character can't defend itself, it's notworth defending." "No one was ever written down, except by himself."These, and proverbs like these, express the common and almostinstinctive feeling, that self-defence under calumny is generallyunsuccessful, and almost always involves a loss of dignity. Partly fromthis cause, and partly from penitence for his real errors, and partlyfrom scorn at the malice that misrepresented him, and the Pharisaism offar worse offenders that held aloof from his misfortune, Walter saidnothing to exculpate his conduct, or to shield himself from the silentindignation, half real and half affected, which weighed heavily againsthim.
The usual consequences followed; the story of his misdoing was repeatedand believed in the least mitigated form, and this version gainedcredence and currency because it was uncontradicted. The school societybound his sin upon him; they retained it, and it was retained. Itburdened his conscience with a galling weight, because by his fellows itremained long unforgiven. At the best, those were days of fiery trialto that overcharged young heart. He had not only lost all immediateinfluence, but as he looked forward through the vista of hisschool-life, he feared that he should never entirely regain it. Even ifhe should in time become a monitor, he felt as if half his authoritymust be lost while this stigma was branded so deeply on his name.
Yet it was a beautiful sight to see how bravely and manfully this youngboy set himself to re-establish the reputation he had destroyed, andsince he could not "build upon the _foundations_ of yesterday," to buildupon its _ruins_; to see with what touching humility he acceptedundeserved scorn, and with what touching gratitude he hailed thescantiest kindness; to see how he bore up unflinchingly under everydifficulty, accepted his hard position among unsympathisingschoolfellows, and made the most of it, without anger and withoutcomplaint. He could see in after years that those days were to him atime of unmitigated blessing. They taught him lessons of manliness, ofendurance, of humility. The necessity of repairing an error andrecovering a failure became to him a more powerful stimulus than thehope of avoiding it altogether. The hour of punishment, which wasbitter as absinthe to his taste, became sweet as honey in his memory.Above all, these days taught him, in a manner never to be forgotten, theinvaluable lesson that the sense of having done an ill deed is the veryheaviest calamity that an ill deed ensures, and that in life there is nosingle secret of happiness comparable to the certain blessing broughtwith it by a conscience void of all offence.
Perhaps the strain would have been too great for his youthful spirits,and might have left on his character an impress of permanent melancholy,derived from thus perpetually being reminded that he had gone wrong, butfor a school sermon which Mr Paton preached about this time, and whichWalter felt was meant in part for him. It was on the danger andunwisdom of brooding continually on what is over; and it was preachedupon the text, "I will restore to you the years which the locust hatheaten, the canker-worm, the caterpillar, and the palmerworm, my greatarmy."
"The past is past," said the preacher; "its sins and sorrows areirrevocably over; why dwell upon it now? Do not waste the present, withall its opportunities, in a hopeless and helpless retrospect. The worstof us need not despair, much less those who may have been betrayed intosudden error by some moment of unguarded passion. There lies the futurebefore you; onwards then, and forwards! it is yet an innocent, it may bea happy, future. Take it with prayerful thankfulness, and fling thewithered part aside. Thus, although thus only, can you recover yourneglected opportunities. Do this in hope and meekness, and God willmake up to you for the lost past; He Who inhabiteth eternity willstretch forth out of His eternity a forgiving hand, and touch into greenleaf again the years which the locust hath eaten." How eagerly WalterEvson drank in those words! That day at least he felt that man doth notlive by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouthof God.
If Walter had been old enough to be an observer of character, he mighthave gathered out of his difficulties the materials for some curiousobservation on the manner in which he was treated by different boys.Many, like Harpour and Cradock, made, of course, no sort of differencein their behaviour towards him, because they set up no pretence ofcondemnation; others, like Anthony and Franklin, had been nearly as badas himself in the matter, and therefore their relations to him remainedquite unaltered. But there were many boys who, like Jones, either cuthim or were cold to him, not because they really felt any moral anger ata fault which was much less heinous in reality than many which theydaily committed, but because he was, for the time, unpopular, and theydid not care to be seen with an unpopular boy. On the other hand,through a feeling, which at the time they could not understand, a few ofthe very best boys, some of the wisest, the steadiest, the noblest,seemed drawn to him by some new tie; and in a very short time he beganto know friends among them in whose way he might not otherwise have beenthrown. Daubeny, for instance, than whom, although the boys chose tomake him something of a butt, there was no more conscientious fellow atSaint Winifred's, sought Walter out on every possible occasion, and whenthey were alone spoke to him, in his gentle and honest way, many acheering and kindly word. Another friend of this sort (whom Walteralready knew slightly through Kenrick, who was in the form below him),was a boy named Power. There was something in Power most attractive:his clear eyes, and innocent expression of face, his unvarying successin all school competitions, his quiet and graceful manners, and even thecoldness and reserve which made him stand somewhat aloof from the herdof boys, mixing with very few of them, firmly and unobtrusively assumingan altogether higher tone than theirs, and bestowing his confidence andfriendship on hardly any--all tended to make him a marked character, andto confer on his intimacy an unusual value. Walter, to whom as yet hehad hardly spoken, thought him self-centred and reserved, and yet sawsomething beautiful and fascinating even in his exclusiveness; he feltthat he could have liked him much, but, as he was several forms lowerthan Power, never expected to become one of his few associates. Butduring his troubles Power so openly showed that he regarded him withrespect and kindness, and was so clearly the first to make advances,that Walter gladly and gratefully accepted the proffered friendship.
It happened thus: One day, about a fortnight after his last escapade,Walter was amusing himself alone, as he often did, upon the shore. Theshore was very dear to him. I almost pity a boy whose school is not bythe seaside. He found on the shore both companionship and occupation.He never felt lonely there. He could sit there by the hour, either incalm or storm, watching the sea-birds dip their wings which flashed inthe sunlight, as they pounced down on some unwary fish; or listening tothe silken rustle and sweet monotony of the waves plashing musicallyupon the yellow sands on some fine day. On this evening the tide wascoming in, and Walter had amused himself by standing on some of thelumps of granite tossed about the shore until the advancing wavesencroached upon and surrounded his little island, and gave him just roomto jump to land. He was standing on one of these great stones watchingthe sunset, and laughing to himself at the odd gambols of two or threeporpoises that kept rolling about in a futile manner across the littlebay, when he heard a pleasant voice say to him--
"I say, Evson, are you going to practise the old style of martyrdom--tieyourself to a stake and let the tide gradually drown you?"
Looking round he was surprised to see Power standing alone on the sands,and to see also that his little island was so far surrounded that hecould not get to shore without being wet up to the knees.
"Hallo!" he said; "I see I must take off my shoes and stockings, andwade."
But on the slippery piece of rock upon which he was standing he had noroom to do this without losing his balance and tumbling over; so Powerhad in a moment taken off his own shoes an
d stockings, turned up histrousers above the knees, and waded up to him.
"Now," he said, "get on my back, and I'll carry you in unwetted."
"Thanks, Power," he said, as Power deposited him on the sand; "I'm muchobliged."
Not knowing whether Power would like to be seen with him or not, helooked at him shyly, and was walking off in another direction, whenPower, who was putting on his stockings again, said to him playfully--
"What, Walter; haven't you the grace to wait for me, after my havingdelivered you from such a noyade? Excuse my calling you Walter; I hearKenrick and Henderson do it, and somehow you're one of those fellowswhom one meets now and then, whose Christian name seems to suit themmore naturally than the other."
"By all means call me Walter, Power; and I'll wait for you gladly if youlike," said Walter, blushing as he added, "I thought you might not liketo walk with me."
"Not like? Nonsense. I should like it particularly. Let's take a turnalong the shore; we shall just have time before roll-call."
Walter pointed out to him the droll porpoises which had absorbed hisattention, and while they stood looking and laughing at them, Hendersoncame up unobserved, and patting Walter on the back, observedpoetically--
"Why are your young hearts sad, oh beautiful children of morning? Why do your young eyes gaze timidly over the sea?"
"Where _did_ you crib that quotation from, Flip," asked Power laughing;"your mind's like a shallow brook, and the colour of it always shows thestratum through which you have been flowing last."
"Shallow brook, quotha?" said Henderson; "a deep and mighty river, sir,you mean; irresistible by any Power."
"Oh, _do_ shut up. Why was I born with a name that could be punned on?No more puns, Flip, if you love me," said Power; and they all threewalked under the noble Norman archway that formed the entrance to theschool.
"By the powers," said Henderson to Walter, as the other left them, "you_have_ got a new friend worth having, Walter. _He_ doesn't make himselfat home with every one, I can tell you; and if he and Dubbs cultivateyou, I should think it's about time for anyone else to be ashamed ofcutting you, my boy."
"I'm quite happy now," said Walter; "with you and Kenrick and him forfriends. I don't care so much for the rest. I wonder why he likes me?"
"Well, because he thinks the fellows a great deal too hard on you forone thing. How very good and patient you've been, Walter, under itall."
"It is hard sometimes, Flip, but I deserve it. Only now and then I'mafraid that you and Ken will get quite tired of me, I've so few to speakto. Harpour and that lot would be glad enough that I should join them,I know, and but for you and Ken I should have been driven to do it."
"Never mind, Walter, my boy; the fellows'll come round in time."
So, step by step, with the countenance of some true and worthy friends,and by the help of a stout and uncorrupted heart, by penitence and bykindliness, did our brave little Walter win his way. He was helped,too, greatly, by his achievements in the games. At football he playedwith a vigour and earnestness which carried everything before it. Hegot several bases, and was the youngest boy in the school who eversucceeded in doing this. Gradually but surely his temporaryunpopularity gave way; and even before he began to be generallyrecognised again, he bade fair _ultimately_ to gain a high position inthe estimation of all his schoolfellows.
There was one scene which he long remembered, and which was very tryingto go through. One fine afternoon the boys' prize for the highest jumpwas to be awarded, and as the school were all greatly interested in thecompetition, they were assembled in a dense circle in the greenplayground, leaving space for the jumpers in the middle. The fineweather had also tempted nearly all the inhabitants of Saint Winifred'sto be spectators of the contest, and numbers of ladies were present, forwhom the boys had politely left a space within the circle. When thechief jumping prize had been won by an active fellow in the sixth-form,another prize was proposed for all boys under fifteen.
Bliss, Franklin, and two other boys at once stepped into the circle ascompetitors, and threw off their jackets.
"You must go in for this, Walter," said Henderson. "You're sure to getit."
"Not I. I won't go in, Flip," said Walter, who was naturally in adesponding mood, as he looked round on those four hundred faces, and sawamong them all scarcely one sympathising glance. "_You_ go in and win.And never mind talking to me up here, Henderson; it can't be pleasantfor you, I know, when all the other fellows are cutting me."
"Pooh! Walter. _They're_ in the wrong box; not you and I. `Athanasiuscontra mundum,' as Power says. Do go in for the prize."
Walter shook his head gloomily. "I don't like to, before all thesefellows. They'd hiss me or something."
"Well, if _you_ won't, _I_ won't; that's flat."
"O do, Henderson. I'm sure you'd get it. Don't ask me to go in, that'sa good fellow."
"None but these four going in for the little jump? What, only four?"said one of the young athletes, who carried little blue flags, andarranged the preliminaries. "Come in some more of you."
"Here are two more," said Henderson; "stick down our names--Hendersonand Evson"; and pulling Walter forward with him inside the circle, hesat down and began to take off his shoes, that he might run and jumpmore easily on the turf.
Thus prominently mentioned, Walter could hardly draw back, so puttingthe best face on it he could, he, too, flung off his jacket and shoes.
The movable spar of wood over which the boys jumped was first put at aheight of three feet, which they could all easily manage, and the six,one after another, cleared it lightly. Even then, however, it waspretty easy to judge by their action which was the best jumper, and theconnoisseurs on the field at once decided that the chance lay betweenHenderson and Walter; Walter was by far the most active and gracefuljumper, but Henderson had the advantage of being a little the taller ofthe two.
The spar was raised half an inch each time, and when it had attained theheight of three feet and a half, two of the candidates failed to clearit after three trials.
Bliss was the next to break down. His awkward jumps had excited a greatdeal of laughter, and when he finally failed, Henderson found time eventhen to begin a line or two of his monody on Blissidas, which was astanding joke against poor Bliss, who always met it by the sameinvariable observation of "I'll lick you afterwards, Flip."
Only three competitors were now left--Franklin, Henderson, and Walter--and they jumped on steadily till they had reached the height of fourfeet and one inch, and then Franklin broke down, but recovered himselfin the second chance.
The struggle now became very exciting, and as Franklin and Hendersonagain cleared the bar at the height of four feet four, each of them wereloudly clapped. But Walter--who jumped last always, because he had beenthe last candidate to come forward--although he cleared it with an easybound, received no sign of encouragement from any of the boys. Hecleared it in perfect silence, only broken by Mr Paton, who was lookingon with a group of other masters, and who said encouragingly, "Very welldone, Evson; capital!"
The bar was raised an inch, and again the three boys cleared it, andagain the first two were greeted with applause, and Walter was leftunnoticed except by Power and Kenrick, who applauded him heartily, andpatted him on the back. But indeed their clapping only served to throwinto stronger relief the loud applause which the others received.Walter almost wished that they would desist. He was greatly agitated;and his friends saw that he was trembling with emotion. He had beenmuch mortified the first time to be thus pointedly scorned in so large acrowd of strangers, and made a marked object of reprobation before themall; but that this open shame should be thus _steadily_ and_continuously_ put upon him, made his heart swell with sorrow andindignation at the ungenerous and unforgiving spirit of hisschoolfellows.
Once more the bar was raised an inch. The other two got over it amid aburst of applause, and this time Walter, who was unnerved by the painfulcircumstances in which he found himself
, brushed against it as he cameover, and knocked it off. The bar was replaced, and at his second trial(for three were allowed) he jumped so well that he flew easily over it.Always before, a boy who had recovered himself after a failure had beensaluted with double cheering, but again Walter's proceedings wereobserved by that large crowd in dead silence, while he could not helpoverhearing the whispered queries which asked an explanation of sounusual a circumstance.
"Why don't they cheer him as well as the others?" asked a fair younggirl of her brother. "He looks such a nice boy."
"Because he did a very shabby thing not long ago," was the reply.
He could stand it no longer. He glanced round at the speakers more insorrow than in anger, and then, instead of returning to thestarting-point, he turned hastily aside, and, declining the contest,plunged into the thickest of the crowd. "Evson's giving it up. What apity!" said several boys.
"No wonder he's giving it up," said Power indignantly, "after the wayyou fellows treat him. Never mind them, Walter," he said, taking him bythe arm; "they will be ashamed of themselves by and by."
"You're not going to withdraw, Evson?" asked one of the chief athletes,in a kind tone.
"Yes," said Walter, retiring still farther to hide himself amid thecrowd.
"Nonsense!" said Henderson, who had heard the answer; "come, Walter,it'll spoil all the fun if you don't go on."
"I can't, Flip," said Walter, turning aside, and hastily brushing awaythe tears which _would_ come into his eyes.
"Do, Walter, they all wish it," whispered Henderson; "be brave, and getthe prize in spite of all; here's Paton coming round; I'm sure it's tocheer you up."
"Very well, Flip, I will, if it pleases you; but it's rather hard," hesaid, fairly bursting into tears. "Remember, it's only for your sake Ido it, Flip."
"Go on, Walter; don't give way," said Mr Paton aloud, in his gentlestand most encouraging voice, as the boy hastily re-entered the arena, andtook his place.
This time Franklin finally broke down, Henderson barely scrambled over,and Walter, nerved by excitement and indignation, cleared the bar by abrilliant flying leap. There was no mistake about the applause thistime. The boys had seen how their coolness had told on him. They weretouched by the pluck he showed in spite of his dejected look, and asthough to make up for their former deficiency, they clapped him as loudas either of the others.
And now a spirited contest began between Henderson and Walter. Fourfeet six and a half they both accomplished--Walter the first time, andHenderson the third. When Henderson, at his last trial, barelysucceeded, a loud shout rose from the field, quite enthusiastic enoughto show that the wishes of the school were on his side. This decidedWalter, for he too was anxious that Henderson, who had set his heartupon the prize, and was now quite eager with emulation, should be thesuccessful competitor. At four feet seven, therefore, he meant to breakdown, but, at the same time, to clear the bar so nearly each time oftrial, that it might not be _obvious_ to any one that he was not puttingforth his best strength. The first time, however, he jumped socarelessly that Henderson suspected his purpose, and, therefore, thesecond time he exerted himself a little more, and, to his ownastonishment, accomplished the leap without having intended to do so.Henderson also just succeeded in managing it, and as Walter refused totry another half inch, the prize was declared, amid loud cheers, to beequally divided between them, after the best competition that ever hadbeen known.
The boys and the spectators now moved off to the pavilion, where theprizes were to be distributed by Mrs Lane. But when Walter's name wascalled out with Henderson's, only the latter stepped forward. Walterhad disappeared; and the boys were again made to feel, by his voluntaryabsence, what bitterness of heart their unkind conduct caused him.
Henderson took the prize for his friend, when he received his own. Theprizes were a silver-mounted riding-whip, and a belt with a silverclasp, and Mrs Lane told Henderson that she was sorry for the othervictor's absence, and that either of them might choose whichever prizehe liked best. When the crowd had dispersed Henderson, knowing Walter'shaunts, strolled with Kenrick to a little fir-grove on the slope ofBardlyn Hill, not far above the sea. Here, as they expected, they foundWalter. He was sitting in a listless attitude, with his back towardsthem, and he started as he heard their footsteps.
"You let yourself be beaten, Evson Walter, And afterwards you proved a base defaulter,"
said Henderson, who was in high spirits, as he clapped his hands onWalter's shoulders, and continued--
"Behold I bring you now the silver prizes, Meant to reward your _feets_ and exercises."
Even Walter could not help smiling at this sally, but he said at once,"You must keep both prizes, Flip; I don't mean to take either--indeed Iwon't; I shouldn't have gone in at all but for you."
"Oh, do take one," said Kenrick; "the fellows will think you too proudif you don't."
"I don't care what they think of me, Ken; you saw how they treated me.Flip, I'd take the prize in a minute to please you, but, indeed, itwould only remind me constantly of this odious jumping, and I'd muchrather not."
"I can't take _both_ prizes, Walter," said Henderson.
"Well, I'll tell you what--give one to Franklin; he jumped very well,and he's not half a bad fellow. Don't press me, Flip; I can't refuseyou anything if you do, because you've been so very, very kind; but youdon't know how wretched I feel."
Henderson, who had looked annoyed, cleared up in a moment.
"All right, Walter; it shall be as you like. Franklin shall have it.You've had quite enough to bear already. So cheer up, and come along."
It was soon known in the school how Walter had yielded the prize toFranklin, and it was known, too, that next day he had gone to jump withHenderson, Franklin, and some others, and had cleared the bar at fourfeet eight, which none of them had been able to do. The boys admiredhis conduct throughout; and from that day forward many were as anxiousto renew an acquaintance with him as they had previously been to breakit off.
And there was an early opportunity of testing this; for a few days afterthe scene just described the champion race for boys under fifteen wastried for, and when Walter won it by accomplishing the distance in theshortest time that had yet been known, and by distancing the otherrunners, he was received with a cheer, which was all the more heartybecause the boys were anxious to do him a tardy justice. If Walter hadnot been too noble to be merely patronised, and too reserved to be"hail-fellow-well-met" with every one, he would have fallen more easilyand speedily into the position which he now slowly but honourablyrecovered.
It need hardly be said that, in his school work, Walter struggled withall his might to give satisfaction to Mr Paton, and to spare him fromall pain. There was something really admirable in the way he worked,and taxed himself even beyond his strength, to prove his regret for MrPaton's loss, by doing all that was required of him. Naturally quickand lively as he was, he sat as quiet and attentive in school, as if hehad been gifted with a disposition as unmercurial as that of Daubenyhimself. In order to make sure of his lessons, he went over them withHenderson (who entered eagerly into his wishes) with such care, thatthey, both of them, astonished themselves with their own improvingprogress. If they came to any insuperable difficulties, Kenrick orPower gladly helped them, and explained everything to them with thatsympathetic clearness of instruction which makes one boy the bestteacher to another. The main difficulty still continued to be therepetition, and grammar rules; but in order to know them, at least byrote, Walter would get up with the earliest gleam of daylight, and wouldput on his trousers and waistcoat after bed-time, and go and sit, bookin hand, under the gaslight in the passage. This was hard work,doubtless; but it brought its own reward in successful endeavour and anapproving conscience. Under this discipline his memory rapidly grewretentive; no difficulty can stand the assaults of such batteries asthese, and Walter was soon free from all punishments, and as happy asthe day was long.
One little cloud alone rema
ined--the continued and obvious displeasureof his tutor, and one or two of Mr Paton's chief friends among themasters. One of these was Mr Edwards, who, among other duties, had themanagement of the chapel choir. But at length Mr Edwards gave him adistinguished proof of his returning respect. He sat near Walter inchapel, and the hymn happened to be one which came closely home toWalter's heart after his recent troubles. This made him join with greatfeeling in the singing, and the choirmaster was struck with the strengthand rare sweetness of his voice. As he left the chapel, Mr Edwardssaid to him, "Evson, there is a vacancy for a treble in the choir; Iheard you sing in chapel to-day, and I think that you would supply theplace very well. Should you like to join?"
Walter very gladly accepted the offer, partly because he hailed theopportunity of learning a little about music, and because the choir boyswere allowed several highly-valued and exceptional privileges; butchiefly because they were always chosen by the masters with expressreference to character, and therefore the invitation to join theirnumber was the clearest proof that could be given him that the past wascondoned.
The last to offer him the right-hand of forgiveness, but the best andwarmest friend to him when once he had done so, was Mr Percival. Hestill passed him with only the coldest and most distant recognition, forhe not only felt Mr Paton's loss with peculiar sorrow, but was alsovexed and disappointed that a boy whose character he had openly defendedshould have proved so unworthy of his encomium. It happened that the_only_ time that Walter was ever again sent to detention was for afailure in a long lesson, including much which had been learnt on themorning that he was out of school, which, in consequence, he found itimpossible, with all his efforts, to master. Mr Paton saw howmortified and pained he was to fail, and when he sent him to detention,most kindly called him up, and told him that he saw the cause of hisunsuccess, and was not _in the least_ displeased at it, although, as hehad similarly punished other boys, he could not make any exception tothe usual rule of punishment. On this occasion, it was again MrPercival's turn to sit with the _detenus_, and seeing Walter among them,he too hastily concluded that he was still continuing a career ofdisgrace.
"What! you here again?" he said with chilling scorn, as he passed theseat where Walter sat writing. "After what has happened, I should havebeen ashamed to be sent here, if I were you."
After his days and nights of toil, after his long, manly, noble struggleto show his penitence, after his heavy and disproportionate punishment,it was hard to be so addressed by one whom he respected, in the presenceof all the idlest in the school, and in consequence of a purelyaccidental and isolated failure. Walter looked up with an appealinglook in his dark blue eyes; but Mr Percival had passed on, and he benthis head over his paper with the old sense that the past could _never_be forgotten, the recollection of his disgrace _never_ obliterated. Noone was observing him; and as the feeling of despair grew in him, alarge tear dropped down upon his paper; he wiped it quietly away, andcontinued writing, but another and another fell, and he could not helpit. For Mr Percival was almost the only master whose goodwill he verystrongly coveted, and whose approval he was most anxious to attain.
When next Mr Percival stopped and looked at Walter, he saw that hiswords had wounded him to the heart, and knew well why the boy's lineswere blurred and blotted, when he showed them up with a timid hand anddowncast look.
He was touched. "I have been too hard on you, Evson," he said; "I seeit now. Come to tea with me after chapel this evening; I want to speakwith you."