St. Winifred's; or, The World of School

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  THE MARTYR-STUDENT.

  Impositique rogis juvenes ante ora parentum.

  Georgic Four, 1 71.

  The days that followed, as the boys resumed the regular routine ofschool work, passed by very rapidly and pleasantly--rapidly, because thelong-expected Christmas holidays were approaching; pleasantly, becausethe boys were thoroughly occupied in working up the subjects for thefinal examination. For Walter especially, those days were lighted upwith the warm glow of popularity and success. He was aiming with boyisheagerness to win one more laurel by gaining the first place in his form,and whenever he was not taking exercise, either in some school game orby a ramble along his favourite cliffs and sands, he was generally to befound hard at work in Mr Percival's rooms, learning the voluntaryrepetitions, or going over the trial subjects with Henderson, who hadnow quite passed the boundary line which separated the idle from theindustrious boys.

  One morning Henderson came in chuckling and laughing to himself. "SoPower's taking a leaf out of your book, Walter. I declare he's becominga regular sociable grosbeak."

  "Sociable grosbeak? what _do_ you mean?"

  "O, don't you know that I'm writing a drama called the `SociableGrosbeaks,' in which you and Ken and I are introduced? I didn't mean tointroduce Power, he wasn't gregarious enough; but I _shall_ now, and heshall prologise."

  "But why is he more sociable now?"

  "Why, he's actually let one of the--oh, I forgot, I mustn't call names--well, he's given Eden the run of his study."

  "O yes; I knew that," said Walter smiling. "At first, it was thefunniest thing to see them together, they were both so shy; but after aday or two they were quite friends, and now you may find Eden perchedany day in Power's window-seat, grinding away at his Greek verbs, and ashappy as a king. Power helps him in his work, too. It'll be the makingof the little fellow. Already he's coming out strong in form."

  "Hurrah for the grosbeaks," said Henderson. "I _did_ mean to chaffPower about it, but I won't, for it really is very kind of him."

  "Yes, and so it is of Percival to let us sit here; but I wish that dearold Dubbs could be doing trial-work here with us."

  "He's very ill," said Henderson, looking serious; "_very_ ill, I'mafraid. I saw him to-day for a minute, but he seemed too weak to talk."

  "Is he? poor fellow! I knew that he was staying out, but I'd no notionthat it was anything dangerous."

  "I don't know about _dangerous_, but he's quite ill. Poor Daubeny! youknow how very very patient and good he is, yet even he can't help beingsad at falling ill just now. You know he was to have been confirmedto-morrow week, and he's afraid that now he won't be well enough, andwill have to put it off."

  "Yes, he's mentioned his confirmation to me several times. Lots offellows are going to be confirmed this time--about a hundred, Ibelieve--but I don't suppose one of them thinks of it so solemnly asdear old Dubbs--unless, indeed, it's Power, who also is to beconfirmed."

  The confirmation was to take place on a Sunday, and the candidates hadlong been engaged in a course of preparation. The intellectualpreparation was carefully undertaken by Dr Lane and the tutors of theboys; but this answer of the lips was of comparatively little value,except in so far as it tended to guide, and solemnise, and concentratethe preparation of the heart. In too many this approachingresponsibility produced no visible effect in the tenor of outward life--they talked and thought as lightly as before, and did not elevate thelow standard of schoolboy morality; but there were _some_ hearts inwhich the dreary and formless chaos of passion and neglect then firstfelt the divine stirring of the brooding wings, and some spiritualtemples were from that time filled more brightly than before with theShechinah of the Presence, and bore, as in golden letters on a newentablature, the inscription, "Holiness to the Lord."

  To this confirmation some of the best boys, like Power and Daubeny, werelooking forward, not with any exaggerated or romantic sentimentality,but with a deep humility, a manly exultation, an earnest hope. Theywere ready and even anxious to confirm their baptismal vow, and to beconfirmed in the sacred strength which should enable them for the futuremore unswervingly to fulfil it. Of these young hearts the grace of Godtook early hold, and in them reason and religion ran together like warpand woof to frame the web of a sweet and exemplary life. Bound by themost solemn and public recognition of, and adhesion to, their Christianduty, it would be easier for them thenceforth to confess Christ beforemen--easier to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly withtheir God.

  "Do you think it would be possible to see Dubbs? I should so like tosee him," said Walter.

  "Let's ask Percival, he's in the next room; and if Dubbs is well enoughI know he'd give anything to see you."

  "Please, sir," said Walter, after knocking for admission at the door ofthe inner room, "do you think that Henderson and I might go to thecottage and see Daubeny?"

  "I don't know, Walter. But I want very much to see him myself, if DrKeith will let me, so I'll come with you and enquire."

  Mr Percival walked with the two boys to the cottage, and, after aninjunction not to stay too long, they were admitted to the sick boy'sbedside. At first, in the darkened room, they saw nothing; butDaubeny's voice--weak and low, but very cheerful--at once greeted them.

  "O, thank you, sir, for coming to see me. Hallo! Walter, and Flip,too; I'm so glad to see you--you in a sickroom again, Flip!"

  "We would have come before if we had known that we might see you," saidthe master. "How are you feeling, my dear boy?"

  "Not very well, sir; my head aches sadly sometimes, and I get soconfused."

  "Ah, Daubeny, it's the overwork. Didn't I entreat you, my child, toslacken the bent bow a little? You'll be wiser in future, will younot?"

  "In future--O yes, sir; if ever I get well, I'm afraid," he said, with afaint smile, "that you'll find me stupider than ever."

  "Stupid, my boy! none of us ever thought you that. It is not the stupidboys that get head removes as you have done the last term or two. Ishould very much enjoy a talk with you, Daubeny, but I mustn't stay nowthe doctor says, so I'll leave these two fellows with you, and give themten minutes--no longer--to tell you all the school news."

  "In future wiser--in future," repeated Daubeny in a low voice to himselfonce or twice; "ah, yes, too late now. I don't think he knows how ill Iam, Walter. My mother's been sent for; I expect her this evening. Ishall at least live to see her again."

  "O, don't," said Henderson, whose quick and sensitive nature was easilyexcited; "don't talk like that, Daubeny; we can't spare you; you muststay for our sake."

  "Dear old fellow," said Daubeny, "you'll have nobody left to chaff; butyou can spare me easily enough," and he laid his fevered hand kindly onHenderson's, who immediately turned his head and brushed away a tear."O, don't cry," he added, in a pained tone of voice, "I never meant tomake you cry. I'm quite happy, Flip."

  "O Daubeny! we can't get on without you!" said Henderson.

  "Daubeny! I hardly know the name," said the sick boy, smiling. "No,Flip, let it be Dubbs, as of old--a nice heavy name to suit its owner;and you gave it me, you know, so it's your property, Flip, and I hardlyknow myself by any other now."

  "O Dubbs, I've plagued you so," said Henderson, sobbing as if his heartwould break; "I've never done anything but teaze you, and laugh at you,and you've always been so good and so patient to me. Do forgive me."

  "Pooh!" said Daubeny, trying to rally him. "Listen to him, Walter;who'd think that Flip was talking? Teased me, Flip?" he continued, asHenderson still sobbed at intervals, "not you! I always enjoyed yourchaff, and I knew that you liked me at heart. You've all been very kindto me. Walter, I'm so glad I got to know you before I--. It's sopleasant to see you here. Give me your hand; no, Flip, let me keepyours too; it's getting dark. I like to have you here. I feel sohappy. I wish Power and Ken would come too, that I might see all myfriends."

  "Good-night, Daubeny; I can't stay, I mu
stn't stay," said Henderson;and, pressing his friend's hand, he hurried out of the room to indulgein a burst of grief which he could not contain; for, under his triflingand nonsensical manner, Henderson had a very warm and susceptible andfeeling heart, and though he had always made Daubeny a subject ofridicule, he never did it with a particle of ill-nature, and felt forhim--dissimilar as their characters were--a most fervent and deepregard.

  "Look after him when I am gone, Walter," said Daubeny sadly, when he hadleft the room. "He is a dear good fellow, but so easily led. PoorFlip; he's immensely changed for the better since you came, Walter."

  "I have been very fond of him all along," said Walter; "he is so full oflaughter and fun, and he's very good with it all. But, Dubbs, you aretoo desponding; we shall have you here yet for many pleasant days."

  "I don't know; perhaps so, if God wills. I am very young. I shouldlike to stay a little longer in the sunshine. Walter, I should like tostay with _you_. I love you more, I think, than any one except Power,"and as he spoke, a quiet tear rolled slowly down Daubeny's face.

  Walter only pressed his hand. "You can't think how I pitied you,Walter, in that accident about Paton's manuscript. When all the fellowswere cutting you, and abusing you, my heart used to bleed for you; youused to go about looking so miserable, so much as if all your chances oflife were over. I'm afraid I did very little for you then, but I_would_ have done anything. I felt as if I could have given you myright-hand."

  "But, Dubbs, you were the first who spoke to me after that happened, thefirst who wasn't ashamed to walk with me. You can't think how gratefulI felt to you for it; it rolled a cold weight from me. It was likestretching a saving hand to one who was drowning; for every one knew howgood a fellow _you_ were, and your countenance was worth everything tome just then."

  "You really felt so?" said Daubeny, brightening up, while a faint flushrested for a moment on his pale face; "O Walter, it makes me happy tohear you say so." There was a silence, and, with Walter's hand still inhis, he fell into a sweet sleep, with a smile upon his face. When hewas quite asleep, Walter gently removed his hand, smoothed his pillow,looked affectionately at him for a moment, and stole silently from theroom.

  "How did you leave him?" asked Henderson eagerly, when Walter rejoinedhim in Mr Percival's room.

  "Sleeping soundly. I hope it will do him good. I did not know how muchyou cared for him, Flip."

  "That's because I always made him a butt," said Henderson, remorsefully;"but I didn't really think he minded it, or I wouldn't have done so. Ihardly knew myself that I liked him so. It was a confounded shame of meto worry him as I was always doing. Conceited donkey that I was, I wasalways trying to make him seem stupid; yet all the while I could havestood by him cap in hand. O Walter, I hope he is not going to die!"

  "O no, I hope not; and don't be miserable at the thought of teasing him,Flip; it was all in fun, and he was never wounded by any word of yours.Remember how he used to tell you that he was all the time laughing atyou, not you at him. Come a turn on the shore, and let's take Power orKen with us."

  "Sociable grosbeaks, again," said Henderson, laughing in the midst ofhis sorrow.

  "Yes," said Walter; "never mind. There are but few birds of the sortafter all."

  They found Eden with his feet up, and his hands round his knees, on thewindow-seat, perfectly at his ease, and chattering to Power like a youngjackdaw. A thrill of pleasure passed through Walter's heart as a glanceshowed him how well his proposal had succeeded. Power evidently had hadno reason to repent of his kindness, and Eden looked more like thebright and happy child which he had once been, than ever was the casesince he had come to Saint Winifred's. He was now clean and neat indress, and the shadows of fear and guilt which had begun to darken hisyoung face were chased away.

  Power readily joined them in their stroll along the shore, and listenedwith affectionate sympathy to their account of Daubeny.

  "What is it that has made him ill?" he asked.

  "There's no doubt about that," answered Walter; "it's overwork which hasbrought on a tendency to brain fever."

  "I was afraid so, Walter," and then Power repeated half to himself thefine lines of Byron on Kirke White--

  "So the struck eagle stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the barb that quivered in his heart; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel. He nursed the pinion that impelled the steel; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest, Drank the last life blood of his bleeding breast."

  "What grand verses!" said Walter. "Poor, poor Daubeny!"

  "I've never had but one feeling about him myself," said Power, "and thatwas a feeling almost like reverence. I hope and trust that he'll bewell enough for to-morrow week. I always looked forward to kneelingnext to him when we were confirmed."

  "All, you loved him, Power," said Henderson, "because your tastes werelike his. But I owe a great deal to him--more than I can ever tell you.I don't feel as if I could tell you now, while he lies there so ill,poor fellow. He has saved me more than once from vigorous efforts tothrow myself away. But for him I should have gone to the devil long,long ago. I was _very_ near it once." He sighed, and as they walked bythe violet margent of the evening waves, he offered up in silence anearnest prayer that Daubeny might live.

  The blind old poet would have said that the winds carried the prayeraway and scattered it. But no winds can scatter, no waves can drown,the immortal spirit of one true prayer. Unanswered it _may_ be--butscattered and fruitless, _not_!