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

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

  IN THE DEPTHS.

  How easy to keep free from sin, How hard that freedom to recall! For dreadful truth it is, that men _Forget_ the heavens from which they fall.

  Cov. Patmore.

  It may be thought strange that Kenrick did not at once, while his heartwas softened, and when he saw so clearly how much he had erred, go thereand then to Walter, confess to him that everything was now explained,that he had never received his last note, and that, for his own sake, hedesired to be restored, as far as was possible, to his former footing.If that had not been for Kenrick a period of depression and ill-repute,he would undoubtedly have done so; but he did not like to go, now thathe was in disgrace, now that his friendship could do no credit, and, ashe feared, confer no pleasure on any one, and under circumstances whichwould make it appear that he had changed his views under the influenceof selfish interest, rather than of true conviction or generous impulse.He thought, too, that friendship over was like water spilt, and couldnot be gathered up again; that it was like a broken thread which cannotagain be smoothly reunited. So things remained on the same footing asbefore, except that Kenrick's whole demeanour was changed for thebetter. He bore his punishment in a quiet and manly way; took his placewithout a murmur below Henderson at the bottom of the monitors; did notby any bravado attempt to conceal that he felt justly humiliated, andgave Whalley his best assistance in governing the Noelites, and bringingthem back by slow but sure degrees to a better tone of thought andfeeling. Towards Walter especially his whole manner altered. Hithertohe had made a point of always opposing him, and taking every opportunityto show him a strong dislike. If Walter had embraced one opinion at amonitors' meeting, it was quite sufficient reason for Kenrick to supportanother; if Walter had spoken on one side at the debating society,Kenrick held it to be a logical consequence that, whatever he thought,he should speak on the other, and use his powers of speaking, which wereconsiderable, to throw on Walter's illustrations and arguments all theridicule he could. All this folly and virulence was now abandoned; theswagger which Kenrick had adopted was from that time entirely laidaside. At the very next meeting of the debating society he spoke, asindeed he generally thought, on the same side with Walter; and spoke,not in his usual flippant conceited style, but more seriously andearnestly, treating Walter's speech with approval and almost withdeference. Every one noticed and rejoiced in this change of manner, andnone more so than Walter Evson and Power.

  Kenrick finished with these words--"Gentlemen, before I sit down I havea task to perform, which, however painful it may be to me, it is due toyou that I should not neglect. I may do it now, because I see that nonebut the sixth-form are present, and because I may not have another earlyopportunity. I have incurred, as you are all well aware, a unanimousvote of censure from my colleagues--unanimous, although, through adelicacy which I am thankful to be still capable of keenly appreciating,the name of one..." the word "friend" sprang to his lips, but humilityforbade him to adopt it, and he said... "the name of one monitor isabsent from the appended signatures. Gentlemen, I do not like publicrecantations or public professions, but I feel it my duty to acknowledgewithout palliation that I feel the censure to have been deserved." Hisvoice faltered with emotion as he proceeded: "I have been misled,gentlemen, and I have been labouring for a long time under a grievousmistake, which has led me to do much injustice and inflict many wrongs;for these errors I now ask the pardon of all, and especially of thosewho are most concerned. Your censure, gentlemen, concluded with a kindand friendly wish, and I cannot trust myself to say more now, than toecho that wish with all my heart, and to hope that ere long the effortswhich I shall endeavour to make may succeed in persuading you to give meback your confidence and esteem, and to erase from the book thepermanent record of your recent disapproval."

  Every one present felt how great must have been the suffering whichcould wring such an expression of regret from a nature so proud asKenrick's. They listened in silence, and when he sat down greeted himwith an applause which showed how readily he might win their regard;while many of them came round him and shook hands with warmth.

  "Gentlemen," said Power, rising, "I am sure we all feel that the remarkswe have just heard do honour to the speaker. I hold in my hand themonitors' book, open at the page on which our censure was written.After what we have heard there can be no necessity why that page shouldremain where it is for a single day. I beg to move that leave may begiven me to tear it out at once."

  "And I am eager to second the motion," said Henderson, starting up atthe same moment with several others; "and, Kenrick--if I may breakthrough, on such an occasion as this, our ordinary forms, and addressyou by name--I am sure you will believe that though I have very oftenopposed you, no one will be more glad than myself to welcome you back asa friend, and to hope that you may soon be, what you are so capable ofbeing, not only our greatest support, but also one of the brightestornaments of our body." He held out his hand, which Kenrick readilygrasped, whispering, with a sigh, "Ah, Flip, how I wish that we hadnever broken with each other!"

  The proposal was carried by acclamation, and Power accordingly tore outthe sheet and put it in the fire. And that night brightened for Kenrickinto the dawn of better days. Twenty times over Walter thought thatKenrick was going to speak to him--for his manner was quite different;but Kenrick, though every particle of ill-will had vanished from hismind, and had been replaced by his old unimpaired affection, put off thereconciliation until he should have been able in some measure to recoverhis old position, and to meet his friend on a footing of greaterequality.

  Do not let any one think that his reformation was too easy. It took himlong to conquer himself, and he found the task sorely difficult; butafter many failures and relapses, the words of another who had sinnedand suffered three thousand years ago, and who, after many a struggle,had discovered the true secret, came home to Kenrick and whispered tohim the message--"Then I said, _It is mine own infirmity: but I willremember the years of the right-hand of the Most Highest_."

  It was not long before one great difficulty confronted him, theconsequence of former misdeeds, and put him under circumstances whichdemanded the whole courage of his character, and thoroughly tested thesincerity of his repentance.

  After Mackworth's expulsion, and under Whalley's good government, thestate of the Noelites greatly improved. Charlie Evson, for whom, now,by the by, Kenrick always did everything that lay in his power, becamefar more a model among the younger boys than Wilton had ever been, andthere was a final end of suppers, smoking parties, organised cribbing,and recognised "crams." But just as the house was recovering lostground, and had ceased to be quite a byeword in the school, it wasthrown into consternation by a long-continued series of petty thefts.

  Small sums were extracted from the boys' jacket pockets after they hadgone to bed; from the play-boxes which were not provided with good locksand keys; from the private desks in the classrooms, from thedormitories, and from several of the studies. There was no clue to theoffender, and first of all suspicion fell strongly on the new boy,little Elgood. A few trifling items of circumstantial evidence seemedto point him out, and it began to be gradually whispered, no one exactlyknew how or by whom, that he must be the guilty boy. Hints were thrownout to him to this effect; little bits of paper, on which were writtenthe words "Thou shalt not steal," or "The devil will have thieves," weredropped about in his books and wherever he was likely to find them, andwhenever the subject was brought on the tapis his manner was closelywatched. The effect was unsatisfactory; for Elgood was a timid nervousboy, and the uneasiness to which this nervousness gave rise was set downas a sign of guilt. At length a sovereign and a half were stolen out ofWhalley's study, and as Elgood, being Whalley's fag, had constant accessto the study, and might very well have known that Whalley had the money,and in what place he kept it, the prevalent suspicions were confirmed.The boys, with their usual thoughtless haste, leapt to the conclusionthat he must have been
the thief.

  The house was in a perfect ferment. However lightly one or two of them,like Penn, may have thought about taking trifles from small tradesmen,there was not a single one among them, not even Penn himself, whosemorality did not brand this thieving from schoolfellows as wicked andmean. The boys felt, too, that it was a stigma on their house, andunhappily Just at the time when the majority were really anxious toraise their corporate reputation. Every one was filled with annoyanceand disgust, and felt an anxious determination to discover and give upthe thief.

  At last the suspicions against Elgood proceeded so far, that out of merejustice to him the heads of the house, Whalley, Kenrick, and Bliss,thought it right that he should be questioned. So, after tea, all thehouse assembled in the classroom, and Elgood was formally charged withthe delinquency, and questioned about it, Wilton, in particular, urginghim in almost a bullying tone to surrender and confess. The poor childwas overwhelmed with terror--cried, blushed, answered incoherently, andlost his head, but would not for a moment confess that he had done it,and protested his innocence with many sobs and tears.

  "Well, I suppose if he persists in denying it, we can't go any further,"said Kenrick; "but I'm afraid, Elgood, that you must have had somethingto do with it, as every one seems to see ground for suspecting you."

  "Oh, I hadn't, I hadn't; indeed I hadn't," wailed Elgood; "I wish youwouldn't say so, Kenrick; indeed I'm innocent, and I'd rather write homefor the money ten times over than be suspected."

  "So would any one, you little fool," said Wilton.

  "Don't bully him in that way, Wilton," said Whalley; "it's not the wayto get the truth out of him. Elgood, I should have thought youinnocent, if you didn't behave so oddly."

  "May I speak?" modestly asked a new voice. The speaker was CharlieEvson.

  "Yes, certainly," said Kenrick, in an encouraging tone.

  "Well then, please, Kenrick, and the whole of you, I think you _have_had the truth out of him; and I think he _is_ innocent."

  "Why, Charlie?" said Whalley; "what makes you think so?"

  "Because I've asked him, and talked to him privately about it," saidCharlie; "when you frighten him he gets confused, and contradictshimself, but he can explain whatever looks suspicious if you ask himkindly and Quietly."

  "Bosh!" said Wilton; "who frightened him?"

  "Silence, Wilton," said Whalley. "Well, Charlie, will you question himnow for us?"

  "That I will," said Charlie, advancing and putting his hand kindly roundElgood's shoulder, as he seated himself on the desk by which Elgood wasstanding. "Will you tell us, as I ask you, all you told me thismorning?"

  "Yes," said Elgood eagerly, while his whole manner changed from nervoustremor to perfect simplicity and quiet new that he had a friend to standby him.

  "Well, now, about the money you've been spending lately?" questionedCharlie, with a smile. "You usen't to be so flush of cash, you know, amonth ago."

  "I can tell you," answered Elgood; "I had a very large present--largefor me, I mean--three weeks ago. My father sent me a pound, because itwas my birthday, and my big brother and aunt sent me each a pound too."

  "I can answer for that being perfectly true," said Charlie, "for I wentwith my brother to the post-office this afternoon and asked, and foundthat Elgood had had three money-orders changed there. And now, Elgood,can you trust me with your purse?"

  "Of course I can, Charlie," said Elgood, readily producing it, andalmost forgetting that the others were present.

  "Ah, well, now you see _I'm_ going to rifle it. Ah! what have we here?why, here's a whole sovereign, and eight shillings; that lookssuspicious, doesn't it?" said Charlie archly.

  "No," said Elgood, laughing; "you went with me yourself when I bought mydesk for eighteen shillings, and the rest--"

  "All right," said Charlie. "Look, you fellows: Elgood and I put downthis morning the other things he's bought, and they come to fourteenshillings. I know they're right, for I didn't like Elgood to be wronglysuspected, so Walter want with me to the shops; indeed it was chieflyspent at Coles's"--at which remark they all laughed, for Coles's was thefavourite "tuck shop" of the boys. "Well, now, 1 pound, 8 shillingsplus 18 shillings plus 14 shillings makes 3 pounds, the sum which Elgoodreceived from home. Is that plain?"

  "As plain as a pike-staff," said Bliss; "and you're a little brick,Evson; and it's a chouse if any one suspects Elgood any more."

  Wilton suggested something about Elgood being Whalley's fag.

  "Shame, Raven," said Kenrick; "why, what a suspicious fellow you mustbe; there's no ground whatever to suspect Elgood now."

  "I only want the fellow found out for the honour of the house," saidWilton, with a sheepish look at this third rebuff.

  "Oh, I forgot about that for the moment," said Charlie; "Whalley,please, you know the time, don't you, when the money was taken from yourdesk?"

  "Yes; it must have been between four and six, for I saw it safe at four,and it was gone when I came back after tea."

  "Then all right," said Charlie joyfully, "for at that very time, all ofit, Elgood was in my brother's study with me, learning some lessons.Now then, is Elgood clear?"

  "As clear as noonday," shouted several of them, patting the poor childon the head.

  "And really, Charlie, we're all very much obliged to you," said Whalley,"for setting this matter straight. But now, as it _isn't_ Elgood, who_is_ the thief? We must all set ourselves to discover."

  "And we _shall_ discover," said Bliss; "he's probably here now. Who isit?" he asked, glancing round. "Well, whoever it is, I don't envy himhis sensations at this minute."

  The meeting broke up, and Kenrick accompanied Whalley to his study toconcert further measures.

  "Have you any suspicion at all about it, Whalley?"

  "Not the least. Have you? No. Well, then, what shall we do?"

  "Why the thief isn't likely to visit _your_ study again, Whalley; verylikely he'll come to mine. Suppose we put a little marked money in thesecret drawer. It's rather a joke to call it the _secret_ drawer, forthere's no secret about it; anyhow, it's an open secret."

  "Very good; and then?"

  "Why, you know the money generally goes at one particular time onhalf-holidays. I'm afraid the rogue, whoever he is, has got a taste forit by this time, and will come to money like a fly to a jam-pot. Now,outside my room, a few yards off, is the shoe-cupboard; what if you andI, and a few others, agree to shut ourselves up there in turns, now andthen, on half-holidays between roll-call and tea-time?"

  "I see," said Whalley; "well, it's horribly unpleasant, but I'll take myturn first. Isn't the door usually locked, though?"

  "Yes, but so much the better; we can easily get it left open, and thethief won't suspect an ambuscade. He _must_ be found out, for the sakeof all the boys who are innocent and to wipe out the blot against thehouse."

  "All right; I'll ensconce myself there to-morrow. I say, Ken, isn'tyoung Evson a capital fellow? how well he managed to clear Elgood,didn't he? I declare he taught us all a lesson."

  "Yes," said Kenrick; "he's his brother all over; just what Walter waswhen he came."

  "What, _you_ say that?" said Whalley, smiling and arching his eyebrows.

  "Indeed I do," said Kenrick, with some sadness; "I haven't alwaysthought so, the more's the pity;" and he left the room with a sigh.

  After his turn for incarceration in the shoe-cupboard, Bliss complainedloudly that it wasn't large enough to accommodate him, and that itcramped his long arms and legs, to say nothing of the unpleasantvicinity of spiders and earwigs. But the others, laughing at him, toldhim that, if the experiment was to be of any use whatever, they mustpersevere in it, and Bliss allowed himself to be made a victim. For atime nothing happened, but they had not to wait very long.

  One day, Kenrick had been mounting guard for about half an hour, and wasgetting very tired, when a light and hasty step passed along thepassage, and into his room. The boy found the study empty, andproceeded noiselessly to
open Kenrick's desk, and examine the contents.At length he pulled open the secret drawer; it opened with a littleclick, and _there_ lay before him two half-sovereigns and some silver.He was a wary fellow, for he scrutinised these all over most carefullyto see if they were marked, and finding no mark of any kind on them--forit almost required a microscope to see the tiny scratch between the w.w.on the smooth edge of the neck--he took out his purse, and wasproceeding to drop them into it, when _a heavy hand was laid upon hisshoulder_, and Kenrick and Wilton--the detected thief--stood face toface. The purse dropped on the floor.

  For a moment they stood silent, staring at each other, and drawing quickbreaths. Wilton stood there pale as death, and looked up at Kenricktrembling, and with a frightened stare. It was too awful to be sosuddenly surprised; to have had an unknown eye-witness standing by himall the while that, fancying himself unseen, he was in the very act ofcommitting that secret deed of sin; to be arrested, detected, exposed,as the boy whose hidden misdoings had been, for so long, a source ofdiscomfort, anxiety, and shame.

  "_You_, Wilton--_you, you, you_, the disturber of the house, _you_, whohave so long been treated by me as a friend, and allowed at all times touse my study; _you_, the foremost to throw the suspicion on others!" Hestopped, breathless, for his indignation was rushing in too deep andstrong a torrent to find vent in words.

  "O Kenrick, don't tell of me."

  "Don't _tell_ of you! Good heavens! is that all you can find to say?Not one word of sorrow--not one word of shame. Abandoned, heartless,graceless fellow!"

  "I was driven to it, Kenrick, indeed I was. I owed money to Dan, andto--to other places, and they threatened to tell of me if I didn't pay.Then Harpour and those fellows quite cleared me out at cards; I believethey did it by cheating. O, don't tell of me."

  "I cannot screen a thief," was the freezing reply; and the change fromflame to ice showed into what commotion his feelings had been thrown.

  "Well, then, if it comes to that," said Wilton, turning sullen, "_I'll_tell of _you_. It'll all come out; remember it was you who first tookme to Dan's, and that's not the only thing I could tell of you. OKenrick, don't tell, or it will get us all into trouble."

  "This, then, is the creature whom I have suffered to call me friend!"said Kenrick; "for whom I have given up some of the best friends in theschool! And this is your gratitude! Why, you worm, Wilton, what do youtake me for? Do you think that fear of _your_ disclosures will make mehush up twenty thefts? You enlist the whole strength of my conscienceagainst you, lest I should seem to screen you for my own sake. Faugh!your very touch sickens me!--go!"

  "O Kenrick, don't be so angry; I didn't mean to say it; I didn't knowwhat I was saying; I am driven into a corner by shame and misery. Iknow I have been a mean dog; but even if you tell of me, don't crush meso with your anger, for indeed, indeed, I _have_ been grateful, and haveloved you, Kenrick. But oh, don't tell, I implore, I entreat you, Ken.How little I thought that I should have to speak to you like this!"

  But Kenrick could only say--"_You_ the thief; _you_, the _last_ fellowof all I should have suspected; _you_ whom I have called friend, Oheavens! Yes, I know that I've done you harm by bad example, I knowthat I've much to answer for but at any rate I never taught you to be athief."

  "But one thing comes of another, Ken; it all came of my being so muchwith those brutes, and going to Dan's; it all came of that. I shouldn'thave thought myself that I could do it or do half the bad things I_have_ done, two months ago. It all came of that; and you used to gowith those fellows, Ken, and you went with me to Dan's;" and the boywrung his hands, and wept, and flung himself on his knees. "I must tellall, if you tell of _me_."

  "Say that again," said Kenrick, spurning him scornfully away, "say itonce again, and I go straight to Dr Lane. Poor worm, you don'tunderstand me, you don't seem to have the capability of a high thoughtin you. I tell you that nothing you can say of me shall shake mypurpose. I am going now."

  But before he could get his straw hat Wilton had clasped him by theknees, and in a voice of agony was beseeching him to relent.

  "It's all true, Kenrick; I am base, I know it; I have quenched allhonour in me. I won't say that again, but do, for God's sake, forgiveme this once, and not tell of me. O Kenrick, have _you_ never had tosay forgive? Do, do, pity me, as you hope to be forgiven; don't ruinme, and give me a bad name; I am so young, so young, and have falleninto bad hands from the first."

  He still knelt on the floor, exhausted with the violence of his passion,hanging his head upon his breast, sobbing as if his heart would break.It was sad to see him, a mere child still, who might have been sodifferent, long a little reprobate, and now a convicted thief. His facebathed in tears, his voice choked with sobs, the memory of the past,consciousness that much which he said was only too true, touched Kenrickwith compassion; the tears rolled down his own face fast, and he feltthat, though personal fear could not influence him, pity would perhapsforce him to relent, and wring from him in his weakness a reluctantpromise not to disclose Wilton's discovered guilt.

  "What can I say to you, Wilton? you know that I have liked you, but Inever thought that you could act like this."

  "Nor I, Kenrick, a short time ago; but the devil tempted me, and I havenever learned to resist."

  "From my very heart I _do_ pity you; but I fear I _must_ tell; I fearit's my duty, and I have neglected so many that I dare neglect no more;though indeed, I'd rather have had any duty but this."

  Wilton was again clasping his knees and harrowing his soul by his wildanguish, imploring to be saved from the horror of open shame, and,accustomed as Kenrick was to grant anything to this boy, he was reducedto great distress. Already his whole manner had relented from theloathing and anger he first displayed. He could stand no more atpresent.

  "O Wilton," he said, "you will make me ill if you go on like this. Icannot, must not, will not make you any promise now; but I will thinkwhat to do."

  "I will go," said Wilton, deeply abashed; "but before I go, promise meone thing, Ken, and that is, even if you tell of me, don't quite cast meoff. I shouldn't like to leave and think that I hadn't left _one_behind me to give me a kind thought sometimes."

  "O Ra, Ra, to think that it was _you_ all the while who were committingall these thefts!"

  "You _will_ cast me off then?" said Wilton, in a voice broken bypenitence; "O! what a bitter bitter thing it is to feel shame likethis."

  "I have felt it too in my time, Raven. Poor, poor fellow! who am I thatI should cast you off? No, you unhappy child, I may tell of you, but Iwill not cease to be fond of you. Go, Wilton; I will decide betweenthis and tea-time--you may come and hear about it after tea."

  He was already outside the door when Kenrick called out "Wilton, stop!"

  "What is it?" asked Wilton, returning alarmed, for conscience had madehim a coward.

  "There!" Kenrick only pointed to the purse lying on the floor.

  "Oh, don't ask me to touch it again, the money is in it," said Wilton,hastily leaving the room. There was no acting here; it was plain thathe was penitent--plain that he would have given worlds not to have beenguilty of the sin.

  Very sadly, and with pain and doubt, Kenrick thought the matter over,and thus much at least was clear to him: first, that the house must beinformed, though not necessarily the masters or the other boys;secondly, that Wilton must make full and immediate restitution to allfrom whom he had stolen; thirdly, there could be no doubt about it, thatWilton must get himself removed at once. On these conditions he thoughtit possible that the matter might be hushed up; but his conscience wasuneasy on this point. That unlucky threat or hint of Wilton's, that hecould and would tell some of his wrong-doings, was his greatstumbling-block; whenever extreme pity influenced him to screen the poorboy from full exposure, he began to ask himself whether this was a merecowardly alternative suggested by his own fears. But for this, he wouldhave determined at once on the more lenient and merciful course; but hehad to face this question of self-int
erest very earnestly, nor could hecome to any conclusion about it until he had determined to take a stepin all respects worthy of the highest side of his character, by going,in any case, spontaneously to Dr Lane and laying before him a frankconfession of past delinquencies, leaving him to act as he thought fit.

  Having thus disentangled the question from all its personal bearings hewas able to review it on its merits, and went to ask the counsel ofWhalley, to whom he related, in confidence, the whole scene exactly asit had occurred. Whalley, too, on hearing the alternative conditionswhich Kenrick had planned, was fully inclined to spare Wilton as much aspossible, but, as neither of them felt satisfied to do this on their ownauthority, they sought Power's advice and, as he too felt very doubtfulon the matter, he suggested that they should put it to Dr Lane, withoutmentioning any names, _as a hypothetical case_, and be finally guided byhis directions.

  Accordingly Kenrick sought Dr Lane's study, and laid the entiredifficulty before him. He listened attentively, and said, "If the boyis so young, and has been, as you say, misled, and accepts the verysensible conditions which you have proposed, I am inclined to think thatthe course you have suggested will be the wisest and the kindest one.You have my full authority, Kenrick, to arrange it so, and I am happy totell you that you have behaved throughout this matter in an honourableand straightforward way."

  "I fear, sir, I very little deserve your approval," said Kenrick, withdowncast eyes. "In coming to ask your advice in this case, I wantedalso to say that I have gone so far wrong that I think you ought to betold how badly I have behaved. It may be that after what I say, you maynot think right to allow me to stay here, sir; but at any rate I shallhave disburdened my own conscience by telling you, and shall perhapsfeel less wretched."

  "My dear Kenrick," said Dr Lane, "it was a right and a brave thing ofyou to come here for this purpose. Confession is often the first, as itis one of the most trying parts of repentance; and I hail this as a newproof of your strong and steady desire to amend. But tell me nothing,my dear boy. It may be that I know more than you suppose; at any rate,I accept the will for the deed, and wish to hear no more, unless,indeed, you desire to consult me as a clergyman, and as your spiritualadviser, rather than as your master. I do not seek this confidence;only if there is anything on your conscience of which my advice may helpto relieve you, I do not _forbid_ you to proceed, and I will give youwhat help I can."

  "I think it would relieve me, sir," said Kenrick; "I have no father; Ihave, I am sorry to say, no friend in the school to whom I could speak."

  "Then sit down, Kenrick, and be assured beforehand of my real sympathy."

  He sat down, and, twitching nervously at the ribbon of his straw hat,told Dr Lane much of the history of the last two years, confessing,above all, how badly he had behaved as head of the house, and how muchharm he feared his example had done.

  Dr Lane did not attempt to extenuate the heinousness of his offence,but he pointed out to him what were the fruits and the means ofrepentance. He exhorted him to let the sense of his past errorsstimulate him to double future exertions. He told him of many ways inwhich, by kindness, by moral courage, by Christian principle, he mightbe a help and a blessing to other boys. He earnestly warned him to lookto God for strength, and to watch and pray lest he should enter intotemptation. And then promising him a full and free oblivion of thepast, he knelt down with him and offered up from an overflowing heart afew words of earnest prayer.

  "There is nothing like prayer to relieve the heart, Kenrick," said DrLane; "and now, good-night, and God bless you!"

  With a far lighter heart, with far brighter hopes, Kenrick left him,feeling as if a great burden had been rolled away, and inwardly blessingthe doctor for his comforting kindness. He found Wilton anxiouslyawaiting his arrival in his study; and thinking that their cases in somerespects resembled each other, he strove not to be like the unforgivingdebtor of the parable, and spoke to Wilton with great gentleness.

  "Come here, my poor child; first of all, let me tell you that you shallnot be reported." Wilton repaid him by a look of grateful joy.

  "But you must restore all the stolen money, Wilton; the house must betold privately; and you must leave at once."

  "Well, Kenrick, I ask only one favour," said Wilton, after a shortpause.

  "What is that?"

  "That the house may not be told who stole the money until it is nearlytime for me to go."

  "No; it shall be kept close till then, otherwise the next fortnightwould be too hard for you to bear."

  "But _must_ I leave?" asked Wilton, appealingly.

  "It must be so, Wilton; _I_ shall be sorry for you, but it must besettled so. Can you manage it?"

  "O yes," said Wilton, crying quietly; "I'll write home and tell my poormother all about it, and then of course she'll send me some money andtake me away at once, to save me from being expelled. My poor mother,how wretched it will make her!"

  "Sin makes us all wretched, Raven boy. I'm sure it makes me wretchedenough. And that you mayn't think that fear has had anything to do withour letting you off, I must tell you, Wilton, that I've been to Dr Lanehimself and told him all the many sins I've been guilty of."

  "Have you? Oh! I'm so sorry; it was all through me."

  "Yes; but I'm not sorry; I'm all the happier for it, Raven. There'snothing so miserable as undiscovered sin--is there?"

  "Oh, indeed, there isn't. I'm sure I feel happier now in spite of all.No one knows, Ken, how I've suffered this last fortnight. I've been ina perpetual fright; I've had fearful dreams; I've felt ready to sink forshame; and I've always been fancying that fellows suspected me. Do youknow, I am almost glad you caught me, Ken. I'm _very_ glad it was youand no one else, though it was a _horrid, horrid_ moment when you laidyour hand on my shoulder. Yet even this isn't so bad as to have gone onnursing the guilt secretly, and not to have been detected."

  Kenrick was musing; the boy who could talk like that was clearly one who_might_ have been, very unlike what Wilton then was.

  "Wilton," he said, "come here and draw your chair by mine while I readyou a little story."

  "O Ken, I'm so grateful that you don't hate and despise me though I ama--"; he murmured the word "thief" with a shudder, and under his breath,as he drew up his chair, and Kenrick read to him in a low voice thestory of Achan, till he came to the verses--

  "And Achan, the son of Carmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zerah, of thetribe of Judah, was taken.

  "And Joshua said, _My son, give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord God ofIsrael, and make confession unto him_; and tell me now what thou hastdone, hide it not from me.

  "And Achan answered Joshua and said, Indeed I have sinned against theLord God of Israel, and thus and thus have I done."

  And there Kenrick stopped, while Wilton said, "My son! You see Joshuastill called him `my son' in spite of all his sin and mischief."

  "Yes, Raven boy, but that wasn't why I read you the story which hasoften struck me. What I wanted you to see was this: The man wasdetected--the thing had been coming, creeping horribly near to him;first his tribe marked by the fatal lot, then his family, then hishouse, then himself; and while he's standing there, guilty and detected,in the very midst of that crowd who had been defeated because of hisbaseness, and when all their eyes were scowling on him, and when heknows that he, and his sons, and his daughters, are going to be burnedand stoned--at this very moment Joshua says to him, `My son, _give, Ipray thee, glory to the God of Israel_.' You see he's to _thank God_for detecting him--thank God even at that frightful moment, and withthat frightful death before him as a consequence. One would havethought that it wasn't a matter for much gratitude or jubilation; butyou see it _was_, and so both Joshua and Achan seem to have admitted."

  "Ah, Kenrick!" said Wilton, sadly, "if you'd always talked to me likethat, I shouldn't be like Achan now."

  Kenrick said nothing, but as he had received infinite comfort from DrLane's treatment of himself, he took Wilton by the hand, and, witho
utsaying a word, knelt down. Wilton knelt down beside him, and he prayedfor forgiveness for them both. A few broken, confused, uncertain wordsonly, but they were earnest, and they came fresh and burning from theheart. They were words of true prayer, and the poor, erring, hardenedlittle boy rose from his knees too overcome to speak.