Julian Home Part 6

He expected, at least, something which should resemble a welcome, or a direction what to do. Nothing of the kind, however, came. While Julian was awaiting some remark, the tutor shuffled, hemmed, and looked ill at ease, as though at a loss how to begin the conversation.

At last Julian, in despair, asked, "Whereabouts are my rooms, sir?"

"Oh, the porter will show you; you'll find no difficulty about them,"

said the tutor.

"Have you anything further to ask me, Mr Home?" he inquired, after another little pause.

"Nothing whatever, sir," said Julian, a little indignantly, for he began to feel much like what a volcano may be supposed to do when its crater is filled with snow. "Have you anything to tell me, sir?"

"No, Mr Home. I hope you'll--that is--I hope--good morning," he said, as Julian, to relieve him from an unprofitable commonplace, backed towards the door, and made a formal bow.

"Humph," thought Julian. "What an icicle; not much good to be got out of that quarter. An intolerably cold reception. It's odd, too, for the man must have heard all about me from Mr Carden."

As we shall have very little to do with Mr Grayson, we may here allow him a cordial word of apology. What was to Julian the commencement of an epoch, was, be it remembered, to the tutor a commonplace and almost everyday event. The whole of that week he had been occupied in receiving visits from "the early fathers," who came up in charge of their sons, and all of whom seemed to expect that he would show the liveliest and tenderest interest in their respective prodigies. Other freshmen had visited him unaccompanied, and some of them seemed rather inclined to patronise him than otherwise. He was a shy man, and always had a painful suspicion at heart that people were laughing at him.

Having lived the life of a student, he had never acquired the polished ease of a man of the world, and had a nervous dread of strangers. His manners were but an icy s.h.i.+eld of self-defence against ridicule, and they suited his somewhat sensitive dignity. He persuaded himself, too, that the "men" on his side were "men" in years and discretion as well as name, and that they must stand or fall unaided, since the years of boyish discipline and school constraint were gone by. It never occurred to him that a word spoken in due season might be of incalculable benefit to many of his charge. Being a man of slow sensibilities, he could not sympathise with the enthusiastic temperament of youths like Julian, nor did he ever single out one of his pupils either for partiality or dislike. Yet he was thoroughly kind-hearted, and many remembered his good deeds with generous grat.i.tude. Nor was he wholly wrong in his theory that a tutor often does as much harm by meddling interference as he does by distance and neglect.

When a boy goes to college, eager, quick, impetuous, rejoicing as a giant to run his course, he is generally filled with n.o.ble resolutions and elevating thoughts. There is a touch of flame and of romance in his disposition; he feels himself to be the member of a brotherhood, and longs to be a distinguished and worthy one; he is anxious for all that is grand and right, and yearns for a little sympathy to support his determination and enliven his hopes. Some there may be so dull and sensual, so swallowed up in selfishness and conceit, so chill to every generous sentiment, and callous to every stirring impulse, that they experience none of this; their sole aim is, on the one hand to succeed, or on the other, to amuse and gratify themselves, to cultivate all their animal propensities, and drown in the mud-honey of premature independence the last relics of their childish aspirations. With men like this, to dress showily, to drive tandem and give champagne breakfasts, comes as a matter of course; while their supremest delight is to wander back to their old school, in fawn-coloured dittos, and with a cigar in their mouths, to show their superiority to all sense of decency and good taste. But these are the rare exceptions. However much they may conceal their own emotions, however dead and cynical, and contemptible they may grow in after days, there are few men of ordinary uprightness who do not feel a thrill of genuine enthusiasm when they first enter the walls of their college, and who will not own it without a blush.

Now Julian was an enthusiast by nature and temperament; all the sentiments which we have been describing he felt with more than ordinary intensity. It gave a grandeur to his hopes, and a distinct sense of enn.o.bling pleasure to remember that he was treading the courts which generations of the good and wise had trodden before him, and holding in his hand the torch which they had handed down to him. _Their_ memory still lingered there, and he trusted that _his_ name too might in after days be not wholly unremembered. At least he would strive, with a G.o.dlike energy, to fail in no duty, and to leave no effort unfulfilled.

If he viewed his coming life too much in its poetical aspect, at least his glowing aspirations and golden dreams were tempered with a deep humility and a childlike faith.

After fuming a little at the icy reception which his tutor had given him, he walked up and down the court, thinking of his position, and his intentions--of the past, the present, and the future--until proud tears glistened in his eyes. It was clear to him that now he would have to stand alone amid life's trials, and alone face life's temptations. And he was ready for the struggle. With G.o.d's help he would not miss the meaning of his life, but take the tide of opportunity while it was at the flood.

Before rejoining his mother, he determined to call on one of the junior fellows, the only one with whom he had any acquaintance, the Reverend N Admer. He only knew him from a casual introduction; but Mr Admer had asked him to call, on his arrival at Saint Werner's, and Julian hoped both to get some information from him to dissipate the painful feeling of strangeness and novelty, and also partially to do away with the effect of Mr Grayson's coldness.

Although it was now past ten in the morning, he found Mr Admer only just beginning breakfast, and looking tired and lazy. He was received with a patronising and supercilious tone, and the Fellow not only went on with his breakfast, but occasionally glanced at a newspaper while he talked. Not that Mr Admer at all meant to be unkind or rude, but he hated enthusiasm in every shape; he did not believe in it, and it wearied him--hence freshmen during their first few days were his profound abhorrence.

After a few commonplace remarks, Julian ventured on a question or two as to the purchases which he would immediately require, the hours of lecture and hall, and the thousand-and-one trifles of which a newcomer is necessarily ignorant. Mr Admer seemed to think this a great bore, and answered languidly enough, advising Julian not to be "more fresh"

than he could help. It requires very small self-denial to make a person at home by supplying him with a little information; but small as the effort would have been, it was greater than the Reverend N Admer could afford to make, and his answers were so little encouraging that Julian, making ample allowance for the ennuye condition of the young Fellow, relapsed into silence.

"And what do you think of Saint Werner's?" asked Mr Admer, taking the initiative, with a yawn.

Julian's face lighted up. "Think of it! I feel uncommonly proud already of being a Saint Werner's man."

"Genius loci, and all that sort of thing, eh?"

The sneering way in which this was said left room for no reply, so Mr Admer continued.

"Ah you'll soon find all that sort of twaddle wear off."

"I hope not," said Julian.

"Of course you intend to be senior cla.s.sic, or senior wrangler, or something of that sort?"

"I expect simply nothing; but if I were inclined to soar, one might have a still higher ambition than that."

"Oh, I see; an embryo Newton,--all that sort of thing."

"I didn't mean quite 'all that sort of thing,' since you seem fond of the phrase," said Julian, "but really I think my aspirations, whatever they are, would only tire you. Good morning."

"Good morning," said Mr Admer, nodding. "We don't shake hands up here.

I shall come and call on you soon."

"The later the better," thought Julian, as he descended the narrow stairs. "Good heavens! is that a fair specimen of a don, I wonder. If so, I shall certainly confine my acquaintance to the undergraduates."

No, Julian, not a fair specimen of a don altogether, but in some of his aspects a fair specimen of a certain cla.s.s of university men, who profess to admire nothing, hope for nothing, love nothing; who think warmth of heart a folly, and sentiment a crime; who would not display an interest in any thing more important than a boat-race or a game of bowls, to save their lives; who are very fond of the phrase, "all that sort of nonsense," to express everything that rises above the dead level of their own dead mediocrity in intelligence and life. If you would not grovel in spirit; if you would not lose every tear that sparkles, and every sigh that burns; if you would not ossify the very power of pa.s.sion; if you would not turn your soul into a ma.s.s of shapeless lead, avoid those despicable cynics, who never leave their discussion of the merits of beer, or the powers of stroke oars, unless it be to carp at acknowledged eminence, and jeer at genuine emotion. How often in such company have I seen men relapse into stupid silence, because, if they ventured on any expression of lively interest, one of the throng, amid the scornful indifference of the rest, would give the only acknowledgment of his remark, by taking the pipe out of his mouth, to give vent to a low guttural laugh.

After this it was lucky for Julian that he had brought his mother and sister with him, and that a moment after leaving Mr Admer he caught sight of Hugh Lillyston. With a joyful expression of surprise, they grasped each other's hands, and interchanged so friendly a greeting that Julian in an instant had scattered to the winds the gloomy impression which was beginning to creep over him.

"How long have you been here, Hugh?"

"I came yesterday."

"Have you seen your rooms yet?"

"No; I am just going to look for them."

"Well, come along; I know where they are."

"But stop," said Julian, "I must go to the Eagle first for my people.

They'll be expecting me."

"Really. So Mrs Home's here?" asked Lillyston.

"Yes, and my sister. If you've nothing to do, come and be introduced."

"How immensely jolly. I wish _my_ mother and sister had taken the trouble to come with me, I know."

They went to the hotel, and Lillyston was able to gratify the curiosity he had long felt to see his friend's relations.

"Whom do you think I've brought back with me, mother? guess," said Julian, as he entered the room beaming with pleasure. "Here, Hugh, come along. My mother--my sister--Mr Lillyston."

"What! is this the Mr Lillyston of whom we've heard so much?" asked Mrs Home, with a cordial shake of the hand, while Violet looked up with a quick glance of curiosity and pleasure.

"No other," said Hugh, laughing; "and really I feel as if I were an old friend already."

"You are so, I a.s.sure you," said Mrs Home, "and I hope we shall often meet now." Lillyston hoped the same, as he looked at Violet.

It was arranged that they should all four go at once to Julian's rooms, and help in the grand operation of unpacking. The rooms were very pleasant attics in the great court, looking out on the Fellows'

bowling-green, and the Iscam flowing beyond it. The furniture, most of which Julian was going to take from the previous possessor, was neat and comfortable, and when the book shelves began to glitter with his Harton prizes and gift-books, Julian was delighted beyond measure with the appearance of his new home.

For some hours the unpacking continued vigorously, only interrupted by an excursion for lunch to the hotel, since Julian had as yet purchased no plates and received no commons.

On their return they found an old lady in the room--

"A charred and wrinkled piece of womanhood;"

who, in a voice like the grating of a blunt saw, informed Julian that she was to be his bedmaker, and asked him whether he intended "to tea"