Louis' School Days Part 12

"And you never will," rejoined Reginald, "if you don't make a beginning: I'll teach you--now put away that stupid book."

"_Stupid!_" said Louis. "It's Coleridge, that mamma promised to read to us."

"I hate poetry," exclaimed Reginald; "I wonder how anybody can read such stuff. Give me the book, Louis, and come along."

"No, thank you, I'd rather not."

"What a donkey you are!" said Meredith: "why don't you learn?"

"Perhaps my reputation may be the safer for not divulging my reasons,"

said Louis, archly: "it is sufficient for present purposes that I had rather not."

"_Rather not_--_rather not_," echoed Meredith: "like one of your sensible reasons."

"He has refused to give them, so you cannot call that his reason, Meredith," remarked Reginald; "but let us be off, as Louis won't come."

Away they ran, and after looking at them for a minute, Louis turned off his own way, but it was destined that he should not read the _Ancient Mariner_ that day, for he was presently interrupted by little Alfred Hamilton, who pounced upon him full of joy.

"Louis," he cried, "I am so glad to speak to you! I don't know how it is that I have not been able to speak to you lately: I half thought Edward did not like it, but he asked me to-day why I did not come to you now."

"Did he?" exclaimed Louis, with joyful surprise; "I am very glad you are come. I think we shall have a beautiful walk."

"I can't think how it is, Louis, that everybody is either so grave or rude when I speak of you. What is the matter?"

"A mistake; and a sad one for me," said Louis, gravely. "But don't say any thing about it, Alfred; they think I have been doing something very wrong; but all will come out some day."

"I hope so," replied little Alfred; "I cannot think what you can have done wrong, Louis, you always seem so good."

The child looked wistfully up in Louis' face as he spoke, and seemed to wait some explanation.

"That is because you do not know much about me, Alfred," replied Louis; "but in this one case I have not done wrong, I a.s.sure you."

Alfred asked no more questions, though he looked more than once in the now sorrowful young face by him, as they sauntered along the wide downs.

"Here come Edward and Mr. Trevannion," said Alfred, turning round; "and there is Frank Digby, and Mr. Ferrers, too. I think Edward is going to Bristol this afternoon."

This intimation of the august approach of his majesty and court was hardly given when the young gentlemen pa.s.sed Louis. Hamilton, with Trevannion, as usual, leaning on his arm, and Frank Digby walking backwards before them, vainly endeavoring to support a failing argument with a flood of nonsense, a common custom with this young gentleman; and, by the way, we might recommend it as remarkably convenient at such times, to prevent the pain of a total discomfiture, it being more pleasant to slip quietly and unseen from your pedestal to some perfectly remote topic, than to allow yourself to be hurled roughly therefrom by the rude hand of a more sound and successful disputant.

"Enough, enough, Frank!" exclaimed Hamilton, laughing. "I see through your flimsy veil. We won't say any more: you either argue in a circle, or try to blind us."

Louis looked up as Hamilton pa.s.sed, in hopes that that magnate might give him a favorable glance, in which he was not mistaken, for Edward the Great had been watching him from some distance, and was perfectly aware of his near approach to him.

He certainly did not seem displeased, though the grave countenance bore no marks of particular satisfaction at the rencontre. He spoke carelessly to his brother, and then, addressing Louis, said, "You must look after him, Louis, if you wish for his company; if not, dismiss him at once."

"I do wish for him," said Louis, with a bright look of grat.i.tude; "I promise to take care of him. Mr. Hamilton, I am getting up in my cla.s.s--I am fifth now."

The latter communication was made doubtfully, in a tone indicating mixed pleasure and timidity.

"I am glad to hear it," was Hamilton's laconic reply. He did not quicken his pace. "What have you there?" he asked, noticing his book.

"Coleridge's _Ancient Mariner_; I was going to read it," replied Louis; "but now Alfred has come we shall talk: shall we not, Alfred?"

This was accompanied by another look of grateful pleasure at Alfred's brother.

What was pa.s.sing in Hamilton's mind was not to be gathered from his countenance, which exhibited no emotion of any kind. He turned to Trevannion, as their party was strengthened by Churchill, remarking, "Here comes the sucking fish."

"It's _uncommon_ hot," said Churchill, taking off his hat, and fanning himself with his handkerchief.

"_Dreadful_ warm," said Frank Digby, in exactly the same tone.

"And there is not a breath of wind on the horrid downs," continued the sapient youth, perfectly unconscious of Frank's mimicry.

"What will the fair Louisa do?" cried Frank: "O that a zephyr would have pity on that delicate form!"

Across their path lay a wagon, from which the horses had been detached, and which now offered a tempting though homely shelter to those among the pedestrians who might choose to sit on the shady side, or to avail themselves of the accommodation afforded by the awning over the interior.

Ferrers threw himself full length inside the cart: and Louis, drawing Alfred to the shady side, seated himself by him on the gra.s.s. His example was followed by Churchill, who exclaimed rapturously as he did so, "How nice! This puts me in mind of a Latin sentence; I forget the Latin, but I remember the English--'Oh, 'tis pleasant to sit in the shade!'"

"Of a wagon," said Frank, laughing. "Remarkably romantic! It is so sweet to hear the birds chirp, and the distant hum of human voices--but language fails! As for Lady Louisa, she is in the Elysium of ecstasy.

It's _so_ romantic."

"Are you going to Bristol, Frank, for I'm off?" said Hamilton.

"Coming," replied Frank. "We'll leave these romantic mortals to their sequestered glen. There ain't nothing like imagination, my good sirs."

As he joined his companions, Trevannion remarked to Hamilton, "Little Mortimer is so much the gentleman, you never know him do or say any thing vulgar or awkward. It is a pity one can't depend upon him."

"I am not quite sure that you cannot," replied Hamilton.

"How!" said Trevannion, in astonishment.

"Are you going to turn Paladin for her ladys.h.i.+p?" asked Frank.

"I have been watching Louis very carefully, and the more I see, the more I doubt his guilt," replied Hamilton.

"After what you saw yourself? After all that was seen by others?

Impossible, my dear Hamilton!" exclaimed Trevannion. "You cannot exonerate him without criminating others."

"We shall see," replied Hamilton; "and more than that, Trevannion, I am certain that Dr. Wilkinson has his doubts now, too."

"But does Fudge know any thing about his old pranks?" asked Frank, incredulously.

"I cannot say," replied Hamilton; "but I think that he probably does; for what is so well known now among ourselves, is likely enough to reach his quick ears."

"But knowing all you do, my dear Hamilton," said Trevannion, expostulatingly, "you must be strongly prejudiced in your protege's favor to admit a doubt in this case. Has Dr. Wilkinson told you that he has any doubts?"

"No," replied Hamilton; "you know the doctor would not reveal his mind unless he were confident, but I have noticed some little things, and am sure that though he seems generally so indifferent to Louis' presence and concerns, and so distant and cold towards him, he's nevertheless watching him very narrowly; and I, for my part, expect to see things take a new turn before long."

"The boy seems quite to have won your heart," said Trevannion.