Louis' School Days Part 13

"Poor fellow," replied Hamilton, smiling. "He is a sweet-tempered, gentle boy; a little too anxious to be well thought of, and has, perhaps, too little _moral courage_. I own he has interested me.

His very timidity and his numerous sc.r.a.pes called forth pity in the first instance, and then I saw more. I should not have been surprised at his telling a lie in the first place, but I do not think he would persist in it."

"I'm afraid wisdom's at fault," said Frank, shaking his head: "you would not say that Ferrers helped him?--I mean took the key to get him into a sc.r.a.pe."

"I accused no one, Digby," replied Hamilton, in a reserved tone; "nor am I going to wrong any one by uttering unformed suspicions."

"Enough has been said," remarked Trevannion; "let us drop the subject, and talk of something more interesting to all parties."

While these young gentlemen pursue their walk, we will retrace our steps to the wagon, where Louis and his little friend have taken shelter.

Churchill, finding neither seemed very much inclined to encourage his conversational powers, took himself off, after remaining in the shade long enough to cool himself. After his departure Louis and Alfred talked lazily on of their own pleasant thoughts and schemes, both delighted at being once more in each other's society. They were within sight of the masters out on the downs, and who had forbidden them to wander beyond certain limits, but still so far from their school-fellows as to be able to enjoy their own private conversation unmolested, and in the feeling of seclusion.

At length, after a pause, Louis made an original remark on the beauty of the weather, which was immediately responded to by his companion, who added that he had not known such a fine day since Miss Wilkinson's wedding.

"Don't you think so?" said Louis; "I think we had one or two Sundays quite as fine."

"Perhaps I thought that day so very fine, because I wanted to go out,"

said Alfred.

"What do you mean?" asked Louis: "we had a holiday then."

"Yes, I know, but I was not allowed to go out because I had been idle, and had spoken improperly to Mr. Norton. I remember it was so sad. I a.s.sure you, Louis, I cried nearly all day; for I was shut up in your cla.s.s-room, and I heard all the boys so merry outside. The very thought makes me quite sorrowful now."

A thought flashed across Louis' mind, and he asked quickly--

"Were you shut up in our cla.s.s-room that holiday, Alfred? I never saw you when I went in."

"But I saw you once," said Alfred, "when you came in for an atlas; and I saw Mr. Ferrers, and afterwards Edward and Mr. Salisbury and Mr. Trevannion come in; but I was ashamed, and I did not want any one to see me, so I hid myself between the book-case and the wall."

"Did your brother know you were there?" asked Louis.

"Not _there_," replied Alfred. "He thought I was to go into Dr. Wilkinson's study; but I could not go there, and I didn't want him to speak to me."

"Did Ferrers come to fetch any thing, Alfred?"

Alfred laughed. "It won't be telling tales out of school to tell you, Louis. He came for a key to the first-cla.s.s exercise book."

"How do you know it was a first-cla.s.s exercise book, Alfred?"

asked Louis, with a glowing face and beating heart.

"I know Edward does Kenrick's Latin Exercises, and I know the key because it's just like the book, and I have seen Mr. Ferrers with it before. I remember once on a half-holiday he did his lessons in the school-room at my desk, and he had it open in the desk, and as I wanted something out. I saw it, though he did not think I did."

"Oh Alfred, Alfred!" cried Louis, clasping him very tightly. "Oh Alfred!

_dear_ Alfred!"

The child looked up in astonishment, but Louis was so wild with excitement that he could not say any more.

Just at that moment there was an abrupt movement in the wagon, and Ferrers' head was put over the side.

Alfred uttered an exclamation of fear. "Oh, there's Mr. Ferrers!"

"What rubbish have you been talking, you little impostor?" cried Ferrers.

"How dare you talk in such a manner? I've a great mind to kick you from Land's End to John o' Groat's house."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ferrers begins to be found out.]

"Ferrers, you know it's all true," said Louis.

Ferrers' face was white with pa.s.sion and anxiety. "Get along with you, Alfred, you'd better not let me hear any more of your lies, I can tell you."

"If you had not been listening you would not have heard," replied Alfred, taking care to stand out of Ferrers' reach. "Listeners never hear any good of themselves, Mr. Ferrers: you know it's all true, and if I'd told Edward, you wouldn't have liked it."

"Alfred dear, don't say so much," said Louis.

Alfred here set off running, as Ferrers had dismounted in a very threatening att.i.tude, but instead of giving chase to the daring fugitive, the conscience-stricken youth drew near Louis, who was standing in a state of such delight that he must be excused a little if no thought of his school-fellow's disgrace marred it at present.

A glance at the changed and terror-stricken countenance of that school-fellow checked the exuberance of Louis' joy, for he was too sympathizing not to feel for him, and he said in a gentle tone,

"I am very sorry for you, Ferrers,--you have heard all that Alfred has said."

"Louis Mortimer!" exclaimed Ferrers, in agony; and Louis was half alarmed by the wild despair of his manner, and the vehemence with which he seized his arm. "Louis Mortimer--it is all true--but what shall I do?"

Louis was so startled that he could not answer at first: at last he replied,

"Go and tell the doctor yourself--that will be much the best way."

"Listen to me a moment--just listen a moment--as soon as Dr. Wilkinson knows it, I shall be expelled, and I shall be ruined for life. What I have suffered, Louis! Oh--you see how it was; I dared not tell about it--how can I hope you can forgive me?"

"I think you must have seen that I forgave you long ago," replied Louis; "I wish I could do any thing for you, Ferrers, but you cannot expect me to bear the blame of this any longer. I think if you tell it to the doctor yourself, he will, perhaps, overlook it, and I will beg for you."

"Oh, Louis!" said Ferrers, seizing the pa.s.sive hand, and speaking more vehemently; "you heard what the doctor said, and he will do it--and for one fault to lose all my prospects in life! I shall leave at the holidays, and then I will tell Dr. Wilkinson; will you--can you--to save a fellow from such disgrace, spare me a little longer? There are only four weeks--oh, Louis! I shall be eternally obliged--but if you could tell--I have a father--just think how yours would feel. Louis, will you, can you do this very great favor for me? I don't deserve any mercy from you, I know; but you are better than I am."

All the bright visions of acknowledged innocence fled, and a blank seemed to come over poor Louis' soul. The sacrifice seemed far too great, and he felt as if he were not called to make it; and yet--a glance at Ferrers' face--his distress, but not his meanness, struck him. A minute before, he had indulged in bright dreams of more than restoration to favor--of his brother's delight--of his father's and mother's approbation--of his grandfather's satisfaction--and Hamilton's friendly congratulations. And to give up this! it was surely too much to expect.

During his silence, Ferrers kept squeezing, and even kissing, his now cold hand, and repeating,

"Dear Louis--be merciful--will you pity me?--think of all--I don't deserve it, I know." And though the meanness and cowardliness were apparent, Louis looked at little else than the extreme agony of the suppliant.

"Don't kiss my hand, Ferrers--I can't bear it," he said at length, drawing his hand quickly away; and there was something akin to disgust mingled with the sorrowful look he gave to his companion.

"But Louis, will you?"

"Oh Ferrers! it is a hard thing to ask of me," said Louis, bitterly.

"Just for a little longer," implored Ferrers, "to save me from a lasting disgrace."

Louis turned his head away--it was a hard, hard struggle: "I will try to bear it if G.o.d will help me," he said; "I will not mention it at present."

"Oh! how can I thank you! how can I! how shall I ever be able!"