The Crofton Boys Part 22

"It is not near dark; it will not be dark this hour. Anybody might run there and back before supper."

He looked at Dale; but Dale looked another way. For a moment he thought of Tooke's permission to appeal to him when he wanted a friend: but Tooke was not within hearing; and he dismissed the thought of pointing out Tooke to anybody's notice. He turned away as Phil repeated that it was quite certain that there would be no bad consequences from his being unprovided with a theme, which was not one of his regular lessons.

Phil was not quite easy, however: nor were the others who heard; and in a minute they looked round for Hugh. He was leaning his face upon his arms, against the orchard-wall; and when, with gentle force, they pulled him away, they saw that his face was bathed in tears. He sobbed out,--

"I took such pains with that theme,--all the holidays! And I can't go for it myself."

There were loud exclamations from many against Phil, against one another, and against themselves; and now everybody was eager to go.

Phil stopped all who had started off, saying that it was his business; and the next moment, Phil was at Mr Tooke's study-door, asking leave of absence till supper.

"Little Holt has been beforehand with you," said Mr Tooke. "I refused him, however, as he is not so fit as you to be out after dark. Off with you!"

Before Phil returned, it struck Hugh that he had been very selfish; and that it was not a good way of bearing his trial to impose on any one a walk of four miles, to repair a piece of carelessness of his own.

n.o.body blamed him; but he did not like to look in the faces round him, to see what people thought. When Phil returned, fresh and hungry from the frosty air, and threw down the paper, saying,--

"There is your theme, and my aunt is very sorry," Hugh said,--

"Oh! Phil, and I am so sorry too! I hope you are not very tired."

"Never mind!" replied Phil. "There is your theme."

And with this Hugh was obliged to be satisfied; but it left him exceedingly uncomfortable--sorry for Phil--disappointed in Dale--and much more disappointed in himself. The thought of what Holt had wished to do was the only pleasant part of it; and Hugh worked beside Holt, and talked with him all the evening.

Hugh felt, the next morning, as if he was never to have any pleasure from his themes, though they were the lesson he did best. This one was praised, quite as much as the former one: and he did not this time tell anybody what Mr Tooke had said about it: but the pleasure was spoiled by the recollection that his brother had run four miles on account of it, and that he himself must have appeared to others more selfish than he thought them. He burned his theme, that he might the more easily forget all about it; and the moment after he had done so, Phil said he should have kept it, as other boys did theirs, for his parents to see.

Mr Crabbe was just such a master as it was good for the little boys to be under. He did not punish capriciously, nor terrify them by anything worse than his strictness. Very strict he was; and he thus caused them some fear every day: for Holt was backward, and not very clever: and Hugh was still much less able to learn than most other boys. But all felt that Mr Crabbe was not unreasonable, and they always knew exactly how much to be afraid of. Whether he had inquired, or been told, the story of Hugh's lameness, they did not know. He said nothing about it, except just asking Hugh whether it tired him to stand up in cla.s.s, saying that he might sit at the top or bottom of the cla.s.s, instead of taking places, if he chose. Hugh did find it rather fatiguing at first: but he did not like to take advantage of Mr Crabbe's offer, because it so happened that he was almost always at the bottom of his cla.s.ses: and to have withdrawn from the contest would have looked like a trick to hide the shame, and might have caused him to be set down as a dunce who never could rise. He thanked Mr Crabbe, and said that if he should rise in his cla.s.ses, and keep a good place for some time, he thought he should be glad to sit, instead of standing; but meantime he had rather be tired. Then the feeling of fatigue went off before he rose, or saw any chance of rising.

This inability to do his lessons so well as other boys was a deep and lasting grief to Hugh. Though he had in reality improved much since he came to Crofton, and was now and then cheered by some proof of this, his general inferiority in this respect was such as to mortify him every day of his life, and sometimes to throw him almost into despair. He saw that everybody pitied him for the loss of his foot, but not for this other trouble, while he felt this to be rather the worst of the two; and all the more because he was not sure himself whether or not he could help it, as every one else seemed certain that he might. When he said his prayer in his bed, he earnestly entreated that he might be able to bear the one trouble, and be delivered from the other; and when, as the spring came on, he was found by one friend or another lying on the gra.s.s with his face hidden, he was often praying with tears for help in doing this duty, when he was thought to be grieving that he could not play at leaping or foot-ball, like other boys. And yet, the very next evening, when the whole school were busy over their books, and there was nothing to interfere with his work, he would pore over his lesson without taking in half the sense, while his fancy was straying everywhere but where it ought;--perhaps to little Harry, or the Temple Gardens at home, or to Cape Horn, or j.a.pan--some way farther off still. It did not often happen now, as formerly, that he forgot before morning a lesson well learned over-night. He was aware that now everything depended on whether he was once sure of his lesson; but the difficulty was in once being sure of it.

Finding Phil's kindness continue through the first weeks and months of the half-year, Hugh took courage at last to open his mind pretty freely to his brother, offering to do anything in the world for Phil, if he would only hear him his lessons every evening till he could say them perfect. Phil was going to plead that he had no time, when Hugh popped out--

"The thing is that it does not help me to say them to just anybody.

Saying them to somebody that I am afraid of is what I want."

"Why, you are not afraid of me?" said Phil. "Yes I am--rather."

"What for?"

"Oh, because you are older;--and you are so much more of a Crofton boy than I am--and you are very strict--and altogether--"

"Yes, you will find me pretty strict, I can tell you," said Phil, unable to restrain a complacent smile on finding that somebody was afraid of him. "Well, we must see what we can do. I will hear you to-night, at any rate."

Between his feeling of kindness and the gratification of his vanity, Phil found himself able to hear his brother's lessons every evening. He was certainly very strict, and was not sparing of such pushes, joggings, and ridicule as were necessary to keep Hugh up to his work. These were very provoking sometimes; but Hugh tried to bear them for the sake of the gain. Whenever Phil would condescend to explain, in fresh words, the sense of what Hugh had to learn, he saved trouble to both, and the lesson went off quickly and easily: but sometimes he would not explain anything, and soon went away in impatience, leaving Hugh in the midst of his perplexities. There was a chance, on such occasions, that Firth might be at leisure, or Dale able to help: so that, one way and another, Hugh found his affairs improving as the spring advanced; and he began to lose his anxiety, and to gain credit with the usher. He also now and then won a place in his cla.s.ses.

Towards the end of May, when the trees were full of leaf, and the evenings sunny, and the open air delicious, quite up to bedtime, Phil became persuaded, very suddenly, that Hugh could get on by himself now; that it was not fair that he should be helped; and that it was even hurtful to him to rely on any one but himself. If Phil had acted gradually upon this conviction, withdrawing his help by degrees, it might have been all very well: but he refused at once and decidedly to have anything more to do with Hugh's lessons, as he was quite old and forward enough now to do them by himself. This announcement threw his brother into a state of consternation not at all favourable to learning; and the next morning Hugh made several blunders. He did the same every day that week; was every afternoon detained from play to learn his lessons again; and on the Sat.u.r.day morning (repet.i.tion day) he lost all the places he had gained, and left off at the bottom of every cla.s.s.

What could Mr Crabbe suppose but that a sudden fit of idleness was the cause of this falling back? It appeared so to him, and to the whole school; and poor Hugh felt as if there was scorn in every eye that looked upon his disgrace. He thought there could not be a boy in the school who did not see or hear that he was at the bottom of every cla.s.s.

Mr Crabbe always desired to be just: and he now gave Hugh the opportunity of explaining, if he had anything to say. He remained in the school-room after the boys had left it, and asked Hugh a question or two. But Hugh sobbed and cried so bitterly that he could not speak so as to be understood; and he did not wish to explain, feeling that he was much obliged to Phil for his former help, and that he ought not to complain to any master of its being now withdrawn. So Mr Crabbe could only hope that next week would show a great difference, and advise him to go out with the rest this afternoon, to refresh himself for a new effort.

Hugh did not know whether he had not rather have been desired to stay at home than go out among so many who considered him disgraced. It really was hard (though Holt stood by him, and Dale was his companion as usual) to bear the glances he saw, and the words that came to his ear. Some boys looked to see how red his eyes were: some were surprised to see him abroad, and hinted a favouritism because he was not shut up in the school-room. Some asked whether he could say his alphabet yet; and others whether he could spell "dunce." The most cruel thing of all was to see Tooke in particularly high spirits. He kept away from Hugh; but Hugh's eye followed him from afar, and saw that he capered and laughed, and was gayer than at any time this half-year. Hugh saw into his heart (or thought he did) as plain as he saw to the bottom of the clear stream in the meadows, to which they were bound for their afternoon's sport.

"I know what Tooke is feeling," thought he. "He is pleased to see me lowered, as long as it is not his doing. He is sorry to see me suffer by my lameness; because that hurts his conscience: but he is pleased to see me wrong and disgraced, because that relieves him of the feeling of being obliged to me. If I were now to put him in mind of his promise, to stand by me, and protect me--I declare I will--it will stop his wicked joy--it will make him remember his duty."

Dale wondered to see Hugh start off, as fast as he could go, to overtake the foremost boys, who were just entering the meadow, and spreading themselves over it. Tooke could, alas! Like everybody else, go faster than Hugh; and there was no catching him, though he did not seem to see that anybody wanted him. Neither could he be made to hear, though Hugh called him as loud as he could shout. Holt was so sorry to see Hugh hot and agitated, that he made no objection to going after Tooke, though he was pretty sure Tooke would be angry with him. Holt could run as fast as anybody, and he soon caught the boy he was pursuing, and told him that little Proctor wanted him very much indeed, that very moment.

Tooke sent him about his business, saying that he could not come; and then immediately proposed brook-leaping for their sport, leading the way himself over a place so wide that no lesser boy, however nimble, could follow. Holt came running back, shaking his head, and showing that his errand was in vain. Tooke was so full of play that he could think of nothing else; which was a shame.

"Ah! And you little know," thought Hugh, "how deep a shame it is."

With a swelling heart he turned away, and went towards the bank of the broader stream which ran through the meadows. Dale was with him in a moment,--very sorry for him, because everybody else was at brook-leaping,--the sport that Hugh had loved so well last autumn. Dale pa.s.sed his arm round Hugh's neck, and asked where they should sit and tell stories,--where they could best hide themselves, so that n.o.body should come and tease them. Hugh wished to thank his friend for this; but he could not speak directly. They found a pleasant place among the flowering reeds on the bank, where they thought n.o.body would see them; and having given Holt to understand that they did not want him, they settled themselves for their favourite amus.e.m.e.nt of story-telling.

But Hugh's heart was too full and too sick for even his favourite amus.e.m.e.nt; and Dale was perhaps too sorry for him to be the most judicious companion he could have at such a time. Dale agreed that the boys were hard and careless; and he added that it was particularly shameful to bring up a boy's other faults when he was in disgrace for one. In the warmth of his zeal, he told how one boy had been laughing at Hugh's conceit about his themes, when he had shown to-day that he could not go half through his syntax; and how he had heard another say that all that did not signify half so much as his being mean about money. Between Hugh's eagerness to hear, and Dale's sympathy, five minutes were not over before Hugh had heard every charge that could be brought against his character, and knew that they were all circulating this very afternoon. In his agony of mind he declared that everybody at Crofton hated him,--that he could never hold up his head there,--that he would ask to be sent home by the coach, and never come near Crofton again.

Dale now began to be frightened, and wished he had not said so much. He tried to make light of it; but Hugh seemed disposed to do something decided;--to go to his uncle Shaw's at least, if he could not get home.

Dale earnestly protested, against any such idea, and put him in mind how he was respected by everybody for his bravery about the loss of his foot.

"Respected?"

"Not a bit of it!" cried Hugh. "They none of them remember: they don't care a bit about it."

Dale was sure they did.

"I tell you they don't. I know they don't. I know it for certain; and I will tell you how I know. There is the very boy that did it,--the very boy that pulled me from the wall--O! If you knew who it was, you _would_ say it was a shame!"

Dale involuntarily sat up, and looked back, over the top of the reeds, at the boys who were brook-leaping.

"Would you like to know who it was that did it, Dale?"

"Yes, if you like to tell; but--And if he treats you ill, after the way you used him, he cannot expect you should consider him so--Besides, I am your best friend; and I always tell you everything!"

"Yes, that you do. And he has treated me so shamefully to-day! And I have n.o.body to speak to that knows. You will promise never--never to tell anybody as long as you live."

"To be sure," said Dale.

"And you won't tell anybody that I have told you."

"To be sure not."

"Well, then--"

Here there was a rustling among the reeds which startled them both, with a sort of guilty feeling. It was Holt, quite out of breath.

"I don't want to interrupt you," said he, "and I know you wish I would not come; but the others made me come. The biggest boys lay that the second-size can't jump the brook at the willow-stump; and the second-size boys want Dale to try. They made me come. I could not help it."

Hugh looked at Dale, with eyes which said, as plainly as eyes could speak, "You will not go--you will not leave me at such a moment?"

But Dale was not looking at his face, but at the cl.u.s.ters of boys beside the brook. He said--