St. Winifred's Part 46

"What can I say to you, Wilton? you know that I have liked you, but I never thought that you could act like this."

"Nor I, Kenrick, a short time ago; but the devil tempted me, and I have never learned to resist."

"From my very heart I _do_ pity you; but I fear I _must_ tell; I fear it'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 wild anguish, imploring to be saved from the horror of open shame, and, accustomed as Kenrick was to grant anything to this boy, he was reduced to great distress. Already his whole manner had relented from the loathing and anger he first displayed. He could stand no more at present.

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

"I will go," said Wilton, deeply abashed; "but before I go, promise me one thing, Ken, and that is, even if you tell of me, don't quite cast me off. 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 committing all these thefts!"

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

"I have felt it too in my time, Raven. Poor, poor fellow! who am I that I should cast you off? No, you unhappy child, I may tell of you, but I will not cease to be fond of you. Go, Wilton; I will decide between this 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 made him 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 that he was penitent--plain that he would have given worlds not to have been guilty 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 be informed, though not necessarily the masters or the other boys; secondly, that Wilton must make full and immediate rest.i.tution to all from whom he had stolen; thirdly, there could be no doubt about it, that Wilton must get himself removed at once. On these conditions he thought it possible that the matter might be hushed up; but his conscience was uneasy on this point. That unlucky threat or hint of Wilton's, that he could and would tell some of his wrong-doings, was his great stumbling-block; whenever extreme pity influenced him to screen the poor boy from full exposure, he began to ask himself whether this was a mere cowardly alternative suggested by his own fears. But for this, he would have determined at once on the more lenient and merciful course; but he had to face this question of self-interest very earnestly, nor could he come to any conclusion about it until he had determined to take a step in all respects worthy of the highest side of his character, by going, in any case, spontaneously to Dr Lane and laying before him a frank confession of past delinquencies, leaving him to act as he thought fit.

Having thus disentangled the question from all its personal bearings he was able to review it on its merits, and went to ask the counsel of Whalley, to whom he related, in confidence, the whole scene exactly as it had occurred. Whalley, too, on hearing the alternative conditions which Kenrick had planned, was fully inclined to spare Wilton as much as possible, but, as neither of them felt satisfied to do this on their own authority, they sought Power's advice and, as he too felt very doubtful on the matter, he suggested that they should put it to Dr Lane, without mentioning any names, _as a hypothetical case_, and be finally guided by his directions.

Accordingly Kenrick sought Dr Lane's study, and laid the entire difficulty before him. He listened attentively, and said, "If the boy is so young, and has been, as you say, misled, and accepts the very sensible conditions which you have proposed, I am inclined to think that the 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 to tell you that you have behaved throughout this matter in an honourable and straightforward way."

"I fear, sir, I very little deserve your approval," said Kenrick, with downcast eyes. "In coming to ask your advice in this case, I wanted also to say that I have gone so far wrong that I think you ought to be told how badly I have behaved. It may be that after what I say, you may not think right to allow me to stay here, sir; but at any rate I shall have disburdened my own conscience by telling you, and shall perhaps feel less wretched."

"My dear Kenrick," said Dr Lane, "it was a right and a brave thing of you to come here for this purpose. Confession is often the first, as it is one of the most trying parts of repentance; and I hail this as a new proof 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 spiritual adviser, rather than as your master. I do not seek this confidence; only if there is anything on your conscience of which my advice may help to relieve you, I do not _forbid_ you to proceed, and I will give you what help I can."

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

"Then sit down, Kenrick, and be a.s.sured 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 much harm 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 of repentance. He exhorted him to let the sense of his past errors stimulate him to double future exertions. He told him of many ways in which, by kindness, by moral courage, by Christian principle, he might be a help and a blessing to other boys. He earnestly warned him to look to G.o.d for strength, and to watch and pray lest he should enter into temptation. And then promising him a full and free oblivion of the past, he knelt down with him and offered up from an overflowing heart a few words of earnest prayer.

"There is nothing like prayer to relieve the heart, Kenrick," said Dr Lane; "and now, good-night, and G.o.d 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 blessing the doctor for his comforting kindness. He found Wilton anxiously awaiting his arrival in his study; and thinking that their cases in some respects resembled each other, he strove not to be like the unforgiving debtor of the parable, and spoke to Wilton with great gentleness.

"Come here, my poor child; first of all, let me tell you that you shall not be reported." Wilton repaid him by a look of grateful joy.

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

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

"What is that?"

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

"No; it shall be kept close till then, otherwise the next fortnight would 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 be settled so. Can you manage it?"

"O yes," said Wilton, crying quietly; "I'll write home and tell my poor mother all about it, and then of course she'll send me some money and take 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 wretched enough. And that you mayn't think that fear has had anything to do with our letting you off, I must tell you, Wilton, that I've been to Dr Lane himself 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's nothing 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 in a perpetual fright; I've had fearful dreams; I've felt ready to sink for shame; and I've always been fancying that fellows suspected me. Do you know, I am almost glad you caught me, Ken. I'm _very_ glad it was you and no one else, though it was a _horrid, horrid_ moment when you laid your hand on my shoulder. Yet even this isn't so bad as to have gone on nursing 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 beer, very unlike what Wilton then was.

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

"O Ken, I'm so grateful that you don't hate and despise me though I am a--"; 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 the story of Achan, till he came to the verses--

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

"And Joshua said, _My son, give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord G.o.d of Israel, and make confession unto him_; and tell me now what thou hast done, hide it not from me.

"And Achan answered Joshua and said, Indeed I have sinned against the Lord G.o.d of Israel, and thus and thus have I done."

And there Kenrick stopped, while Wilton said, "My son! You see Joshua still 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 has often struck me. What I wanted you to see was this: The man was detected--the thing had been coming, creeping horribly near to him; first his tribe marked by the fatal lot, then his family, then his house, then himself; and while he's standing there, guilty and detected, in the very midst of that crowd who had been defeated because of his baseness, and when all their eyes were scowling on him, and when he knows that he, and his sons, and his daughters, are going to be burned and stoned--at this very moment Joshua says to him, 'My son, _give, I pray thee, glory to the G.o.d of Israel_.' You see he's to _thank G.o.d_ for detecting him--thank G.o.d even at that frightful moment, and with that frightful death before him as a consequence. One would have thought that it wasn't a matter for much grat.i.tude or jubilation; but you 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 like that, I shouldn't be like Achan now."

Kenrick said nothing, but as he had received infinite comfort from Dr Lane's treatment of himself, he took Wilton by the hand, and, without saying a word, knelt down. Wilton knelt down beside him, and he prayed for forgiveness for them both. A few broken, confused, uncertain words only, but they were earnest, and they came fresh and burning from the heart. They were words of true prayer, and the poor, erring, hardened little boy rose from his knees too overcome to speak.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.