Mildred Arkell Volume Iii Part 25

"Say that again," said the dean. "I do not know that I fully caught your meaning."

"I am in G.o.d's hands: and if He takes me to Him earlier than I thought to have gone, I know it must be for the best."

"How long have you reposed so firm a trust in G.o.d?"

"All my life," answered Henry, with simplicity: "mamma taught me that with my letters. She taught me to take G.o.d for my guide; to strive to please Him; implicitly to trust in Him."

"And you have done this?"

"Oh no, sir, I have only tried to do it. But I know that there is One to intercede for me."

"Have you sure and certain trust in Christ?" returned the dean, after a pause.

"I have sure and certain trust in Him," was the boy's reply, spoken fervently: "if I had not, I should not dare to die. I wish I might have received the Sacrament," he whispered; "but I have not been confirmed."

"Henry," said the dean, in his quick manner, "I do believe you are more fitted for it than are some who take it. Would it be a comfort to you?"

"It would indeed, sir."

"Then I will come and administer it. At seven to-night, if that hour will suit your friends. I will ascertain when I go down."

"Oh, sir, you are too good," he exclaimed, in his surprise: "mamma thought of asking Mr. Prattleton. I am but a poor college boy, and you are the Dean of Westerbury."

"Just so. But when the great King of Terrors approaches, as he is now approaching you, it makes us remember that in Christ's kingdom the poor college boy may stand higher than the Dean of Westerbury. Henry, I have watched your conduct more than you are aware of, and I believe you to have been as truly good a boy as it is in human nature to be: I believe that you have continuously striven to please G.o.d, in little things as in great."

"If I could but have done it more than I have!" thought the boy.

It was during this interview that Mr. Cookesley arrived; and, as you have seen, nearly lost his dinner. As soon as the boys rose from table, they, full of consternation, trooped down to Arkell's, picking up several more of the king's scholars on their way, who were not boarders at the house of Mr. Wilberforce. The dean had gone then, but Mr. St.

John was at the door, having called again to inquire whether there was any change. He cast his eyes on the noisy boys, as they approached the gate, and discerned amongst them Lewis junior. Mr. St. John stepped outside, and pounced upon him, with a view to marshal him in. But Lewis resisted violently; ay, and shook and trembled like a girl.

"I will not go into Arkell's, sir," he panted. "You have no right to force me. I won't! I won't!"

He struggled on to his knees, and clasped a deep-seated stone in the Arkells' garden for support. Mr. St. John, not releasing his collar, looked at him with amazement, and the troop of boys watched the scene over the iron railings.

"Lewis, what is the meaning of this?" cried Mr. St. John. "You are panting like a coward; and a guilty one: What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of nothing, but I won't go into Arkell's. I don't want to see him. Let me go, sir. Though you are Mr. St. John, that's no reason why you should set up for master over the college boys."

"I am master over you just now," was the significant answer. "Listen: I have promised Arkell to take you to him, and I will do it: you may have heard, possibly, that the St. Johns never break their word. But Arkell has sent for you in kindness: he appeared to expect this opposition, and bade me tell it you: he wants to clasp your hand in friendship before he dies. Walk on, Lewis."

"You are not master over us boys," shrieked Lewis again, whose opposition had increased to sobs.

But Mr. St. John proved his mastership. Partly; by coaxing, partly by authoritative force, he conducted Mr. Lewis to the door of Henry's chamber. There Lewis seized his arm in abject terror; he had turned ghastly white, and his teeth chattered.

"I cannot fathom this," said Mr. St. John, wondering much. "Have I not told you there is nothing to fear? What is it that you do fear?"

"No; but does he look very frightful?" chattered Lewis.

"What should make him look frightful? He looks as he has always looked.

Be off in; and I'll keep the door, if you want to talk secrets."

Mr. St. John pushed him in, and closed the door upon them. Henry held out his hand, and spoke a few hearty words of love and forgiveness; and Lewis put his face down on the counterpane and began to howl.

"Lewis, take comfort. It was done, I know, in the impulse of the moment, and you never thought it would hurt me seriously. I freely forgive you."

"Are you sure to die?" sobbed Lewis.

"I think I am. The doctors say so."

"O-o-o-o-o-o-h!" howled Lewis; "then I know you'll come back and haunt me with being your murderer: Prattleton junior says you will. He saw it done, so he knows about it. I shall never be able to sleep at night, for fear."

"Now, Lewis, don't be foolish. I shall be too happy where I am, to come back to earth. No one knows how it happened: you say Prattleton does, but he is your friend, and it is safe with him. Take comfort."

"Some of us have been so wicked and malicious to you!" blubbered Lewis.

"I, and my brother, and Aultane, and a lot of them."

"It is all over now," sighed Henry, closing his heavy eyes. "You would not, had you foreseen that I should leave you so soon."

"Oh, what a horrid wretch I have been!" sobbed Lewis, rubbing his smeared face on the white bedclothes, in an agony. "And, if it's found out, they might try me next a.s.sizes and hang me. And it is such a dreadful thing for you to die!"

"It is a _happy_ thing, Lewis; I feel it is, and I have told the dean I feel it. Say good-bye to the fellows for me, Lewis; I am too ill to see them. Tell them how sorry I am to leave them; but we shall meet again in heaven."

Lewis grasped his offered hand, and, with a hasty, sheepish movement, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek: then turned and burst out of the room, nearly upsetting Mr. St. John, and tore down the stairs. Mr.

St. John entered the chamber.

"Well, is the conference satisfactorily over?"

Again Henry reopened his heavy eyes. "Is that you, Mr. St. John?"

"Yes, I am here."

"The dean is coming here this evening at seven, for the sacrament. He said my not being confirmed was no matter in a case like this. Will you come?"

"Henry, no," was the grave answer. "I am not good enough."

"Oh, Mr. St. John!" The ready tears filled his eyes. "I wish you could!"

he beseechingly whispered.

"I wish so too. Are you distressed for me, Henry? Do not look upon me as a monster of iniquity: I did not mean to imply it. But I do not yet think sufficiently of serious things to be justified in partaking of that ordinance without preparation."

"It would have seemed like a bond of union between us--a promise that you will some time join me where I am going," pleaded the dying boy.

"I hope I shall: I trust I shall: I will not forget that you are there."

As Mr. St. John left the house, he made his way to the grounds, in a reflective mood: the cathedral bell was then ringing for afternoon service, and, somewhat to his surprise, he saw the dean hurrying from the college; not to it.

"I'm on my way back to Arkell's! I'm on my way back to Arkell's!" he exclaimed, in an impetuous manner; and forthwith he began recounting a history to Mr. St. John; a history of wrong, which filled him, the dean, with indignation.