St. Winifred's Part 20

One morning Henderson came in chuckling and laughing to himself. "So Power's taking a leaf out of your book, Walter. I declare he's becoming a regular sociable grosbeak."

"Sociable grosbeak? what _do_ you mean?"

"O, don't you know that I'm writing a drama called the 'Sociable Grosbeaks,' in which you and Ken and I are introduced? I didn't mean to introduce Power, he wasn't gregarious enough; but I _shall_ now, and he shall prologise."

"But why is he more sociable now?"

"Why, he's actually let one of the--oh, I forgot, I mustn't call names-- well, he's given Eden the run of his study."

"O yes; I knew that," said Walter smiling. "At first, it was the funniest thing to see them together, they were both so shy; but after a day or two they were quite friends, and now you may find Eden perched any day in Power's window-seat, grinding away at his Greek verbs, and as happy as a king. Power helps him in his work, too. It'll be the making of the little fellow. Already he's coming out strong in form."

"Hurrah for the grosbeaks," said Henderson. "I _did_ mean to chaff Power about it, but I won't, for it really is very kind of him."

"Yes, and so it is of Percival to let us sit here; but I wish that dear old Dubbs could be doing trial-work here with us."

"He's very ill," said Henderson, looking serious; "_very_ ill, I'm afraid. I saw him to-day for a minute, but he seemed too weak to talk."

"Is he? poor fellow! I knew that he was staying out, but I'd no notion that it was anything dangerous."

"I don't know about _dangerous_, but he's quite ill. Poor Daubeny! you know how very very patient and good he is, yet even he can't help being sad at falling ill just now. You know he was to have been confirmed to-morrow week, and he's afraid that now he won't be well enough, and will have to put it off."

"Yes, he's mentioned his confirmation to me several times. Lots of fellows are going to be confirmed this time--about a hundred, I believe--but I don't suppose one of them thinks of it so solemnly as dear old Dubbs--unless, indeed, it's Power, who also is to be confirmed."

The confirmation was to take place on a Sunday, and the candidates had long been engaged in a course of preparation. The intellectual preparation was carefully undertaken by Dr Lane and the tutors of the boys; but this answer of the lips was of comparatively little value, except in so far as it tended to guide, and solemnise, and concentrate the preparation of the heart. In too many this approaching responsibility produced no visible effect in the tenor of outward life-- they talked and thought as lightly as before, and did not elevate the low standard of schoolboy morality; but there were _some_ hearts in which the dreary and formless chaos of pa.s.sion and neglect then first felt the divine stirring of the brooding wings, and some spiritual temples were from that time filled more brightly than before with the Shechinah of the Presence, and bore, as in golden letters on a new entablature, the inscription, "Holiness to the Lord."

To this confirmation some of the best boys, like Power and Daubeny, were looking forward, not with any exaggerated or romantic sentimentality, but with a deep humility, a manly exultation, an earnest hope. They were ready and even anxious to confirm their baptismal vow, and to be confirmed in the sacred strength which should enable them for the future more unswervingly to fulfil it. Of these young hearts the grace of G.o.d took early hold, and in them reason and religion ran together like warp and woof to frame the web of a sweet and exemplary life. Bound by the most solemn and public recognition of, and adhesion to, their Christian duty, it would be easier for them thenceforth to confess Christ before men--easier to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with their G.o.d.

"Do you think it would be possible to see Dubbs? I should so like to see him," said Walter.

"Let's ask Percival, he's in the next room; and if Dubbs is well enough I know he'd give anything to see you."

"Please, sir," said Walter, after knocking for admission at the door of the inner room, "do you think that Henderson and I might go to the cottage and see Daubeny?"

"I don't know, Walter. But I want very much to see him myself, if Dr Keith will let me, so I'll come with you and enquire."

Mr Percival walked with the two boys to the cottage, and, after an injunction not to stay too long, they were admitted to the sick boy's bedside. At first, in the darkened room, they saw nothing; but Daubeny's voice--weak and low, but very cheerful--at once greeted them.

"O, thank you, sir, for coming to see me. Hallo! Walter, and Flip, too; I'm so glad to see you--you in a sickroom again, Flip!"

"We would have come before if we had known that we might see you," said the master. "How are you feeling, my dear boy?"

"Not very well, sir; my head aches sadly sometimes, and I get so confused."

"Ah, Daubeny, it's the overwork. Didn't I entreat you, my child, to slacken the bent bow a little? You'll be wiser in future, will you not?"

"In future--O yes, sir; if ever I get well, I'm afraid," he said, with a faint smile, "that you'll find me stupider than ever."

"Stupid, my boy! none of us ever thought you that. It is not the stupid boys that get head removes as you have done the last term or two. I should very much enjoy a talk with you, Daubeny, but I mustn't stay now the doctor says, so I'll leave these two fellows with you, and give them ten minutes--no longer--to tell you all the school news."

"In future wiser--in future," repeated Daubeny in a low voice to himself once or twice; "ah, yes, too late now. I don't think he knows how ill I am, Walter. My mother's been sent for; I expect her this evening. I shall at least live to see her again."

"O, don't," said Henderson, whose quick and sensitive nature was easily excited; "don't talk like that, Daubeny; we can't spare you; you must stay for our sake."

"Dear old fellow," said Daubeny, "you'll have n.o.body left to chaff; but you can spare me easily enough," and he laid his fevered hand kindly on Henderson's, who immediately turned his head and brushed away a tear.

"O, don't cry," he added, in a pained tone of voice, "I never meant to make you cry. I'm quite happy, Flip."

"O Daubeny! we can't get on without you!" said Henderson.

"Daubeny! I hardly know the name," said the sick boy, smiling. "No, Flip, let it be Dubbs, as of old--a nice heavy name to suit its owner; and you gave it me, you know, so it's your property, Flip, and I hardly know myself by any other now."

"O Dubbs, I've plagued you so," said Henderson, sobbing as if his heart would break; "I've never done anything but teaze you, and laugh at you, and you've always been so good and so patient to me. Do forgive me."

"Pooh!" said Daubeny, trying to rally him. "Listen to him, Walter; who'd think that Flip was talking? Teased me, Flip?" he continued, as Henderson still sobbed at intervals, "not you! I always enjoyed your chaff, and I knew that you liked me at heart. You've all been very kind to me. Walter, I'm so glad I got to know you before I--. It's so pleasant to see you here. Give me your hand; no, Flip, let me keep yours too; it's getting dark. I like to have you here. I feel so happy. I wish Power and Ken would come too, that I might see all my friends."

"Good-night, Daubeny; I can't stay, I mustn't stay," said Henderson; and, pressing his friend's hand, he hurried out of the room to indulge in a burst of grief which he could not contain; for, under his trifling and nonsensical manner, Henderson had a very warm and susceptible and feeling heart, and though he had always made Daubeny a subject of ridicule, he never did it with a particle of ill-nature, and felt for him--dissimilar as their characters were--a most fervent and deep regard.

"Look after him when I am gone, Walter," said Daubeny sadly, when he had left the room. "He is a dear good fellow, but so easily led. Poor Flip; he's immensely changed for the better since you came, Walter."

"I have been very fond of him all along," said Walter; "he is so full of laughter and fun, and he's very good with it all. But, Dubbs, you are too desponding; we shall have you here yet for many pleasant days."

"I don't know; perhaps so, if G.o.d wills. I am very young. I should like to stay a little longer in the sunshine. Walter, I should like to stay with _you_. I love you more, I think, than any one except Power,"

and as he spoke, a quiet tear rolled slowly down Daubeny's face.

Walter only pressed his hand. "You can't think how I pitied you, Walter, in that accident about Paton's ma.n.u.script. When all the fellows were cutting you, and abusing you, my heart used to bleed for you; you used to go about looking so miserable, so much as if all your chances of life were over. I'm afraid I did very little for you then, but I _would_ have done anything. I felt as if I could have given you my right-hand."

"But, Dubbs, you were the first who spoke to me after that happened, the first who wasn't ashamed to walk with me. You can't think how grateful I felt to you for it; it rolled a cold weight from me. It was like stretching a saving hand to one who was drowning; for every one knew how good a fellow _you_ were, and your countenance was worth everything to me just then."

"You really felt so?" said Daubeny, brightening up, while a faint flush rested for a moment on his pale face; "O Walter, it makes me happy to hear you say so." There was a silence, and, with Walter's hand still in his, he fell into a sweet sleep, with a smile upon his face. When he was quite asleep, Walter gently removed his hand, smoothed his pillow, looked affectionately at him for a moment, and stole silently from the room.

"How did you leave him?" asked Henderson eagerly, when Walter rejoined him in Mr Percival's room.

"Sleeping soundly. I hope it will do him good. I did not know how much you cared for him, Flip."

"That's because I always made him a b.u.t.t," said Henderson, remorsefully; "but I didn't really think he minded it, or I wouldn't have done so. I hardly knew myself that I liked him so. It was a confounded shame of me to worry him as I was always doing. Conceited donkey that I was, I was always trying to make him seem stupid; yet all the while I could have stood by him cap in hand. O Walter, I hope he is not going to die!"

"O no, I hope not; and don't be miserable at the thought of teasing him, Flip; it was all in fun, and he was never wounded by any word of yours.

Remember how he used to tell you that he was all the time laughing at you, not you at him. Come a turn on the sh.o.r.e, and let's take Power or Ken with us."

"Sociable grosbeaks, again," said Henderson, laughing in the midst of his sorrow.

"Yes," said Walter; "never mind. There are but few birds of the sort after all."

They found Eden with his feet up, and his hands round his knees, on the window-seat, perfectly at his ease, and chattering to Power like a young jackdaw. A thrill of pleasure pa.s.sed through Walter's heart as a glance showed him how well his proposal had succeeded. Power evidently had had no reason to repent of his kindness, and Eden looked more like the bright and happy child which he had once been, than ever was the case since he had come to Saint Winifred's. He was now clean and neat in dress, and the shadows of fear and guilt which had begun to darken his young face were chased away.

Power readily joined them in their stroll along the sh.o.r.e, and listened with affectionate sympathy to their account of Daubeny.

"What is it that has made him ill?" he asked.

"There's no doubt about that," answered Walter; "it's overwork which has brought on a tendency to brain fever."