The Channings Part 27

"Thank you for your defence of Arthur," said Tom Channing to Roland Yorke, as the latter was striding away.

Roland looked back. "I am ashamed for all the lot of you! You might know that Arthur Channing needs no defence. He should not be aspersed in my school, Gaunt, if I were senior."

What with one thing and another, Roland's temper had not been so aroused for many a day. Gaunt ran after him, but Roland would not turn his head, or speak.

"Your brothers are excited against Tom Channing, and that makes them hard upon him, with regard to this accusation of Arthur," observed Gaunt. "Tom has gone on above a bit, about Gerald's getting his seniorship over him and Huntley. Tom Channing can go on at a splitting rate when he likes, and he has not spared his words. Gerald, being the party interested, does not like it. That's what they were having a row over, when you came up."

"Gerald has no more right to be put over Tom Channing's head, than you have to be put over Pye's," said Roland, angrily.

"Of course he has not," replied Gaunt. "But things don't go by 'rights,' you know. This business of Arthur Channing's has been quite a windfall for Gerald; he makes it into an additional reason why Tom, at any rate, should not have the seniorship. And there only remains Huntley."

"He does, does he!" exclaimed Roland. "If the dean-"

Roland's voice--it had not been a soft one--died away. The dean himself appeared suddenly at the door of the chapter-house, which they were then pa.s.sing. Roland raised his hat, and Gaunt touched his trencher. The dean accosted the latter, his tone and manner less serene than usual.

"What is the cause of this unusual noise, Gaunt? It has disturbed me in my reading. If the cloisters are to be turned into a bear-garden, I shall certainly order them to be closed to the boys."

"I'll go and stop it at once, sir," replied Gaunt, touching his trencher again, as he hastily retired. He had no idea that the dean was in the chapter-house.

Roland, taking no time for consideration--he very rarely did take it, or any of the Yorkes--burst forth with the grievance to the dean. Not that Roland was one who cared much about justice or injustice in the abstract; but he was feeling excessively wroth with Gerald, and in a humour to espouse Tom Channing's cause against the world.

"The college boys are in a state of semi-rebellion, Mr. Dean, and are not so quiet under it as they might be. They would like to bring their cause of complaint to you; but they don't dare."

"Indeed!" said the dean.

"The senior boy leaves the school at Michaelmas," went on Roland, scarcely giving the dean time to say the word. "The one who stands first to step into his place is Tom Channing; the next is Huntley; the last is Gerald Yorke. There is a belief afloat that Mr. Pye means to pa.s.s over the two first, without reference to their merits or their rights, and to bestow it upon Gerald Yorke. The rumour is, that he has promised this to my mother, Lady Augusta. Ought this to be so, Mr. Dean?--although my asking it may seem to be opposed to Lady Augusta's wishes and my brother's interests."

"Where have you heard this?" inquired the dean.

"Oh, the whole town is talking of it, sir. Of course, that does not prove its truth; but the college boys believe it. They think," said Roland, pointedly, "that the dean ought to ascertain its grounds of foundation, and to interfere. Tom Channing is bearing the brunt of this false accusation on his brother, which some of the cowards are casting to him. It would be too bad were Pye to deprive him of the seniorship!"

"You think the accusation on Arthur Channing to be a false one?" returned the dean.

"There never was a more false accusation brought in this world," replied Roland, relapsing into excitement. "I would answer for Arthur Channing with my own life. He is entirely innocent. Good afternoon, Mr. Dean. If I stop longer, I may say more than's polite; there's no telling. Things that I have heard this afternoon have put my temper up."

He strode away towards the west door, leaving the dean looking after him with a smile. The dean had been on terms of friendship with Dr. Yorke, and was intimate with his family. Roland's words were a somewhat singular corroboration of Arthur Channing's private defence to the dean only an hour ago.

Meanwhile Gaunt had gone up to scatter the noisy crew. "A nice row you have got me into with your quarrelling," he exclaimed. "The dean has been in the chapter-house all the time, and isn't he in a pa.s.sion! He threatens to shut up the cloisters."

The announcement brought stillness, chagrin. "What a bothering old duffer he is, that dean!" uttered Bywater. "He is always turning up when he's not wanted."

"Take your books, and disperse in silence," was the command of the senior boy.

"Stop a bit," said Bywater, turning himself round and about for general inspection. "Look at me! Can I go home?"

"My!" roared the boys, who had been too preoccupied to be observant. "Haven't they come to grief!"

"But can I go through the streets?"

"Oh yes! Make a rush for it. Tell the folks you have been in the wars."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

THE DEPARTURE.

I like to see fair skies and sunshine on the morning fixed for a journey. It seems to whisper a promise that satisfaction from that journey lies before it: a foolish notion, no doubt, but a pleasant one.

Never did a more lovely morning arise to gladden the world, than that fixed upon for Mr. and Mrs. Channing's departure. The August sky was without a cloud, the early dew glittered in the sunbeams, bees and b.u.t.terflies sported amidst the opening flowers.

Mr. Channing was up early, and had gathered his children around him. Tom and Charles had, by permission, holiday that morning from early school, and Constance had not gone to Lady Augusta Yorke's. The very excitement and bustle of preparation had appeared to benefit Mr. Channing; perhaps it was the influence of the hope which had seated itself in his heart, and was at work there. But Mr. Channing did not count upon this hope one whit more than he could help; for disappointment might be its ending. In this, the hour of parting from his home and his children, the hope seemed to have buried itself five fathoms deep, if not to have died away completely. Who, in a similar position to Mr. Channing's, has not felt this depression on leaving a beloved home?

The parting had been less sad but for the dark cloud hanging over Arthur. Mr. Channing had no resource but to believe him guilty, and his manner to him had grown cold and stern. It was a pleasing sight--could you have looked in upon it that morning--one that would put you in mind of that happier world where partings are not.

For it was to that world that Mr. Channing had been carrying the thoughts of his children in these, the last moments. The Bible was before him, but all that he had chosen to read was a short psalm. And then he prayed G.o.d to bless them; to keep them from evil; to be their all-powerful protector. There was not a dry eye present; and Charles and Annabel--Annabel with all her wildness--sobbed aloud.

He was standing up now, supported by Hamish, his left hand leaning heavily, also for support, on the shoulder of Tom. Oh! Arthur felt it keenly! felt it as if his heart would break. It was Tom whom his father had especially called to his aid; he was pa.s.sed over. It was hard to bear.

He was giving a word of advice, of charge to all. "Constance, my pretty one, the household is in your charge; you must take care of your brothers' comforts. And, Hamish, my son, I leave Constance to your care. Tom, let me enjoin you to keep your temper within bounds, particularly with regard to that unsatisfactory matter, the seniorship. Annabel, be obedient to your sister, and give her no care. And Charley, my little darling, be loving and gentle as you always are. Upon my return--if I shall be spared to return--"

"Father," exclaimed Arthur, in a burst of irrepressible feeling, "have you no word for _me_?"

Mr. Channing laid his hand upon the head of Arthur. "Bless, oh bless this my son!" he softly murmured. "And may G.o.d forgive him, if he be indeed the erring one we fear!"

But a few minutes had elapsed since Mr. Channing had repeated aloud the pet.i.tion in the prayer taught us by our Saviour--"Lead us not into temptation!" It had come quickly to one of his hearers. If ever temptation a.s.sailed a heart, it a.s.sailed Arthur's then. "Not I, father; it is Hamish who is guilty; it is for him I have to bear. Hamish, whom you are caressing, was the true culprit; I, whom you despise, am innocent." Words such as these might have hovered on Arthur's lips; he had nearly spoken them, but for the strangely imploring look cast to him from the tearful eyes of Constance, who read his struggle. Arthur remembered One who had endured temptation far greater than this; Who is ever ready to grant the same strength to those who need it. A few moments, and the struggle and temptation pa.s.sed, and he had not yielded to it.

"Children, I do not like these partings. They always sadden my heart. They make me long for that life where partings shall be no more. Oh, my dear ones, do you all strive on to attain to that blessed life! Think what would be our woeful grief--if such can a.s.sail us there; if memory of the past may be allowed us--should we find any one of our dear ones absent--of you who now stand around me! I speak to you all--not more to one than to another--absent through his own fault, his own sin, his own carelessness! Oh, children! you cannot tell my love for you--my anxious care!--lest any of you should lose this inconceivable blessing. Work on; strive on; and if we never meet again here--"

"Oh, papa, papa," wildly sobbed Annabel, "we shall meet again! You will come back well."

"I trust we shall! I do trust I may! G.o.d is ever merciful and good. All I would say is, that my life is uncertain; that, if it be His will not to spare me, I shall have but preceded you to that better land. My blessing be upon you, my children! G.o.d's blessing be upon you! Fare you well."

In the bustle of getting Mr. Channing to the fly, Arthur was left alone with his mother. She clung to him, sobbing much. Even her faith in him was shaken. When the rupture occurred between Mr. Yorke and Constance, Arthur never spoke up to say: "There is no cause for parting; I am not guilty." Mrs. Channing was not the only one who had expected him to say this, or something equivalent to it; and she found her expectation vain. Arthur had maintained a studied silence; of course it could only tell against him.

"Mother! my darling mother! I would ask you to trust me still, but that I see how difficult it is for you!" he said, as hot tears were wrung from his aching heart.

Hamish came in. Arthur, not caring to exhibit his emotion for every one's benefit, retired to a distant window. "My father is in, all comfortable," said Hamish. "Mother, are you sure you have everything?"

"Everything, I believe."

"Well--put this into your private purse, mother mine. You'll find some use for it."

It was a ten-pound note. Mrs. Channing began protesting that she should have enough without it.

"Mrs. Channing, I know your 'enoughs,'" laughed Hamish, in his very gayest and lightest tone. "You'll be for going without dinner every other day, fearing that funds won't last. If you don't take it, I shall send it after you to-morrow."

"Thank you, my dear, considerate boy!" she gratefully said, as she put up the money, which would, in truth, prove useful. "But how have you been able to get it for me?"

"As if a man could not save up his odd sixpences for a rainy day!" quoth Hamish.

She implicitly believed him. She had absolute faith in her darling Hamish; and the story of his embarra.s.sments had not reached her ear. Arthur heard all from his distant window. "For that very money, given to my mother as a gift from _him_, I must suffer," was the rebellious thought that ran through his mind.

The fly started. Mr. and Mrs. Channing and Charley inside, Hamish on the box with the driver. Tom galloped to the station on foot. Of course the boys were eager to see them off. But Arthur, in his refined sensitiveness, would not put himself forward to make one of them; and no one asked him to do so.

The train was on the point of starting. Mr. and Mrs. Channing were in their places, certain arrangements having been made for the convenience of Mr. Channing, who was partially lying across from one seat to the other; Hamish and the others were standing round for a last word; when there came one, fighting his way through the platform bustle, pushing porters and any one else who impeded his progress to the rightabout. It was Roland Yorke.

"Haven't I come up at a splitting pace! I overslept myself, Mr. Channing, and I thought I should not be in time to give you a G.o.d-speed. I hope you'll have a pleasant time, and come back cured, sir!"

"Thank you, Roland. These heartfelt wishes from you all are very welcome."

"I say, Mr. Channing," continued Roland, leaning over the carriage window, in utter disregard of danger: "If you should hear of any good place abroad, that you think I might do for, I wish you'd speak a word for me."

"Place abroad?" repeated Mr. Channing, while Hamish burst into a laugh.

"Yes," said Roland. "My brother George knew a fellow who went over to Austria or Prussia, or some of those places, and dropped into a very good thing there, quite by accident. It was connected with one of the emba.s.sies, I think; five or six hundred a year, and little to do."

Mr. Channing smiled. "Such windfalls are rare. I fear I am not likely to hear of anything of the sort. But what has Mr. Galloway done to you, Roland? You are a fixture with him."

"I am tired of Galloway's," frankly confessed Roland. "I didn't enjoy myself there before Arthur left, but I am ready to hang myself since, with no one to speak to but that calf of a Jenkins! If Galloway will take on Arthur again, and do him honour, I'll stop and make the best of it; but, if he won't--"

"Back! back! hands off there! Are you mad?" And amidst much shouting, and running, and dragging careless Roland out of danger, the train steamed out of the station.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

ABROAD.

A powerful steamer was cutting smoothly through the waters. A large expanse of sea lay around, dotted with its fishing-boats, which had come out with the night's tide. A magnificent vessel, her spars glittering in the rising sun, might be observed in the distance, and the grey, misty sky, overhead, gave promise of a hot and lovely day.

Some of the pa.s.sengers lay on deck, where they had stationed themselves the previous night, preferring its open air to the closeness of the cabins, in the event of rough weather. Rough weather they need not have feared. The pa.s.sage had been perfectly calm; the sea smooth as a lake; not a breath of wind had helped the good ship on her course; steam had to do its full work. But for this dead calm, the fishing-craft would not be close in-sh.o.r.e, looking very much like a flock of sea-gulls. Had a breeze, ever so gentle, sprung up, they would have put out to more prolific waters.

A noise, a shout, a greeting! and some of the pa.s.sengers, already awake, but lying lazily, sprang up to see what caused it. It was a pa.s.sing steamer, bound for the great metropolis which they had left not seventeen hours ago. The respective captains exchanged salutes from their places aloft, and the fine vessels flew past each other.

"_Bon voyage! bon voyage!_" shouted out a little French boy to the retreating steamer.

"We have had a fine pa.s.sage, captain," observed a gentleman who was stretching himself and stamping about the deck, after his night's repose on the hard bench.

"Middling," responded the captain, to whom a dead calm was not quite so agreeable as it was to his pa.s.sengers. "Should ha' been in all the sooner for a breeze."

"How long will it be, now?"

"A good time yet. Can't go along as if we had wind at our back."

The steamer made good progress, however, in spite of the faithless wind. It glided up the Scheldt, and, by-and-by, the spire of Antwerp Cathedral was discerned, rising against the clear sky. Mrs. Channing, who had been one of those early astir, went back to her husband. He was lying where he had been placed when the vessel left St. Katherine's Docks.

"We shall soon be in, James. I wish you could see that beautiful spire. I have been searching for it ever so long; it is in sight, now. Hamish told me to keep a look-out for it."

"Did he?" replied Mr. Channing. "How did Hamish know it might be seen?"

"From the guide-books, I suppose; or from hearsay. Hamish seems to know everything. What a good pa.s.sage we have had!"

"Ay," said Mr. Channing. "What I should have done in a rough sea, I cannot tell. The dread of it has been pressing on me as a nightmare since our voyage was decided upon."

Mrs. Channing smiled. "Troubles seldom come from the quarter we antic.i.p.ate them."

Later, when Mrs. Channing was once more leaning over the side of the vessel, a man came up and put a card into her hand, jabbering away in German at the same time. The Custom House officers had come on board then.

"Oh, dear, if Constance were only here! It is for interpreting that we shall miss her," thought Mrs. Channing. "I am sorry that I do not understand you," she said, turning to the man.

"Madame want an hot-el? That hot-el a good one," tapping the card with his finger, and dexterously turning the reverse side upward, where was set forth in English the advantages of a certain Antwerp inn.

"Thank you, but we make no stay at Antwerp; we go straight on at once." And she would have handed back the card.

No, he would not receive it. "Madame might be wanting an hot-el at another time; on her return, it might be. If so, would she patronize it? it was a good hot-el; perfect!"

Mrs. Channing slipped the card into her reticule, and searched her directions to see what hotel Hamish had indicated, should they require one at Antwerp. She found it to be the Hotel du Parc. Hamish certainly had contrived to acquire for them a great fund of information; and, as it turned out, information to be relied on.

Breakfast was to be obtained on board the steamer, and they availed themselves of it, as did a few of the other pa.s.sengers. Some delay occurred in bringing the steamer to the side, after they arrived. Whether from that cause, or the captain's grievance--want of wind--or from both, they were in later than they ought to have been. When the first pa.s.senger put his foot on land, they had been out twenty hours.

Mr. Channing was the last to be removed, as, with him, aid was required. Mrs. Channing stood on the sh.o.r.e at the head of the ladder, looking down anxiously, lest in any way harm should come to him, when she found a hand laid upon her shoulder, and a familiar voice saluted her.

"Mrs. Channing! Who would have thought of seeing you here! Have you dropped from the moon?"

Not only was the voice familiar, but the face also. In the surprise of being so addressed, in the confusion around her, Mrs. Channing positively did not for a moment recognize it; all she saw was, that it was a home face. "Mr. Huntley!" she exclaimed, when she had gathered her senses; and, in the rush of pleasure of meeting him, of not feeling utterly alone in that strange land, she put both her hands into his. "I may return your question by asking where you have dropped from. I thought you were in the south of France."

"So I was," he answered, "until a few days ago, when business brought me to Antwerp. A gentleman is living here whom I wished to see. Take care, my men!" he continued to the English sailors, who were carrying up Mr. Channing. "Mind your footing." But the ascent was accomplished in safety, and Mr. Channing was placed in a carriage.

"Do you understand their lingo?" Mr. Huntley asked, as the porters talked and chattered around.

"Not a syllable," she answered. "I can manage a little French, but this is as a sealed book to me. Is it German or Flemish?"

"Flemish, I conclude," he said laughingly; "but my ears will not tell me, any more than yours tell you. I should have done well to bring Ellen with me. She said, in her saucy way, 'Papa, when you are among the French and Germans, you will be wishing for me to interpret for you.'"

"As I have been wishing for Constance," replied Mrs. Channing. "In our young days, it was not thought more essential to learn German than it was to learn Hindustanee. French was only partially taught."