Read Ebook: Orville College: A Story by Wood Henry Mrs

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Ebook has 2053 lines and 97244 words, and 42 pages

"Talbot," shortly answered the boy. "I say, though, who are you? How came you to shoot me?"

"It was not I who did it. I heard the shot as I came up. Where are you hurt?"

"In my leg, I think. I can't move it. I only got in by this train, for I missed the one in the afternoon, and was running through here, full pelt, when somebody takes a shot at me! Cool, I must say!"

The master raised him, but the right leg seemed nearly helpless, so he laid him down again, and ran to the college for assistance. But as Mr. Henry was turning away, the white wadding on the bench caught his eye, and he found the pistol and its accessories. These he carried with him.

Dick Loftus, hiding in the distant trees, could bear the suspense no longer. Something was wrong; some untoward event had occurred; and he came forward in disregard of Smart's prayers and entreaties. Dick was of an open honourable nature, in spite of his pursuit of mischief and his impulsive thoughtlessness: he never hesitated to take his escapades on himself, when real necessity arose.

"I'm blest! Why, it's the earl!" he shouted out. "Smart! Smart! come here. It's the Earl of Shrewsbury!"

"Is that you, Dick?" exclaimed the wounded boy, looking up as Dick bent over him in the moonlight. "Did you do it?"

"No, I didn't," said Dick. "I say, old fellow, is it much! I wish his pistols had been buried before I'd brought 'em out!"

"How was it all? Whose are the pistols?" questioned Talbot. And Mr. Dick, in an ecstasy of contrition, but vowing vengeance against the shooter, whoever it might be, entered on his explanation. To do him justice, he gave it without the least reserve. And Tom Smart, shivering amid the thickest trees, at a safe distance, daring to stir neither one way nor the other, lest he should be seen, and who had not heard the salutation, wondered whether Dick would keep his word, and not mention his name in connection with the calamity.

A fine commotion arose in the college when Mr. Henry got back with the news. One of the gentlemen had been shot in the plantation!--shot by a fellow student! It was incredible. Mr. Henry, breaking away from the throng, quietly gave Dr. Brabazon an account of the whole, as far as he was cognizant of it: how that he had heard a shot quite close to him, followed by a cry, and had caught a glimpse of a youth stealing away. He gave no clue as to who the youth was; apparently did not know; and of course could not know positively that it was he who had fired; he recognized him as belonging to Orville College by the cap. It was but a hurried explanation; there was no time to waste in question and answer; Talbot must be seen to.

He was brought in on a hurdle, and a surgeon summoned. On the first day of this boy's entrance at the college, when Dr. Brabazon, the roll before him, asked his name, the answer was, "James Talbot." "James Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury?" jokingly responded the doctor, in allusion to one noted in English history; and from that hour Talbot had gone by no other name in the school. Of a good-natured, generous disposition, he was ever ready to do a kind action, and was liked immensely. Not that he had much to be generous with in one sense: his father was a banker's clerk; very poor; struggling with life; and pinching himself in all ways to keep his son at Orville.

The Rev. Mr. Jebb and the new German master stood over the bed of James Talbot. The surgeon had been busy; he had extracted the shots from the leg, and pronounced the injury to be not material. Talbot must be kept quiet, he said, both in mind and body.

"It's a very strange affair," murmured the clergyman into Mr. Henry's ear. "Dr. Brabazon's opinion is, that it must have been Loftus minor, after all, who fired off the pistol."

"You are not to talk, Talbot," interrupted Mr. Jebb: and the two gentlemen moved away from the bed. Mr. Henry began to ask who Dick Loftus was.

"He is brother to the second senior of the school," was the clergyman's reply. "You may have remarked Loftus major in chapel, from the circumstance that he read the lesson."

"Which of the lessons? I noticed the readers of both."

"The first lesson. The second was read by Trace."

"Trace?" echoed Mr. Henry.

"You are thinking it an uncommon name. Raymond Trace; he is cousin to the Loftus boys. There's quite a romance attaching to their history," proceeded the clergyman, who was a bit of a gossip, and he dropped his voice as he spoke. "The two fathers were in partnership in Liverpool, stock and share brokers, quite a first-class house, and much respected. Unfortunately they took in a partner, and before two years were over he ruined them. He issued false shares, put forged bills in circulation--I hardly know what he did not do. They were quite ruined; at least, it was ruin compared to what their former wealth had been. The house was broken up; all its debts were paid; and Mr. Loftus retired to the Isle of Wight upon a small private property. He had lived there previously, never having taken a very practical part in the business. The other partner, Mr. Trace, went abroad, hoping to carve out a second fortune. I hear he is doing it."

"And these are the sons?" observed the German master, after a pause.

"These are the sons. Mr. Loftus has several children, Mr. Trace only this one. Mrs. Loftus and Mrs. Trace were sisters. Their brother, Sir Simon Orville, a retired city man, lives here close to the college; he is some distant relative of its founder. The three boys were placed at it two years ago, and it is thought Sir Simon pays for them. They spend their vacations generally at his house: Trace always does. He has no other home in England: Mrs. Trace is dead."

The injured boy stirred uneasily, and Mr. Henry hastened to him. "Do you feel much pain?" he kindly asked.

"Rather sharpish for that," was the answer. "I say, sir, you--you don't think I shall die?" and the bright brown eyes looked wistfully up at the master's, as the sudden anxious question was whispered. "It's my mother I am thinking of," added Talbot, by way of excuse.

"So far as I believe, there's no danger," replied Mr. Henry, bending down to him and pushing the hair off his hot brow. "Only put yourself trustingly into God's care, my boy--have you learnt to do it?--and rely upon it, all shall be for the best."

Miss Brabazon and a nurse came into the room and the gentlemen prepared to leave it. Mr. Henry went first. Talbot put out his hand and detained Mr. Jebb.

"The new foreign master. Do you keep yourself tranquil, Talbot."

With the morning came the discipline of school rules. Talbot was going on quite favourably, and all outward excitement had subsided. The breakfast hour was half-past seven; from eight to a quarter-past the pupils from the masters' houses arrived, also those who lived altogether out of bounds, with their friends or in lodgings; slightingly called by the college, these latter, "outsiders." During this quarter of an hour the roll was called, and the boys did what they pleased: it was recreation with them. At a quarter-past eight the chapel bell called all to service.

The boys stood in groups this morning in the quadrangle, not availing themselves of their liberty to be noisy during this quarter of an hour, but discussing in an undertone the startling events of the previous night. Dick Loftus had openly avowed the whole; and somebody, not Dick, had contrived to betray Mr. Smart's share in it. Dick protested that whoever had peered at them was a master: he judged by the cap. It appeared equally certain that it could not have been a master: the only masters arrived were Mr. Jebb and Mr. Long, and they, at this very selfsame hour, had been with Dr. Brabazon in his private study. But it was easy for any one of the senior boys to have taken up a master's trencher by mistake, or to have gone out in it wilfully to mislead. Had the boy, whoever it was, purposely shot Talbot? The opinion, rejected at first, was gaining ground now; led to, possibly, by the appropriation of the master's cap. Altogether it was a very unpleasant affair, enshrouded in some mystery.

Three or four new scholars came straggling in during this quarter of an hour, and they attracted the usual amount of attention and quizzing. One of them was a tall, agile, upright boy of sixteen, or rather more, with a handsome, open countenance, dark chestnut hair, and bright grey eyes. He stood looking about, as if uncertain where to go. Mr. Long went up to him.

"Are you belonging to the college?--a new student?"

"Yes."

"If you pass through that side of the cloisters and turn to the left, you will find the call-room. Mr. Baker is there with the roll, inscribing the new names as they come in, and he will add yours. What is your name?"

"Paradyne."

There was a free, frank sound in the voice, though the words spoken had been but two; and the boy lifted his hat with somewhat of foreign courtesy as he turned away to the cloister. Mr. Henry, who had heard the name, hastened after him and overtook him in the cloister passage.

"You are George Paradyne?"

"Mr. Henry."

Their hands were locked together; they gazed into each other's face. "I don't think I should have known you," said the boy.

"No? I should have known you anywhere. It is the same face, not changed; but you have grown from a little boy into a great one."

"Well?" said Mr. Henry, for the sentence had come to a stop midway. "Speak out."

"It is a sadder sort of face than it used to he. Are you quite well?"

"Yes, I am well. I don't know that I am strong. Good-bye for now," hastily added Mr. Henry. "Mr. Long has told you where to go."

The boy continued his way up the cloister, and another ran up to Mr. Henry--a second-desk boy named Powell.

"I say, sir, do you know that new fellow?"

"I used to know him," replied Mr. Henry. "But I have not seen him for several years."

"Lamb says he thinks he is an outsider. I like the look of him. Where did you know him, Mr. Henry?"

"At the Heidelberg University. He was a young pupil there, when I was a junior master."

Mr. Powell's face grew considerably longer. "At the Heidelberg University! Does he speak German?"

"He used to speak it perfectly. I dare say he does still."

"That's blue, though," was the rejoinder. "I'm going in for the German prize: but who can stand against a fellow who has been in Germany? He's sure to be at our desk. What's his name, sir?"

"You will learn it in good time, no doubt," called back Mr. Henry, who was hastening away as if he were in a hurry. And Mr. Powell vaulted over the open cloister wall into the quadrangle: which was against rules.

A few moments, and the chapel-bell rang out. The boys got their caps and gowns, and went into the call-room. Dr. Brabazon came up in his surplice and hood, and they followed him into chapel.

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