That Stick ...

p. 112‘Insolence is shameful towards any man,’ returned his uncle.  ‘And from a foolish headstrong boy to a faithful old servant it is particularly unbecoming.  However, bad as this is, it is not all that I have to speak of.’

Then Herbert recollected with dismay how much his misdemeanour would tell against his pardon for the more important act of disobedience, and he took refuge in a sullen endeavour at indifference, while his uncle, thoroughly roused, spoke of the sins of disobedience and the dangers of betting.  Perhaps the only part of the lecture that he really heard was, ‘Remember, it was these habits in those who came before us that have been so great a hindrance in life to both you and me, and made you, my poor boy, so utterly mistaken as to what becomes your position.  How much have you thrown away?’

Herbert looked up and muttered the amount—twelve pounds and some shillings.

‘Very well, I will not have it owed.  I shall pay it, deducting two pounds from your allowance each term till it is made up.  Give me the address or addresses.’

At this Herbert writhed and remonstrated, but his uncle was inexorable.

‘The fellows will be at me,’ he said, as he gave Stanhope’s name.

‘You will see no more of Stanhope after this week.  I have arranged to send you to a tutor in Hertfordshire, who I hope will make you work, and where, I trust, you will find companions who will give you a better idea of what becomes a gentleman.’

In point of fact, this had been arranged for p. 113some time past, though by the desire of Herbert’s present tutor it had not been made known to the young people, so that, coming thus, there was a sound of punishment in it to Herbert.

The interview ended there.  The annoyance, enhanced in his mind by having come on a Sunday, brought on another attack of headache; but late in the evening he sent for Herbert, who always had to go very early on the Monday.  It was to ask him whether he would not prefer the payment being made to Stanhope and the other pupil after he had left them.  Herbert’s scowl passed off.  It was a great relief.  He said they were prepared to wait till he had his allowance, and the act of consideration softened him, as did also the manifest look of suffering and illness, as his uncle lay on the couch, hardly able to speak, and yet exerting himself thus to spare the lad.

‘Thank you, sir,’ actually Herbert said, and then, with a gulp, ‘I am sorry about that bird—I wish I’d never told them, but it was Stanhope who drove me to it, not believing.’

‘I thought it was not your better mind,’ said his uncle, holding out his hand.  ‘I should like you to make me a promise, Herbert, not to make a bet while I am away.  I should go with an easier mind.’

‘I will, uncle,’ said Herbert, heartily reflecting, perhaps, it must be owned, on the fewer opportunities in that line at Westhaven, except at the regatta, but really resolving, as the only salve to his conscience.  And there was that in his face and the clasp of his hand that gave his uncle a sense of comfort and hope.

p. 114CHAPTER XVII

ON THE SURFACE

Lady Adela, though small and pale, was one of the healthy women who seem unable to believe in any ailments short of a raging fever; and when she heard of neuralgia, decided that it was all a matter of imagination, and a sort of excuse for breaking off the numerous occupations in which she felt his value, but only as she would have acknowledged that of a good schoolmaster.  Their friendly intercourse had never ripened into intimacy, and was still punctiliously courteous; each tacitly dreaded the influence of the other on the Vicar-in-Church matters, and every visit of the Westhaven family confirmed Lady Adela’s belief that it was undesirable to go below the surface.

Bertha, who came down for a day or two to assist at the breaking-up demonstration of the High School at Colbeam, was as ever much more cordial.  The chief drawbacks with her were that cynical tone, which made it always doubtful whether she were making game of her hearers, and the philanthropy, not greatly tinged with religion, so as to p. 115confuse old-fashioned minds.  She used to bring down strange accounts of her startling adventures in the slums, and relate them in a rattling style, interluded with slang, being evidently delighted to shock and puzzle her hearers; but still she was always good-natured in deed if not in word, and Lord Northmoor was very grateful for her offer of hospitality to Herbert, who was coming to London for his preliminary examination.

She had come up to call, determined to be of use to them, and she had experience enough of travelling to be very helpful.  Finding that they shuddered at the notion of fashionable German ‘baden,’ she exclaimed—

‘I’ll hit you off!  There’s that place in the Austrian Tyrol that Lettice Bury frequents—a regular primitive place with a name—Oh, what is it, Addie, like rats and mice?’

‘Ratzes,’ said Adela.