"I think I can, Frankie. I had something in hand towards my own possible flitting. Here is the key of my desk. Bring me my banker's book and my cheque book."
"Mother! mother!" he cried, catching her hand and kissing it, "what a mother you are!"
"You understand," she said, "that it is because I believe you were not master of yourself, and that this is the exception, not the habit, that I am willing to do all I can for you."
"The habit! No, indeed! I never staked more than a box of gloves before; but what's the good, if she has made a vow against me?"
Mrs. Poynsett was silent for a few moments, then she said, "My poor boy, I believe you are both victims of a plot. I suspect that Camilla Tyrrell purposely let you see that pebble-token and be goaded into gambling, that she might have a story to tell her sister, when she had failed to shake her constancy and principle in any other way."
"Mother, that would make her out a fiend. She has been my good and candid friend all along. You don't know her."
"What would a friend have done by you yesterday?"
"She neither saw nor heard my madness. No, mother, Lenore's heart has been going from me for months past, and she is glad of this plea for release, believing me unworthy. Oh! that stern face of hers! set like a head of Justice with not a shade of pity-so beautiful- so terrible! It will never cease to haunt me."
He sat in deep despondency, while Mrs. Poynsett overlooked her resources; but presently he started up, saying, "There's one shadow of a hope. I'll go over to Sirenwood, insist on seeing one her and having an explanation. I have a right, whatever I did yesterday; and you have forgiven me for that, mother!"
"I think it is the most hopeful way. If you can see her without interposition, you will at least come to an understanding. Here, you had better take this cheque for Sir Harry."
When he was gone, she wondered whether she had been justified in encouraging him in defending Eleonora. Was this not too like another form of the treatment Raymond had experienced? Her heart bled for her boy, and she was ready to cry aloud, "Must that woman always be the destroyer of my sons' peace?"
When Frank returned, it was with a face that appalled her by its blank despair, as he again flung himself down beside her.
"She is gone," he said.
"Gone!"
"Gone, and with the Strangeways. I saw her."
"Spoke to her?"
"Oh no. The carriage turned the corner as I crossed the road. The two girls were there, and she-"
"Going with them to the station?"
"I thought so; I went to the house, meaning to leave my enclosure for Sir Harry and meet her on her way back; but I heard she was gone to stay with Lady Susan in Yorkshire. Sir Harry was not up, nor Lady Tyrrell."
Mrs. Poynsett's hope failed, though she was relieved that Camilla's tongue had not been in action. She was dismayed at the prone exhausted manner in which Frank lay, partly on the floor, partly against her couch, with his face hidden.
"Do you know where she is gone?"
"Yes, Revelrig, Cleveland, Yorkshire."
"I will write to her. Whatever may be her intentions, they shall not be carried out under any misrepresentation that I can contradict. You have been a foolish fellow, Frankie; but you shall not be painted worse than you are. She owes you an explanation, and I will do my best that you shall have it. My dear, what is the matter?"
She rang her bell hastily, and upheld the sinking head till help came. He had not lost consciousness, and called it giddiness, and he was convicted of having never gone to bed last night, and having eaten nothing that morning; but he turned against the wine and soup with which they tried to dose him, and, looking crushed and bewildered, said he would go and lie down in his own room.
Raymond went up with him, and returned, saying he only wanted to be alone, with his face from the light; and Mrs. Poynsett, gazing at her eldest son, thought he looked as ill and sunken as his younger brother.
CHAPTER XXVI. A Stickit Minister
And the boy not out of him.-TENNYSON'S Queen Mary
Julius had only too well divined the cause of his summons. He found Herbert Bowater's papers on the table before the Bishop, and there was no denying that they showed a declension since last year, and that though, from men without his advantages they would have been passable, yet from him they were evidences of neglect of study and thought. Nor could the cause be ignored by any one who had kept an eye on the cricket reports in the county paper; but Herbert was such a nice, hearty, innocent fellow, and his father was so much respected, that it was with great reluctance that his rejection was decided on and his Rector had been sent for in case there should be any cause for extenuation.
Julius could not say there was. He was greatly grieved and personally ashamed, but he could plead nothing but his own failure to influence the young man enough to keep him out of a rage for amusement, of which the quantity, not the quality, was the evil. So poor Herbert was sent for to hear his fate, and came back looking stunned. He hardly spoke till they were in the fly that Julius had brought from Backsworth, and then the untamed school-boy broke forth: "What are you doing with me? I say, I can't go back to Compton like a dog in a string."
"Where will you go?"
"I don't care. To Jericho at once, out of the way of every one. I tell you what, Rector, it was the most ridiculous examination I ever went up for, and I'm not the only man that says so. There was Rivers, of St. Mary's at Backsworth,-he says the questions were perfectly unreasonable, and what no one could be prepared for. This fellow Danvers is a new hand, and they are always worst, setting one a lot of subjects of no possible use but to catch one out. I should like to ask him now what living soul at Compton he expects to be the better for my views on the right reading of-"
Julius interrupted the passionate tones at the lodge by saying, "If you wish to go to Jericho, you must give directions."
Herbert gave something between a laugh and a growl.
"I left the pony at Backsworth. Will you come with me to Strawyers and wait in the park till I send Jenny out to you?"
"No, I say. I know my father will be in a greater rage than he ever was in his life, and I won't go sneaking about. I'd like to go to London, to some hole where no one would ever hear of me. If I were not in Orders already, I'd be off to the ivory-hunters in Africa, and never be heard of more. If this was to be, I wish they had found it out a year ago, and then I should not have been bound," continued the poor young fellow, in his simplicity, thinking his thoughts aloud, and his sweet candid nature beginning to recover its balance. "Now I'm the most wretched fellow going. I know what I've undertaken. It's not your fault, nor poor Joanna's. You've all been at me, but it only made me worse. What could my father be thinking of to make a parson of a fellow like me? Well, I must face it out sooner or later at Compton, and I had better do it there than at home, even if my father would have me."
"I must go to Strawyers. The Bishop gave me a letter for your father, and I think it will break it a little for your mother. Would you wait for me at Rood House? You could go into the chapel, and if they wish for you, I could return and fetch you."
Herbert caught at this as a relief, and orders were given accordingly. It seemed a cruel moment to tell him of young Hornblower's evasion and robbery, but the police wanted the description of the articles; and, in fact, nothing would have so brought home to him that, though Compton might not appreciate minutiae of Greek criticism, yet the habit of diligence, of which it was the test, might make a difference there. The lingering self- justification was swept away by the sense of the harm his pleasure- seeking had done to the lad whom he had once influenced. He had been fond and proud of his trophies, but he scarcely wasted a thought on them, so absorbed was he in the thought of how he had lorded it over the youth with that late rebuke. The blame he had refused to take on himself then came full upon him now, and he reproached himself too much to be angered at the treachery and ingratitude.