"I can't prosecute," he said, when Julius asked for the description he had promised to procure.
"We must judge whether it would be true kindness to refrain, if he is captured," said Julius. "I had not time to see his mother, but Rosamond will do what she can for her, poor woman."
"How shall I meet her?" sighed Herbert; and so they arrived at the tranquil little hospital and passed under the deep archway into the gray quadrangle, bright with autumn flowers, and so to the chapel. As they advanced up the solemn and beautiful aisle Herbert dropped on his knees with his hands over his face. Julius knelt beside him for a moment, laid his hand on the curly brown hair, whispered a prayer and a blessing, and then left him; but ere reaching the door, the low choked sobs of anguish of heart could be heard.
A few steps more, and in the broad walk along the quadrangle, Julius met the frail bowed figure with his saintly face, that seemed to have come out of some sacred bygone age.
Julius told his errand. "If you could have seen him just now," he said, "you would see how much more hope there is of him than of many who never technically fail, but have not the same tender, generous heart, and free humility."
"Yes, many a priest might now be thankful if some check had come on him."
"And if he had met it with this freedom from bitterness. And it would be a great kindness to keep him here a day or two. Apart from being with you, the showing himself at Compton or at Strawyers on Sunday would be hard on him."
"I will ask him. I will gladly have him here as long as the quiet may be good for him. My nephew, William, will be here till the end of the Long Vacation, but I must go to St. Faith's on Monday to conduct the retreat."
"I leave him in your hands then, and will call as I return to see what is settled, and report what his family wish. I grieve more for them than for himself."
Julius first encountered Jenny Bowater in the village making farewell calls. He stopped the carriage and joined her, and not a word was needed to tell her that something was amiss. "You have come to tell us something," she said. "Herbert has failed?"
"Prayers are sometimes answered as we do not expect," said Julius. "I believe it will be the making of him."
"Oh, but how will mamma ever bear it!" cried Jenny.
"We must remind her that it is only a matter of delay, not rejection," said Julius.
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes, the Bishop sent for me, and asked me to see your father. It was partly from slips in critical knowledge, which betrayed the want of study, and the general want of thought and progress, and all the rest of it, in his papers-"
"Just the fact-"
"Yes, which a man of less reality and more superficial quickness might have concealed by mere intellectual answers, though it might have been much worse for him in the end."
"Where is he?"
"At Rood House. Unless your mother wishes for him here, he had better stay there till he can bear to come among us again."
"Much better, indeed," said Jenny. "I only hope papa and mamma will see how good it is for him to be there. O, Julius, if he is taking it in such a spirit, I can think it all right for him; but for them- for them, it is very hard to bear. Nothing ever went wrong with the boys before, and Herbert-mamma's darling!" Her eyes were full of tears.
"I wish he had had a better Rector," said Julius.
"No, don't say that. It was not your fault."
"I cannot tell. An older man, or more truly a holier man, might have had more influence. We were all in a sort of laissez-aller state this autumn, and now comes the reckoning."
"There's papa," said Jenny. "Had you rather go to him alone, or can I do any good?"
"I think I will go alone," said Julius.
Mr. Bowater, who had grown up in a day when examinations were much less earnest matters, never guessed what brought Julius over, but simply thought he had come to wish them good-bye; then believed in any accident rather than in failure, and finally was exceedingly angry, and stormed hotly, first at examinations and modern Bishops, then at cricket and fine ladies, then at Julius, for not having looked after the lad better, and when this was meekly accepted, indignation took a juster direction, and Herbert's folly and idleness were severely lashed more severely than Julius thought they quite deserved, but a word of pleading only made it worse. Have him home to take leave? No, indeed, Mr. Bowater hoped he knew his duty better as father of a family, when a young man had publicly disgraced himself. "I'll tell you what, Julius Charnock, if you wish him to forget all the little impression it may have made, and be ready to run after any amount of folly, you'd make me have him home to be petted and cried over by his mother and sisters. He has been their spoilt pet too long, and I won't have him spoilt now. I'll not see him till he has worked enough to show whether there's any real stuff in him."
Mr. Bowater never even asked where his son was, probably taking it for granted that he was gone back to Compton; nor did Julius see Jenny again, as she was trying to comfort her mother under the dreadful certainty that poor dear Herbert was most cruelly treated, and that the examining chaplain came of a bad stock, and always had had a dislike to the family. It was to be hoped that Mr. Bowater would keep to his wise resolution, and not send for Herbert, for nothing could be worse for him than the sympathy he would have met with from her.
What with looking in to report at Rood House and finding Herbert most grateful for leave to remain there for a few days, Julius did not reach home till long after dark. Pleasantly did the light greet him from the open doorway where his Rosamond was standing. She sprang at once into his arms, as if he had been absent a month, and cried, "Here you are, safe at last!" Then, as she pulled off his wraps, "How tired you must be! Have you had any food? No-it's all ready;" and he could see 'high tea' spread, and lighted by the first fire of the season. "Come and begin!"
"What, without washing my hands?"
"You are to do that in the study; it is all ready." He did not exactly see why he should be too tired to mount to his dressing- room; but he obeyed, not ungratefully, and his chair was ready, his plate heaped with partridge and his tumbler filled with ale almost before his eyes had recovered the glare of light. The eagerness and flutter of Rosamond's manner began to make him anxious, and he began for the third time the inquiries she had always cut short-"Baby all right? Terry better?"
"Baby-oh yes, a greater duck than ever. I put her to bed myself, and she was quite delicious. Eat, I say; go on."
"Not unless you eat that other wing."
"I'll help myself then. You go on. I don't see Herbert, so I suppose it is all right. Where's your canonry?"
"Alas! poor Herbert is plucked. I had to go round by Strawyers to tell them."
"Plucked! I never heard of such a thing. I think it is a great shame such a nice honest fellow should be so ill-used, and when all his pretty things have been stolen too! Do you know, they've taken up young Hornblower; but his friends have made off with the things, and they say they are in the melting-pot by this time, and there's no chance of recovering them."
"I don't think he cares much now, poor fellow. Did you see Mrs. Hornblower?"
"No; by the time I could get my hat on she had heard it, poor thing, and was gone to Backsworth; for he's there, in the county gaol; was taken at the station, I believe; I don't half understand it."
Her manner was indeed strange and flighty; and though she recurred to questions about the Ordination and the Bowaters, Julius perceived that she was forcing her attention to the answers as if trying to stave off his inquiries, and he came to closer quarters. "How is Terry? Has Dr. Worth been here?"