CHAPTER VII.
RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL.
Walters soon made up his mind, and with much thankfulness accepted Sir John's offer of a home in Denham. That gentleman took him to see the cottage in which he proposed he should occupy two rooms, and introduced him to good Mrs Benson, who, with her niece, promised to do all they could for his comfort. He could only exclaim every now and then, "Too good, too good for me! Who would have thought of such a home as this coming to me in my old age?"
He went back to London, packed up his few goods and chattels, and bid good-bye to his friends in Covent Garden. He was well known there, and all were sorry to part with him, but glad to hear of his good fortune. His landlady regretted losing her quiet lodger, whose regular payments and steady habits she knew how to value. It was with quite a heavy heart she saw him into the cab that was to take him to the station. She did the last good office she could for him by putting into his hand a paper parcel containing some sandwiches, that he might not be hungry on the journey.
Dick's delight when he found his dear old friend was going to move to Denham may be easily imagined. He only regretted that he had to go back to London at all.
Mrs Benson was quite ready for him when he arrived one evening in the middle of October. Dick went to meet him at the station in the conveyance sent by Sir John to take him to the cottage, and was glad to be the one to lead him into the comfortable little sitting-room, where a bright fire was burning and tea laid out on the round table. Mrs Benson followed, looking and saying kind things, and her niece bustled about to make the tea and toast the bread. It rather distressed him to be waited on thus; he had always been accustomed to do these things for himself; but he comforted his mind by saying that they must not think he should give them such trouble in future.
In a very short time he was quite settled, and seeing that he would really prefer it, Mrs Benson allowed him to wait a good deal on himself, and to do in every respect as he had been accustomed. The neighbours soon learned to like the gentle, kind old man who was ever ready to perform any little service for them in his power, such as going on an errand, sitting with a sick child, or reading to an invalid of riper years.
George Bentham's character did not improve as he got older. He was so unsatisfactory in many ways that Mr Naylor would have dismissed him altogether, had it not been for Sir John's kind desire to keep him on, for he knew the wages he gave were higher than he would obtain elsewhere. Neither he nor Naylor were aware of the dislike he had from the first taken to Dick, who never named the annoyances he had to bear from him to any one except Walters.
"I have never done anything to him," he said one day; "yet he is always trying to spite me in every way he can. I really will begin and give it him back again. I know twenty ways in which I can do him a bad turn."
"Stop, stop, my boy," said Walters, "I don't like to hear you speak so. That would be spite for spite. The dear Master did not act so when they tried all they could to vex Him. Yet He never did wrong in any way. You, on the contrary, are constantly standing in need of forgiveness from God. So you must learn to forgive even as you would be forgiven."
"I will try," said Dick, feeling rather ashamed of his speech.
"Do, my lad; but you won't be able to do it in your own strength, for it goes contrary to human nature. You must pray—nothing like prayer—and so you will find. And then, Dick, there's another thing to remember. Look here"—and Walters turned over the leaves of the Bible that was never far from his hand—"see this verse which the Master spoke for the good of boys as much as for older people, 'Do good to them that hate you.' You see you must not be content with only forgiving."
"But what can I do for George?" asked Dick. "I never go near him if I can help—there isn't any good I can do him in any way."
"Yes, lad, you can say a prayer for him now and then; and if ever you see he needs a bit of help at any time, be you the one to offer it, and you'll get a blessing, take my word for it."
They were sitting by the fireside in Walters' little parlour. Dick had been to take his Latin lesson. As Mrs Benson's cottage lay on his way home, he had turned in to see Walters. He was about to bid good-bye to him after these last words, but the old man stopped him and said—
"Wait a bit, and I'll tell you something that will show you how bad a thing is spite or revenge. Maybe it will prevent you ever feeling the desire to vex a person back because they vex you. It's a sad story, but you shall hear it, though the very telling of it gives me a pain all these long years after.
"When I was a young man I was very fond of horses, and liked to be about them. My father wanted me to become a schoolmaster in a village, because I'd had a better education than most boys of my sort; but nothing would serve me but to go about the stables. So my father spoke to our squire about it, and he said I should go under his coachman, and so I did; and I got to understand horses, and could ride and drive them—according to my own thinking—as well as the coachman himself, when suddenly my master died and the establishment was all broken up. I returned home to wait till I could find another situation. Just at this time a young man about my own age, named James Bennett, came home out of place likewise. He had been, like myself, in a gentleman's stables, and had only left his place because the family had gone abroad. He and I had lived near each other as boys, and had had many a game together, but we had not met for three or four years, as he had been away in quite another part of England. We used to see one another pretty often, as we had neither of us much to do then but to idle about.
"It so happened that just at this time a Mr Anderson, living about two miles off, wanted a groom quite unexpectedly, and a friend of mine called and advised me to lose no time in applying for the situation, as a new servant must be had instantly. James Bennett happened to be in our cottage when I was told this, but he left it almost instantly. I lost no time, but went upstairs and put on my best clothes; and then I set out, to walk to Newton Hall, where Mr Anderson lived. I was anxious for the place, for I knew it was a good one; and as it had only become vacant a few hours, I felt I had a real good chance of getting it. When I arrived there I was shown in to Mr Anderson, who said I was a likely enough fellow, but that he had just seen another young man whom he had promised to take if his character satisfied him. 'You know him probably,' he said, 'for he comes from your village; his name is James Bennett.'
"I started with surprise and indignation. In an instant I saw just how it was. James had heard what my friend had said about Mr Anderson's situation being vacant, and advising me to lose no time in applying. He had quietly sneaked of and got before me; for, as I afterwards found, he had had a lift in a gig, whilst I walked all the way, so he had considerably the start of me.
"I left the house full of angry feelings, and despising James from the bottom of my heart for his meanness; and I took care to tell him so. He could not defend himself, though he tried to make out it was all fair play, and a case of first go, first served.
"He got the place and went to it directly, on good wages. I, on the other hand, could not hear of one anywhere. I used to see James ride by, exercising his new master's horse, and my thoughts were very bitter.
"Mr Anderson had a daughter who was very delicate, and was ordered horse exercise. Her father had bought her a beautiful creature which had Arab blood in its veins—that means that it was high bred and full of spirit. Now Miss Anderson had not yet been allowed to mount him because he had such a bad trick of shying when he came to any water. There was a certain pool which lay by the roadside between our village and Mr Anderson's house, which he would never pass without a great fuss. The former groom and Mr Anderson had tried in vain to cure him of the trick. James said he thought he should be able to do it, and he was proud to try.
"So he took him in hand. Every day he practised the animal. He tamed him at last so that he scarcely moved an ear when he saw the pond. I heard that after one day's more practice he meant to pronounce him quite cured. Now all this time I was feeling angry, and longing to spite him for the trick he had played me. I grudged him the fame of having cured the horse of shying, for I knew I could have done it as well, and I was always thinking about the way he had stolen the place from me.
"Well, Dick, Satan saw now that was a fine time for him, and he made the most of it. He put into my heart to do a mean trick by which I thought to pay James back something of what I owed him.
"I bought some crackers and put them in my pocket, and I walked to the place where the pond lay, a little before the time when I knew James would come with the horse. My idea was to conceal myself behind the thick hedge, and pull a cracker just at the moment the horse was passing the pond. I thought so to startle him that it would make him worse than ever about shying in future, and then all James's trouble would be thrown away, and he would not have the credit of curing him of the bad habit.
"I crept behind the hedge and was completely hidden. After a time I heard horse's hoofs, and saw James come up. He walked by the pond, slowly at first, then he went quicker, and next he trotted. The pretty creature was quite quiet. Then he went to a little distance, and put him into a canter. Now was my time; I pulled my cracker just as he got to the pond. The horse sprang up into the air, bolted forward, and the next instant was running away fast and fleet as the very wind. I heard the hoofs going at a mad pace, and I knew his rider had lost all control over him. Not for one moment had I intended to drive the horse wild like that. The most I had thought of was to cause him to prance and kick, and begin his old trick of not passing the pond. I felt no anxiety lest any real harm would come of it. I knew James was a good rider, and supposed he would give the horse his head for awhile and then pull him in. So I walked home, thinking I had paid Master James off in some degree at all events.
"We were just finishing dinner when a neighbour looked in, and asked if we had heard what had happened. He said that James Bennett had been riding Mr Anderson's horse, and that it had run away with him and thrown him violently against a milestone; that he was taken up quite senseless, and it was feared there was concussion of the brain! He had been carried to a farmhouse close by, which there was little chance of his leaving alive. It was dreadful hearing for me. I felt as if I should have committed murder, if he died! Not that I had wished really to harm him bodily in any way. I could comfort myself a little with that thought, but I had intended to do him a mischief of another kind; and now the ugliness of the sin of revenge rose up before me in its true colours, and I hated myself.
"I kept my own secret. I argued that it could make matters neither better nor worse to tell what had made the horse run off. But I was very wretched. I walked to the farm towards evening to inquire after him. They said he was still insensible, and the doctor could give little hope. His parents were there, and Mr Anderson drove up as I was going away, having brought a second doctor with him. It was a comfort to know that he would be well cared for. The next day he had come to himself when I went to inquire, but there was no more hope than before. He lay in a very precarious state for a week, and then there was a change for the better. A few days more and the doctor said he would live, but that it would be many months probably before he would be well enough to go into service again. Mr Anderson was very kind, and promised to continue his wages to enable him to live at home till he was quite well. But he could not keep his place open for him, so he offered it to me.
"I positively declined to accept it, much to Mr Anderson's surprise. I felt that I could not endure to reap any benefit from my wrong-doing. My conscience had been tormenting me ever since the accident, and I made up my mind that I would never take a situation as groom again, for the very sight of a horse made me uncomfortable. In a short time, thanks to my late mistress's recommendation, I obtained a place as personal servant to a gentleman who was going on the Continent for a couple of years. Now it seems natural that new countries and new ways should put what had just passed out of my head; but they didn't, though I certainly did enjoy travelling about very much. We went to France and Germany, stopping for a time at all the principal cities, and then we went to Italy and spent some time in Rome. But notwithstanding the novelty of all around me I was not altogether happy. I believe I was beginning to feel what a sinful heart I had then, and I often longed to open my mind to some one, but there was nobody I knew to whom I liked to speak. However, God had His own designs for me, as you will hear.
"My master visited Venice on our return home, and from there he took an excursion through some mountains called 'The Dolomites.' One day, as we were crossing a narrow plank thrown across a steep gorge, my foot slipped and I fell down a very considerable distance on to a hard rock, and it is wonderful that I was not killed on the spot. I was taken up senseless by some peasants who were fortunately near, and carried into a hut, where my master joined me, and he and they did all in their power to restore consciousness. I recovered my senses after awhile, but I had to lie in that hut for upwards of ten days, and during that time I looked back on my past life and saw how sinful I had been, and I trembled when I thought how death and I had been face to face when I fell into the gorge. My revengeful conduct towards James Bennett stared me in the face in such black colours as it had never done before. 'What would have become of me had I been killed?' was my constant thought.
"When I returned to England I went to live with a clergyman, who was a good and holy man, to whom, after awhile, I ventured to open my mind. He taught me what my Saviour had done for me by His death, and how I might look for pardon through His merits, and grace and help for the future. I have told you all this, Dick, that you may beware of ever wishing to give what is called 'tit for tat.' Now go home, and whenever you say your prayers ask God to keep you from all malice and bitterness."
This advice of Walters came at a very opportune time, for not long after Dick had occasion to bring it to mind.
It was George Bentham's duty to shut up the greenhouse windows at a certain hour in the afternoon, and Mr Naylor was extremely particular on this point. He had neglected it once or twice, and had been severely reprimanded but when a third time Mr Naylor found the windows open late, he took the duty away from him entirely, and gave it to Dick in his presence, remarking that he felt sure he might trust him. George said nothing at the time, but his jealousy increased. He went away revolving in his mind how he could lower Dick in Mr Naylor's opinion, and a way soon suggested itself.
Dick was surprised one evening after he had carefully closed the windows in the afternoon at the proper time, by Mr Naylor reproving him sharply when he came in to tea for having left one of them open.
"Indeed, sir, I shut them all," said Dick.
"You mean you meant to do so, but were careless and forgot the end one," said Mr Naylor. "Now don't get into the way of making excuses; better own your fault at once, and say you will be more careful in future; then I shall have hope that it will not happen again."
Dick said no more. He was puzzled, for he felt almost sure he had shut that end window. Yet how could it have got open again? No one ever went near the greenhouses in the afternoon after they were shut. He always turned the key on the outside when he went out, though he left it in the door by order, because Mr Naylor went his rounds towards evening, and then took the keys home with him. At length he was obliged to come to the conclusion that he must have overlooked that window without being aware of it.
About a week afterwards a frost set in, and though it was sunny and fine for some hours, the air grew cold directly the sun began to decline, and Dick received orders to close the windows earlier than customary, and he did so.
The head gardener went the rounds as usual that afternoon before going home to tea. The cold was severe, and his vigilance for his plants was consequently greater than ever.
As he came to the door of the greenhouse he thought he heard a slight noise within, and looked carefully about on opening the door, but could see nothing to have caused it, so thought it must have been fancy. When he examined the windows he found one of them wide open.
"Again!" he said to himself. "So that boy is as bad as the other, and must be trusted no more." He shut it, and a second time fancied he heard a noise, and listened, but all was still. When he went home he spoke more angrily to Dick than he had ever done before, and desired him not to enter the greenhouses again, since he found he could not be trusted. "Had I not gone in there," he said, "and seen that the window was left wide open, some of the choicest of the plants must have been frostbitten."
"But indeed, indeed, I shut them every one, sir," exclaimed Dick. "Some one must have gone in after me, and opened that window. Oh! it was too bad; it must have been done from spite."
"I can scarcely believe that," said the gardener. "Excuses of that sort won't help you."
"It is not an excuse, sir. Do believe me, for indeed I shut all the windows carefully."
"Maybe the lad is right," said Mrs Naylor, who was fond of Dick, and had always found him truthful. "Perhaps some one has a grudge against him, and took that way of doing him a mischief."
"Have you any reason to suppose you have an enemy?" inquired Mr Naylor.
"Yes, I have, sir," replied Dick.
"Who is it?"
Dick did not reply; he was not sure whether he ought to name him.
But Johnnie Naylor, who with his brother was present, exclaimed—
"George Bentham is his enemy, I think, for he said the other day he hated Dick, because he was put over him about the windows just because he was a favourite."
A new idea appeared to strike Mr Naylor. He seemed in deep thought for a moment. He was thinking of the noise he fancied he had heard. Then taking down a lantern and lighting the lamp within, he strode off without a word, and took his way to the greenhouse.
Unlocking the door, he entered, and closed it after him. Again there was a slight noise. This time he was sure that something alive was there besides himself, and he began to search.
[Illustration: "HE RAISED HIS LANTERN AND LOOKED BEHIND A TIER OF SHELVES.">[
The house was a good-sized one, and he examined every corner, but in vain. Then he raised his lantern and looked behind a tier of shelves which stood out a little way from the wall.
A dark figure was there crouching down. It was George Bentham, who, with a face white as ashes, came forth at Mr Naylor's command.
"What are you doing here, sir?" he asked, in a voice of thunder.
"I got locked in, sir."
"And what brought you here at all?"
The ready lie that he would fain have had rise to his lips, failed him from actual terror, and he was silent.
"I will tell you why you are here," said the gardener. "You came to open that window in order to get an innocent companion into trouble, and to have it supposed that he was careless and had neglected his duty, and it is the second time you have done the base deed. You are a coward of the worst kind, and you shall come with me instantly to Sir John himself, and hear his opinion of your conduct."
Then George found his voice, and implored Mr Naylor to punish him in any way rather than take him before Sir John, but in vain. He marched him off without another word, and made him walk before him to the house, where he requested to see the baronet.
Very shocked and indignant was Sir John at what he heard about the wretched boy before him, who did not attempt to deny that he had hoped to bring Dick into disgrace, and so had slipped into the greenhouse to open the window, but had not time to escape before Mr Naylor came and locked him in. He had no way of getting out without breaking the windows, owing to their peculiar method of opening. He acknowledged that Dick had never done him any harm, and could only say in reply to the questions put to him, that "he had never liked him."
Sir John dismissed him from his service on the spot, and told him his opinion of his conduct in terms which remained in his memory for many a day.
Dick was very glad when Mr Naylor told him the mystery about the open window had been cleared up; but to his credit be it spoken, he was really grieved to hear that George was to work no more in the gardens. He longed to plead for him, but knew it would be useless, as Sir John and Mr Naylor were so seriously displeased. But when a little time had passed by, and George was still without regular employment, hanging about the village, often reminded by jeers and taunts of his mean conduct, Dick felt more and more sorry for him, and at length he ventured to ask Mr Naylor if he would say a good word for him to Sir John.
"And so you want him to be taken on again, do you?" was the reply. "That's queer, now."
But queer as he thought it, Naylor could appreciate Dick's forgiving spirit, and admired it sufficiently to induce him to ask Sir John if the boy might have another trial, and he obtained his consent. He took care to tell George who it was had pleaded for his return. The boy had avoided Dick since his disgrace, but this generous conduct quite overcame him. Though foreign to his own nature to act thus, he was touched and grateful, and actually thanked Dick, and told him he was sorry he had behaved so shabbily to him. From that day the two lads were good friends. George never again annoyed Dick.
We must pass over the next few years of Dick's history more rapidly. He did not disappoint the expectations of those who had done so much for him. He improved rapidly, and developed so strong a taste for landscape gardening that Sir John and Mr Naylor advised him to lay himself out chiefly for that branch of the profession, and every aid was given him to do so. Sir John thought that his steady character, united to considerable natural talent, well deserved encouragement. The result was, that when he grew to manhood he introduced him to the notice of several families of distinction, and he soon began to get a name and to acquire a considerable income. Walters lived to see him married and prosperous, and ever true to the principles he had instilled into him as a child.
At a good old age dear old John Walters passed away to his rest. His death was calm and happy as his life had been. His remains lie in the little churchyard at Denham, a plain white stone marking the spot. Many still remember and speak of him with affection. Amongst the number is Sir John, now himself grown old. Sometimes he has been heard to exclaim, as he pauses an instant before the grave—
"Let my last end be like his!"
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