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 minutiæ 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.
“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.