“My dear child, what nonsense! Nay, my foolish little fellow,” answered Julian, “this is really a mistake of yours. Aunt Vinsear was angry with me for my letters,—not with you. Don’t cry so, Cyril, for I really don’t care a rush about it; but I shall care if it vexes you. But shall I tell you why you ought to know of it, Cyril?”
“Why?”
“Because, my boy, it affects you too. You know, Cyril, that we are very poor now. Well, you see we shall have to support ourselves hereafter, and mother and Violet depend on us so you must work hard, Cyril, will you? and don’t be idle at Marlby, as I’m afraid you have been. Eh, my boy?”
The boy promised faithfully, and performed the promise well in after days; but that night Julian did not leave him until he was fast asleep.
We shall tell only one more scene of Julian’s Harton life, and that very briefly.
It is a glorious summer afternoon; four o’clock bell is just over, and it is expected that in a few minutes the examiner, (an old Hartonian and senior classic), will read out the list which shall give the result of many weeks’ hard work. The Newry scholarship is to be announced at the same time: Bruce and Home are the favourite names.
A crowd of boys throng round the steps, but Julian is not among them; he is leaning over the rails of the churchyard, under the elm-trees by Peachey’s tomb, filled with a trembling and almost sickening anxiety. Bruce, confident of victory, is playing racquets, just below the schoolyard.
The Examiner suddenly appears from the speech-room door. There is a breathless silence while he reads the list, and then announces, in an emphatic voice—
“The Newry scholarship is adjudged to Julian Home!”
Off darts Lillyston, bounds up the hill into the churchyard, and has informed the happy Julian of his good fortune long before the “three cheers for Mr Burton,” and “three cheers for Home,” have died away.