[CHAPTER XII.]
THE LION'S MOUTH.
WE won't laugh again at John Tincroft and his awkwardness, if it so please you, reader. We see him now under a new phase; his awkward shyness vanished, he is coming out a man, a gentleman, and if it so please you, as I hope it does, a Christian. I have said that John was no hero. I revoke the charge. He is a hero now, and I am absolutely proud of him, as I see him, on that cold January day, on the top of the Tally-ho, dragging on through snowdrifts; for a snowstorm had set in at midday, which had also covered him with its hoary fleece.
It was late at night when he reached the town nearest the Manor House, for the coach was delayed by the snow, which partially blocked the road, and there being no dog-cart to meet him on this occasion, he was obliged to put up at an inn.
The next morning, however, saw him on foot, unencumbered with luggage, for he meant to decline the hospitality which he knew would be offered him, and having transacted his business, to return at once to Oxford. So he plodded on through the snow, which was sometimes up to his knees, and sometimes higher, over the six or seven miles of country road that separated him from the goal of his high duty—which he reached at last.
"I tell you what, my dear Tincroft," said Mr. Richard Grigson to him, when John's story was told: "I am heartily glad to see you, and it is all nonsense about your not stopping here two or three days, or as long as you like, for that matter. Come, draw nearer the fire; you must be frozen inside as well as out."
This was spoken as the two were seated at lunch, after John had, by the help of his friend's wardrobe, changed his wet stockings, boots, and nether garments.
"Thank you, thank you, heartily, Mr. Grigson; but you see I must get back to my rooms at college as soon as I can. This is my last term, and I have no time to waste. But I could not rest satisfied till I had done what I could for the poor girl."
"And that is what I was coming to, Tincroft. I am afraid, as for as that is concerned, yours is a lost journey. Of course, I know all about it, and how innocent you are—"
"No, no; don't say that. I am not innocent, being the cause of all the mischief. It is the poor girl, Sarah Wilson, who is the innocent sufferer from my blunders."