"Tell mamma I'm gone home," whispered Georgina to Mr. St. John, as she disappeared in the opposite direction.
"Arkell is dead, Mr. St. John," observed Mrs. Beauclerc. "The bell is tolling for him. I wonder the dean ordered the bell to toll for him: it will cause quite a commotion in the city to hear the college death-bell."
"He is to be buried here, in the cloisters, Mrs. Beauclerc."
"Really! Will the dean allow it?"
"The dean has decided it."
"Oh, indeed. I never understand half the dean does."
"So your companion is gone, Lewis junior," observed Mr. St. John, as the boy came stealing out of the college with his information. But Lewis never answered: and though he touched his forehead (he had no cap on) to the dean's wife, he never raised his eyes; but sneaked on, with his ghastly face, and his head bent down.
Those of the college boys who wished it went to see him in his coffin. Georgina Beauclerc also went. She told the dean, in a straightforward manner, that she should like to see Henry Arkell now he lay dead; and the dean saw no reason for refusing. The death had sobered Miss Beauclerc; but whatever feeling of remorse she might be conscious of, was hidden within her.
"You will not be frightened, I suppose, Georgina?" said the dean, in some indecision. "Did you ever see anybody dead?"
"I saw that old gardener of ours that died at the rectory, papa. I was frightened at him; a frightful old yellow scarecrow he looked. Henry Arkell won't look like that. Papa, I wish those wicked college boys who were his enemies could be hung!"