Orville College: A Story

by Mrs. Henry Wood

The young man gave no answer, unless a sudden hectic that flushed his face, and was discernible even in the fading light could be called such. ONE, looking down at him from beyond that tranquil sky, grey now, knew where it lay, and what it was vested in.

"I had revered my father as the most honourable, just, good man living," he resumed, in a low tone; "a Christian man, a brave officer and gentleman; and when the blow came it seemed to stun me—to take away everything that was worth living for."

He spoke only in accordance with the truth. The blow was great; his sensitiveness was exceeding great, and the shock had cut off all hope for this life. His spirit was by nature a proud spirit; his rectitude great; to do ill in the eyes of the world—and such ill!—would to him have been simply impossible; and the awful disgrace that seemed to fall upon him, to have made itself his, struck to every fibre of his inward life. Never more could he hold up his head in the sight of men. Added to this, was the terrible grief for his father, whom he so loved—for his father's fall, and his father's death. This, of itself, would have gone well nigh to break his heart.

"Have you been assisting your mother?" asked the doctor, remembering the stories carried to him of Mr. Henry's saving habits.

"Oh yes."

"Ay," said the master, as if this explained all.

Few young men have their hopes blighted on the very threshold of life as his had been. His prospects came suddenly to an end with the shock. Not a doubt of his father's guilt had penetrated his mind. The particulars, as written to him circumstantially by Mrs. Paradyne, did not admit of doubt. He had been working for them ever since. Mrs. Paradyne had a very small income of her own, not much more than enough to find her in gloves and ribbons and a new silk gown once in a way. Arthur (with what little help her daughter could give) had to do the rest. And she was not kind to him. Perhaps it was the long separation—he over in Germany, she in England—that estranged her affections from him, her eldest son. In time he wrote word to her that he had accepted an engagement in England, at Orville College, and suggested that George should be moved to it. He had two ends in view—the one the advantage of the boy; the other that he might get some intercourse with his mother and sister. He knew how he should have to toil and pinch to meet the additional expenses, but that seemed nothing. A shadow, of what the future was to be, fell over him before he had quitted Heidelberg; for on the morning of his departure there came a letter from Mrs. Paradyne warning him not to make himself known as George's brother or as her son, at first, until they should have met and talked the matter over. They did meet. On the evening following that of Mr. Henry's arrival he went to her house, as perhaps may be remembered, since Mr. Raymond Trace chose, in a sense, to assist at it. During that interview he had a lesson taught him—that the future was to be estrangement, or something akin to it, between him and his family. He was to continue "Mr. Henry," never to disclose himself as a Paradyne, lest the authorities at the college should carp at it; in which case his means of assisting them at home might cease. He saw how it was—that he was valued only in the ratio he could contribute to their support. His generous love was thrown back upon him; his impulses of tenderness were repulsed; he was to be an acquaintance rather than a son. Mrs. Paradyne was resentful at his having counselled their removal to Orville, now that it was found Trace and the Loftus boys were in the College, which, of course, was manifestly unjust. Something very like a dispute took place about the proposed concealment of name. He refused to conceal it from Dr. Brabazon; she insisted that he should. He yielded at last: she was his mother: but he went away from the house wondering whether he had not better return to Germany. Thus it had gone on. Mr. Henry—or Arthur Paradyne, if you would prefer to call him so—bearing his burden as he best might, and toiling patiently to fulfil the obligations he cheerfully accepted as his own; obligations he never thought of repining at. His heart felt crushed; his mind had a weight upon it; but he only feared lest his health should fail and the dear ones suffer.

"Look you," interrupted Dr. Brabazon, arousing himself from a reverie; "you must remain as 'Mr. Henry' for the present. The fact that you are Arthur Paradyne does not hurt the boys; but the declaring it thus suddenly would cause a commotion that might lead to—I don't know what. Until Christmas, at any rate, things shall go on as they have done. The competition for the Orville will then be over; and really, for my part, I don't see why you should not drop the name of Paradyne, if it pleases you to do so. No, I don't," added the doctor, contesting the point with himself aloud, as if he were disputing it with an antagonist; "and I don't see what business it is of other people's, or why anybody should carp at it. So that's settled. You are Mr. Henry still. But I wish you had disclosed the truth at the beginning. It would have made no difference."

"I wish I could have done it, sir," he said, rising to take leave. "The concealment has told upon me. Thank you ever for your kindness to me this evening, Dr. Brabazon."

"I call that young man the victim of circumstances," thought the master, "It's a good, and true, and earnest nature, I am sure; and——"