Orville College: A Story

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"But your innocence did not prevent your being accused. When that straw man was set ablaze to frighten Mother Butter, I had nothing to do with it, as you are all aware, I did not even know of it, but Baker accused me, and gave me the cane. Well, it was just so with my father. He was accused, being perfectly innocent, and before the proofs of his innocence could be brought forth, before almost he had time to deny it, before he well understood what the charge was, he died: the excitement killed him. Loftus—and I thank you for standing by me now, and I know you have never worked against me as some of the rest have—I told your father this in Boulogne, and I think he grew to believe me. If you have anything to bring against me, you fellows, bring it; but you shall not traduce my father. What have you to say, Trace?"

"I am sorry you force me to speak, Paradyne," returned Trace, his quiet voice, civil still, rising above the hubbub. "I say that your father was guilty, and that you had no right to come here amidst honest men's sons. We have put up with the companionship; the Head Master forced us to it; and have kept your secret from the rest; and should have kept it to the end but for your attempting to go up for the Orville. It was pure audacity, that, and you were exceedingly ill-advised to think of it. No fellow whose father had dirty hands——"

George Paradyne laid his hand on Trace's mouth, sharply enough, though it was not a blow. It was the signal for renewed hostilities. Trace drew away, but many of the others hit out; Bertie Loftus and George being on the defensive. It was at this moment that Mr. Henry came up; he interposed with more authority than Bertie possessed; but the boys turned their derisive backs upon him, and kicked out behind. Mr. Henry was not to be put down: never was authority more uncompromising than his, when he chose to exert it. He pressed forward and stood before the assailants; he stopped the blows with his firm but gentle hands, he spoke words of calm good sense, his soothing voice hushed the noise and rancour. It was as if magic were at work, or some expert mesmerist: the angry feelings subsided; the boys' passions were allayed: the fierce storm had become a calm.

"Enough of this for now. George, you go home. Gentlemen, make way for him if you please. As to the Orville, which, as I gather, is the bone of contention, his going up for it, or the contrary, is for the decision of the Head Master; not for yours. Disperse quietly, every one."

In after-days, when the boys should think over this little episode in their school life, some wonder might arise in their minds how it was that they had so implicitly obeyed. It is true Mr. Henry made a slight allusion—it was nothing more—to certain divine mandates, that clearly do not enjoin quarrelling and fighting and evil passions, rather, peace and love: but the boys did not at the moment seem to think much of that. It was ever so: come upon what scene of conflict he would, Mr. Henry was sure to turn it into peace. The boys flitted indoors, one and all, Bertie Loftus bringing up the rear; and Mr. Henry went inside the cloisters and sat down on the narrow base of a stone pillar as if his strength or his breath failed him. George Paradyne, looking round from the small gate, happened to catch sight of his face, and came back, asking if he felt ill.

"It's nothing," said Mr. Henry; but the wan face, the panting breath seemed to belie the words. "Wait a moment, George: I want to speak to you. I think you had better withdraw your name for the Orville."

"Not I. Look here, Arthur—and I'll be hanged if I care, though they hear me call you so—this attack upon papa makes me all the more resolute to go in and win. Good-bye; I shall be round this evening."

George ran on. At the great gates stood the stranger still, looking and listening. A man of thirty, or thereabouts, with reddish hair. As George rushed by, a thought arose that he had seen the face somewhere before: but he was in a hurry and took no particular notice.

"A nice row, that, for college gents," cried the stranger, ignoring ceremony. "And so you are George Paradyne! How you have grown!"

George stopped, naturally; and devoured the face with his eyes. As the light of recollection dawned upon him, he darted close to the man, and cried out with a great cry.