Orville College: A Story

by Mrs. Henry Wood

For Trace had thrown up the prize, and quitted the college!

Thrown up the Great Orville Prize? Quitted the college? The throng stared stupidly at one another, unable to understand it. And yet it must be true; for the announcement had come to them from the Head Master.

The truth was, poor Raymond Trace, after a whole night's battling with his mortified spirit, had found himself utterly unable to face the disclosure that must be made. If not made at once, it must inevitably, as he knew, come out later. At six o'clock that morning he was with the Head Master; and before seven he had gone out of the college gates, never to return. At present the boys were in ignorance of any ill; and would be kept so as long as was possible. A report arose, its origin not altogether clear, that Trace was called thus suddenly away by some stupendous business in which his father was engaged in America. The boys were repeating this over to each other, in full belief of its veracity.

The substance of their conversation reached the ears of two gentlemen who were advancing unobserved, arm-in-arm: Sir Simon Orville and Mr. Loftus. "Called away on sudden business!" repeated Sir Simon. "Let 'em think it. As good, that, as any other passing plea. Poor Raymond!"

Bertie Loftus was the first to catch sight of his father. Bertie was as ignorant of recent events as the youngest boy there. He went up with a glow of pleasure on his face, hardly believing the vision could be real. Dick, dashing in, got the first question. "Papa! papa! what have you come for?"

Mr. Loftus, his tall, slender figure and handsome face presenting a contrast to Sir Simon's, made a sign for the boys to gather round him, and drew George Paradyne to his side. "Sir Simon telegraphed for me on a matter of business," he said to his sons. "But"—turning to the throng—"I have come here this morning to perform an act of justice: one which has been delayed so long through ignorance on my part and fraud on another's, that it seems to me as if vengeance must cry aloud to Heaven. Gentlemen, you have heard of the frauds that George Paradyne's father was accused of perpetrating. Within a few hours we have discovered his innocence. He was innocent as I; and more so: for I, by my culpable negligence, and mistaken trust in another who was guilty, contributed to the mistake. This boy"—laying his hand on George's shoulder—"has been reproached by you as the son of a man of crime: let me tell you, as I do before Heaven, that his father was a good and honourable gentleman; a brave soldier of his Queen's; a faithful servant of One who is higher than any Queen."

"He has been treated like a dog amidst you," impatiently broke in Sir Simon, drowning the more temperate words of Mr. Loftus, and turning himself about in his own fashion. "You have behaved cantankerously to him, like a cross-grained set, as you are! And now you'll have to eat humble-pie and be ashamed of yourselves. I'd not own any of you; I wouldn't."

In spite of the hard words, there was a humorous sound of excuse in them; the boys detected the good-feeling, laughed, and began to cheer. Mr. Lamb put on his meekest face and drew a little away; and then called out that the college would not have known anything about Paradyne, neither have thought of being hard upon him, but for Trace.

"Just so," cried Sir Simon. "Trace is——"

Mr. Loftus laid his hand upon his impulsive brother-in-law, who might have been about to declare more than was necessary. It was not noticed. The excitement was rising; the hubbub was great. A hundred hands were held out to shake Paradyne's, in atonement for the past; a contrast to the scene of the previous day when the same hands were put forth to strike him. They shouted, they threw their caps in the air: they felt, and with shame, how ill they had behaved to him throughout, how mistaken they had been. George met the hands with his own ready one, with his frank and generous smile; not a bit of malice entertained he. But there was a world of pride in the self-sustained movement with which he threw back his head; in the quiet, self-reliant only words he spoke: