"We had a bad passage, sir; the boat was late by many hours. It was due at ten this morning, but we only got in an hour or two ago."
The words were spoken without any foreign accent. Not only that: the tone was that of a refined Englishman. The fact gave satisfaction to Dr. Brabazon, who liked his pupils to be surrounded by good associations in all ways.
"Will you kindly tell me where I am to lodge?"
"Here, for a few days," said Dr. Brabazon. "As you were so complete a stranger, we thought you might like best to fix, yourself, upon lodgings. It is some years since you were in England, I think?"
"Nine years, sir."
"Nine years! Dear me! You have not many friends, then, I conclude, in your own country?"
Mr. Henry shook his head. "Few men are much more friendless than I am."
And the accent sounded friendless. There was something singularly attractive about this young man, in his gentle manner, his sensitive, shrinking shyness (for so it seemed), his sad, earnest brown eyes: and Dr. Brabazon's heart went out to him.
"You shall be shown your room, Mr. Henry," he said, "and then my daughter will give you some tea."
Later, Dr. Brabazon took him through the passages, on either side of which were rooms appropriated to particular studies, to the lofty hall, which was the chief schoolroom. A long room, with high windows on one side of it; the masters' desks in the angles of the room, and the long desks of the boys ranged against the sides. Dr. Brabazon's place was at the upper end, in the centre, facing the door, so that he commanded full view of all. Three masters lived in the house: the Reverend Mr. Jebb; Mr. Baker, the mathematical master, and Mr. Long, who took English generally, some of the natural sciences, and was supposed to superintend the boys out of hours. Mr. Jebb assisted Dr. Brabazon with the classics, and the latter took divinity. The other masters lived out. Dr. Brabazon introduced Mr. Henry to the clergyman and Mr. Long, and left him. Mr. Baker was not there.