However, although Jack was gone, there were several fellows who had heard all, and a great deal more than all, about me, and my inborn affliction; and although they behaved with extraordinary kindness (being all on the way to be gentlemen) whenever they thought that I was not looking, they were looking at me, with desire to form their own opinions silently, and compare them freely, when my back was turned. For the result of any peculiarity, less conspicuous perhaps than mine, is to attract attention; and that becomes a curse far greater, than the blessing of even the noblest gifts.
When the Doctor was kind enough to spare my mother all the public pain of an inquest, by certifying "sudden death, from failure of the heart, after violent attack of Cholera," it might have been hoped, that outside strangers would have gone on their way, without meddling. So all right-minded persons did. They had their little talk among themselves, and expressed a very natural surprise, and agreed, or differed, according to the peace, or pugnacity of character. And the matter would have been a nine days' wonder, for the nine or ten beholders, but for the prying self-conceit of a picker-up of news for the Pratt Street Express, a penny paper, coming out on Saturdays. I will not speak ill of this gentleman; for I came to know him afterwards, and found him a pleasant, and well-meaning man. He had no intention of inflicting pain; and he freely admitted, that a sense of duty compelled him to write, what he did not believe a word of, lest a rival journal should get the start of his.
My tutor, Mr. Cope, sent a line to my mother on Tuesday, to inform her, that he thought it would be, for very many reasons, wiser that I should not be present, at the funeral of my beloved father. He did not tell me, that it was to be that day; and I did not venture to ask about it, leaving myself entirely in his hands. My mother wrote back, as it afterwards appeared, that she quite agreed with him, and would not expect me, until all was over. That same evening, he took me home, and asked me on the road, whether I could bear to hear a few words from him. I said yes, whatever he thought fit, for my heart was strengthened, while I held his hand.
After words of religious consolation, which fell from his lips, as if from heaven—for the whole of his life was above this world, and the preface to a better one—he proceeded partly as follows, though I cannot put it quite as he did—
"From all that I hear, and allowing much for large exaggerations, you have a remarkable gift, my boy; of which I heard something from my friend, the Bishop. From my own observation, I know that your bodily frame is of wonderful buoyancy; as your mind was also, until this sad distress, for the time, oppressed it. You have very good abilities, far above the average, an extremely tenacious memory, quick apprehension, with clearness of insight, and a love of whatever is elegant; which would make you a very good classical scholar, with industry, good teaching, and above all, good health. That last is the point, which makes me doubt the wisdom of pressing you much, in that way; although you have never known a day of illness, until this trouble fell upon you. For a body so light can scarcely contain the substance needful for hard work. But your duty, as to that, will depend very much upon what your father's orders were. He has left, (as I happened to observe) a statement in writing of his wishes concerning you. One of the ladies in the house had opened his desk, which had the key left in, while looking for some paper, to boil the kettle. And I fear, that she would have used this important paper, in ignorance of what she was doing at the moment, if I had not asked her to put it back. Then I locked the desk, and your mother has the key. It was not a will—your mother has his will—but to you it should have all the authority of a will. These things are important; but what I would speak of is, from my point of view, more important still. You know, that whatever is given to us, is given for some good purpose. Your mental gifts are not wonderful; although, as I have said, they are above the average. But your bodily gifts are quite exceptional—I think I may say, though I have never studied physics—and for them, you will have a good account to render."
"But how, sir, how?" I asked with some excitement; "as yet I have only come to trouble, through all that. Please to tell me any way of doing any good with it."
"At present I cannot," Mr. Cope replied; "but as sure as I am speaking to you, Tommy Upmore, the way and the means will appear, by and by. It is your duty, to improve your gift, so far as discretion and health permit, and to await the opportunity for some great good, to your country, humanity, or religion."