Months grew into years. Mark Walthew laboured incessantly at his studies. Daniel would have been more or less than human if he had not been proud of the place won by his son, of the reports which came at each term's end, and the prizes he carried off. Mrs. Walthew's glad tears ran down her cheeks, and even her husband had to turn his back upon her, that she might not see why his spectacles needed so much polishing before he could read what "schoolmaster had written about Mark."
The boy was no country lout or awkward bookworm to look at, but was growing into a fine youth, whose manners would disgrace no society. His mother's training had given him right habits to begin with, and under Mr. Mitcheson's roof he had learnt those practised by persons in a higher position. Frank, yet modest, simple but refined, sincere without forwardness, and with a mind richly stored for one so young, Mark Walthew was indeed a son on whom a father might have rejoiced to bestow all the advantages money could give.
But all the while Mr. Walthew was saying, "Barbara, this is Mark's last term. In July, he will come home to stay."
She, with a sinking of the heart, could only answer, "Yes; he will have had the three years you promised him," and hope for a solution as to future difficulties which she could foresee, though her husband could not. Whilst he, nevertheless, confessed that he was not altogether easy in his mind as to what all this learning would lead to.
[CHAPTER IV.]
A NEW FACE.
CLAYBURY SCHOOL was richly endowed, and had many valuable scholarships open to candidates born within a certain radius of its walls. It had been Mark Walthew's desire to win one of these, believing that if he succeeded his father would consent to his continuing his studies after the allotted three years.
His success exceeded his most sanguine hopes. He won two of the best, and even without further help from Mr. Walthew, might work on for three more years, and, he trusted, win further distinctions.
"Scholarships!" said old Daniel, when informed of Mark's success. "Hasn't he been getting scholarships these last three years? He went for learning, and he should have put some by for future use by this time. I don't know what you mean by two scholarships. I always lumped the whole concern, and called it learning. Well, if he has got a double dose, so much the better; I reckon it will last longer. And when he is settled down at home, he will have plenty to serve him his lifetime."
Then came the struggle. Mark bared his heart, and told his hopes to his father, and was answered by a torrent of reproaches—told that he wanted to set up for a fine gentleman, instead of keeping to the old rut, and doing the work his father had been proud to do well.