The Pillars of the House; Or, Under Wode, Under Rode, Vol. 1 (of 2)

'What line do you mean?' said Lance.

'Scholarship, the University.'

'That wasn't what I wanted most,' said Lance; 'and as for that, I'm disqualified enough by all this waste of time.'

'What was your wish, then?'

'I'll tell you,' said Lance, with lowered voice. 'When I used to lie catching notes of the chanting, and knowing that the organ was quiet for me, I used to feel that if I got well, I must give up my life to it, and study music in full earnest, so as to be a real lift to people's praise, perhaps in our own Cathedral. I thought maybe I could get in as a lay-vicar when my year is up, and work at harmony under Miles, and take a musical degree. But then came that day when the organ seemed to be crushing and grinding my head to bits—and of all Psalms in the world it was the forty-second! and Manby telling me on my life not to try to do anything for I can't tell how long.'

'Was that the reason you sold your violin?'

'No, of course not; except that it was a sin and a shame to keep it for no good, when I thought a pound might pull that little ape Bernard out of the mire. And I've been asking questions, and find it would take huge time and cost to study music so as to be worth anything; and here am I, a great lout, not doing that or any other good on the face of the earth—as much worse than Theodore as I am bigger. So if I can help Felix, when he is fighting the fight in the Pursuivant for God's honour and good and right, wouldn't that be a sort of service?'

'So undertaken,' said John, with a huskiness in his voice. 'Well, Lance, I will talk it over with Felix, if you like.'

For John Harewood, not having any strong musical bias, did not greatly appreciate the career that Lance had chalked out for himself; and while thrilled by the boy's devotional feeling, thought it tinged by enthusiasm, and had seen enough of Cathedral singing-men to have no wish to see him among them. If the loss of time was to prevent a University career, he thought book-selling under Felix's eye the preferable occupation.

Discussion was, however, deferred by the arrival of a home friend, who had sought him out at the hotel; and Lance had to go home without him, and wear through the day between dawdling, drawing, and playing with Stella, as best he might, till after school-hours; when, eager to turn to the account of his wardrobe these moments when Wilmet was free from her Captain, he drew her into his room.

Presently after, Felix heard the most amazing noises to which his family had ever treated him, and thankful that the wet day had reduced the denizens of the reading-room to one deaf old gentleman, he hurried upstairs, and beheld through the open door of Mr. Froggatt's room, Bernard raving, roaring, dancing, and stamping, in an over-mastering passion, and tearing some paper up with teeth and hands. Just then Lance grasped his collar, and tried in vain to rescue the paper; but he fought with fists, bites, and kicks, like something frantic, until Felix, with a bound forward, suddenly captured him, and dragged him back, still tearing and crunching the paper.

'For shame! Be quiet! You are heard all over the place.—Shut the door.'

The door was shut by Wilmet, while Bernard stood quailing under the stern face, strong hand, and tone of displeasure in which Felix demanded, 'What is the meaning of this?'

'That Bernard refuses to wear Lance's outgrown clothes,' said Wilmet.

'Do you mean that this is the cause of this disgraceful outbreak?'

'I—I don't see why—' growled Bernard, 'why I should wear everybody's beastly old things.'

'It is right you should hear the whole, Felix,' said Wilmet. 'When I showed him that Lance would have some still shabbier clothes of Clement's altered for him, he said if Lance chose to be a snob, he would not. Lance answered that it was a choice between that and petticoats; and then he fell into this extraordinary state, when I can only hope he did not know what he was saying or doing.'

'He was drawing me,' bellowed Bernard, 'drawing me in his brute of a book!' and he was so infuriated, that words never before heard by his sister followed, as he quivered and stamped even under Felix's grasp, which at length forced him into desisting; but the command, 'Go up to your room this instant,' could only be carried out by main force, amid tremendous kicking and struggling, Felix carrying him, and Wilmet following to unfasten the hands that clutched at the rail; while Lance stood aghast at one door, and Cherry in an agony at another, and Stella crept into a corner, and hid her face in terror.

'Well, we never had the like of this before!' said Felix, coming down, having locked him in, and heard him begin to bounce about the barrack, like prisoners in the breaking-out frenzy. 'Can it be all about the clothes?'

'I don't think you know what a grievance the having to take to old ones has always been to him, poor little boy!' said Cherry, very nearly crying, for Bernard was so much her own child, that in spite of his having cast her off, she was in full instinct of defence; 'and he dislikes Lance's most of all, because of the Cathedral peculiarities.'

'Ah! you have always humoured him by taking off that chorister's frill,' said Wilmet; 'but there could be no objection to those trousers. They were almost new when Fulbert left them, and Lance has only had them for best one winter.'

Felix could not help laughing. 'Long had she worn, and now Belinda wears,' he quoted. 'My dear Mettie, the effect is better than the detail. You should spare us the pedigree, however respectable.'

'Well, I said nothing about it,' said Wilmet. 'Was it what you said about petticoats, Lance?'

'Lance does tease and aggravate that child unbearably!' exclaimed Cherry, too much vexed not to be relieved to turn her blame upon somebody; 'and it is very unkind of him, for he knows Bernard cannot bear to be laughed at.'

'Hush! Cherry,' said Wilmet; 'if Lance did, he didn't mean it. It has been quite too much—'

'Indeed it has, said Felix. 'You had better lie down at once, Lance.'

A good deal more than Bernard's outbreak had gone to the pain and dizziness that prevented Lance from even attempting to reply to Cherry's accusation, but made him turn quietly back into his room; while Felix was obliged to hurry downstairs again; and Alda made her frequent remark that 'those boys were really unbearable.'

'Poor Lance! it was not his fault,' said Wilmet.

'You don't know, Wilmet!' said Cherry indignantly. 'I did hope that when he came home, my poor little Bernard might get better managed—he used to be so fond of him; but he has done nothing but worry and laugh at him, and I don't at all wonder it has come to this. I shall go up and see about the poor little fellow.'

'Do you mean to let her go and pet him after such outrageous naughtiness?' asked Alda, as Cherry moved to begin the difficult ascent.

'I should not do it myself,' said Wilmet; 'but I daresay she will do him good.'

Alda held up her hands in wonder. How many quarrels might have been going on at that moment, if three of the family at least had not exercised the forbearance she so little understood.

Cherry and her Lord Gerald mounted the attic stairs. It was for the first time in her life, and she was so imperfect in the geography of the upper floor, that she had to open one or two doors before she found 'the barrack,' with Bernard lying kicking his heels fiercely at the beam across the low room. The amazing presence of Geraldine suspended this occupation. 'How did you come here?' he gasped.

'I came to see you, Bear. My poor Bear! I am so sorry!' said Cherry, sitting down on one of the beds; 'how could you go on so?'

There was rebuke and pain in her voice, and Bernard resented it. 'They've no business to bait me,' he said. 'I've no peace in my life!'

'But that doesn't make it right to fly into such dreadful passions.'

'I wouldn't do it if they'd let me alone. I don't see why I should be the one to wear every one's nasty old clothes.'

'Why, Felix and Clement couldn't well wear yours!'

'It was all Lance's doing. Lance has bothered me out of existence ever since he came home.'

'But you should try to bear it, if he is a little cross and tiresome. You know he is not at all well yet, and all this has quite knocked him up.'

'I'm glad of it!' said Bernard viciously. 'Served him right for setting Wilmet on, and then drawing his abominable pictures; as if it wasn't enough to have spoilt all my pleasure, and sold Stingo!'

'What was Stingo?'

'Oh, just a dog—'

'A dog!'

'Yes, my dog; and Lance went and sold him, and then drew a beastly picture of him and me.'

'But, Bernard, how could you have a dog?'

'Oh, I bought him with some money Travis gave me, and a cad down in the town kept him for me; but then Travis didn't give me any more—'

'But, Bernard, you must have known you ought not. Did you get into debt?'

'Ay, just for a few shillings; and the brute threatened me so that I just asked Lance—'

'Was he such a dangerous dog? O Bear!'

'No, no—the man that kept him. I thought Lance would tackle him without making a row.'

'And did he?'

'Ay. He said he hadn't got a penny, and he kept me waiting ever so long; but I fancy he got it from Harewood. He might as well have let me keep Stingo!'

Cherry's views of the relations between Lance and Bernard had begun to adjust themselves, and she began to reason on the impropriety of keeping the dog; but she soon perceived that this was only ranging herself on the side of the enemy, and exciting the obduracy of her favourite, who was determined to be a victim. In truth, Bernard was not repentant enough to treat her with confidence, and his world was so entirely beyond her knowledge, that she did not possess the threads that would have led to it. All that she did perceive was, that much of Bernard's irritation was at the endeavour to keep him out of mischief, and that her own gentle persuasions were almost as distasteful as Lance's jests. She sat on, arguing, talking, entreating, till it had long been quite dark; and Wilmet at last came up to say that she must not stay any longer in the cold, and to ask Bernard whether he would say he was sorry.

'I didn't want her to come here bothering,' was Bernard's grateful remark.

'Well, I advise you to take care you are in a better mood before Felix comes,' said Wilmet.—'Come, Cherry, it is not safe for you to go down alone.'

Cherry could only entreat, 'Do, Bear, do,' and try to kiss the averted cheek.

She did not know that as soon as the door was shut on him and the little flicker of gas, Bernard fell into an anguish of sobs and tears, the work of her persevering love, softening and lessening the obstinate pride so far that the next visitors met with a much better reception than they might have done. The first came stumbling up with a weary step, and pushed open the door, saying, 'Here, Bear, don't bear malice. I'm awfully sorry I ever drew that thing! I'll never do you again. So shake hands, and have done with it.'

'All right,' returned Bernard, outstretching his hand as one who felt that amends were made him, but could not receive them graciously; and Lance's weary and confused senses were satisfied. He never perceived hard lumps of offence unless he ran his head very hard against them, and even now little guessed the amount of annoyance his raillery had given.

And next came a quick, resolute tread that made the little fellow shiver with apprehension, never guessing at his brother's self-debate whether obstinate impenitence ought not to bring the rod, and wondering recollection of his own displeasure when Mr. Audley recommended its disuse in the fatherless household. Felix held by the spirit rather than the letter, and had decided that unless he found submission, signal punishment must ensue.

It was an immense relief to him to detect by eye and ear that the child had been crying, and to be able to say that seeing that he was sorry made it possible to attend to Lance's kind entreaty not to be hard upon him. Absolute words of penitence Felix did not try to exact; but after a few words of sympathy, which Bernard had by no means expected, on the hardship of the second-hand wardrobe, and a reminder of the necessity, he proceeded to rebuke for the passionate behaviour, and above all for the language Bernard had used; expressing to the full how much it had shocked and appalled him, by showing what sort of associates the boy must have chosen since he had learnt such words at all, and what a shame and disgrace he felt it that one of the brothers should ever have uttered them. And Bernard—who had learnt that Satanic primer with a certain shame and repugnance, under the strong desire to show himself neither girl, muff, nor choir-boy, and certainly would never in his right senses have betrayed his proficiency at home—was a good deal impressed, and finally began to cry again, and to promise to cure himself.

Believed to have thus fulfilled the least pleasing of all his duties, Felix went down to his long-delayed evening meal, and therewith to a family council. Lance was gone to bed, and his proposal was the more freely discussed, as well as his relations with Bernard.

'That boy must go at once to Stoneborough,' said Felix. 'I shall write to Dr. Cheviot to-night.'

Wilmet sighed. 'I suppose I ought not to have objected,' she said; 'but I did think Lance would have kept him in order.'

'He has tried,' said Felix.

'O Felix!' cried Cherry, turning to him with tears in her eyes, 'I am afraid I was unjust to Lance just now, and I am so sorry! Do you know, the naughty little fellow had been keeping a dog and got into debt; and Lance paid all—I can't think how!'

'That I believe I can tell,' said John Harewood, 'though I am afraid it is a breach of confidence. He sold his violin.'

'That violin that I was so angry with him for buying!' said Wilmet. 'Well, he is a dear little fellow!'

'And I scolded him for being unkind!' cried Cherry, in despair. 'Oh, is he asleep? I should like to beg his pardon,' and her hand clasped Lord Gerald.

'About the worst thing you could do to the poor boy, Cherry,' said Felix, 'when he is only lying there trying to get his head quiet enough to let him sleep.'

'Nor must you betray me,' added John, smiling at poor conscience-stricken Cherry.

'And it is a mercy the fiddle is gone!' said Alda. 'I used to hear him playing it somewhere among the out-houses in the spring, and it was enough to distract one, added to Theodore's dronings.'

'It must have been like parting with a bit of his life,' sighed Cherry; 'and yet Bernard would not mind him, and they did quarrel!'

'Boys who deal well with juniors at school do sometimes fail with little brothers,' said John. 'Besides, I observe that where there is pride there is always a distaste and dread of those who have much power of ridicule.'

'I suspect, too,' said Felix, 'that Lance has made the turn in life when one gets superfluously earnest, and nothing so upsets influence. I have felt it myself.'

'So all this trouble and vexation has been weighing on the dear little fellow,' said Wilmet. 'No wonder he is not half so well as when he came home!'

'No,' said Felix; 'I wonder whether the Froggatts would let him come to them for a week or two, or whether it would be too dull to be good for him.'

'If his mind were settled about the future, it would be rest rather than dullness,' said John; 'but I think a good deal of his trouble is caused by Manby's verdict, and for that perhaps the best cure would be letting him have his wish.'

'You, John!' exclaimed Felix; 'I thought you would have put that out of his head!'

'On the contrary, he made me think there was a good deal in his arguments. First, as regards you, would he be of any real use?'

'Never mind that,' said Felix. 'I heard something to-day that would make it practicable; but I can't have that boy wasted.'

'The point is, what is waste? Now his strongest aptitude never was for classical work; and if he is not to touch a Latin book till Christmas, and then only cautiously, I do not see what chance he would have, even if Will were out of the way.'

'And if not at Minsterham, so much the less anywhere else,' said Wilmet. 'Besides, it might be a dreadful risk if his head were to be overstrained.'

'And in the meantime, the being kept here doing nothing, and vexing himself, is wearing his spirits, and hurting him more than any light occupation, especially what he felt to be a labour of love.'

'That is quite true again,' said Felix. 'I quite believe he would be much happier if he began working with me to-morrow; but it might be letting a mere fit of impatience and despondency fix him for life in an uncongenial business.'

'I thought you preferred it!' exclaimed Wilmet.

'Oh yes,' said Felix, with a sort of half contempt in his tone; 'but these boys of ours are a different sort of stuff, and we have seen that it will never answer to pin them down to plod.'

'Lance would never be like Edgar!' exclaimed Wilmet; 'as if Edgar ever thought of doing anything so unselfish in his life!'

'O Wilmet! indeed he thought!' cried Cherry.

'Yes, but always of five or six years hence!' said Wilmet.

'Lance is very like Edgar,' said Felix. 'He has what I believe belongs to the artist temperament; and that he is the bravest, the most uncomplaining little fellow I ever came across, and probably would never break off what he had begun, makes me the more anxious not to let this access of generosity—ay, and tedium—lead to taking any decided step while he is so young.'

'When you come to artist temperament, I don't understand,' said Wilmet. 'Lance doesn't even draw anything like Cherry or Edgar—much good does that do! and as to his music, it would not be much of a living.'

'I believe he thinks that the alternative,' said John.

'For goodness' sake!' cried Alda, 'he doesn't want to get taken on in London! To have him singing and fiddling in public would be worse than anything. You put that out of his head, I hope, John. Even if he changed his name—'

'It never was in his head,' said John. 'He never thought of anything but his old line—Cathedral music: and the sacrifice to him is of that, not of the chance of the University.'

'That's not so bad,' said Alda, 'because it is a great chance whether any one ever heard of it.'

'But I doubt if it be a very desirable life, as things are at present constituted,' said John. 'I am not sure that it is not better to give the musical talent freely for that service, than to make it one's trade and livelihood.'

'I think you are right there,' said Felix. 'I suppose there is always some degree of disenchantment.'

'What did you say made his notion practicable?' said Wilmet.

'I've had Mr. Lamb with me this evening—'

'Mr. Bruce's managing clerk,' explained Wilmet to the Captain. 'Does he want you to have Ernest?'

'Yes. He has missed the exhibition from the grammar-school; and as he can't go to Oxford, fancies (deluded youth!) that he will get more reading in this line than any other. He is ready to give a premium with him, and spoke what Mr. Froggatt would call very handsomely about our house being one where he could trust him. I believe Mr. Froggatt will be gratified, and accept him.'

'Ernest Lamb—Serious mutton,' repeated Cherry; 'doesn't he look very heavy?'

'Yes; he is bookish without being quick. I don't expect he will be of much use just yet, but he is as steady as old Time; and though he and Lance would neither of them do alone, yet together I think we could get on.'

'Then,' said John, 'does it not seem to you, Wilmet, that it would be a greater positive benefit to accept Lance's offer for the present—on trial, as one may say—than to leave him to the depression that is certainly doing him harm?'

'And if Lance was there,' said Wilmet, 'I should have some comfort that Felix would be properly looked after.'

'Whatever happens,' said Felix, 'I shall send Lance out to Marshlands for a fortnight, and see if he is in the same mind when he comes back. After all, it depends on Mr. Froggatt: and he will be afraid people will say we have turned in the whole Grammar-school behind the counter. I wonder if Lance is safe not to laugh in the old ladies' faces when they ask—What number of what magazine, how many years ago, had a receipt for washing anti-macassars?'

By which they knew him to be very much exhilarated.

That fortnight at Marshlands was not wasted. Lance had faculties for never being dull. He pottered about with Mr. or Mrs. Froggatt, fed their chickens, gathered their apples and nuts, petted their cats, tried to teach words to their parrot and tricks to their dogs, played cribbage and back-gammon with them in the evening, never had a head-ache, never was at a loss or upon their hands, gained their hearts completely, and came home wonderfully benefited by the respite from noise and harass, and quite decided to stand by his proposal, to which the partners, with some hesitation, had finally acceded.

END OF VOL. I