The BJadwin Library
M. S. & L. RAILWAY SCHODL5, QORTON.
mials l. COTLLXNGeE,
7uly 6th, 1591.
..,_. .... . .
* ..~ *>*.
The Eyes iq the Portrait were gazing rrourrfully at H+m,
A STORY OF SCHOOL LIFE.
Author of Mr. Lipscombe's Apples," &c.
BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED, 49 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.
I. THE OLD PORTRAIT, . .
II. WRONGED, . .
III. THE DAY ATE . .
IV. THE FRENCH MASTER'S STORY, .
V. DR. BRIERLEY'S PRIZE .
VI. THE BURDEN OF GUILT, .
VII. THE PAPER-CHASE, . .
VIII. PURPOSE OR ACCIDENT? .
IX. WHAT IS HEROISM? . .
X. M. LAVALLE BEGINS TO SUSPECT, .
XI. A TEMPTATION TO REVENGE, .
XII. A CHIVALROUS ACT, . .
XIII. TIMMINS' EXPECTATIONS, .. ..
XIV. "I FORGIVE," .
XV. THE INVALD, . .
XVI. TIMMINS UNMASKED, . .
XVII. A HERO INDEED . .
THE OLD PORTRAIT.
SSHALL never forgive. I shall never
The words were muttered in a low
tone; and the speaker threw himself into a
chair, which he drew close up to the fireplace,
and looked moodily into the fire.
He was a slender youth of about fourteen
years of age, with a dark, strongly-marked
face full of determination. He looked very
determined just now; his lips were firmly
compressed, his brow contracted, and every
now and then his eyes flashed angrily.
Presently he sprang up, and paced the
room; and then, sitting down by the table he
leaned his head and arms upon it, and his
whole frame shook with agitation. If he had
been a little younger he would have had a
good fit of crying. It would have been a
relief; but Philip Danford held that it was
babyish for a boy to cry; that was only for
girls and children; so he choked back the
symptoms that were rising in his throat.
And again starting up he shook his fist,
The cowards! The sneaks! What a fool
I was to believe in them!"
After a time he quieted down, and once
more seated himself by the fireside, folding
his arms and gazing into the ruddy flames
that blazed up the chimney, and shone on
the old furniture in the room, making it seem
all polished and resplendent, and taking away
the shabbiness that the sunlight brought out.
The flickering firelight sent dancing shadows
on the walls and ceiling; but a steadier ray
fell on a picture that hung just opposite to
where Philip was sitting. Something impelled
him to glance up at it, and it appeared to
him as if the eyes in the portrait were gazing
mournfully at him.
It was a foreign picture, and the dress of
the man who was gazing down at him was
foreign also. But this Philip did not heed
THE OLD PORTRAIT.
at the present moment, indeed the light was
not strong enough to show it. It was the
face alone that was brought out by the fire,
and Philip noted that the melancholy eyes
seemed to be watching him.
Philip moved his chair a little, and then
again looked upward, and still the eyes of
the portrait gazed down mournfully.
"He was a brave man," said Philip to
himself. "I wonder if I could ever be as
And suddenly a new train of ideas entered
Philip's mind. He was thinking of the story
of the original of the picture-a story that
had been told to him by his grandmother,
whilst he had listened with eager ears, half
shuddering, yet wholly fascinated.
"And you never saw him though he was
your grandfather?" he had said.
"No, my child, he was killed before my
"Was he a soldier?" was Philip's next
"No, he was not a soldier, though he died
fighting. My grandfather, who was of noble
birth, owned a small estate at some little
distance from Paris; and being away from
the tumults and dissensions agitating the
city, hoped by the obscurity of his life to
pass unmolested with his family. But the
troubles in France increased, and the pro-
vinces began to suffer; and the names of
persons who owned property were put down
to have their possessions taken from them by
those in power, who were for the most part
ambitious and reckless men, who were ever
ready to bring persons of education and
means to the guillotine. But you will read
all about it in your history lessons, Philip,
and what brought this dreadful state of
"Never mind the history, granny," would
Philip say; "but tell me about your grand-
It is all history," replied his grandmother.
"Well, it so happened that my grandfather
was obliged to go to Versailles on some
business connected with the royal family;
and in those days a journey was a much
more important and difficult matter than it
is now Therefore much preparation was
made, and those who were going to travel
usually took a formal leave of their family,
for they did not know what casualties might
THE OLD PORTRAIT.
happen that would prevent their meeting
again. My grandfather rose early that
morning in October 1789, and he called all
his family together. There was his wife and
his grown-up sons Pierre and Michel, and his
three daughters Elise, Louise, and my mother
Gabrielle, who was the youngest of the family.
He kissed and embraced them all affection-
ately, saying, 'Adieu, my children! and if it
should be the will of Heaven that we meet
not again on earth, may we be prepared for
a happier meeting in that world where there
are no partings!' Then he looked round.
'I should have liked to say good-bye to my
brother Alphonse. We have not been friendly
of late. I should like to have said one kindly
word after our quarrel. To have said, 'On
my part, I regret.'
"'Thou dost speak as if thou wert not
returning, Philippe,' said his wife. 'Let us
rather look forward to a speedy meeting.'
"'These are troublous times,' answered
my grandfather gravely. 'We know not
what may happen.'
"And so it turned out; my grandfather
went on his way, but he never returned.
On the second day he arrived safely in
Paris. But there his heart doubtless sank
within him, for all was in uproar; and he
heard nothing but the shouts and cries of the
populace mad with fury:
"'To Versailles! To Versailles!'
"A prodigious number of women were
with the mob; indeed they seemed the pro-
minent part. And the shout went on:
"'To Versailles! To Versailles!'
"Why? But no sooner had my grand-
father asked himself the question than the
knowledge came to him that the king and
queen were in danger. And he rode as fast
as he could go, reaching the palace only a
short time before the mob. And then the
attack came; the palace was forced; the
guards were killed; and all who attempted
to make any defence shared the same fate.
My grandfather was a royalist, and he drew
his sword and fought valiantly, but in vain.
The defenders were overpowered by numbers,
and my grandfather was amongst the slain.
It was some days before his family learned
what had happened; and then there was
bitter weeping and wailing, and more to
come, for my grandfather's action had
rendered his family suspected. And before
THE OLD PORTRAIT.
long many of them were thrown into prison,
among them the brother whom my grand-
father had so longed to see that he might say
to him, 'I have forgiven.'"
"And what happened then?" asked Philip.
"The troublous times grew worse and
worse, and of my grandfather's family no
fewer than seven persons were guillotined,
including his brother. My mother alone
escaped to England."
This was the story that Philip's grand-
mother used to tell him; and Philip was
never tired of asking all sorts of questions
relative to the unfortunate French family.
To-night as he gazed up at the portrait,
he went over the story again; and, strange
to say, the one point that seemed to impress
itself most strongly on his mind was that of
the two brothers dying without being able
to say they forgave one another. He tried
to shake it off; he determined not to look
at the picture again; but though he gazed
steadily into the fre, he knew that the eyes
were still watching him.
PHILIP was still gazing into the fire when
the door was softly opened, and a girl
about a year younger than himself came into
the room. She started when she saw Philip
sitting with his arms folded, and a frowning
"Why, what is the matter, Phil? You
look as if you had lost everything in the
world. What is it?"
Sit down, Gabrielle," said Philip.
Gabrielle drew a stool close to her brother's
chair, and looked anxiously into his face.
But Philip did not speak for some moments.
Perhaps he was considering how he should
best convey the tidings he had to tell her.
For Philip and his sister had entered into
an agreement to tell each other all their
troubles-in fact whatever happened to them,
both good and bad.
Suddenly he burst out. Gabrielle, I have
been caned to-day."
Then it was Gabrielle's turn to be silent.
Her heart began to beat very fast. She was
filled with astonishment. Such a thing had
never happened before. Philip was one of
the best boys in Dr. Brierley's school, and
always looked upon as a model of right
"Oh, Philip! what had you done?" she
said at last.
"I am glad of that," she said with a
sudden feeling of relief.
Glad that I have been caned for nothing,
Gabrielle!" exclaimed Philip. "It seems to
me one can better bear a punishment if one
has deserved it."
"It isn't that, Phil. It is that I am glad
you have done nothing that deserved a
punishment. Poor Phil! Poor Phil!" and
she stroked his hand gently; her heart filled
with sympathy for the pain he had suffered.
I didn't care for the pain," said Philip;
"but I cared for the disgrace; and above all
for the treachery of the sneaks and cowards
who caused it. I shall never forgive them,
Gabrielle, never; and I sha'n't forget; and
perhaps sometime I shall be revenged."
And again Philip's eyes flashed angrily.
"Tell me all about it, Philip, so that I
may understand it."
"Well, then, you must consider all I say
as secret as if I were only talking to myself.
You must never by word or sign let anyone
know that you know anything about it.
Can you promise this?"
"Yes, yes, I can promise it faithfully.
You know I always keep my promises. No
one could be a heroine without that; and
ever since granny has told me so many
stories of the old French times, and the
wonderful courage of some of the people she
knew about, I have longed to do something
brave, so that I might be a heroine. But it
is a little towards it to keep one's promise.
Yes, Phil; I can keep my promises; it is
the beginning of hero-life; and you know,
Phil, that when we talked over being heroes,
so that father and mother might be proud
of us when they came back from India, we
agreed that keeping one's word was an im-
"Well, then," said Philip moodily, "you
will be glad to hear that it was through
keeping my promise that I got the caning."
Gabrielle seized both Philip's hands.
"Why, you dear, good, brave Philip, you
have begun to be a hero already!" she ex-
claimed. "It is worth having a caning for
"Humph!" ejaculated Philip, "it may be;
but no one will ever know it but myself.
On the contrary, it will always be believed
that I have done a mean and ungentlemanlike
act, and that it was very kind of Dr. Brierley
not to expel me. It came very near it."
Gabrielle turned a little paler and said
gravely, "I must hear it all now, Philip.
There is half an hour before tea-time, and I
won't speak a single word until you have
quite finished about it."
So Philip began: "You know there is a
new French master at the school, and most
of the boys have taken a dislike to him, and
are always playing tricks upon him; and
this has made Dr. Brierley very angry, for
whenever anything is done to him the master
always complains. But no one has ever
been regularly found out. Well, last week
I happened to go into one of the class-rooms
after school-time, and there I found Timmins,
Wilders, Fox, and Lewis all talking busily
together, and before they knew I was there
I had gathered enough to know that they
had been into the French master's room
where his clothes were laid out for an enter-
tainment to which he was going. He is
very fussy and particular about his ties and
handkerchiefs. Well, they had unfolded and
crumpled the tie, and left a kitten in the
room, so that it might be thought to be the
kitten's work. And Timmins was just going
to do the same with the fine white handker-
chief, when there was an alarm, and the
four made their escape, bringing with them
the handkerchief which Timmins had in his
hand, and had forgotten to put down. So
they were in a dilemma. The kitten might
have ruffled and even torn the tie, but she
could not have made away with the handker-
chief. Of course I did not glean these par-
ticulars at once, but I saw the handkerchief
in Timmins' hand, and I saw the alarmed
looks of the whole four as I entered the
room. They immediately surrounded me,
and implored me not to speak of what I had
seen, for they had been in scrapes so often
that if this were found out it would go hard
with them. 'You'll give us your word of
honour, Danford, that you won't betray us.'
I wasn't sure at first if I would promise, but
they begged so hard that I gave way. 'You
won't betray us by word, or look, or in any
way whatever?' said Timmins. So I made
no conditions, for I never thought of any
trouble coming. And they were all much
relieved, and said, 'And we can depend on
Danford's word.' And Timmins said he
would just throw the handkerchief away,
and then there'll be an end of that difficulty.
'Oh, don't do that,' I said; 'you know M.
Lavalle is very poor, and I don't think he
has more than one fine handkerchief for
company, and he is always so neat and
particular.' They all laughed at this, for if
there is anything boys despise it is poverty,
though I don't see why they should."
And Philip paused.
"No," said Gabrielle; "it is not noble of
them. But I am afraid that many boys are
not noble; they have not great thoughts
such as heroes ought to have; such as we
must try to have, Philip. But you have
always been polite to M. Lavalle. You have
never played any tricks, or been rude or
"Never!" returned Philip energetically.
"Besides, he is French; and you know that
we ought to remember our great-grand-
mother was French, and came to England
as a poor little girl with no friends. Yes, I
have always thought of that with M. Lavalle."
"And now go on, Phil. What did they
do with the handkerchief? Did you persuade
them not to throw it away?"
Yes; I said if they would give it to me
I would manage to put it back into the room;
and as I had promised them that I would not
betray them, they must promise me not to do
anything to annoy M. Lavalle again. And
so it was settled, and I managed to replace
the crumpled handkerchief in M. Lavalle's
room, and then went away."
"And what next?" asked Gabrielle.
"Why, the next thing was, M. Lavalle, on
going to dress for the entertainment, found
his tie and handkerchief unfit for use. 'Some-
body, some boy, has done this,' he said, and
went off to Dr. Brierley; and the next day
there was a grand to-do. Dr. Brierley was
very indignant, and talked of expelling the
culprits if he could find out who had done it.
'It is,' said he, 'a shameful and un-English
act to insult a foreigner by these petty annoy-
ances, and I will not allow it in my school.
I am surprised to find that a boy of whom I
had a better opinion, is mixed up in this.
Philip Danford, stand out. You were seen
coming along the passage from M. Lavalle's
room just before he discovered what had
"And what did you say?" asked Gabrielle.
"At first I said nothing, I was so surprised
and bewildered; for it had never occurred to
me that I could be accused. And then Dr.
Brierley said: 'Were you 'in M. Lavalle's
room, Danford?' And after a bit I said 'Yes.'
S And then he said: 'Did you touch M.
Lavalle's handkerchief?' And I had to say
'Yes' again. And then he told me to tell
S the whole truth about the matter-but that,
S you see, I could not do, on account of my
promise. So what could I do? The boys
were all standing round. And I supposed
when things had gone so far, that of course
Timmins, or Wilders, or Fox, or Lewis would
have said that I was not to blame. I should
have done it."
"I know you would," said Gabrielle; "so
would any honourable boy, I should think.
But these must be sneaks, cowards."
"So they are!" flashed out Philip; "they
are; and I shall never forgive or forget.
Well, there they stood as mute as fishes, and
there I stood, mute also. And then Dr.
Brierley said: 'I am sorry to find Danford
has been guilty of this paltry and vexatious
action. If it had been any other boy I should
have expelled him, but as this is the first time
Danford has committed any offence against
the rules of the school or my wishes, I shall
only cane him. And I hope that it will be
a warning to every boy here, as well as to
himself.' And so I was caned. And that's
the end of it; and if it hasn't been hard lines
I don't know what would be. And I don't
know what those four cowards deserve. I'll
have my revenge some day or other. They
knew that I could not say anything without
betraying them; and that, I had foolishly
promised not to do."
Gabrielle sat silent for a moment or two,
gazing earnestly into the fire. Her face was
flushed, and the tears were slowly coursing
down her cheeks.
Presently she got up and laid her hand
caressingly on Philip's shoulder.
"You are a hero, Philip," she said. "No
one but a hero could have done as you have
done. That no one knows it but yourself
makes it none the less heroic. I am proud
of you, my brother."
And she bent down and kissed him.
And Philip, glancing upwards, met the
eyes of the portrait fixed upon him. It
seemed to Philip that they had lost some of
their mournfulness, and looked down upon
"My ancestor would have done it," said
Philip proudly. "Perhaps when he was a
boy he had to bear things unjustly, and so it
made him brave."
SABRIELLE'S sympathy had comforted
Philip greatly. It brought back to him
the self-respect that in the first outburst of
bitterness and indignation seemed to have
departed. The caning had disgraced him
in the eyes of the school. He, the best boy,
who had never brought upon himself any
punishment, to be publicly caned, was a dis-
grace that he thought he could not endure.
How could he ever again take the place he
had won amongst his schoolfellows'?
But now, though he felt a little nervous at
making his first appearance among his com-
panions, he had the consciousness of not
having done anything to deserve his punish-
ment, and this inner consolation gave him
courage to hold up his head again.
Yet it was not easy to face the school on
the first morning after the caning. Every-
THE DAY AFTER.
one seemed to be looking at him as he entered
the school-room. Even the small boys glanced
up from their copy-books to see how he
would conduct himself. Dr. Brierley himself
was not free from curiosity. It had grieved
him deeply to punish his favourite pupil, but
he knew that to make an exception in his
favour would be productive of worse results
than the punishment.
Timmins,Wilders, Fox, and Lewis appeared
to be absorbed in their various tasks, and
did not look up; whilst M. Lavalle, who was
standing not far from Dr. Brierley's desk,
looked paler than usual, and seemed not
altogether at ease.
Philip took his usual place with a height-
ened colour, and after a little time lessons
went on as usual. It was doubtless somewhat
trying to him, but he knew in his heart that
he had done no wrong, and with the excep-
tion of being quieter than usual, no one would
have noticed any difference in him. There
was, perhaps, another point that might have
been noticed by a close observer, and that
was, that he was, if possible, more respectful
than ever to the French master.
Philip had always had a friendly feeling
to the Frenchman, on account of his own
French ancestors, especially as M. Lavalle
had also had relatives who were guillotined
in the time of the Revolution. And it was
said that the ring which he always wore
had once belonged to Marie Antoinette. It
had been Philip's desire to ask M. Lavalle
about it, but he had not yet advanced to a
sufficiently friendly footing to do this; for M.
Lavalle was a little stand-off in his manner,
owing, in a great measure, to the way in
which the boys had treated him. And now
Philip felt farther off than ever. He had
been one of the French master's best pupils,
always having had his lessons well prepared,
and he had hoped in time that he might be-
come better acquainted with him.
On his part, M. Lavalle had been drawn
towards Philip. He appreciated the boy's
careful studies and his better pronunciation
of French than his ears were generally accus-
tomed to among schoolboys. And though he
waited for some good opportunity of showing
his friendliness to the boy, yet Philip was the
one to whom his heart went forth, and the
one from whom he had least expected any
annoyance. Indeed, had he had the slightest
THE DAY AFTER.
suspicion that Philip was the offender, he
would have let the matter pass, sooner than
bring any punishment upon him. And now
through his complaint Philip had received a
severe caning. Could he ever be friendly
with the boy now? Would not Philip hate
But Philip's lessons were as well prepared
as ever to-day, and there was no change in
his manner, unless it were that he was even
more courteous than ever, and received all
M. Lavalle's teaching with greater attention.
The French master was puzzled. "He
bears me no grudge," said he to himself; "it
is a wonderful boy."
And after the lessons were over he wan-
dered into the playground, but found that
Philip was not there. He had gone straight
Timmins and Wilders had also avoided
the playground, not feeling comfortable at
meeting Philip in close quarters, but in
turning down a street Philip suddenly came
The three came to a stand-still for a
moment, and then Philip, with a look of
ineffable contempt, turned away from the
two, and left them standing in no enviable
state of mind.
"He kept his word," said Wilders. "I
wish we hadn't let him. I shall always feel
like a coward."
"Pooh!" answered Timmins; "you may
be thankful that it's all over. We should
certainly have been expelled if it had been
found out. It will blow over in time, and
all come right."
"No it won't. I know by Danford's face
what he thinks of us; and he'll have his
revenge in some way or other. It isn't over
in one way, and never will be. I'll tell you
what, Timmins, I don't believe there's another
boy in the school that would have done as
he has done."
"Pooh! what's a flogging for a friend in
need? I've had many a one."
"But then you've deserved it, and that
makes all the difference," returned Wilders.
THE FRENCH MASTER'S STORY
QO the first day was over. Philip felt
glad that it was over, and so much
more easily than he had expected. He also
felt surprised that the sense of disgrace had
not touched him more. He was learning a
lesson, or rather a truth, though he did not
yet appreciate it, that a clear conscience
makes a light heart, in spite of outward
circumstances. And his spirits began to rise;
the more especially as, to his great surprise,
one morning when he was left copying out
some extra work that he wanted to do, M.
Lavalle came up to him, and putting his
hand on his shoulder, said:
Danford, I am very sorry that you got
a caning through me. If I had known, I
would not have said a word. You have
always been my very best pupil, and-I am
Philip. turned round. M. Lavalle's face
was full of concern. Philip's, on the contrary,
beamed with pleasure. The Frenchman was
really a good fellow. He should get to know
M. Lavalle held out his hand, which Philip
grasped heartily, saying:
"Thank you, sir."
Then a momentary pang shot through his
heart that M. Lavalle should believe him
capable of trying to annoy him. But what
could Philip say? His face clouded over,
and M. Lavalle seeing it, again said:
"I am very sorry, Danford. We will be
friends in the future."
And again Philip said: "Thank you, sir."
His heart was lightened by the knowledge
that all was right between him and the
French master.. And perhaps he should
know about the ring and how he came
by it. Philip was drawn towards M. Lavalle
through the traditions of his own ancestors,
and he felt this strongly as he gazed up at
the sympathetic face looking down upon him.
He finished the line he was copying, closed
the book, and stood up.
Timmins, passing through the room, looked
THE FRENCH MASTER'S STORY. 31
at him in dismay. Philip must have been
explaining to M. Lavalle, or else how should
they be on such good terms as they appa-
Philip caught sight of him, and noted the
look on his face; but it only made him feel
a throb of contempt, and of pride in his own
Gabrielle had said to him: "A true hero
is content to be a hero without the world's
knowing it." And Philip felt that he must
try hard to come up to that standard.
"Though I can't help wishing that people
knew the truth," he soliloquized. Then he
turned to M. Lavalle.
"My great-grandmother was a French-
woman," he said, "and many of my relatives
were guillotined at the time of the French
revolution. Did any of yours also suffer?"
And Philip glanced at the ring on M.
Lavalle's finger. The French master's eyes
followed the glance.
"Yes," he said; "in all my poverty I have
preserved that gift of the queen to my great-
grandfather. I have many a time been on
the point of parting with it, for hunger is
hard to bear, but I have said to myself,
'Courage, Eugene! it is all that is left thee
of olden days; keep it still in remembrance
of those to whom it belonged.' My great-
grandfather had said when he received it:
'Madame, I will never part with it, and it
shall be a sacred heirloom in my family. It
shall not go to strangers.' And then I. strug-
gled on, and got some work to do, and as
I looked down upon the ring I said, 'I am
thankful that the time for our parting is not
Philip drew nearer. M. Lavalle had suf-
fered hunger, and had had trouble; perhaps
he too had tried to be a hero, and to bear all
things patiently. And he looked with greater
respect on the threadbare coat of the master
that was so well brushed, and his tie so
scrupulously neat, in order to make the best
"It is better," he mused, "to have a
threadbare coat and to be a hero, than to
wear a velvet one and be a coward. I dare
say there are many heroes in the world that
no one knows anything about, and that
people look down upon."
Pursuing the idea that had taken posses-
sion of him, Philip after a brief pause ven-
THE FRENCH MASTER'S STORY. 33
tured to ask: "Was your great-grandfather
The Frenchman smiled.
"I know not what you would call a hero,
my boy. He was not on the royalist side,
but he performed a good act for the queen
when she was in trouble, and she gave him
this ring from her finger. My ancestor did
not approve of the killing of the royal family,
or the guillotining of so many innocent
people; but he felt that the people had
suffered much that wanted righting. They
were in a dreadful state of degradation."
Philip looked disappointed.
"I thought he would have been on the
king's side like my ancestor," he said.
"He was guillotined, however," said M.
Lavalle. "He was too moderate for the
leaders who rose up and wished to put to
death all who were in any way connected
with the upper classes, and when Robespierre
was in the ascendant his life was taken."
"Yet you, perhaps," said Philip, "would
have been on the king's side?"
I would have tried to save him," returned
They had been talking so long that it was
quite late when Philip returned home, and
there was such a look of new spirit and
happiness about him, that Gabrielle asked:
"What has happened to-day, Philip?"
"I have made friends with M. Lavalle.
He is sorry that I was caned, he told me so.
We had quite a talk, and, Gabrielle, I think
he must be a hero, for he has suffered much,
and he has been so poor. Gabrielle, I would
ten times rather have had the caning than be
either Timmins or Wilders or Fox or Lewis
with their cowardly consciences. Perhaps
I should say Timmins and Wilders, for the
others are such frightened fellows and quite
under the other two, and obliged to do what-
ever they tell them. But on Timmins and
Wilders I shall be revenged some day."
Gabrielle looked thoughtful. "I am not
sure, Philip," she began, and then she hesi-
"What is it, Gabrielle?"
"I was thinking of something I read. A
sort of proverb, and it was Revenge is sweet
to a mean spirit.' And, you know, a hero
ought not to be mean, should he?"
"I don't know," said Philip hastily. "I
can't think about it just yet."
DR. BRIERLEY'S PRIZE.
HE'S not likely to get it. If Dr. Brierley
could cheat for him he would be sure
of it, for there's no doubt but that he is the
No, he won't get it, that's very certain, for
he's the only boy amongst the upper ones
that's had a caning this term, and it will
score against him heavily," answered another
"It's had a good effect in one way," said
the first speaker, for it has made the rest of
the boys wonderfully careful. And as for
that French master, it's been the beginning
of a life of peace for him; for if Dr. Brierley
would cane Danford in his behalf, he won't
spare anyone else, that's very certain."
"That's true enough," returned his com-
panion, "and there's been such a cessation
of the tricks played, that I should not be
surprised if the greater part of them are not
set down to Danford's account."
Philip Danford coming suddenly upon the
group heard the latter part of the conversa-
tion. It had never occurred to him before
that he might be thought guilty of former
acts of annoyance; but now it stood out
clearly to him. He had taken comfort to
himself that there had been no more tricks
played on M. Lavalle since his own punish-
ment, which he naturally and rightly sup-
posed had struck terror into the school; but
he never imagined that former practices
might be laid to his charge. His heart fell
within him. The wish of his heart had been
to be a hero in the sight of the world, to do
some grand heroic action such as he had
read of in history; and here he was disgraced
in the eyes of his companions as foolish and
malicious. However, he advanced without
showing any feeling.
"What are you talking about so busily?"
There was a little hesitation, and then one
of the boys replied: "We were talking about
Dr. Brierley's prize, the one he specially
gives for good conduct."
DR. BRIERLEY S PRIZE.
Again the truth forced itself upon Philip:
his chance of the prize which he had won in
the past year was gone. The colour came
into his face as he turned away. This, then,
was the reward of keeping his word to four
unworthy school-fellows. He was beginning
to see that it was harder to bear the results
patiently than to take the caning. And then,
that no one should know the truth! This was
what he felt. He confided his views to wise
little Gabrielle, who entered into all his
"It is a part of being a hero," she said,
"to bear grandly and nobly without com-
plaining. Philip, I believe that small trials
are harder to bear than a great misfortune.
They seem to go biting and gnawing at one's
heart, and no one else knows or cares about
them. One must suffer them without speak-
And so Philip kept up his courage; but
as the days went on, and the rumour went
through the school that Timmins was as
likely as anyone else to have the prize since
there were no marks against him, Philip's
indignation rose. Timmins had been remark-
ably careful since the time of M. Lavalle's
last annoyance, and seemed anxious to estab-
lish a character for himself in the school.
"If it had been anyone else I shouldn't
have minded," thought Philip. "I would
have borne patiently that they should have
carried off the prize that I have forfeited
through my own act, but if one of that four
should get the prize I don't think I could
He watched Timmins narrowly, and saw
how perseveringly he was ingratiating himself
with all the masters, even with M. Lavalle.
Philip had not spoken to Timmins since
the day on which he received his unjust
punishment, and the feeling of contempt for
him had rather increased than decreased,
until he sometimes felt he could hardly bear
to be in the same room with him.
Unfortunately they were in the same class
in French, and Philip's endurance was sorely
tried. He avoided Timmins as much as he
could, and was so stiff that M. Lavalle
I find that thou art not over-gracious to
thy school-fellow, Danford," said the French-
man to him. "Why is this? I find Timmins
DR. BRIERLEY'S PRIZE.
"He isn't one of my friends," said Philip
"That I perceive," returned M. Lavalle;
"but a little courtesy is never wasted."
Philip made no answer; his position
seemed to him to be getting more and more
difficult, and everything seemed to be put-
ting him in a wrong place.
"M. Lavalle thinks I am in the wrong,"
thought he, "and I see that Dr. Brierley is
beginning to be doubtful about me. It does
seem hard; and there is Timmins, looking as
virtuous as he can look, and purring round
the masters like a cat. And yet, if ever a
fellow deserved a good thrashing it is he.
And if I were not, as it were, tied and bound,
I would give it to him. But I shall have
my revenge yet."
And he drew himself up, and walked home
in dignified silence.
THE BURDEN OF GUILT.
R. BRIERLEY was puzzled. He had
been observing Philip attentively, and
could not help noticing what a strange reserve
had come to the boy. There was something
constrained in his manner, and he was unlike
the free, light-hearted youth that he had
been. Perhaps he had acted unwisely after
all in punishing him; but Philip was such
a known favourite, that he felt he could not,
in fairness to the rest of the boys, make an
exception in his favour. But it had evidently
produced a bad effect on Philip himself,
which he much regretted.
Certainly Philip's lessons were well pre-
pared, and he kept his place in his class.
There was no actual fault to be found in him
in any way, and yet he was changed. He
avoided the playground, and took but little
notice of his companions, and being a day-
THE BURDEN OF GUILT.
boy, he went straight home as soon as school
The boys, too, were beginning to notice
Philip's altered demeanour. And one or two
began to express their opinions to him.
"I say, Phil," said Seton, his very par-
ticular friend, "what's come to you? You're
too sensitive by half. We've all been caned
in our turn, and it is a marvel you have
escaped so long. Why, until the other day
you were the only boy in the school who had
never been caned. We're none of us the
worse for our canings; neither are you. Boys
will be boys in spite of canings-though I
must say it was an odd freak of yours to
meddle with M. Lavalle's belongings, espe-
cially as you always seemed so fond of him.
I can't imagine what you did it for. Tim-
mins says it was very surprising."
"Timmins!" exclaimed Philip contemptu-
ously, and then stopped short.
"Yes. I know what you are going to say
-' that it is no affair of Timmins'.' You and
Timmins have always been rivals; and I
must say, if you don't mind he'll get the
better of you, for he's wonderfully improved
of late. He's working his hardest, and even
taking pains with his French. I heard M.
Lavalle speaking in his praise the other
Again a new phase was making itself
known to Philip, and he asked himself, was
it true heroism to let everyone see that he
was out of temper with something or other?
Was he bearing patiently the burden he had
incurred by his promise to the four delin-
quents? He felt a little disheartened, for he
had a great longing to be a hero. It had
been the one thought of his heart, and he had
borne the punishment due to others unflinch-
ingly in order to keep his promise, and he
had never held back from danger. And now
he was fretting and appearing sulky to the
rest of the boys. Was this like a hero?
Seton was somewhat astonished by his
"I believe I'm a fool, Seton. I've not had
a good game of anything for weeks. What's
going on in the playground now? I feel as
if I could go in for a game."
"They're at football now."
Oh! Well, I don't care much about foot-
ball, but I'll go in for a game, just to show
THE BURDEN OF GUILT.
the boys that I can play as well as any of
And the two proceeded arm in arm to the
playground, where Philip's appearance was
hailed with a shout of delight, and the boys
crowded round him, saying:
"You'll play on our side." "You'll play
on our side."
And Philip did play. He threw himself
into the game, and played in a manner that
he had never surpassed.
Well done, Danford!" resounded from all
And Philip glowed with the exercise, and
with the new spirit that had sprung up
Timmins looked on in surprise and in some
annoyance, for what Seton had said was quite
true. He was making a desperate push to
get before Philip in every way. He was go-
ing to leave the school that Christmas, and
he wished to leave it with credit. The affair
concerning M. Lavalle was dying away from
his mind as the danger of discovery of the
truth lessened. But, strange to say, instead
of feeling any gratitude to Philip for not
having betrayed him, his desire was to
place him in an inferior position in every
The effort had done Philip good. From
that day he took his place as usual in the
playground. He played with his usual spirit,
and felt all the better for it. He was sur-
prised how he was throwing off the remem-
brance of his disgrace.
Timmins sha'n't get the better of me. I
will get the French prize, and the other too.
I've been falling off in my work lately, but
I'll get ahead again."
And he marched home with an air of
triumph, and met Fox and Lewis, who, much
to his amazement, made a stop before him.
Philip, as was his custom with the four
conspirators, looked straight over their heads
and was going to pass on.
"If you please," said Lewis in a timid
"We've wanted-" began Fox.
We're very sorry," said Lewis.
"We didn't ever think you would be
caned. Timmins said you'd be sure to be let
off. He said Dr. Brierley would not touch
you," said Fox, because you were his favour-
THE BURDEN OF GUILT.
"Well?" said Philip, looking down at the
"If you please, Danford, we should have
said it before, but Tinimins threatened to
thrash us if we breathed a word about the
matter to anyone. But we have been very
miserable-" said Lewis.
"And so," went on Fox, we determined
to beg pardon."
Philip still looked steadily at them.
"Yes," he said; "I don't wonder you are
miserable. I could not hold up my head if
I had done such a mean thing."
"You won't tell Timmins of us?" said Fox
"I don't speak to Timmins," returned
Then the two boys stood for a moment,
not knowing what to say, and were turning
away when Philip stopped them. They had
done their best, and he knew that Timmins
was a tyrant to the younger boys.
I'll not betray you. I promised before,
and I kept my word, and I promise again."
And then Philip went on as fast as he
could. He held his head higher; he felt
happier in himself; he had made an effort,
a sort of self-conquest, in going on the play-
ground. And now he had, in a measure,
forgiven two of those who had brought his
punishment upon him.
I'm glad we've done it," said Fox, as they
watched Philip out of sight. I'd have done
it before if it hadn't been for Timmins. I
believe Wilders would do the same if he only
Fox had scarcely finished this speech when
he felt a hand upon his shoulder.
What are you two doing here?" said the
voice of Timmins. "And what were you
saying to Danford? I saw you, and I under-
stand it all. You've been trying to make up
to him again."
Fox and Lewis made no answer, but went
very white. Timmins had discovered them,
and they knew too well what it was to incur
"Why don't you speak?" asked Timmins.
"If you please," stammered Fox, "I don't
think Danford will have much to do with
"Then it is as I thought; you've been
apologizing to Danford, instead of letting the
thing die out. You ought to be very thank-
THE BURDEN OF GUILT.
ful that you are still at the school, instead of
being expelled, as you certainly would have
been if things had not taken the turn they
did. It's the only caning Danford ever got,
and it won't hurt him. In fact, it is as well
he should feel what others have to put up
with, and which he has sneaked out of
through being a favourite. I'm not sorry for
it myself, for if there is a fellow in the school
that I hate, it is Danford."
Fox and Lewis listened in surprise to
Timmins' views about Danford. Was it
possible that he really believed what he said ?
But they were too much in awe of him to
express this feeling, so they said nothing.
"Dumb, are you?" said Timmins. "Well,
perhaps sometime you will find your tongues.
I sha'n't forget this; and remember that my
eyes are upon you. And you shall pay for
And he turned away as Philip had done,
and left them standing looking at one another
in consternation. They were delicate-look-
ing boys, small even for their age, and
Timmins had been a tyrant to them ever
since they had been at school.
It ought not to have been; they both felt
48 PHILIP DANFORD.
that, and sometimes said it to one another.
But at school it is too much the custom for
the strong to tyrannize over the weak; and
complaints were worse than useless, for they
brought upon themselves, even amongst those
who, in a measure, were sorry for them, the
odium of being tell-tales, a character no
schoolboy likes to incur. Hence much that
is suffered by younger boys, and no one
seems inclined to lift a finger to make it
J ., 05
W HO'LL go in for a paper-chase?" asked
Seton one fine morning. "It's half-
holiday to-day, and we are not likely to get
much such weather as this at this time of the
I, I, I," resounded from all parts of the
play-ground; day-boys as well as the boarders
were anxious to join. Philip was a day-boy;
he had recovered his old spirit; he was as
popular as ever amongst the boys, and he
was working hard for the masters. There
was little doubt but that he would gain all
the prizes he went in for, except-and there
Philip drew a long breath-except the one
given by Dr. Brierley himself, for good con-
duct. He ought to have had that, had it
not been for the unfortunate episode with M.
Lavalle's ties and handkerchief.
No one grieved over this more than the
French master. He is a boy my heart goes
after," said he; "he has in him some of my
country; he is different from the other boys.
Why did I not know? But how was it
possible to suspect Danford?"
So he mourned over and over again:
"How was it possible to suspect Philip?"
And suddenly, like a flash of lightning,
came an unexpected answer, the revelation
of his own feelings.
"But I do not suspect-I cannot suspect.
There is something I do not understand."
To-day, as Philip had finished his lessons
and was putting away his books, he found
M. Lavalle beside him.
And yet M. Lavalle did not speak, though
he looked as if he had something to say. He
was turning his ring round and round on his
Philip looked up at him.
"Might I have it on my finger for a
moment?" he said.
"Certainly," returned M. Lavalle, placing
the ring in Philip's hand.
Philip put it on his finger, and kept it
there for a moment.
"Thank you," he said, as he returned it;
" it has done me good. I have touched some-
thing that has been touched by an unfortu-
nate queen. It should give me courage."
M. Lavalle watched him as he went away.
"That is a strange boy," said he. He
has some dreams in him-there is of my
France about him; the sentiment of the old
chivalrous days. Yes, he is after my heart,
and I cannot suspect him. There is some
mystery that I must wait for. Alas! that I
should have brought trouble upon him."
In the meantime, Philip made his way to
the playground, where the boys were busy
arranging the paper-chase.
Seton is to be hare," said one of the boys;
"he knows all the country round, and we
shall have some good jumps over ditches,
and some queer stiles to get over. We shall
have a capital run."
"The sooner we start the better," said
Philip. Off with you, Seton! we will give
you a fair start. Have you plenty of paper?"
And away went Seton over the pleasant
country with the sun shining down upon him.
The trees were bare of leaves, excepting the
tall pines, whose long stems showed out
against the clear skies. There were several
small woods in the neighbourhood with
narrow paths winding through tangled brush-
wood and bracken. There was a wide stretch
of common covered in its due season with
golden-yellow gorse. There was a broad
stream which could scarcely be dignified
by the name of river, and a wooden bridge
over it, and there were fields and lanes
stretching hither and thither.
It was a joyous merry company that
followed the hare. Fox and Lewis were there,
keeping close together as they always did;
and Timmins, who was one of the best
runners, was there also, and, strange to say,
he rather held back, and did not appear in
the group nearest Seton, in which Philip was
making headway. It might be that he was
reserving his strength for the last, for he was
evidently taking it easily enough now among
the younger boys, and keeping dangerously
near to Fox and Lewis, who had not for-
gotten his threat. But they did not heed it
to-day; they felt safety in the multitude of
boys, so ran in good spirits, straining every
nerve to come up with the older boys who
were still in sight, though at some little
They saw them cross the somewhat shaky
wooden bridge over the stream. They had
to go carefully over it, and so slackened their
pace, which gave the boys in the background
a chance of getting nearer.
Fox and Lewis, eager to do their best,
made a great effort to get before their com-
panions, and made for the bridge. The
bridge was a rough plank one, with a rail
on one side and no protection on the other.
The stream in this part was broad, but was
not very deep. Lewis was first to gain the
bridge, and Fox was but a few paces behind,
when suddenly Timmins shot ahead of the
rest of the boys, and came up with Fox as he
was half-way across it.
How it happened Fox could not at the
moment have said, but he suddenly found
himself in the middle of the stream. Tim-
mins had pushed by him and he had over-
Philip, who was not far in advance, heard
a cry, and looking round he saw Fox strug-
gling in the water. He sprang back,
"Help, help!" shouted Lewis; "Fox can't
Timmins had stopped as Philip came up.
He won't drown," said he. "The water
is not deep enough. Let him alone; he'll
crawl up the bank like a rat."
But Fox after another ineffectual struggle
seemed to be sinking deeper.
"He'll drown, he'll drown!" cried Lewis.
"Oh! won't somebody help him?"
Timmins stood laughing as Fox floundered
about; and Lewis, becoming beside himself
with terror for his companion, suddenly ex-
claimed: "I believe you did it on purpose,
Timmins turned towards him with a
"You young rascal, how dare you say so!
You deserve a good thrashing."
And he sprang towards him as if to put
his threat into execution; but Philip stood
For the first time since the day of Philip's
caning the two stood face to face. Philip
looked steadily into Timmins' eyes, and they
sank before his gaze. Oddly enough the
same conclusion came to him that had come
to Lewis. Timmins for some reason had
done it to punish the boy. There was no
actual danger apprehended; the boy would
get a thorough ducking, and be rendered
incapable of further participation in the
Meanwhile Fox, still struggling, had got
nearer to the bridge. His clothes were
heavy with the water, his shoes filled with
mud, and his hands numbed with the cold.
Philip slid down one of the posts of the
I can almost reach him," said he. "Keep
up, Fox; we'll get you out; there isn't any
danger. I'll wade along to you, and help
And Philip took a few steps forward when
he too sank as Fox had done.
A cry of dismay rose from the boys who
were watching. There must be a hole that
they had not known of, or the weeds were
keeping them prisoners. Philip made another
effort, and succeeded in reaching Fox, whose
strength was rapidly departing.
"I am so cold, Danford; hold me up. I
can't feel anything."
Philip put his arm round the boy.
"Get a rope," shouted Philip. "You'll
have to drag us out, and make haste. I can't
keep up very long, the weight of Fox is
dragging me down."
There was a farmhouse close by, and
before long the farmer and two of his men
were upon the spot with ropes and poles.
"It's a nasty place," said Farmer Hey-
bridge. "I've had experience of it. How
did the boys get in? Here, give me one
of the ropes; and, Thomas, you wade in
cautiously as long as you feel your feet."
In a few minutes Philip had fastened the
ropes round himself and Fox, and they were
slowly drawn out of the mud into which
they had fallen. Philip was none the worse
for his immersion, but Fox was thoroughly
chilled and numbed, and almost incapable of
"Better get him up to the house," said the
farmer. "My missis will see to him; he
wants warming up before he can go any
"Dear me, dear me!" said Mrs. Heybridge
when she saw the boy; "a good warm bed
is the best thing for him, and that he shall
have. Dr. Brierley knows I am a good
nurse, and he'll let the young gentleman
stay till the shivering has passed off. You'll
be none the worse neither for drying your
clothes," she added, turning to Philip.
Oh, I had better run home as fast as I
can!" replied Philip; "I'm quite warm, and I
sha'n't hurt; Fox is different."
So the paper-chase was at an end. Seton
kept close to Philip as he ran along, so did
Lewis, for he felt that he needed protection.
But Timmms, contrary to his expectation,
had already departed.
PURPOSE OR ACCIDENT?
THAT bridge is not safe for boys to run
over," said Dr. Brierley. "I ought to
have warned the boys."
"It's safe, sir, if they don't try to pass
one another," said Seton.
"Pass!" exclaimed the doctor; "who would
try to do such a mad thing in running over
a plank scarcely a foot wide?"
"Timmins did, sir; and I think that was
how Fox overbalanced, he wasn't expecting
I should think not; very rash of Timmins,
I must reprimand him. The consequences
might have been serious. Fox might have
been drowned, and Danford too, as the stream
seems to be treacherous there. And you left
Fox with Mrs. Heybridge? Quite right. I'll
send the pony-carriage for him."
But when the pony-carriage arrived, Mrs.
PURPOSE OR ACCIDENT?
Heybridge said that Fox could not possibly
be moved. He had passed from the chill
into a burning fever, and it would not be
safe to move him. If Dr. Brierley would
send a doctor at once it would be desirable.
Lewis was miserable. He and Fox were
inseparable friends. He went to Seton as
being one of the head boys.
"Seton," he said, "do you think Dr.
Brierley would let me go when the doctor
goes? If Fox dies I don't know what I shall
do; and he's not strong, and this getting wet
through may kill him. They say he does
not know anyone, and is first calling out for
Danford, and then for Timmins, and talking
all sorts of nonsense."
But Lewis was not allowed to go; it was
best to keep Fox quiet. The doctor would
let him know if there was any danger. Fox's
parents were written to about him, and
M. Lavalle was going to stay all night at
Farmer Heybridge's. So Lewis was obliged
to be contented, and he went to the school-
The boys were preparing their lessons for
the next day. Timmins was particularly
busy with his, and did not look up.
Lewis found himself seated next to Wil-
ders. There was no one very near to them,
and Lewis managed to attract Wilders' atten-
Stoop down," he said softly.
Wilders bent his head down close.
"Wilders, I am quite sure that Timmins
did it on purpose. I must say it, even if
you tell Timmins and get me a thrashing."
Wilders looked in some surprise at Lewis.
The boy's face was white, and his lips were
quivering, and his large dark earnest eyes
had a mournful pleading look.
"I sha'n't get you a thrashing, Lewis,
don't be afraid. What makes you think that
Timmins did it?"
"He is angry with me and Fox, and he'd
have pushed us both in if he could; but I
was holding tight by the rail as he went by.
But I felt him push, indeed I did."
"Nonsense!" said Wilders; "you have got
Lewis shook his head.
"If Fox dies, I shall say that Timmins
"But he won't- die, there's no fear; he'll be
all right in a day or two. Now, go on with
PURPOSE OR ACCIDENT?
your lessons; you will think differently in
Lewis had to content himself; but he
noticed that from time to time Wilders cast
furtive glances at Timmins, so perhaps after
all what he had said was not quite lost upon
Nor was it. Wilders' conscience had been
pricking him very deeply, and he by no
means felt easy under the burden of the
secret of Philip's innocence in the case of M.
Lavalle. He felt meaner and meaner every
day as he confronted Philip, and he wondered
whether Timmins would accept the prize that
ought to have been Philip's.
But the more he saw of Timmins the more
he was inclined to believe that he would not
stop at anything; that, having tided over
the offence, and there being no chance of
discovery, he would leave Dr. Brierley's with
flying colours, and take with him the doctor's
prize. And the more he brooded over Tim-
mins, the greater admiration and respect he
felt for Danford-almost amounting to hero-
worship. True, he had had no communication
with Philip in the present term, and was
looked at by him, if their eyes chanced to
62 PHILIP DANFORD.
meet, with a cool glance of contempt, which
Wilders owned to himself was well deserved.
"Danford's a hero," he had said over and
over again to himself; "he'll bear anything
sooner than break his word."
WHAT IS HEROISM?
PHILIP was again sitting in the old room
with the firelight shining on the well-
worn furniture, and the portrait of his French
ancestor looking down upon him. He had
hastened home, changed his wet clothing, and
had some hot tea with his grandmother and
Gabrielle, who were much concerned at the
plight in which he had reached home.
"It is always the way with these paper-
chases," said his grandmother. "Someone
falls into the water, or gets scratched all to
pieces getting through a hedge, or falls down
and sprains his ankle tumbling down from a
wall, or something of the sort. Summer is
the only time when such an amusement is
permissible, and then a ducking does not
matter. I hope you won't take cold, Philip."
"Oh, no fear of that, granny! I'm as
warm as a toast," replied Philip. If there'd
only been a little more danger, and I could
have had a good swim to save a friend from
drowning, it would have been something to
talk of; but I got stuck in the mud or the
weeds or something, and Fox and I had to
be ignominiously helped out."
But therewas danger, Phil," said Gabrielle,
"and you were the only boy who went into
the water after Fox. I think I might put it
down in the list of heroic actions I am keep-
"I am not altogether sure that heroic
actions make a hero."
"What do you mean?" asked Gabrielle,
who was naturally puzzled by Philip's state-
"Yes, I know it sounds like a contradic-
tion," said Philip. But what I mean is that
it is not one or two notable actions that make
a real hero. There are many heroes in the
world who have never performed what is
called a brave action in their lives, and yet
their whole lives have been full of grand
patience and endurance, and of suffering hard-
ships uncomplainingly, and not knowing that
they were heroes of any kind. Gabrielle,
WHAT IS HEROISM?
that caning has taught me a great deal. And
one has been, it has shown me how hard it
is to suffer wrong patiently. And this is the
lot of so many."
"What a long speech, Phil! And I dare-
say it is all true. Nevertheless, I do admire
heroic actions, and I think your bearing that
caning was as grand as any patience and en-
"What are you two chattering about?"
"About heroes and what is heroism,"
Granny," he said after a moment's pause,
"will you tell me why it was that my great-
great-grandfather wished he could have seen
his brother so that he might say On my part
"Because the last words he had spoken to
him were: 'I can never forgive;' and of that
he had repented-"
Come into the old school-room and tell us
all about it, with the picture looking down
upon us. Perhaps that is the reason there is
such a mournful look in his eyes."
And granny went with Philip and Gabrielle
into the old room. She seated herself in the
66 PHILIP DANFORD.
arm-chair, while they sat down at her feet,
and then she began her story:
"It was on a pleasant spring morning that
two young men might be seen entering a
little coppice belonging to the grounds of the
Chateau de Sois. They were fine-looking
young men, dressed in the height of the
fashion then prevalent at the French court,
and both wore swords, which were then too
often in use-for at what was deemed the
slightest insult, the court gallants had re-
course to their swords to settle the matter in
"Not that the one who was in the right was
always the victor; but when a duel had been
fought over any quarrel, the quarrel was con-
sidered to be at an end. And sad to say it
too often was with the death of one of the
combatants, for in those days- fencing was
an art that was much practised. And a skil-
ful swordsman was a dangerous adversary.
"The two young men were very pale and
their lips were firmly compressed. They re-
sembled each other in the colour of their hair
and eyes, and in fact there was a strong re-
semblance between them, as well there might
be, for they were brothers-twin brothers'"-
WHAT IS HEROISM?
"Were they going to fight?" interrupted
I thought people who fought duels always
had seconds to arrange for them?" said Philip.
"Yes, as a general rule. But in this case
the two brothers wished the matter to be as
private as possible. They did not want to
create a scandal, which there would have been
had the unnatural proceeding got wind. The
only person who suspected any difficulty be-
tween the brothers was the old steward, who
had watched for many days, and even weeks,
the coming rupture.
"'But, M. Philippe,' said the old steward,
'why cannot you and M. Alphonse divide
the property amicably? There is enough for
"'So I would if Alphonse would let the
chdteau go into my share; besides, he has
placed me in a false position, prejudicial to
my character, that I have no power of an-
"Then the old steward would speak to
"' Oh! M. Alphonse, cannot this matter be
settled? If you let M. Philippe have the
Chateau de Sois for his portion, the Vigny
estate will amply make up for it. It was a
foolish will of the old master's to leave the
division to be settled by you and M. Philippe.
It would have been better if he had settled
it all himself; but he said that, being twins,
leaving it as he did was like leaving it to
one person. But it was a mistake.'
"' I shall not alter my determination about
the property,' replied Alphonse haughtily.
"So matters went on, and the young men,
though living under the same roof, became
more estranged as the time drew near for
the division of property to be settled.
"Philippe, moved by the arguments of the
old steward, was almost prepared to give
way in the matter of the Chateau de Sois, on
condition that Alphonse should release him
from the false accusations under which he
But this Alphonse refused to do. He was
not going to bring odium upon himself, as he
should do if he acknowledged that some of
his statements had been without foundation.
He was more at court than Philippe, and
therefore a little slur upon Philippe's char-
acter would not be of as much importance,
WHAT IS HEROISM?
added to which it would soon blow over, and
Philippe would be none the worse for it.
"' I care more for these false rumours and
misapprehension of my character than for
the chateau; the one I can give up, but the
other I can neither forgive nor forget.' And
then, according to the spirit of the times, it
came to pass that it was decided to settle
differences in the usual way. Therefore on
a certain fine spring morning everything was
calm, and the birds were singing when the
two young men made their way to a secluded
part of the coppice.
"They chose their ground, stood some paces
apart, and drew their swords. They were
about to begin when Philippe suddenly cried,
"Alphonse stood still.
"'Once more-I offer you the Chateau de
Sois on condition of your effectually silenc-
ing the false reports about me.'
"'I decline,' replied Alphonse; 'I must have
the chateau unconditionally; as for the rest
it is past recall, even if I were disposed to do
as you wish, which I am not'
"'Then,' said Philippe, 'I can never for-
give nor forget.' They were the last words
he ever spoke to his brother. And with that
they crossed swords, and the fight began..
"The false reports which were troubling
Philippe had arisen from the remarkable
likeness between the brothers. Alphonse
had been mistaken for Philippe in several
transactions that were not creditable; and
Alphonse had taken advantage of this to
throw blame that should have belonged to
himself upon Philippe. And it would be
useless in the eyes of the gay world of Paris
to deny these reports, unless Alphonse would
come forward to clear him, which he refused
"And the fight went on, and first one got
the advantage, and then the other, until a
sudden thrust disabled Philippe, and he fell
heavily to the ground.
"The old steward, who had heard in the
distance the clash of weapons, was making
his way to the wood when he met Alphonse
coming out of it.
"'Haste, my brother is wounded,' said he.
'I must fly.'
"The old steward groaned.
"'Alas for the folly of men!' said he as
he hastened to the assistance of Philippe.
WHAT IS HEROISM?
He found that he had been severely wounded
and that the blood was flowing freely from the
wound. He stanched the blood, and placed
Philippe in as comfortable a position as he
could, and when he had come a little to
himself he went for assistance to carry him
to the chateau.
"It was some weeks before Philippe was
pronounced out of danger, and then he slowly
recovered. The duel between the brothers
got noised abroad, and Alphonse did not
dare to appear until Philippe's health was
"Business matters relative to the will and
the disposition of the property had been
delayed, and the old steward hoped that
Philippe would now be left in quiet posses-
sion of the Chateau de Sois.
"Therefore his surprise was great when one
morning Philippe, having sent for him, spoke
as follows: 'Jean Pireau,' he said, 'I am
going to give up the Chateau de Sois, and
take Vigny as my share.'
"'But, Monsieur,' began Jean Pireau in
"' There is nothing to be said, Jean Pireau.
I am a man of honour. We fought for the
chateau, and I lost it, therefore I must give
it up. That was the ground of our quarrel,
and Alphonse was the victor, therefore the
chateau rightly belongs to him. That is my
view of honour in the case, and that is my
determination; as for the rest, my feelings
have not altered towards my brother.'
"The brothers both married. Alphonse and
his wife entered into all the court gaieties,
and made quite a figure in public life; whilst
Philippe led a somewhat secluded life at
Vigny, where he lived with his family, so
that it happened the brothers being some
distance apart and in different circles did not
"Had Alphonse any children?" asked
"I am glad of that," said Philip medi-
M. LAVALLE BEGINS TO SUSPECT.
PHILIP sat looking into the fire for some
time after his grandmother had told
the story of the two brothers. He was so
absorbed in his thoughts that he scarcely
noticed that his grandmother and Gabrielle
had quietly withdrawn from the room.
Suddenly he looked up, and found that he
was alone. He seated himself in the arm-
chair, and gazed into the fire. He had not
seated himself long before Gabrielle came in.
"I came to look if you were still here,
Philip," she said. "Granny thinks you must
be very tired; she says that half the time
she was telling the story you looked as if
you were almost asleep. So perhaps you
did not hear all of it."
Philip jumped up.
"Not hear it! Why, I heard every single
word of it. But I was thinking, Gabrielle.
I was comparing-sit down and I will tell
you. Did you think of me when granny was
telling us the story?"
Of course I did, Phil, and I knew what
you would be thinking about. What you
have had to bear through Timmins was some-
thing like what our great-grandfather had to
bear through his brother. It was not so bad
for you in that way, because Timmins was
not like one's own brother making one suffer."
"Yes, that was what I was thinking of.
And, Gabrielle, I think all these things are
helping me to learn something, making me
stronger to do what is right at whatever cost
it may be. Do you know, I am almost get-
ting not to care about the disgrace of the
caning; that is, not to feel that it is a disgrace,
because I know that I have not done anything
to deserve it; and not to mind quite so much
about Dr. Brierley's prize as I did, because
that will be another test of my powers
of endurance, to see how I can bear letting
it go. Gabrielle, I am trying to do this
because-" and Philip stopped.
"Because what, Philip?"
"I thought of it when granny was telling
us about the bad feeling between the brothers.
M. LAVALLE BEGINS TO SUSPECT.
It seemed dreadful to think of the brothers
hating one another."
"And I am afraid I'm feeling the same to
Timmins in one way. I feel I should be glad
if anything bad happened to him."
But of course, Phil, you can't feel friendly
to him; that is quite natural; and you can't
speak to him, or have anything to do with
him, after his mean and cowardly behaviour."
"I know that; but that is not exactly
what I mean. I feel that in my heart of
hearts I should be very glad if it could be
proved that- But you don't know about
it. In the paper-chase to-day Fox tumbled
into the stream owing to Timmins passing by
him, and Lewis thinks Timmins pushed him
in on purpose. I think so too; and I feel I
should be very glad if it was found to be true,
and that Timmins should get punished for it,
as if I should somehow be revenged by it.
And you know revenge is sweet to a mean
spirit; and I don't want to have a mean spirit,
but to be noble, as heroes ought to be. But
the struggle is going on in me. What can I
Gabrielle thought for a minute.
I understand it, Phil. It is quite natural
for you to feel as you do. I think I should
feel the same. I feel now that I should like
Timmins to be found out for his cowardly
conduct. But if he were found out to be
guilty of pushing Fox into the stream, it
wouldn't be your doing. It would have
nothing to do with you, would it?"
"Perhaps not; but I know I should be
glad, and feel a sort of triumph over Timmins;
and it seems to me that it is not the right
sort of spirit to have. It is no use, Gabrielle.
I am afraid I shall never be one of those
high-minded heroes one reads about, who
triumph over all such feelings and are great
and noble. It seems to me that it is harder
to be a hero in that way, than in just doing
some brave action."
"Well, never mind, Phil. You are only
just beginning to try, and perhaps it will be
easier in time."
"I suppose I must be content with that,"
said Philip. Rome was not built in a day,
and heroes may take a longer time."
And Philip, still meditating on the diffi-
culties that troubled him, went off to bed.
In the meantime, M. Lavalle had arrived
M. LAVALLE BEGINS TO SUSPECT.
at Farmer Heybridge's to help to look after
Fox for the night. He found him, as had
been represented, in a very feverish state,
and Mrs. Heybridge a good deal troubled
He's such a delicate-looking little fellow,"
said she. "It's a pity it wasn't one of the
others. But those great rough fellows always
push the little ones to the wall."
Here Fox began to toss his arms about,
and to moan, and presently he began to mur-
mur incoherently about Timmins and Danford.
M. Lavalle did not pay much attention
until Fox suddenly cried out:
"It's M. Lavalle's handkerchief; take it
away." And he threw out his arms as if to
push something away.
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Heybridge sooth-
ingly, "it's all right; it shall go."
And she smoothed back the clothes, and
put his arms down.
But he hid his face, shrieking:
"Leave me alone, Timmins, leave me
Then he lay still for some time, moaning.
Then again he started up.
"It wasn't Danford," he cried.
"No, dear, it wasn't Danford," said Mrs.
Heybridge. "It was Danford who helped
you out of the water. Danford, good Dan-
"Yes, good Danford," repeated Fox, and
then he lay quiet again, murmuring from time
to time, incoherent sentences about Timmins,
and Danford, and M. Lavalle, all mixed up
To Mrs. Heybridge it was simply the un-
reasonableness of delirious utterance, but for
M. Lavalle it had another interpretation.
The boy had evidently something on his
mind, and M. Lavalle believed that he was
finding a clue to the transaction of which he
had long ceased to suspect Philip, though
he had not spoken of the matter to anyone,
fearing he might do more harm than good.
But he had never ceased to watch carefully
for some explanation of it, and now he felt
that he was on the track. When Fox had
recovered, he should be able to make some
But the thorough chill and shock had been
more serious than was at first imagined, and
as soon as Fox was able to be removed he
was sent home, the doctor having decided
M. LAVALLE BEGINS TO SUSPECT.
that it would be better for him not to go
back to school, but, as the holidays were not
far off, to go straight home at once.
Consequently, M. Lavalle was unable to
pursue his investigations. Nevertheless he
felt that he should solve the mystery some
time or other, and with that he had to be
content at present.
But a glimmer of light was coming to him.
There might be some especial reason for
Philip's and Timmins' avoidance of each
other, and Philip's freezing demeanour to his
schoolfellow might have some deeper reason
in it than appeared on the surface. So M.
Lavalle watched narrowly, though without
making much progress towards discovery.
And the days progressed. Timmins was
working hard, so was Philip. And though
Philip had given up all hope of the doctor's
prize, yet he seemed more cheerful than he
had been at the beginning of the term.
Seton ought also to have been in a fair
way to win some distinction for himself. He
had much greater abilities than Timmins, but
he was careless and took no trouble with his
lessons, and he was constantly getting into
A TEMPTATION TO REVENGE.
PLEASE I should like to speak to you,
Danford," said Lewis timidly; for though
he and Fox had done their best in apologizing,
he could not but feel that it went only a
small way in atonement. Why had Lewis
and Fox been in such abject subjection to
Timmins? Surely Danford or some of the
elder boys could have taken their part, had
they but made some resistance.
Philip looked a little coolly at Lewis, and
again Lewis spoke.
"I know you feel a contempt for me, Dan- "'
ford, but I have never been happy since we
did not speak out that time, and now there
is something else on my mind, but I feel I
must say it and not mind whether Timmins
thrashes me or not."
Philip turned and looked at him.
"What is it?" said he abruptly and some-
A TEMPTATION TO REVENGE.
what uncourteously, for he could not feel
very friendly with the boy.
"Well, it is this: that day that Fox and
I told you we were sorry Timmins saw us-
and he was very angry, and threatened to
pay us out for it-and we have been in fear
ever since, and-"
Here Philip interrupted him.
"I can't understand you fellows being
afraid, as you are, of Timmins; it seems to
me very cowardly and contemptible."
"Ah! but you're out of the house, you
don't know how hard it is for us younger
ones; we get terribly knocked about by
some of the older ones. If we stand up at
all for ourselves we are put down at once,
and it is all the worse for us. At any rate,
Timmins has got the upper hand of us ever
since we have been at school, and the only
way to have a quiet life was to do as he told
us. But that is not what I wanted to say.
I am quite sure that Timmins pushed Fox
into the water on purpose. He would have
pushed me in too, only I had tight hold of
the rail. But I suppose Fox was just run-
ning along, and a very little push would
overbalance him. If he were only here he
could tell us. But Timmins tried to push
me in, I am quite certain of that; and if
anyone would back me, I would speak to
Dr. Brierley and tell him. And it might
lead to Dr. Brierley's finding Timmins out
in that other thing, and you would be put
right and be revenged on him."
Revenged on him!
Philip's eyes flashed.
"I don't wish to be revenged on Timmins,"
he said indignantly, "he isn't worth it. Be-
sides, revenge is a very paltry thing; no, if
you wish to be backed up in anything of
that sort, I am not the person to come to."
And Philip turned away with a dignified
air and walked off.
But the thought that Lewis had suggested
did not leave him. If Timmins could be
convicted of this last offence, perhaps he
might be righted in the other matter, and
stand clear before the masters and his school-
fellows; the thought was a tempting one.
And he, too, believed, as Lewis did, that
the pushing was intentional, though such an
idea had not occurred to Dr. Brierley, who,
knowing that schoolboys were somewhat
rough and brusque in their ways when
A TEMPTATION TO REVENGE.
excited, thought that he had. met the case
by a serious reprimand to Timmins, who bore
it meekly and expressed his regret at what
"I don't believe there is an atom of good
in that fellow," was Philip's inward comment.
And Wilders, to whom, after his failure
with Philip, Lewis betook himself, expressed
an opinion to the same effect.
"I wish I were clear of him!" sighed
Wilders; "I don't see how I can move in
this matter, or how to manage it. If Fox
were here he might bring an accusation
against Timmins, but I do not see exactly
how anyone else can do it. I can't go to
Dr. Brierley and say: 'I believe that Fox
was pushed in by Timmins on purpose.' I
can't prove it. Timmins would deny it, and
Fox, probably, would be scarcely aware of
"I don't know that," said Lewis, "I think
"But Fox won't be back till next term,
and then Timmins will have left, and it will
be of no use," replied Wilders.
"Yes, and he will take Dr. Brierley's prize
with him-I can't bear to think of that. If
I were Danford I should feel terribly bad
about it, when he knows that it ought to be
his own," said Lewis.
Wilders looked thoughtful.
"I've never spoken to Danford this term,
or rather he's never spoken to me, and he's
the only one that could say anything, for he
went into the water after Fox, and I believe
he thinks as you do."
And what did he say?" asked Wilders.
Say! you should have seen him look at
me; his eyes flashed like lightning. He
said revenge was a very paltry thing, and
he turned away and left me. Wilders, I
feel like a sneak; I would do anything to
feel as I did before all this happened. I
shall never feel as if I could face Danford
again; and he's the best of us in almost
"I believe you are right," said Wilders
sorrowfully, sometimes I think I'll take the
'risk of being expelled, as we certainly should
be if the truth about Danford were known,
and make a clean breast of it. I wonder
what Dr. Brierley would say? I can't under-
stand how Timmins can put such a good
face upon the matter. But I believe he has
A TEMPTATION TO REVENGE.
no heart at all, and no conscience, and he
does not care for anything so that he gets
"Or what he does to us younger ones. I
shall contrive to keep out of his way now
that the frost has set in and the pool is
freezing over, or I shall be sent into the
water in a weak place, for I know Timmins
has not forgotten his threat. You see he
has got well through this accident, as they
call it, to Fox. The idea of its having been
done on purpose has never entered Dr.
Brierley's head. Timmins has outwardly
been so very virtuous this term that the
doctor is quite pleased with him, and so are
the other masters.
Wilders looked thoughtful.
"Well, there's one comfort," said he; "I
know that Danford thinks as we do, whether
he will say anything- or not, and it is a sort
of consolation; and as for the masters, I'm
not clear that M. Lavalle quite trusts him.
I've had a sort of feeling lately that he has
his suspicions. I've seen him looking at
Timmins several times as if he were watch-
ing him. By the way," added Wilders with
a start, "I wonder if Fox said anything
when he was delirious that has given M.
Lavalle any suspicion, and-I never thought
of it-he may have let out something about
the other matter."
Lewis looked grave.
"I never thought of it either; but now I
come to think of it they said he was talk-
ing a great deal of nonsense, and calling out
for Danford and Timmins."
"Yes, one doesn't know what he may
have said; and I am convinced that the
Frenchman is on the watch about something.
He would do anything for Danford. You
see, Danford had some French ancestors,
and it has made a kind of link between
them. And I know that in his heart he
cannot make out why Danford should have
tried to annoy him; and, in fact, I am al-
most certain that he doesn't believe that
A CHIVALROUS ACT.
A FEW days after this conversation, the
joyful intelligence was spread through
the school that the school-house pool would
The boys had been getting their skates
ready for some days, and were only waiting
until permission came from head-quarters
that skating might begin.
And what a fortunate circumstance it was
that to-day was a holiday afternoon, and
they should be able to begin skating as soon
as dinner was over, and thereby get several
hours before it grew dark.
A clear, fresh, frosty day with no wind to
make the cold air cut their faces; but a still
cold that, though intense, was more bearable
than if the wind had been stirring. The
boys thought nothing of it; they would keep
themselves warm with exercise, and they
longed to show their powers, and to feel the
delightful sensation of gliding over the
smooth surface of the icebound pool. Dr.
Brierley gave strict orders as to where they
were to skate, as there were some weak parts
where it was not safe to go.
Not ordinarily," said one of the boys to
some companions; "but after such a frost as
this I should say that every part of the pool
And the boys, having said, "Yes, sir," to
Dr. Brierley's admonitions, went off, and
never thought of them again, their minds
being fully occupied with the prospect of the
pleasure that was in store for them.
You will come this afternoon, won't you,
Danford?" said Seton as Danford was going
Oh, yes, of course I will! I've had my
skates ready for a week at least, and there's
not a better piece of water anywhere than
the pool. I shall be sure to come, and we
can practise some of the figures together."
"I'll wait near the boat-house for you,"
No, don't wait," said Danford. I may
be a little late. I can easily join you on the
A CHIVALROUS ACT.
ice; and we'll show the fellows what we can
"There are not many good skaters amongst
them," replied Seton, "excepting Timmins,
and he does skate well; but we must try to
beat him, Danford; it won't do to let him
get the better of you, even in skating."
Philip bit his lip. He did not quite like
"I'll do my best," he said as he went away.
He had been thinking that he had quieted
down his feelings against Timmins, and that
he was getting schooled into bearing any
advantage that Timmins might get over
him. And now his indignation seemed to
flame up again, and he felt he must make an
extra effort, and stand above Timmins what-
ever it cost him.
"All but in the matter of Dr. Brierley's
prize," said the voice within him; and as if
in answer he half groaned to himself, "It is
a shame, a shame! Oh, if Dr. Brierley and
M. Lavalle but knew the truth-but they
never will, and I shall have to bear it all my
life.-It's worse a thousand times than the
caning. I'd sooner have fifty canings than
what I am bearing now. Pooh, what a
coward I am! Is this the way to be a hero?"
he added suddenly. "Up, Philip Danford,
be brave, and don't whine over what cannot
be altered," said he as he pursued his way
Gabrielle had been looking forward to the
frost as much as Philip. She had learned
to skate a little, and was hoping to have
some skating with Philip, now that the ice
"I've got out my skates too, Philip," she
said, and I was wondering where we should
go this afternoon as you will have a holiday."
Philip had not thought of Gabrielle.
Oh, Gabrielle, I am so sorry, I did not
think of you! I promised Seton to go and
skate with him this afternoon."
Gabrielle looked a little disappointed.
"I might go and tell Seton I can't come,
"No, Philip, you had better go, and I will
go and see the skating. I daresay Amy and
Charlotte Brierley will be looking on."
Oh, yes! they always come down if there
is going to be any good skating. And they
skate a little themselves, so you might bring
your skates, Gabrielle."
A CHIVALROUS ACT.
"No, I won't do that. I must get into
practice first. We can go to some quiet
place another day, for this frost seems likely
So after their early dinner the two started
for the school-house pool. It was a large
pool, one end coming to the roadside, and the
other stretching far away into the meadows.
To-day it looked almost like a small lake
crowded with the boys, who were darting
hither and thither, describing circles, and
performing various feats. Some of the
masters were skating too. M. Lavalle did
not skate, but he was watching the boys,
and helping any who had got a strap out of
order. Not very far off were Amy and
Charlotte Brierley with their father. They
were delighted to see Gabrielle, and said she
must stay with them and watch the skaters.
They were not going to skate themselves to-
day, they must practise by themselves first.
"And you had better come and join us,
Gabrielle," said Amy. "We shall have the
pool to ourselves to-morrow morning whilst
the boys are in school."
Meanwhile, Philip had gone off to find
Seton. He found him a little way up the
pool sitting down on an old stump prepara-
tory to fastening on his skates.
"You're a little late, Danford," he said.
"I told you I should be. I hope you
have not been waiting for me."
"I may say yes and no, for I did wait,
and I did not wait. I did not intend to
wait for you, but Timmins has been skating
so splendidly that I forgot all about waiting
in watching him, and so thought I would
not put on my skates till you came. Dr.
Brierley actually clapped his hands after
Timmins had done the figure eight several
times. It was one of the best bits of skating
I've seen for a long time."
Again Philip's heart sank. Why must he
always be hearing of Timmins, and be ex-
pected to praise him, when he so despised
him, and knew how cowardly and unprin-
cipled he was!
He stooped down, and was beginning to
put on his skates when a sudden cry from
Seton made him look up.
"What's the matter, Seton?"
It's Timmins coming this way as fast as
he can, and this piece of the pool isn't safe,
the ice is as thin as glass, though it looks so
A CHIVALROUS ACT.
firm, and will give way the moment anyone
gets upon it."
Philip instinctively sprang up, threw aside
his skates, and ran as hard as he could to
meet Timmins and stop him.
"Back!" he shouted; "go back!"
But Timmins, conscious that admirers
were watching him, merely smiled, thinking
that Philip was endeavouring to prevent his
"Danger!" shouted Philip.
But Timmins waved his hand, and still
went on. Then Philip turned, still shouting,
Seton stood aghast, awaiting the catas-
trophe that he knew must come, shouting
out "Danger!" and "Help!" as loud as he
Too late Timmins felt the ice crack, but
then he had not the power to turn, for the
thin coating of ice cracked and splintered,
and in a moment Timmins was struggling in
the water. He could not swim well, and his
skates encumbered him.
"Help!" shouted Seton.
And, as if in answer, there was a plunge
.from the shore, and Philip, who had thrown
off his heavy coat, was manfully battling
through the ice splinters, floating in the
water to the spot where Timmins had dis-
appeared. Philip was a good swimmer, and
caught at him as he came up again. But his
hands were so cold that he had much diffi-
culty in retaining his grasp, and might not
have succeeded in saving him had not Seton,
who was a good swimmer, come to the rescue,
having recovered his nerve, which seemed for
a moment to have deserted him. And the
two between them managed to get the almost
insensible Timmins to land, just as Dr.
Brierley and several others came up. They
had seen the accident from the distance and
hastened to the spot.
"Well done, Danford!" exclaimed the
doctor; "but for your prompt action Tim-
mins would certainly have been drowned.
Well done, Seton! You two have done
Gabrielle, who had followed quick after
the doctor in great anxiety for her brother,
felt a glow of delight at these words. Philip
was indeed a hero; he had certainly done
something heroic this time.
Timmins was carried off to the schoolhouse
A CHIVALROUS ACT.
at once, the doctor following. And Seton too
hastened after him to get his clothes changed.
And you had better come, Danford," said
Dr. Brierley, looking back.
Thank you," said Philip. I think I had
better make a rush for home. It isn't far,
and I shall be all right there."
Dr. Brierley shook his head.
"It is too far to go in wet clothes," he
But Philip scarcely heard, for he had
already started off.
"I must go too," said Gabrielle to Amy
"But you will come to us to-morrow
morning?" said Amy.
Oh, yes!" returned Gabrielle; "I shall be
very glad to come."
And Gabrielle followed her brother, and
came up with him before he reached home;
for he was feeling that his clothes were indeed
too heavy with wet, and clung to him uncom-
fortably, almost freezing upon him. He had
flung his great-coat round him, but it did
not keep out the cold.
"Run on, Gabrielle, and tell granny," he
And Gabrielle went on and prepared
granny for the reception of her frozen grand-
son. But in spite of all appliances Philip
did not come off as easily as he had done
when he helped Fox out of the water, and it
was a long time before he could get up any
warmth at all.
I hope you won't be as ill as Fox was,"
said Gabrielle apprehensively.
"Oh! I shall be all right by morning,"
answered Philip. "I'm beginning to feel
quite comfortable; but you must remember
that the water was much colder than when I
went in for Fox."
"Philip," said Gabrielle, "I am quite sure
that I may put this down for a heroic deed,
for you have saved your enemy. Timmins
might have sunk altogether if you had not
gone in just when you did. I am glad you
"So am I," said Philip. It has helped
And he closed his eyes.
Gabrielle did not understand what he
meant, but she said nothing. She would ask
him in the morning when he was well again.
BUT in the morning Philip was by no
means as well as he had expected to be.
The chill he had received had quite incapa-
citated him, and the doctor said he must not
think of leaving his room at present.
Timmins, on the contrary, after a good
night's rest, felt no ill effects from his im-
mersion; neither did Seton; and perhaps if
Philip had taken Dr. Brierley's advice he
might have been equally fortunate.
The accident, and Philip's bravery, were
the theme of general conversation.
"I wonder whether Timmins will feel any
remorse now," said Wilders to Lewis. "It
seems to me that as Danford has saved his
life, he will surely make some amends."
"I should think so," replied Lewis.
"I think I shall say something to him
myself," said Wilders.
"Yes, you might, as you are one of the
older boys, but I don't think I dare. Besides,
he would not listen to me."
But Timmins did not appear to have any
intentions of doing anything in the way of
reparation. He made a point of thanking
Seton for what he had done, and spoke of
the danger he had been in, but he did not
mention Danford's name.
I did what I could," said Seton in answer;
"but it was Danford's promptness that was the
great thing. I'm not sure that I should have
come to your help if it had not been for him.
I felt dazed when I saw you go in, and seemed
to have lost my head. But when Danford
plunged in it all seemed clear to me, and I
knew that I must go to his assistance."
"Well, then, I'm obliged to Danford too,"
said Timmins a little coldly. "But it seems
to me, as well as I can remember, that I only
"There's not much love between those
two," thought Seton. "I believe he'll dis-
like Danford more than ever for having saved
him; and as far as my observation goes,
Danford is not over-partial to him."
Timmins was relieved to find that Danford