The Stokesley Secret [74]
"There, let us talk it over together. I don't suppose you expected to steal and deceive when you got up in the morning."
"Oh no, no!"
"Go back to the beginning. See how you came to this."
As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time, "You said we need not go to church on a week-day."
"Well, what of that?"
"I didn't go in case the telegraph should come."
"There are different ways of thinking," said his father. "Church was the only place where I COULD have gone that St. Barnabas' Day."
"I would have gone," said the self-contradictory Henry, "only the Grevilles are always at one for being like a girl."
"Ha! now we see daylight!" said the Captain.
"'The Grevilles are at one,'--that's more like getting to the bottom of it."
"Yes, Papa," said Hal, glad to make himself out a victim to circumstance; "you can't think what a pair of fellows those are for not letting one alone; Purday says they haven't as much conscience between them as a pigeon's egg has meat; and going down to Mr. Carey's with them every day, they let one have no peace."
"You will find people everywhere who will let you have no peace, unless you do not care for them; though you will not be left to the Grevilles any longer."
"Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will see--"
"No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear."
"Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?"
"You will not sail at all: I thought you knew that."
"I thought the Admiral must have given you two appointments," said Hal timidly.
"He gave me ONE, for one of my sons. The first choice is Sam's right, even if he had not deserved it by his brave patient obedience."
Hal hung his head; then said, "But, Papa, if Sam broke down in his examination, please mightn't I--"
"No, Henry. Not only does your uncle say that though Sam's success is very doubtful, your inaccuracy would make your failure certain; but if your knowledge were ever so well up to the mark, I could not put you into the navy. Left to yourself here, you have been insubordinate, vain, weak, shuffling: can I let you go into greater temptation, where disgrace would be public and without remedy?"
"Oh, but, Papa! Papa! Away from the Grevilles, and not under only a governess--"
"You shall be away from the Grevilles, and not under a governess. Your uncle is kind enough to take you with him to his house, and will endeavour to make you fit to try to get upon the foundation by the time there is a vacancy."
"O Papa! don't," sobbed Henry.
"I can't help it, Hal! You have shown yourself unfit either for the sea or for home. What can I do with you?"
"Try me--only try me, Papa. I would--"
"I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you are. Deeds, not words."
"But if you won't let me go into the navy, only let me be in real school."
"No, Henry; I have not the means of sending you there: excepting on the foundation; and if you get admittance there at all, it will only be by great diligence, and your uncle's kindness in preparing you."
Henry cried bitterly. It was a dreadful prospect to do his lessons alone with Uncle John in the boys' play-hours, and be kept in order by Aunt Alice when his uncle was in school. Perhaps his father would not have liked it himself, for his voice was very pitying, though cheering, as he said, "One half year, Hal, very likely no more if you take pains, and you'll get into school, and be very happy, so long as you don't make a Greville of every idle chap you meet."
Henry cried as though beyond consolation.
"I hate leaving you this way," continued his father; "but by the time I come home you will see it was the best thing for you; and look up to Uncle John as your best friend. Why, Hal, boy, you'll be a tall fellow of fourteen! Let me find you godly and manly: you can't be one without the other. There now, good night, God bless you."
More might have been said to Henry on his fault and what had led to it; but what his father did say was likely to sink deeper as he grew older, and had more sense and feeling.
"Oh no, no!"
"Go back to the beginning. See how you came to this."
As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time, "You said we need not go to church on a week-day."
"Well, what of that?"
"I didn't go in case the telegraph should come."
"There are different ways of thinking," said his father. "Church was the only place where I COULD have gone that St. Barnabas' Day."
"I would have gone," said the self-contradictory Henry, "only the Grevilles are always at one for being like a girl."
"Ha! now we see daylight!" said the Captain.
"'The Grevilles are at one,'--that's more like getting to the bottom of it."
"Yes, Papa," said Hal, glad to make himself out a victim to circumstance; "you can't think what a pair of fellows those are for not letting one alone; Purday says they haven't as much conscience between them as a pigeon's egg has meat; and going down to Mr. Carey's with them every day, they let one have no peace."
"You will find people everywhere who will let you have no peace, unless you do not care for them; though you will not be left to the Grevilles any longer."
"Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will see--"
"No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear."
"Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?"
"You will not sail at all: I thought you knew that."
"I thought the Admiral must have given you two appointments," said Hal timidly.
"He gave me ONE, for one of my sons. The first choice is Sam's right, even if he had not deserved it by his brave patient obedience."
Hal hung his head; then said, "But, Papa, if Sam broke down in his examination, please mightn't I--"
"No, Henry. Not only does your uncle say that though Sam's success is very doubtful, your inaccuracy would make your failure certain; but if your knowledge were ever so well up to the mark, I could not put you into the navy. Left to yourself here, you have been insubordinate, vain, weak, shuffling: can I let you go into greater temptation, where disgrace would be public and without remedy?"
"Oh, but, Papa! Papa! Away from the Grevilles, and not under only a governess--"
"You shall be away from the Grevilles, and not under a governess. Your uncle is kind enough to take you with him to his house, and will endeavour to make you fit to try to get upon the foundation by the time there is a vacancy."
"O Papa! don't," sobbed Henry.
"I can't help it, Hal! You have shown yourself unfit either for the sea or for home. What can I do with you?"
"Try me--only try me, Papa. I would--"
"I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you are. Deeds, not words."
"But if you won't let me go into the navy, only let me be in real school."
"No, Henry; I have not the means of sending you there: excepting on the foundation; and if you get admittance there at all, it will only be by great diligence, and your uncle's kindness in preparing you."
Henry cried bitterly. It was a dreadful prospect to do his lessons alone with Uncle John in the boys' play-hours, and be kept in order by Aunt Alice when his uncle was in school. Perhaps his father would not have liked it himself, for his voice was very pitying, though cheering, as he said, "One half year, Hal, very likely no more if you take pains, and you'll get into school, and be very happy, so long as you don't make a Greville of every idle chap you meet."
Henry cried as though beyond consolation.
"I hate leaving you this way," continued his father; "but by the time I come home you will see it was the best thing for you; and look up to Uncle John as your best friend. Why, Hal, boy, you'll be a tall fellow of fourteen! Let me find you godly and manly: you can't be one without the other. There now, good night, God bless you."
More might have been said to Henry on his fault and what had led to it; but what his father did say was likely to sink deeper as he grew older, and had more sense and feeling.