The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

  FOUND!

  The little company of watchers sprang to their feet with one accord andlistened, as Stephen wildly flung up the window. The storm burst intothe room as he did so, with all its vehemence, drenching those who stoodnear, and deafening every one with its roar. But no other sound couldbe heard. Stephen, heedless of the weather, stood motionless with hishead out of the window, listening. Alas! it must have been a false hopeafter all--a brother's fancy.

  "A mistake, I fear," said Dr Senior. "Greenfield, I think you hadbetter close the window. It will be daylight in--"

  He had not time to finish his sentence, for with a sudden exclamationand a shout of, "There it is again; come, Wray!" the boy had leapt fromthe low window, half clad as he was, into the garden.

  For Wraysford to follow him was the work of an instant. Mr Rastle andRoach the porter did the same, while the others went hurriedly out intothe passage to the hall door. Close as they were to one another,Wraysford lost sight of Stephen for a moment in the blinding sleet whichdashed full in their faces. But he heard him shouting a few yards off,and was at his side the same moment.

  "No use shouting," said he, "against the wind."

  "I _must_ shout!" exclaimed Stephen, calling out once more.

  "Where--what did you hear?" asked Wraysford.

  "Some one shouting. I'm positive of it!" said the boy, plungingforward.

  "Stand still, and listen again," said Wraysford; "we may be going allwrong."

  It was all he could do to keep the younger boy still for a few seconds.What ages those seconds seemed!

  A voice somewhere? No, only Mr Rastle and Roach coming up behind.

  "Well?" inquired the master, breathlessly.

  "Hush!" said Stephen, turning his head to the wind to listen.

  What a wind it was! Surely it would beat any voice to shreds!

  "We may as well go on," said the boy, impatiently.

  "Wait a second or two longer," said Wraysford.

  Scarcely had he spoken when, joyous sound! there came on the wind fromsomewhere what sounded like a feeble shout!

  In an instant all four bounded forward and were once more lost in thestorm.

  But they had hope, and every moment, a night like this, was precious.They groped down the garden walk, and towards the meadow, shouting asthey went. Then presently they halted again and listened.

  Yes there was the call again, and nearer. Thank Heaven! they were onthe right track. On they went once more. Another shout! Nearer still!

  Oh, for a lull in the tempest, that they might give one shout back!

  "Try," said Mr Rastle, "they may hear it. Here, Roach, come andshout--one, two, three, and a--"

  What a shout it was! The wind got hold of it as if it had been asparrow's twitter, and tossed it mockingly over their heads and far awaybehind them, who knows where? "It's no go," said Wraysford. "Hullo,here's the meadow ditch. Hadn't we better follow it up and down?Stephen and I will take the left."

  Once more, as they turned, a shout!

  "Oh, be quick!" cried Stephen. "Where does it come from? Come, Wray,quick!"

  They might as well have tried to fly as run against that wind; but theycrawled rapidly forward.

  Suddenly, close at their side, rose the shout again. With a bound thetwo boys were over the ditch, and in another moment a fourfold shoutproclaimed that the wanderers were found!

  Oliver and Loman were crouching under a tree, the former without coat orwaistcoat, which he had thrown round the shivering and now senselessform of his companion.

  It was no time for words, either of joy or explanation; time enough forthat when every one was safe indoors. Mr Rastle and Roach between themcarried Loman, while Oliver, in scarcely better plight, was helped alongby his brother and friend.

  "Is it far?" he asked, faintly.

  "No, old man; that light there is Saint Dominic's."

  "Is it? I didn't know that when I shouted; I thought we were milesaway."

  "Oh, no! Hold up, old boy; we're just there."

  And so this strange procession returned before the wind to SaintDominic's, and when, a few minutes later, watchers and rescuers andrescued all gathered in the Doctor's study, Oliver, as well as Loman,was insensible.

  It was some days before the true story of that terrible night could betold, and then Oliver only told it briefly.

  Late in the afternoon, as he was about to turn back, he said, he heardfrom a farmer's boy that he had seen a stranger that morning asleepunder a hedge about a mile off. Vague as this information was, itdecided Oliver at once to go forward, which he did. As might have beenexpected, there was no trace of the "stranger" at the hedge, and noamount of searching along it could discover any clue. Still, he did notlike to turn back while a chance remained. He went on towards Grandham,inquiring of everybody and looking everywhere.

  At last--it was getting dusk--he entered a field across which ran afootpath which led direct to Grandham Green. He was half way across,wondering if he could by any chance find a cart or vehicle of any kindto drive him back to Saint Dominic's, when at the other side of thefield he suddenly caught sight of a figure getting up from under thehedge and moving quickly away. He instantly and instinctively gavechase. The other, seeing he was discovered, began to run too. It wasLoman. Oliver called to him to stop, but he paid no heed. He continuedto run as long as he could, and then, like a hunted animal, turned atbay.

  Oliver told very few all that had passed when finally he did come upwith the wanderer. His first impression, judging from the unhappy boy'sstrange and excited manner, was that he had gone out of his mind. Heappeared reckless and desperate at first, and determined to resist allattempts to bring him back. He would sooner die than go back to SaintDominic's, he said. What right had Oliver to interfere with him and doghim in this way? He had a right to go where he chose, and no one shouldstop him. Oliver let him talk on, not attempting to reply, and avoidingall appearance of using force to detain him.

  This wise policy had its effect. In time the poor fellow, who wasreally suffering more from hunger and fatigue (he had not had a morselof food since the afternoon before) than from anything else, quieteddown, and gave up further resistance. Oliver told him, in as few wordsas he could, of the distress which his disappearance had caused at SaintDominic's and to his parents, and besought him to return quietly,promising forgiveness for the past, and undertaking that all would bemade right if he would only come home.

  Loman listened to all doggedly. "You're humbugging me!" he said. "Youknow I stole that paper?"

  "Oh, don't talk of that!" cried Oliver. "Do come back!"

  "You know--can't you get me something to eat?"

  As he said this he sunk down with a groan upon the grass. Oliverstarted wildly to rush to the nearest cottage. As he did so, however, adoubt crossed his mind, and he said, "You'll promise to wait here, willyou?"

  "Oh, yes! be quick."

  Oliver flew on the wings of the wind towards the village. There was acottage a few hundred yards away. As he neared it, he cast one lookback. The wretched boy was on his feet, hurrying away in an oppositedirection.

  Another chase ensued, though only a short one. For Loman was in nocondition to hold out long. Oliver half led, half dragged him toGrandham, where at last he procured food, which the unhappy fugitivedevoured ravenously. Then followed another talk, far more satisfactorythan the last. Restored once more in body and mind, Loman consentedwithout further demur to accompany Oliver back to Saint Dominic's, butnot before he had unburdened his mind of all that was on it.

  Oliver implored him not to do it now, to wait till he got back, and thento tell all to his father, not to him. But the poor penitent was not tobe put off. Until he had confessed all he would not stir a foot back tothe school.

  Then Oliver heard all that sad story with which the reader is nowfamiliar. How that first act of fraud about the rod had been thebeginning of all this misery. H
ow Cripps had used his advantage todrive the boy from one wickedness and folly to another--from deceit togambling, from gambling to debt, from debt to more deceit, and so on.How drinking, low company, and vicious habits had followed. How all thewhile he was trying to keep up appearances at the school, though he sawthat he was gradually becoming an object of dislike to his fellows. Howhe had staked everything--his whole hope of getting free from Cripps--onthe result of the Nightingale examination; and how, when the criticalmoment came, he yielded to the tempter and stole the paper.

  "And you can fancy how punished I was when, after all, the Doctor missedthe paper and altered the questions, Greenfield. I was so taken abackthat I didn't even answer as well as I could. And then I lost the paperI had stolen--couldn't find it anywhere, and for weeks I was in constantterror lest it should turn up. Then I saw the fellows were allsuspecting you to be the thief, and you know how meanly I took advantageof that to hide my own guilt. Oh, Greenfield, what a wretch, what amiserable wretch I have been!"

  "Poor fellow!" said Oliver, with true sympathy. "But, I say, do let'sbe going back, it's getting late, and looks as if it might rain."

  "I _must_ tell you the rest, Greenfield, please. You're the only fellowI can tell it to. Somehow I think if I'd had a friend like you all thelast year I shouldn't have gone wrong as I have. How I used to envy youand Wraysford, always together, and telling one another your troubles!Well, of course, after the Nightingale exam, things were worse thanever. I'd given Cripps a bill, you know, a promise to pay in September.I don't know anything about bills, but he made me sign it. Of course Icouldn't pay when it came due, and had to make all sorts of excuses andtell all sorts of lies to get him to give me more time; as if I was morelikely to pay later on than then! But, somehow, if I could only get thething off my mind for the present, I felt that was all I cared about.He gave in at last, and I was able to pay it off bit by bit. But I wasin constant terror all that term of his coming up to Saint Dominic's.You know he did come once, at the football match against Landfield, andI thought I was done for."

  Here Loman paused a moment, and Oliver, seeing that he was determined totell his story to the end, waited patiently till he continued.

  "Then there was that Waterston exam. I fancied I might get that if Iworked. Ass that I was to think, after all my wasted time and sin, Ihad any chance against you or Wraysford! I tried to work, but soon gaveit up, and went on going down to the Cockchafer instead, to keep Crippsin good humour, till I was quite a regular there. You know what afearful hash I made of the exam. I could answer nothing. That very dayCripps had sent up to threaten to tell the Doctor everything unless Ipaid what I still owed. I had paid off all the bill but eight pounds.I had got some of it from home, and some of it by gambling; I'd paid offall but eight pounds. You know, Greenfield, who lent me that."

  "I'm thankful we were able to do it," said Oliver.

  "If you'd known how I hated you and despised myself over that eightpounds you would hardly have been glad. Everything was hateful. I tookthe money down to Cripps and paid it him. He pretended at first that hewouldn't take it; and then when he did, and I asked him to give me backmy promissory note, he laughed at me. I nearly went mad, Greenfield, atthe thought of not being clear after all. At length he did make believeto give in, and produced what I thought was the bill, and tore it up inmy presence. I couldn't see it, but he read it out aloud, and I had nodoubt it was actually the thing. I was so grateful I actually felthappy. But then came the discovery of that miserable exam paper. Imust have left it in my Juvenal last September, and forgotten all aboutit. I was certain the Doctor knew quite well I was the thief, but Idenied it and tried feebly to put it on you. Then everybody cut me; butI hoped still all might blow over in time. But every day it becameharder to bear; I should have had to confess at last, I believe. Thencame Cripps's final villainy. He had never destroyed my bill after all,but now calmly claimed the whole amount."

  "The scoundrel!" exclaimed Oliver, indignantly.

  "I had no receipts to show what I had paid, and of course was at hismercy. This last move really drove me half crazy. I daren't tell anyone about it. I was too desperate to think of anything but running awayand hiding somewhere. I had no money. I came to you with a lie to tryto borrow a pound, so that I might go somewhere by train. You couldn'tdo it, and so I had to walk, and--and--oh! Greenfield, what shall I do?what will become of me?"

  "My dear fellow," said Oliver, laying his hand on the unhappy boy's arm,"we'll go back together, and I can promise you you'll find nothing butkindness and forgiveness when you get back. If I wasn't sure of that, Iwouldn't urge you to come. There! I wish you could have seen your poorfather's face last night."

  Loman held out no longer; and, indeed, it was high time to think ofmoving, for the afternoon was closing in and rain was already beginningto fall.

  Loman was in no condition for walking, nor, indeed, was Oliver, who hadbeen on his feet since early morning. A farmer's cart was with somedifficulty found, which happened to be going a good part of thedistance, and in this the two boys late that afternoon ensconcedthemselves. They talked little at first, and presently not at all.Each had his own thoughts, and they were serious enough to occupy themfor a much longer journey.

  Night fell presently, soon after they had started, and with it the rainand wind came heavily. There was little enough protection for these twoworn-out ones in an empty open cart, but what they could get from an oldwrap and some boards they secured.

  As the storm grew worse this poor shelter became quite useless, and thetwo boys suffered all the horrors of a bitter exposure.

  Loman, who had got a cough already, was the first to show distress, andhe soon became so cold and numbed that Oliver grew alarmed. They wouldbe better walking than sitting still in that jolting cart a night likethis.

  So, much against their own inclination and the advice of the carman, whocharacterised the proceedings as "tomfoolery," they alighted, andattempted to take the short cut across the fields to Saint Dominic's.

  Short cut, indeed! It was indeed a sarcastic name for the road thosetwo boys took that terrible night. Oliver could never recollect allthat happened those few hours. He was conscious of the tremendousstorm, of the hopeless losing of their way, and of Loman's relapse intoa state of half-unconsciousness, in the midst of which he constantlybegged to be allowed to lie down and sleep.

  To prevent this was Oliver's principal occupation during that fearfultime. More than once he was forced into a hand-to-hand struggle to keephis companion from his purpose. To let him lie down and sleep on such anight would be, he knew, to leave him to certain death. At any cost hemust be kept moving. At last the storm fairly vanquished them. EvenOliver began to grow half-hearted in his determination. He took off hisown coat and waistcoat and pat them on his comrade, who by this time wasstupid with cold and exhaustion. A few minutes longer and both mighthave given themselves up, when suddenly there flickered a light beforethem. All Oliver could do was to shout. He had no power left to dragLoman farther, and leave him he would not. He shouted, and the readerknows who heard that shout, and what the answer was.

  Such was Oliver's story, and it needed little amplification. If it had,the only boy who could have added to it was in no position to do so.For four weeks after that night Loman lay ill with rheumatic fever, soill that more than once those who watched him despaired of his recovery.But he did recover, and left Saint Dominic's a convalescent, and,better still, truly penitent, looking away from self and his own poorefforts to Him, the World's Great Burden Bearer, whose blood "cleansethus from all sin."

  His schoolfellows saw him no more; did not know, indeed, when he leftthem. Only one of them shook hands with him at the door of the oldschool as he went. That boy was Oliver Greenfield.