So came on Christmas, with the anniversaries so sweet and so sad, and the eve of holly-dressing, when a bundle of bright sprays was left by some kind friend at No. 8, and Lance and Bobbie were vehement to introduce Fernando to English holly and English decking.
Geraldine suggested that they had better wait for either Mr. Audley or Wilmet to come in, but for this they had no patience, and ran down with their arms full of the branches, and their tongues going with the description of the night's carols, singing them with their sweet young voices as they moved about the room. Fernando knew now what Christmas meant, but the joy and exhilaration of the two children, seemed to him strange for such a bygone event. He asked them if they would have any treat.
'Oh no! except, perhaps, Mr. Audley said he should drink tea one day,' said Robina. And then she broke out again, 'Hark! the herald angels,' like a little silver bell.
Suddenly there was a cry of dismay. She had been standing on a chair over the mantelpiece, sticking holly into the ornaments, behind and under which, in true man's fashion, a good many papers and letters had accumulated. One of these papers-by some unlucky movement-fell, and by a sudden waft of air floated irrevocably into the hottest place in the fire.
'O dear! oh dear!' wailed Robina.
'That's a pretty go,' cried Lancelot.
'That comes of your open fires,' observed Fernando.
'What was it?' asked Lance.
'I don't know. I think it was a list of names! Oh! how vexed he'll be, and Wilmet; for she told me never to get on a chair over the fender, and I forgot.' Bobbie's round face was puckering for a cry.
'No, no, don't cry, Bob; I told you to get up, and I'll say so,' said Lance, smothering her in his arms after the wont of consoling brothers.
'I dare say he'll not miss it,' said Fernando good-naturedly; 'he very seldom meddles with those things.'
Bobbie's great round gray eyes came out over Lance's shoulder, and flashed amazement and wrath at him. 'I'm not going to tell stories,' she said stoutly.
'No,' said Lance, equally scandalised; 'I thought you had learnt better, Fernando.'
Robina, be it observed, was ignorant of Fernando's untaught state.
'I only said you could hold your tongue,' was of course Fernando's rejoiner.
'That's just as bad,' was the little girl's response.
'But, Lance, you held your tongue about your black eye.'
'That's my affair, and nobody else's,' said Lance, flushing up and looking cross at the allusion.
'And Fulbert told!' added Robina.
'Will they punish you?' asked Fernando.
'I think Wilmet will, because it was disobedience! I don't think she'll let me have any butter at tea,' Bobbie nearly sobbed. 'Mr. Audley won't punish! But he'll look-' and she quite cried now.
'And do you like that better than not telling?' said Fernando, still curious.
She looked up, amazed again. 'I must! I don't like it! But I couldn't ever have a happy Christmas if I didn't tell! I wish they would come that I might have it over.'
The street door opened at the moment, and Mr. Audley and Wilmet came in together from Lady Price's convocation of the parish staff. Fernando heard the sobbing confession in the passage, and Lance's assurance that he had been art and part in the disobedience, and Wilmet gravely blaming the child, and Mr. Audley telling her not to think so much about the loss as the transgression; and then the door was shut, and he heard no more, till Mr. Audley came in, examined the chimney-piece, and performed the elegy of the list in a long low whistle.
'Is much harm done?' Fernando asked.
'Not much; only I must go and get another list made out, and I am afraid I shall not be able to come in again before church.'
'I hope they have not punished her?'
'Wilmet recommended not taking the prize prayer-book to church, and she acquiesced with tears in her eyes. A good child's repentance is a beautiful thing-
"'O happy in repentance' school
So early taught and tried."'
These last words were said to himself as he picked up his various goods, and added, 'I must get some tea at the Rectory. I am sorry to leave you, but I hope one of them will come down.'
They did not, except that they peeped in for a moment to wish him good-night, and regretted that they had not known him to be alone.
As Felix was going out to begin the Christmas Feast in the darkness of morning, he looked in as he usually did, since Mr. Audley, sleeping out of the house, never came in till after early church. The nurse, who still slept in the room, was gone to dress; there was only a flickering night-light, and the room looked very desolate and forlorn, still more so the voice that called out to him, 'Felix! oh, Felix! is that you?'
'Yes. A happy Christmas to you,' said Felix.
'Happy-! there was a sort of groan.
'Why, what's the matter? have you had a bad night? Aren't you so well?'
'I don't know. Come here, I must speak to you.'
Felix was, as usual, in a great haste, but the tone startled him.
'Felix, I can't stand this any longer. I must let you know what a frightful, intolerable wretch I've been. I tried to teach Lance to bet.'
'Fernando!' He was so choked with indignation, he could not say more.
'He wouldn't do it. Not after he understood it. It seems he tried it with another little boy at school, and one of the bigger ones boxed his ears and rowed him.'
'Ay; Bruce promised me to look after him.'
'So he refused. He told me he was on his honour to you not to stay if I did anything your father would have disapproved. He did leave me once, when I would not leave off.'
'But how could you?'
'I was so bored-so intolerably dull-and it is the only thing on earth that one cares to do.'
'But Lance had nothing to stake.'
'I could lend him! Ah! you don't know what betting is; why, we all do it-women, boys and all!' His voice became excited, and Felix in consternation broke in-'When did you do this?'
'Oh! weeks ago. Before I was out of bed. When I found my dice in my purse; but I have not tried it since, with him!'
'With whom, then?'
'Why-don't fall on him-with Fulbert. He knew what it meant. Now, Felix, don't come on him for it. Come on me as much as you please. I've been a traitor to you. I see it now.'
'Anything but that!' sighed Felix, too much appalled for immediate forgiving, dejected as was the voice that spoke to him.
'Yes, yes, I know! I see. The worst thing I could do,' said Fernando, turning his face in on the pillow, in so broken-hearted a manner that Felix's kindness and generosity were roused.
'Stay, don't be so downcast,' he said. 'There's no harm done with Lance, and you being so sorry will undo it with Fulbert! I do thank you for telling me, really, only it upset me at first.'
'Upset! Yes, you'll be more so when you hear the rest,' said Fernando, raising his head again. 'Do you know who set that inn on fire?'
'Nobody does.'
'Well, I did.'
'Nonsense! You've had a bad night! You don't know what you are talking about,' said Felix, anxiously laying hold of one of the hot hands-perceiving that his own Christmas Day must begin with mercy, not sacrifice, and beginning to hope the first self-accusation was also delirious.
'Tell me. Didn't the fire begin in the ball-room? Somebody told me so.'
'Yes, the waiter saw it there.'
'Then I did it; I threw the end of a cigar among the flummery in the grate,' cried Fernando, falling back from the attitude into which he had raised himself, with a gesture of despair.
'Nobody can blame you.'
'Stay. It was after father and uncle had gone! I was smoking at the window of our room, and the landlord came in and ordered me not, because some ladies in the next room objected. He told me I might come down to the coffee-room; but I had never heard of such meddling, and I jawed him well; but he made me give in somehow. Only when I saw that big ball-room all along the side of
the building, I just took a turn in it with my cigar to spite him. Poor Diego came up and begged me not, but you know the way one does with a nigger. Oh!'
Felix did not know; but the voice broke down in such misery and horror, that his soul seemed to sink within him. 'Have you had this on your mind all this time?' he asked kindly.
'No, no. It didn't come to me. I think I've been a block or a stone. The dear faithful fellow, that loved me as no one ever did. I've been feeling the kiss he gave me at the window all to-night. And then I've been falling-falling-falling in his black arms-down-down to hell itself. Not that he is there; but I murdered him, you know-and some one else besides, wasn't there?'
'This is like delirium, really, Fernando,' said Felix, putting his arms round him to lay him down, as he raised himself on his elbow. 'I must call some one if you seem so ill.'
'I wish it was illness,' said Fernando with a shudder. 'Oh! don't go--don't let me go-if you can bear to touch me-when you know all!'
'There can't be any worse to know. You had better not talk.'
'I must! I must tell you all I really am, though you will never let your brothers come near me, or the little angels-your sisters. I'd not have dared look at them myself if I had known it, but things never seemed so to me before.'
Felix shivered at the thought of what he was to hear, but he gave himself up to listen kindly, and to his relief he gathered from the incoherent words that there was no great stain of crime, as he had feared; but that the boy had come to open his eyes to the evils of the life in which he had shared according to his age, and saw them in their foulness, and with an agonised sense of shame and pollution. Felix could not help asking whether this had long dwelt on his thoughts.
'No,' he said, 'that's the wonder! I thought myself a nice, gentlemanly, honourable fellow. Oh!' with a groan. 'Fancy that! I never thought of recollecting these things, or what they have made me. Only, somehow, when those children seemed so shocked at my advising them to hold their tongues about their bit of mischief-I thought first what fools you all were to be so scrupulous, and then I recollected the lots of things I have concealed, till I began to think, Is this honour-would it seem so to Lance-or Felix? And then came down on me the thought of what you believe, of God seeing it all, and laying it up against one for judgment; and I know-I know it is true!' and there came another heavy groan, and the great eyes shone in the twilight in terror.
'If you know that is true,' said Felix, steadfastly and tenderly, 'you know something else too. You know Whom He sent into the world for our pardon for these things.'
There was a tightening of the grasp as if in acquiescence and comfort; but the nurse came back to tidy the room, and still Fernando clung to Felix, and would not let him go. She opened the shutters, and then both she and Felix were dismayed to see how ill and spent her patient looked; for she had slept soundly through his night of silent anguish and remorse-misery that, as Felix saw by his face, was pressing on him still with intolerable weight.
By the time the woman had finished Mr. Audley came in, and seeing at once that Felix's absence was accounted for by Fernando's appearance, he stepped up at once to the bed, full of solicitude. Felix hardly knew whether to reply or escape; but Fernando's heart was too full for his words not to come at once.
'No, I am not worse, but I see it all now.-Tell him, Felix; I cannot say it again.'
'Fernando thinks-' Felix found he could hardly speak the words either-'Fernando is afraid that it was an accident of his own-'
'Don't say an accident. It was passion and spite,' broke in Fernando.
'That caused the fire at the Fortinbras Arms,' Felix was obliged to finish.
'Not on purpose!' exclaimed Mr. Audley.
'Almost as much as if it had been,' said Fernando. 'I smoked to spite the landlord for interfering, and threw away the end too angry to heed where. There!' he added grimly; 'Felix won't tell me how many I murdered besides my poor old black. How many?'
'Do not speak in that way, my poor boy,' said Mr. Audley. At least, this is better than the weight you have had on your mind so long.'
'How many?' repeated Fernando.
'Two more lives were lost,' said Mr. Audley gently, 'Mr. Jones's baby and its nurse. But you must not use harder words than are just, Fernando. It was a terrible result, but consequences do not make the evil.'
He made a kind of murmur, then turning round, uneasily said, 'That is not all; I have seen myself, Mr. Audley.'
Mr. Audley looked at Felix, who spoke with some difficulty and perplexity. 'He has been very unhappy all night. He thinks things wrong that he never thought about before.'
Mr. Audley felt exceedingly hopeful at those words; but he was alarmed at the physical effect on his patient, and felt that the present excitement was mischievous. 'I understand in part,' he said. 'But it seems to me that he is too restless and uncomfortable to think or understand now. It may be that he may yet see the joy of to- day; but no more talk now. Have you had your breakfast?'
He shook his head, but Felix had to go away, and breakfast and dressing restored Fernando to a more tranquil state. He slept, too, wearied out, when he was placed on his couch, while Felix was at Christmas service, singing, as he had never sung before,-
'Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.'
Oh! was the poor young stranger seeing the way to that reconciliation? and when Lancelot's sweet clear young notes rose up in all their purity, and the rosy honest face looked upwards with an expression elevated by the music, Felix could not help thinking that the boy had verily sung those words of truth and hope into the poor dark lonely heart. Kindness, steadfastness, truth, in that merry- hearted child had been doing their work, and when Lance marched away with the other lesser choristers, the elder brother felt as if the younger had been the more worthy to 'draw near in faith.'
Fernando was more like himself when Felix came in, but he was a good deal shaken, and listened to the conventional Christmas greeting like mockery, shrinking from the sisters, when they looked in on him, with what they thought a fresh access of shyness, but which was a feeling of terrible shame beside the innocence he ascribed to them.
'I wish I could help that poor boy,' sighed Wilmet. 'He does look so very miserable!'
And Geraldine's eyes swam in tears as she thought of the loneliness of his Christmas, and without that Christmas joy that even her mother's dulled spirit could feel-the joy that bore them through the recollections of this time last year.
Lance's desire to cheer took the more material form of acting as Fernando's special waiter at the consumption of the turkey, which Mr. Audley had insisted on having from home, and eating in company with the rest, to whom it was a 'new experience,' being only a faint remembrance even to Felix and Wilmet; but Fernando had no appetite, and even the sight of his little friend gave him a pang.
'Do you want any one to stay with you!' asked Lance. 'If Cherry would do-for Felix said he would take Fulbert and me out for a jolly long walk, to see the icicles at Bold's Hatch.'
'No, I want no one. You are better without me.'
'I'll stay if you do want it,' said Lance, very reluctantly. 'I don't like your not having one bit of Christmas. Shall I sing you one Christmas hymn before I go?' And Lance broke into the 'Herald Angels' again.
'Mild He lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die;
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.'
Fernando's face was bathed in tears; he held out his arms, and to little Lance's great amazement, somewhat to his vexation, he held him fast and kissed him.
'What did you do that for?' he asked in a gruff astonished voice.
'Never mind!' said Fernando. 'Only I think I see what this day can be! Now go.'
Presently Mr. Audley came softly in. The lad's face was turned in to his cushion, his handkerchief over it; and as the young priest stood watching him, what could be done but pray for the poor struggling so
ul? At last he turned round, and looked up.
'I saw it again,' he said with a sigh.
'Saw what!'
'What you all mean. It touched me, and seemed true and real when Lance was singing. What was it-"Born to save the sons of earth"? Oh! but such as I am, and at my age, too!'
And with a few words from Mr. Audley, there came such a disburthening of self-accusation as before to Felix. It seemed as if the terrible effects of his wilfulness at the inn-horrified as he was at them- were less oppressive to his conscience than his treachery to his host in his endeavour to gamble with the little boys. He had found a pair of dice in his purse when looking for the price of a Bible, and the sight had awakened the vehement hereditary Mexican passion for betting, the bane of his mother's race. His father, as a clever man of the world, hated and prohibited the practice; but Fernando had what could easily become a frenzy for that excitement of the lazy south, and even while he had seen it in its consequences, the intense craving for the amusement had mastered him more than once, when loathing the dulness and weariness of his confinement, and shrinking from the doctrines he feared to accept. He knew it was dishonourable- -yet he had given way; and he felt like one utterly stained, unpardonable, hopeless: but there was less exaggeration in his state of mind than in the early morning, and when Mr. Audley dwelt on the Hope of sinners, his eyes glistened and brightened; and at the further words that held out to him the assurance that all these sins might be washed away, and he himself enabled to begin a new life, his looks shone responsively; but he shook his head soon-'It went away from him,' he said; poor boy! 'it was too great and good to be true.'
Then Mr. Audley put prayer before him as a means of clinging even blindly to the Cross that he was barely beginning to grasp, and the boy promised. He would do anything they would, could he but hope to be freed from the horrible weight of sense of hopeless pollution that had come upon him.
The Pillars of the House, V1 Page 17
