Talbot Baines Reed

“ Begone; and consider yourself fortunate that instead of walking out a free man, you are not taken out to the punishment you deserve!”
When Jeffreys, stunned and stupefied, looked up, the room was empty.
Mechanically he finished a sentence he had been writing, then letting the pen drop from his hand, sat where he was, numbed body and soul. Mrs Rimbolt’s words dinned in his ears, and with them came those old haunting sounds, the yells on the Bolsover meadows, the midnight shriek of the terrified boy, the cold sneer of his guardian, the brutal laugh of Jonah Trimble. ”

“ There was young Forrester, merry and plucky, saving his goal more than once by a prompt touch-down. There, even, was the elephantine Jeffreys, snorting and pounding in the thick of the fray, feeling his feet under him, and doing his clumsy best to fight the battle of his side.
The game went hard against the School, despite their determined rallies and gallant sorties. Young Forrester in goal had more than one man’s share of work; and Scarfe’s drops from the rear of the Sixth scrimmage flew near and still nearer the enemy’s goal. ”

“ Jeffreys felt a stronger man as he walked out of York in the deepening twilight. He was in the way of old associations just now, for almost without knowing it he found himself quitting York by way of Ash Lane, every step of which by this time was familiar—painfully familiar ground. The bank on which he had last found Jonah’s knife had now new attractions for him. Not so a garden shed, by the back of which he passed, and whence proceeded the glimmer of a light, and the sound of boys’ voices. ”

“ They meet—the tramp and the young couple. They never heed him; how should they? But a turn of the umbrella gives him a momentary glimpse of them, and in that glimpse poor hapless Jeffreys recognises Raby and Scarfe! Surely this blow was not needed to crush him completely! Scarfe! How long he stood, statue-like, looking down the path by which they had gone neither he nor any one else could tell. But it was dark when he was roused by a harsh voice in front of him.
“Come, sheer off, young fellow! It’s time you was out of the park!” ”

“ Percy, too exhausted to remonstrate, yielded himself gratefully, and lay only half conscious in his protector’s arms, often fancying himself at home in bed or lolling idly in the summer fields.
It may have been midnight, or later still, when Jeffreys, looking beyond the shadows projected by the moon in front of him, perceived a gleam of light far down in the valley.
“Probably,” thought he, “some honest shepherd, after his day’s work, is happily going to rest. Think of a bed, and a pillow, and a blanket!” ”

“ The night has come on rainy and dark, and a weary tramp with his dog has been thankful to crawl into its poor shelter and rest his limbs. The wind has risen and howls dismally round the shed, breaking every now and then through the loose planks, and stirring up the straw which carpets the place. But the traveller is too weary to heed it or the rain which intrudes along with it, and crouching with his dog in the darkest corner, curls himself up in true tramp fashion, and settles down to sleep. ”

“ The fatigues and troubles of the day operated like a feather-bed for the worn-out and dispirited outcast, and he slept soundly, dreaming of Forrester, and the bookshop, and the dog Julius.
Next morning the weary search began again. Jeffreys, as he trudged back to the city, felt that he was embarked on a forlorn hope. Yet a man must live, and a sovereign cannot last for ever. He passed a railway embankment where a gang of navvies were hard at work. ”

“ A librarian is born, not made, and Jeffreys seemed unexpectedly and by accident to have dropped into the one niche in life for which he was best suited. Mr Rimbolt was delighted to see his treasures gradually emerging from the chaos of an overcrowded lumber-room into the serene and dignified atmosphere of a library of well-arranged and well-tended volumes. He allowed his librarian carte blanche with regard to shelves and binding. He agreed to knock a third room into the two which already constituted the library, and to line it with bookcases. ”

“ Jeffreys was nineteen, but looked older, for he had whiskers—an unpardonable sin in the eyes of Bolsover—and was even a little bald. His voice was deep and loud. A stranger would have mistaken him for an inferior master, or, judging from his shabby garments, a common gardener.
Those who knew him were in no danger of making that mistake. No boy was more generally hated. How he came by his name of Cad Jeffreys no one knew, except that no other name could possibly describe him. ”

“ What do you say to this tempting-looking mansion, marked in the map as Wildtree Towers, standing in a park of I should not like to say how many acres, on the lower slopes of one of the grandest mountains in the Lake country?
On the beautiful summer afternoon on which we first see it, it certainly looks one of the fairest spots in creation. As we stand on the doorstep, the valley opens out before us, stretching far to the south, and revealing reaches of lake and river, broad waving meadows and clustering villages, wild crags and pine-clad fells. ”

“ Jeffreys, hidden in another part of the great city, sunk to a lower depth of misery than ever. To him it seemed now that his bad name had taken form in the face of young Forrester, and was dogging him in adversity more relentlessly even than in prosperity. It comforted him not at all to think it had saved him from a drunkard’s ruin. He despised himself, when he came to himself, for having been scared so weakly. ”

“ Scarfe, on the return of the skating party to Wildtree, found himself the hero of the hour. Whether the risk he ran in rescuing his old schoolfellow from his icy bath had been great or small, it had resulted in saving Jeffreys’ life, and that was quite sufficient to make a hero of him. Percy, easily impressed by the daring of any one else, and quite overlooking his own share in the rescue, was loud in his praises.
“How jolly proud you must feel!” said he. “I know I should if I’d saved a fellow’s life. ”

“ Where in the world is there a tonic equal to the laugh of a light-hearted grateful little boy? How could Jeffreys help forgetting his trouble for a time and devoting himself heart and soul to the business of that tricycle? Trimble, as he dodged along after them perplexed and puffing, could hardly believe his eyes as he saw his morose colleague suddenly throw off the burden that was on him and become gay.
“Come along, little chaps—let’s see what we can do,” said Jeffreys, as the three strode out to the cottage. “Where is he?”
“In the shed. We’ve got a candle.” ”

“ But Mr Frampton was a brave man; and that night he spent in arming himself for the task that lay before him. Yet how he dreaded that scene to-morrow! How he wished that this hideous nightmare were after all a dream, and that he could awake and find Bolsover where it was even yesterday morning! The other watcher was Jeffreys. He had slept not a wink the night before, and to-night sleep seemed still more impossible. Had you seen him as he sat there listlessly in his chair, with his gaunt, ugly face and restless lips, you would have been inclined, I hope, to pity him, cad as he was. ”

“ He had never been in that quarter of York since the night of his expulsion, and he did not know why of all places he should just now turn thither. His guardian, as he well knew, was even more pitiless and cynical than ever, and any hope of finding shelter or rest under his roof he knew to be absurd. He might, however, be out; indeed, he had spoken of going to America, in which case Mrs Jessop might be there alone.
One clings to the idea of a home; and this place, such as it was, was the only place which for Jeffreys had ever had any pretensions to the blessed name. ”

“ My reader, had he chanced to pass down that deserted walk on this stormy afternoon, would hardly have recognised in the lonely occupant of that seat the John Jeffreys he had seen six months ago at Clarges Street. It was not merely that he looked haggard and ill, or that his clothes were ragged. That was bad enough, but the reader has seen him in such a plight before. But what he has not seen before—or if at all, only in passing moments—is the bitter, hard look on his face, changing it miserably. A stranger passing him that afternoon would have said—
“There sits a man who hates all the world.” ”

“ You will wonder why I have left York. The story of what happened at Bolsover reached the ears of my employer’s son. He accused me of it before all the school, and added that he knew Forrester was dead. I could not stand it, and came away—though I feel now I was foolish not to ascertain first how he had learned what you and I have not yet been able to hear. It is too terrible to believe! and I cannot believe it till I find out for myself. Where I shall go next I do not know, and feel I do not care. My guardian has left York. ”

“ As Raby was beforehand with her in blaming herself, the wind was taken out of Mrs Rimbolt’s sails in that quarter, even had she been disposed to let out in that direction. But it was so much more convenient and natural to blame Jeffreys, that the good lady was never in a moment’s doubt upon the subject.
“How excessively careless of him!” said she; “the very one of the party, too, whom we expected to keep out of danger. It is a mercy every one of you was not drowned.”
“It’s a mercy he wasn’t drowned himself,” said Percy; “so he would have been if it hadn’t been for Scarfe.” ”

“ Only don’t spoil our day, there’s a good fellow. You’ll be able to see lots of your friend when we’ve gone.”
“You be hanged,” observed Percy, now in an uncomplimentary mood; “haven’t I told you I’m not coming? What more do you want?”
“Oh, of course, if you’re so taken up with this reverend thing of beauty,” said one of them sulkily, “we’re out of it. I should have thought he could have snuffled to himself for a day without wanting you to help him.”
Scarfe all this time stood by in a rage. The sight of Jeffreys was to him like the dead fly in the apothecary’s ointment. ”