Roger Bigod

“ Roger turned away, followed by an extremely disgusted trio of young men. He did not consider it necessary to enjoin them to silence. Bixton’s threat to tell tales to the sergeant had merely put him in deep disfavor with them. In the Army or out, no self-respecting man will countenance a tale-bearer.
Roger went over to Ignace, who had now slumped down on his cot in an attitude of utter dejection. He had hard work to keep from smiling. He did not doubt for an instant that Ignace had had just cause for his outbreak. ”

“ What my great Master Roger was forced to confess is known to all the world; if he found not himself the philosopher's stone, he hath, however, shewn us where to seek for it, and what was hidden from his sharp gaze is not necessarily hid from that of his disciples." So saying, the little man rose with a look of proud importance; he departed with a slight salutation to Drost Aagé and the knights, in whose looks he was well satisfied to perceive the astonishment which his last mysterious remark, about the philosopher's stone especially, seemed to have excited. ”

“ And when Baird came into the room that night he loomed, to Roger's anxious eye, if anything taller than before. But his manner was so easy, his gruff voice so natural, and he seemed to take this little party of two so quietly as a matter of course, that Roger was soon reassured, and at table he and Allan got on even better than before. Baird talked of his life as a student, in Vienna, Bonn and Edinburgh, and of his first struggles in New York. His talk was full of human bits, some tragic, more amusing. And Roger's liking for the man increased with every story told. ”

“ Ah! he was a droll one, was Monsieur Callow, and a gentleman too. I never had a billiard-marker like him. He could play any man, and lose by one point; and he could recite and sing; and oh, he eat so little! Every one laughed at him; but he laughed little himself, and thought himself too good for his fellow-waiters.”
“What was he like?” asked Roger, flushing with excitement.
“A fine young man, with long curly hair, and whiskers and a beard. He was afraid of nothing, tall and strong. Ah me! I have seen him knock a man down at a blow. ”

“ A fortnight passed, and the thoughts of both, dispirited and worn, turned homeward. Rosalind, a letter had informed them, was back at Maxfield.
Of the two, perhaps Mr Armstrong displayed less disposition to own himself beaten. He had worked like a horse all the time. Roger had been compelled to own that without him his mission would have been a feeble farce. Not a stone did the dogged tutor leave unturned. Not a difficulty did he shirk. Not a man or woman, however forbidding, did he hesitate to tackle, who in the remotest degree might be suspected of being likely to give information. ”

“ For three hours that night the two friends, arm-in-arm, paced the empty streets, saying little, brooding much, yet gaining courage at every step. The touch of his guardian’s arm thrilled Roger now and again with a sensation of hope and relief in the midst of his dejection which almost surprised him. He had lost his brother; but was not this man as good as a brother to him? Would life be quite brotherless as long as he remained at his side?
The tutor, for his part, experienced a strange emotion too. The opening day had brought a crisis in his life as well as in that of his ward. ”

“ And I wanted to beg—that she'd let me try to atone—to compel Haslemere to atone."
"Oh, she's sorry not to meet you," Roger broke in, "But she's not strong. And she—er—was rather upset in the theatre. She doesn't go out often; and she never takes late supper. She's probably in bed by this time——"
"Oh, Roger, do let me tell him the truth!" exclaimed Grace. "Think how he helped us in our trouble? What if he could help Maida? You must admit he has a mind for mysteries, and if he could put an end to the persecution which has spoiled her life, Maida wouldn't join the Sisterhood." ”

“ He is to the pauvre père a son, and to the petite Françoise—ah! quelle est morte!”
“What was the name of your father?” demanded Roger, his hand tightening on Rosalind’s as he spoke.
“Ah, Monsieur! a poor name; he is called like me, Gustav Callot.”
The poor valet was thunderstruck by the sensation which his simple words caused. Surely the English gentlemen and ladies are beautiful listeners; no one ever paid him so much attention in his own country.
The American mayor took up the examination.
“I reckon,” drawled he, “that young man did not go by the name of Armstrong when you knew him.” ”

“ I pressed my face against his dear, quivering coat, I surrendered my cheek to his warm, rough tongue, I translated each happy convulsive wriggle.
"Dear old Kitch—good fellow!" I muttered, none too steadily, for I was not strong yet, and he seemed suddenly the only friend on whom I could unreservedly count. Roger had wished to stay with me, I knew, but of course he must go with his wife, and I am glad that I never grudged his absence a moment. For this cause shall a man leave his life-long friend and cleave only to her, and there is no other way. ”

“ I said slowly, "only an idiotic sort of telegram from Roger. He wants me to meet him at some place or other at present unknown, and to bring him his razors and a sensible parson."
My unknown friend burst into a chuckle of laughter.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "you get the razors and I'll attend to the parson end of it. Any special denomination?"
I paid for our dinner (he had insisted upon paying the cab) and gathered up my hat and stick.
"It's absurd," I went on, "perhaps he meant 'person,' though what's the point in that? Anyhow I must start directly. There may be a night train. ”

“ You are free to act as you choose. What follows is not a request from me, still less a command. It is a confidence—no more.”
Roger put down the letter. His head was in a whirl. He only half heard the notes of the tutor’s sonata as they rose and fell on his ear. Presently, with beating heart, he read on—
“You had a brother once—a namesake—whom you never saw, and perhaps never heard of. You never mourned his loss, for he was gone before you were born. Twenty-two years ago he was a boy of 16—a fine, high-spirited Ingleton. Like a fool, I thought I could bring him up to be a fine man. ”

“ It is possible to conceive of a more hopeful task than hunting up and down a large French town for tidings of a strolling player who, for one night only, played the ghost in Hamlet twenty years ago. But Roger, as, early in the year, he stepped ashore at Boulogne with Armstrong at his side, felt sanguine and of good cheer.
His recovery had been slow, and not without interruption. As soon as he could be moved he had returned to Maxfield, only to find Rosalind still away, and his guardian obdurate to any suggestion for expediting her return. ”

“ Rome reborn, all clean, old-fashioned Christian living swept away by millions of men at each others' throats like so many wolves. And at last quite openly to himself Roger admitted that he felt old. Old and beaten, out of date. Moments passed, and hours—he took little note of time. Nor did he see on the mantle the dark visage of "The Thinker" there, resting on the huge clinched fist and brooding down upon him. Lower, imperceptibly, he sank into his leather chair. ”

“ Mason told me the tutor said that only half of Roger's success was owing to his mental powers; the other half was owing to his perfect health, which enabled him to work harder and more continuously than most men without suffering. He said that in all his experience he had never known any one with an equal capacity for mental labour; and that he could come again with a fresh appetite to his studies after shorter intervals of rest than most. ”

“ In vain Roger pleaded, threatened, mutinied. The tutor was inexorable, and, fortified by the joint authority of Mrs Ingleton and Dr Brandram, carried the day. He had also an unexpected ally in Miss Rosalind.
“Don’t be obstinate, Roger,” said she. “The three Fates are too many for you; and don’t sulk, whatever you do, there’s a dear boy, but make yourself nice and propose to take Tom and Jill and me across to Pulpit Island to-morrow. If you are so wedded to lessons, you and Tom shall have your art class for once in a way on the Pelican’s Rock instead of my room.” ”

“ Roger let go; they were not on firm ground, and he did not wish any watchers to think that he was exercising any constraint over his father; and this quiet obedience to his impatient commands did more to soothe the squire than anything else could have effected just then. ”

“ He ought to have. He wasn’t like you, fond of Roger. He doesn’t care—at least I fancy he doesn’t—much about Roger at all. Oh, I wish I could earn enough to pay for every bite every one of us eats!”
To the tutor’s immense relief, at this point Captain Oliphant reappeared, followed by Roger with a boy and little girl.
The boy was some years the junior of the heir of Maxfield, a rotund, matter-of-fact, jovial-looking lad, sturdy in body, easy in temper, and perhaps by no means brilliant in intellect. ”

“ Once more Mr Ratman allowed himself to be escorted on a tour of discovery.
“Who is that a portrait of?” asked he, looking at the lost Roger’s picture.
“Oh, that’s what’s his name, the fellow who would have been heir if he hadn’t died. He looks rather a tough customer, doesn’t he? That’s the picture Rosalind painted for Roger’s birthday—a view of the park from her window, with the sea beyond. Not so bad, is it? Rosalind thinks she’s no end of an artist, but I—”
“When did he die?” inquired Mr Ratman, still examining the picture.
“Oh, ever so long ago—before the old Squire married Auntie. ”

“ Nine years ago Harriet put Peggy into her mother's arms and praised the little thing and kissed them both, and then told Roger that she must leave them, for she felt ill and would not risk the responsibility of further nursing. She would send a good nurse straight from New York, she said, and Roger himself took her there, leaving the doctor with Margarita, as soon as he dared. He brought back the other nurse, wired me to look after Harriet, and left her comfortable in the little apartment of a good friend of hers, with a promise of a speedy return. He never saw her alive again. ”

“ And this kindly soul actually laid down his cigar and went out into the passage to listen.
“Shocking cough,” said he as he returned and relit his cigar. Then he took out a document from his pocket—a copy of the will, in fact—and read it again. Which done, he relapsed into genial meditation ones more.
Presently his kindly feelings prompted him to pay his ward a visit.
“Well, my boy, how are you? Better, I hope.”
“Oh, yes,” said Roger, coughing; “it’s only a cold in my head. I’ll soon be all right. I’m awfully sorry to desert the girls and Tom, tell them.”
“Nothing I can do for you, is there?” ”

“ Roger, who had come expecting to be amused, found himself ignominiously set down at a table beside the amenable Tom (who had been coerced into joining the class) and directed to copy a very elementary representation of a gable of a cottage which the instructress had set up on the easel. Six times was he compelled to tackle this simple object before his copy was pronounced passable; and until that Rosalind sternly discouraged all conversation or inattention.
“Really, Roger,” said she, when at last he meekly submitted his final copy, “for a boy of your age you are an uncommonly rough hand. ”

“ Roger speedily discovered what hundreds of locks there are which the mere rumour of money will unlock. He had never had such an idea of his own importance before, and for a short time he deluded himself into the belief that his popularity was due wholly and solely to his personal merits.
Captain Oliphant fostered this delusion carefully.
“I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear boy,” he would say, after a particularly festive evening.
“It’s an excellent rule to make oneself agreeable in all circumstances. I envy you your facility. You see how it is appreciated. ”

“ It bore the London post-mark, and looked mysterious enough to induce Roger to lay down his brushes and open it there and then. This is what it said:—
“Dear Roger,—You’ll have been expecting to hear from me, as no doubt your moral friend, Mr Armstrong, has told you who I am. I don’t fancy you are specially pleased with the discovery, and it may suit you to turn up your nose at your affectionate brother. You may turn up what you like, but it doesn’t alter the fact. I am your brother. ”

“ He cheered up a bit at the sight of his visitor, still more at the sight of the tea. But it was a short-lived gleam of comfort, and he relapsed at the earliest opportunity into the doleful.
“Little good it’ll do me,” said he, “as have known this place, man and boy, seventy-five years, Missy. Never a word did they say to me till now. The old squire had allers his nod for Hodder, and when times was bad he let the rent stand. And young Master Roger was of the same sort.”
“Oh, Roger is your friend still,” said Rosalind; “he’s doing everything to help you.”
“I don’t mean him. He’s good enough ”

“ Tom is a much more promising pupil than you.”
“I haven’t promised you a bob an hour, though,” rejoined that not-to-be-flattered genius, beginning to whistle.
“Silence, sir!” said Miss Rosalind, stamping her little foot with something like temper; “as long as you are in my class you must do as I tell you.”
Here Roger protested.
“You’re rather strict,” said he. “I don’t mind working hard and attending to all you say, but I vote we enjoy ourselves too—all three of us.”
“You mean,” said Rosalind petulantly, “that you come here to play, while I try to work.” ”