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neighbourhood (here the old lady raised her voice), and some
chaps who were too idle even to be schoolmasters, might soon find
that there were other chaps put over their heads, and so she would
have them take care, and look pretty sharp about them. But all
these taunts and vexations failed to elicit one word from the meek
schoolmaster, who sat with the child by his side—a little more
dejected perhaps, but quite silent and uncomplaining.
Towards night an old woman came tottering up the garden as
speedily as she could, and meeting the schoolmaster at the door,
said he was to go to Dame West’s directly, and had best run on
before her. He and the child were on the point of going out
together for a walk, and without relinquishing her hand, the
schoolmaster hurried away, leaving the messenger to follow as she
might.
They stopped at a cottage-door, and the schoolmaster knocked
softly at it with his hand. It was opened without loss of time. They
entered a room where a little group of women were gathered
about one, older than the rest, who was crying very bitterly, and
sat wringing her hands and rocking herself to and fro.
『Oh, dame!』 said the schoolmaster, drawing near her chair, 『is it
so bad as this?』
『He’s going fast,』 cried the old woman; 『my grandson’s dying.
It’s all along of you. You shouldn’t see him now, but for his being
so earnest on it. This is what his learning has brought him to. Oh
dear, dear, dear, what can I do!』
『Do not say that I am in any fault,』 urged the gentle schoolmaster. 『I am not hurt, dame. No, no. You are in great distress of
mind, and don’t mean what you say. I am sure you don’t.』
『I do,』 returned the old woman. 『I mean it all. If he hadn’t been
poring over his books out of fear of you, he would have been well
and merry now, I know he would.』
The schoolmaster looked round upon the other women as if to
entreat some one among them to say a kind word for him, but they
shook their heads, and murmured to each other that they never
thought there was much good in learning, and that this convinced
them. Without saying a word in reply, or giving them a look of
reproach, he followed the old woman who had summoned him
(and who had now rejoined them) into another room, where his
infant friend, half-dressed, lay stretched upon a bed.
He was a very young boy; quite a little child. His hair still hung
in curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright; but their
light was of Heaven, not earth. The schoolmaster took a seat
beside him, and stooping over the pillow, whispered his name. The
boy sprung up, stroked his face with his hand, and threw his
wasted arms round his neck, crying out that he was his dear kind
friend.
『I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows,』 said the poor
schoolmaster.
『Who is that?』 said the boy, seeing Nell. 『I am afraid to kiss her,
lest I should make her ill. Ask her to shake hands with me.』 The
sobbing child came closer up, and took the little languid hand in
hers. Releasing his again after a time, the sick boy laid him gently
down.
『You remember the garden, Harry,』 whispered the
schoolmaster, anxious to rouse him, for a dulness seemed
gathering upon the child, 『and how pleasant it used to be in the
evening time? You must make haste to visit it again, for I think the
very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than they used to
be. You will come soon, my dear, very soon now—won’t you?』
The boy smiled faintly—so very, very faintly—and put his hand
upon his friend’s grey head. He moved his lips too, but no voice
came from them; no, not a sound.
In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices borne
upon the evening air came floating through the open window.
『What’s that?』 said the sick child, opening his eyes.
『The boys at play upon the green.』
He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it
above his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down.
『Shall I do it?』 said the schoolmaster.
『Please wave it at the window,』 was the faint reply. 『Tie it to the
lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they』ll think of me,
and look this way.』
He raised his head, and glanced from the fluttering signal to his
idle bat, that lay with slate and book and other boyish property
upon a table in the room. And then he laid him softly down once
more, and asked if the little girl were there, for he could not see
her.