Chapter II: In Disgrace

SIR HERBERT returned from the Continent, eager to commence the training which he considered advisable for his future heir. A competent tutor was engaged to give him lessons daily, and many were the restrictions imposed upon the child. After the freedom of his home life, the boy felt the change greatly, and pined like a bird in captivity.

No Scripture lessons were allowed, and but for good Mrs. Webster's influence, the child would have been discouraged to say his morning and evening prayers, for Sir Herbert believed in none of these things. He found the lad tolerably submissive, and was congratulating himself on the success of his system of education, little dreaming that the boy was chafing even as a prisoner in the house of bondage.

One day in the midst of Gerald's lessons, a tap was heard at the schoolroom door.

"Come in," said the tutor, and in walked a little figure, with merry brown eyes, and curly hair.

Gerald at once recognised her as his little friend Doris Maxwell, and sprung forward to greet her. In the presence of his tutor she only nodded and smiled, then turning to the tall, scholarly-looking young man, she addressed her remarks to him.

"Please what is your name?" she said, commencing her catechism at once.

"I am Marmaduke Trevor, little maid, this young gentleman's tutor," he answered pleasantly.

"What a funny name!" said the irrepressible Doris. "It 'minds me of marmalade."

Gerald laughed, but the tutor looked grave, as if he considered Doris rather an impudent little girl, though the child really meant no disrespect.

"Please I've come with a message, Mr. 'Marmaluke.' Gerald's uncle says he wishes him to have a little holiday, and come out in the garden with me."

Sir Herbert's slightest wish being a command, the tutor dismissed his pupil, and smiled to see what an utterly different boy he was in the companionship of this little girl, from the repressed, serious child who usually looked as though there was an ache in his heart for his absent mother.

Glad peals of laughter presently rang out in the garden below, and so merry were the children's voices, that they made quite a pleasant break in the business conversation which was going on in the library between Sir Herbert and the lawyer; at least, such was the opinion of the latter gentleman.

After lunch, of which the children partook with their elders, and behaved with the utmost propriety (although there were times when Sir Herbert found Doris's inquiring gaze almost embarrassing), the boy and girl went upstairs to the deserted schoolroom, as the little apartment in which Gerald did his studies was called. Here they amused themselves looking over a certain picture book, which Gerald's mother had given him on his eighth birthday.

"There's our uncles walking round the garden," said Doris, after a while, craning her neck to look out of the window on to the small patch of ground, which was all Sir Herbert's town residence could boast in the way of garden. "Now shall we go and look for the idol?" murmured Doris, mysteriously.

"What idol?" said Gerald, little dreaming of the importance the imaginative child had placed on her grandfather's words.

"The one your uncle bows down to," she answered; "surely you 'member what I told you."

"Doris, what a little goose you are!" laughed Gerald.

"I'm not a goose, and you're a rude boy," she said, with a pout, and a suggestion of tears in her voice. "If you don't come, I shall go all by myself," she added.

Now I fear Doris was a naughty spoilt child, for she certainly on this day led Gerald to be guilty of his first act of disobedience.

"I'll go with you, Doris," he said, anxious to appease the offended little lady, and the two children started off on a voyage of discovery, Doris leading the way.

Gerald followed until they came to the library, the door of which stood partly open.

"I'm going in here, Gerald; 'spect that's where he keeps it," said the child.

Now Gerald had been forbidden to enter the library at any time without his uncle's permission, and fearful of disregarding the stern order, he stood for a moment hesitatingly on the threshold.

A little scream of delight from Doris made him enter.

Before an Indian cabinet stood the little girl, her brown eyes wide open with wonder and surprise.

"I've found it! I've found it! There's the idol what your uncle worships. Oh, Gerald! What a hid'ous old thing."

There on the top of the cabinet, amongst other treasures, was placed a small heathen god, brought from India as a curiosity some years previously by Sir Herbert after a brief stay in that country.

"Don't touch it, Doris," cried Gerald in alarm; "uncle would be 'so' angry!"

"I shall just see what it's made of," said the child, taking the little image into her hands to examine it.

By this time Gerald was in a fever of fright, and snatching the treasure from Doris, was about to replace it, when Sir Herbert himself entered the room.

Every particle of colour forsook the cheeks of the boy, and he looked as though convicted of some terrible crime.

"Your uncle is ready for you, Doris," said Sir Herbert with great dignity, and feeling like a very naughty child—as indeed she was—Doris hastily left the library.

"I will speak to you later, Gerald, about this matter. Meanwhile you can go up to the schoolroom and remain there until Mr. Sharpe and his niece have left."

In a short space of time, Gerald heard the sound of carriage wheels departing, and then he knew that his hour of judgment was come.

A message was despatched to the schoolroom, summoning him to come at once to the library, and tremblingly the boy obeyed.

Sir Herbert stood facing the door, with a small cane in his hand, as Gerald entered the room.

"What excuse have you to offer, Gerald, for this disgraceful act of disobedience!" he demanded.

Deep down in his cold, worldly heart, he was becoming attached to the little fellow who submitted himself so patiently to his rule, though Sir Herbert little knew the depths of love and passion of which the sensitive, fragile boy was capable.

Gerald hesitated as to whether he might not justify himself by throwing the blame on to his little companion, but to his childish sense of honour, such a course of action was inexcusable, for was not Doris his chosen friend?

No, he would bear whatever punishment Sir Herbert might inflict, for he knew that if the blame were to fall upon Doris, never again would she be permitted to be his playmate and companion.

"I'm sorry," began the child.

"So am I, as I hoped and believed I could trust you. What would your mother say to such an act of disobedience?"

The boy's lip quivered, but Sir Herbert was merciless.

"I intend you shall obey me in everything whilst you are in my house. 'Implicit obedience,' remember! And for this act I shall punish you."

Now Gerald in all his young life had never once been beaten, and he had a babyish fear of the cane. His father had been too indolent to put himself out in any way, and his young loving mother had ruled him entirely by the law of kindness; therefore corporal punishment was to him a revelation, and a very unpleasant one too.

"Don't beat me, 'please,' Uncle Herbert, I'll never do it again!" pleaded the boy, with a deep sob in his voice.

"No, my lad, I don't think you will, but I shall whip you all the same."

It was not a cruel, merciless beating which Gerald had to endure, but the shame and humiliation of it all, entered like iron into his soul.

"He bore it like a man, ay and a gentleman," said Sir Herbert long afterwards, when remorse and sorrow had touched his heart, for the punishment he had so hastily bestowed.

Banishment for the rest of the day followed his chastisement, and by his uncle's desire, the culprit's meals were served in his bedroom.

"I can't eat anything, thank you, Hilda," he said, when the good-natured girl brought him up his supper.

"Do now, Master Gerald, dearie. Here's a lovely piece of sponge cake, which cook made on purpose, knowing as you was fond of it. Come, do try, you'll feel ever so much better when you've eaten it, and had a good drink of milk."

To please Hilda, the child made an effort to eat, and was really refreshed and comforted, both by the meal, and the girl's tender sympathy combined. Having said his prayers, which, faithful to the promise he had given his mother, were never forgotten, he laid his weary little head on the pillow, and very soon the deep sobs were hushed to the calm even breathing of childhood's peaceful slumber.