Chapter XIV: The Clouds Part

Then suddenly, just as they were sitting down to the first meal in their new home, there was a knock at the door, and a policeman said: "I am sorry, Terwilliger, but you are wanted again."

"What for?" the trainer asked, thunderstruck.

"Mysterious robbery up at Madame ----'s boarding-school," replied the officer. "Mudge gave me the order for your arrest."

"Go and tell Mr. Van Silver," Terwilliger said to Polo. "He won't let me go to prison again." And Polo was off like the wind.

Mr. Van Silver came at once, and gave bail for Terwilliger's appearance at trial, so that he did not go to prison; but this action of Mr. Mudge's showed that he felt sure that Terwilliger was the thief, and threw us all into consternation. Mr. Mudge had called on Mr. Van Silver, but had unfortunately not found him in, and while he had not received the explanation which had been given Adelaide, one of his detectives informed him that Terwilliger had made arrangements to leave the country soon in Mr. Van Silver's employ, and that he had lately been expending large sums in extravagantly fitting up an apartment for his family. It was the fear that his man might escape him, which had precipitated Mr. Mudge's action. He felt that the case was a pretty clear one, and that the trial would develop more evidence.

Winnie was at her wits' end. She had promised to produce witnesses proving that Stacey and Terwilliger were on the river the night of the Catacomb party; and in her desperation she wrote directly to Stacey in regard to it. Unfortunately, Stacey could think of no one who had seen them just at the time when the boys were known to have been in the school building, and Stacey's own testimony would not be regarded as of sufficient weight to clear Terwilliger, as Mr. Mudge suspected Stacey of being the trainer's companion. This rendered Stacey very indignant. It seemed to him that he had trouble enough before this, and he was desperate now. His father, Commodore Fitz Simmons, was a naval officer, a bluff old sea dog, who had married, late in life, a refined and beautiful woman. She was lonely in her husband's long absences, and her heart knit itself to her son. Her husband had planned that Stacey should follow his career, but when he understood how this would afflict his wife, he partly relinquished this idea.

"You can have the training of the boy till he is eighteen," he said to his wife. "If he does you credit up to that time, I shall feel sure of him for the rest of his life, and he may have a Harvard education and follow whatever profession he pleases. But if he takes advantage of petticoat government, and develops a tendency to go wrong, I'll put him on a school ship, and let the young scamp learn what discipline is."

Commodore Fitz Simmons had been away for a long cruise, but Stacey's mother now wrote from Washington that the ship was in, and that the commodore and she would take great pleasure in attending the closing exercises of his school. She hoped that her son would distinguish himself at them, and that there was no doubt about his passing his Harvard examinations, for his father had referred to their agreement that Stacey must go to sea if he had not improved his opportunities. "And you know," she added, "that I could never bear to have you both on that terrible ocean."

Stacey could not bear the thought, either, for he loathed the sea, and he suddenly faced the fact that he had not been distinguishing himself in his studies and had no certainty of passing the examinations. This suspicion of being implicated in an escapade which had a possible crime connected with it, was more than he could bear. When he read, in Winnie's letter, "Mr. Mudge suspects you," he threw the letter upon the floor and uttered such a cry that Buttertub, who was studying in the room, sprang to him, thinking that he had hurt himself.

"I don't care who knows it," Stacey cried, beside himself with despair; "I am suspected of being a thief, and it will kill my mother, and my father will just about kill me."

Buttertub gave a low whistle. "It can't be so bad as that," he said; "what do you mean?"

"Some fellows sneaked into the girls' party, and they think I was one of them and Terwilliger the other."

"Well, what if they do?" Buttertub asked. "There is nothing so killing about a little thing like that."

"Perhaps not; but there was a robbery committed in the school that very night, and that's the milk of the cocoanut."

"They can't suspect a _cadet_ of being a burglar."

"Well, it looks like it," Stacey replied. "They've arrested Terwilliger, and I've just had warning that my turn may come next, unless I can prove that I was boating that night, and I can't."

"Ginger!" exclaimed Buttertub. "You are in a mess." He was on the point of confessing his own share in the escapade, when he reflected that it was not entirely his own secret, he must see Ricos first. Buttertub was naturally good-natured, and he had no idea that the frolic would take so serious a turn, but his brain worked slowly, and he did not quite see what he ought to do.

Stacey was nearly wild. He strode up and down the room. "I haven't seen father for two years, and mother has written him such glowing accounts of me that he expects great things. It would be bad enough, without this last trouble, to have him find out what a slump I am. I can never look him in the face--never."

"Fathers are pretty rough on us fellows, sometimes," said Buttertub. He was thinking of his own father, bombastic old Bishop Buttertub, and wondering, after all, whether he could quite bear to shoulder all the consequences of his frolic. When the Bishop was angry he had been compared to a wild bull of Bashan, and Buttertub, Jr., would rather have faced a locomotive on a single track bridge than his paternal parent on a rampage. He wished now that he had not yielded to the wiles of the entrancing Cynthia, and attended the party. "Hang that girl!" he growled aloud.

"Who?" asked Stacey.

"Miss Vaughn," Buttertub replied. "Some one was saying you meant to invite her to the declamations. You are welcome to for all me."

"Hang all girls," replied Stacey. "I shan't invite any one."

Buttertub rose awkwardly. "Don't be too blue, Stacey," he said kindly. "Something's bound to turn up," and he ambled briskly off to find Ricos. "It's tough," he said to himself, "but I'm no sneak, so here goes."

But Ricos was not in the barracks, and Buttertub, thankful for a little postponement of the evil day, went into the great hall to practice his declamation. He had chosen a dignified oration, and he possessed a sonorous voice and a pompous manner. Colonel Grey smiled as he heard him.

"You remind me strikingly of your father," he said. "I am sure that I shall see you in sacred orders one of these days. Perhaps you too will become a bishop."

Buttertub hung his head. "Better be a decent, honorable man, first," he thought. The boys were cheering over in the gymnasium: "Hip! hip! hip!"

"Yes--hypocrite," he said to himself, "I'll punch Ricos until he consents to making a clean breast of it."

But there was no need for resorting to this means of grace. Deliverance was coming, and, strange to say, through Ricos himself. Ricos had more food for remorse than Buttertub. His sister had written him from time to time of Jim's condition, and this morning he had received a letter which woke the pangs of conscience. Mr. Armstrong had thoughtlessly told Jim of Terwilliger's arrest, and the news had affected him very seriously. He could not sleep, and he could talk and think of nothing else. The physician feared that his reason would give way. He sent for Stacey, and his friend went to him immediately, but he could give him no encouragement, and his call only made Jim worse. As Stacey left the door he met Ricos.

"You had better not call on Armstrong to-day," Stacey said. "He is awfully sick. I shouldn't wonder if he died. He had an attack something like this last year, but the doctor pulled him through because there was nothing on his mind to worry him; but now everything seems to be in a snarl, and he isn't strong enough to bear it. You come back with me, seeing you ain't likely to do him any good."

"It is of needcessity," Ricos said. His face was white and scared. "Rosario, she write me that he will die, and if I see him not before, and assure myself that he carry no ill-will of me to the Paradiso, then my life shall be one Purgatorio. Indeed, I must see him; it is of great needcessity."

Mrs. Armstrong also hesitated when Ricos presented himself, but Jim heard his voice and called him eagerly.

"Ricos! Ricos! is it really you? Oh, I'm so glad!"

"Of a surety, it is I," Ricos replied. "I have come to ask your forgiveness. Alas! I am one miserable."

"I will forgive you, Ricos, if you will tell Colonel Grey all about it, so that Terwilliger need not go to prison. You know they have arrested him, and really it is he and Stacey who ought to forgive you, and not I at all."

"I do not comprehend of what you refer. I ask you to forgive me for your hurt----"

"But that is nothing! I am sorry that I beat you, Ricos. I wanted to win awfully, but I know now that you wanted the medal a great deal more than I did, and I'm so sorry Stacey did not run the best. Mother read me a verse that seemed just to be written for our games. I read it to Stacey and he said it would help him. Mother, please read it to Ricos, perhaps it will help him, too."

And Mrs. Armstrong read:

Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall
utterly fall. But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their
strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall
run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.

Ricos looked still more frightened. The Bible to him was a book only for priests. Jim must certainly be at the point of death, or he would not ask to have it read; but Jim spoke up earnestly:

"I suppose, Ricos, that waiting on the Lord means doing our whole duty, and I want you to do something for my sake. I want you to tell that you went to the girl's Cat-combing party. You know you went, Ricos. We are all sure of it, but nobody can prove it. Please tell Colonel Grey. It would be such a noble thing to do."

"And you will make me assurance of your forgiveness?"

"With all my heart, and I will stick up for you with all the boys."

"Thank you, my friend; now I shall enjoy some comfort of the mind. And you will tell those in Paradise that Ricos is not so devil as they may have heard."

Jim looked puzzled. He did not quite understand that Ricos's motive was fear of retribution. He thought that Jim was going to die, and he felt himself in a measure responsible for his death; but Jim's forgiveness and promise of intercession in his behalf was a boon to be purchased at any price, and he readily promised to disclose everything. Jim fell back upon his pillow, exhausted but happy, and fell asleep for the first time in many hours.

Ricos hurried back to the barracks. He had no scruples about implicating Buttertub in his confession, and he would have gone to Colonel Grey without consulting his friend had Buttertub not been on the lookout for him. They were each relieved to find that they had come separately to similar conclusions, and they sought Colonel Grey together.

They were obliged to wait some time, for their instructor was closeted with Mr. Mudge.

"I am just going out with this gentleman," said Colonel Grey, as he noticed them standing in the hall. "Is it anything which cannot wait?"

"It is of needcessity," said Ricos, and then his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, and Buttertub made the confession for both.

"Your acknowledgment of your fault comes just in time," said Colonel Grey. "Make your statement once more to this gentleman, and it may save an innocent classmate from disgrace, and our unfortunate Terwilliger from unjust imprisonment."

"You shall imprison me," said Ricos, in a theatrical manner. "That will make me one supreme happiness."

Buttertub turned pale, but did not falter, and told the story frankly and simply.

"So you are the two gentlemen who introduced yourselves in disguise into a young ladies' boarding-school," said Mr. Mudge. "Will you tell me how you made the acquaintance of Terwilliger's sister, the young lady they call Lawn Tennis, who gave you admittance."

"But it was not Terwilliger's sister at all. Miss Vaughn threw us out the key to the turret door," said Buttertub.

"A reliable witness to the affair assures me that it was Lawn Tennis. She was recognized partly by a Tam O'Shanter cap which she is in the habit of wearing."

"Miss Vaughn wore a Tam O'Shanter when she looked out of the window. She had it pulled down over her forehead."

"In view of these disclosures," Mr. Mudge said to Colonel Grey, "I shall withdraw my prosecution of Terwilliger. I have not sufficient evidence to make out a case against him, since it is now shown that the other young gentleman, Mr. Fitz Simmons, did not visit the school on the night in question, and consequently had no motive for testifying falsely. I think any court would admit him as a competent witness in Terwilliger's behalf, and consider the _alibi_ established. There will be no trial of Terwilliger. I must confess myself completely at fault in this matter."

Buttertub drew a long breath. He felt dazed and sick. Ricos swayed from side to side, and sank into a chair. Colonel Grey was bowing Mr. Mudge out, and Buttertub poured a glass of water and handed it to Ricos in his absence. "Don't give in yet," he said; "we've fixed it all right for Fitz Simmons and Terwilliger, but we've got to face the music now on our own account."

But Ricos had gone to the extent of his capabilities, and had fainted dead away. Colonel Grey returned and assisted Buttertub in restoring him to consciousness. His first words were, "When is it that we go to the prison?"

"My dear boy," said the Colonel, "you were not suspected of any connection with the robbery. But if you imagined that you would be, and made the avowal which you did in the face of that apprehension, you deserve all the more credit."

"Shall we not be expelled, sir?" Buttertub asked.

"Never! My school has need of young men who can acknowledge a fault so honourably. I consider that your generous conduct has wiped the misdemeanour from existence. You have suffered sufficiently, and I have no fear that such a thing will ever occur again. I shall only ask you to make this acknowledgment complete by sending Madame ---- a written apology for intruding in so unwarrantable a manner upon her school. I shall call upon her personally and deliver it."

"And my father will not feel that I have disgraced him," Buttertub said slowly, unconscious that he was speaking aloud.

"I shall tell the Bishop," said Colonel Grey, "that he has a son to be proud of."

Ricos staggered off to bed, and Buttertub sought Stacey and reported.

"You are a trump!" Stacey cried, "I never realized before what a hero you are. I beg your pardon for every unkind thing I have thought or said about you, and if you will accept my friendship it's yours forever. It is time for supper now, and after that we'll find Terwilliger and tell him the news."

Jim improved rapidly after this. If Ricos had known that he would recover he might not have confessed, and there was a lingering feeling in his mind that Jim had no right to get well, and was taking a mean advantage of him in not fulfilling his part of the bargain and winging his way to Paradise, to tell the angels that Ricos was not such a bad fellow after all. Still, he never really regretted Jim's recovery or his own avowal. It cleared his conscience of a great load, and the boys, having heard that Ricos had made _amende honorable_, no longer complimented him with the terms "chump and mucker," but accepted his presents of guava jelly and other West India delicacies, and as he had the Spanish gift for guitar-playing, elected him to the banjo club.

A little after this Mrs. Roseveldt gave her last reception for that season. She had not forgotten the proposed plan of the tennis tournament at Narragansett Pier, and she invited Stacey to come and talk it up with Milly.

In spite of his declaration of war against all womankind, Stacey accepted the invitation eagerly. Stacey was himself again, yet not quite his old giddy self. The disappointment and trouble which he had experienced had changed him for the better. He was less of a fop and more of a man, than when he tossed his baton so airily before his drum corps at the annual drill. But he was still something of an exquisite in dress. His father had given him permission to order a dress suit for the occasion of prize declamation, and Stacey besieged his tailor until he agreed to have it done in time for Mrs. Roseveldt's reception.

Milly went home the day before. We had all been invited, but had decided virtuously that we could not spare the time from our studies, while I had, as an additional reason, the knowledge that I had no costume suitable for such a grand society affair. Milly described it all afterward, and I enjoyed her description more than I would have cared for the party itself.

The mandolin club played softly in the dining-room bay-window, hidden by a bank of palms and ferns, and the lights glowed through rose-coloured shades. The supper-table, in honour of a riding club to which Mr. and Mrs. Roseveldt belonged, whose members were the guests of the evening, as far as possible suggested their favorite exercise. The table itself was horseshoe in shape; saddle-rock oysters, and tongue sandwiches were served. There was whipped cream, the ices were in the form of top-boots, saddles, jockey-hats, and riding whips, and the bonbonnieres were satin beaver hats.

Stacey appeared early in the evening. It was the first time that Milly had seen him in a dress suit, and Milly confided to me privately that he seemed to her to have suddenly grown several inches taller. He was very grave and dignified, not at all like the old rollicking, boyish Stacey with whom Milly was familiar. Milly, quite inexplicably to herself, felt a little awed by him and was at loss for a subject of conversation. She referred to the Inter-scholastic Games, and Stacey scowled so violently that Milly saw that this was an unfortunate beginning, and hastened to change the subject to that of the proposed tournament at Narragansett Pier. They were practically alone, for the parlor had been deserted by the onslaught on the supper table, and Stacey said confidentially:

"I'll tell you just how it is, Milly; I ought not to take part in that tournament."

"Oh, do!" pleaded Milly.

"I will if you say so. It shall be just as you say, for I'll do anything for you; but if I go into this thing I lose every last chance of passing my examinations for Harvard. All the same, I'll do it if you want me to."

"No, no;" murmured Milly; "not at such a cost; but it can't be as bad as that. What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have made a precious fool of myself all winter. I have gone in for athletics at the expense of my studies, and I've failed in both; and now that the time is coming for my examinations it will be a tight squeeze if I pass. I made up my mind to reform after I extinguished myself at the games, and I've been cramming ever since. Do you know what the boys call me now?"

"A regular dig, I suppose."

"No, that's obsolete. At Harvard a hard student is a 'grind,' and a very hard student is a 'long-haired grind.' Woodpecker is complimentary enough to call me a 'Sutherland Sister hair invigorator grind.'"

Milly laughed.

"No laughing matter, I tell you. I've broken training. I haven't been to the oval, or on the river, or riding in the park but once since the games. Instead of that, I put myself in the hands of our Professor of Mathematics, and I am letting him give me a private overhauling. His motto is, 'Find out what the boys don't like and give them lots of it.'"

"How horrid!" Milly murmured sympathetically.

"He's just right. If you want to put it in a little kinder way, you might say, 'Find out where the boys are weak, and then make them strong.' The trouble is I'm weak all through, so I'm having a rather serious time just now. I shall have to sit up till one o'clock to pay for the pleasure of this interview. The examinations take place between the 25th and 27th of June, inclusive. If I go into this tournament, or even think of it before then, I lose every ghost of a chance for Harvard, and will have to take to the sea, and I loathe it. But that's nothing--if you want me to do it. You don't half know me, Milly. I tell you, it's nothing at all--why I'd give up life itself for you. There isn't anything I wouldn't give up for your sake. No, you shan't run away. We've got to have it out some time, and we might as well understand one another now. I love you, Milly; I have always loved you; and if you don't like me--why, I have no use for Harvard, or life either."

He looked so despairing and yet so wildly eager, that Milly was very sorry for him.

"Of course, I like you, Stacey," she said kindly.

"You do?" he cried. "I can't believe it. You are fooling me."

"No, Stacey; but you are fooling yourself. You would be very sorry, by and bye, if I took you at your word now, and snapped you up before you had time to know your own mind. Why, Stacey, we are both of us too young to know whether we are in earnest. We ought to wait, and we ought neither of us to be bound in any way. Perhaps everything will seem very different to us four years from now. Don't you think so yourself?"

"I can never change," Stacey asserted confidently.

"But I may," Milly said with a smile, thinking of her own foolish little heart, and of how appropriate the advice she was giving to Stacey was to her own case.

"I don't believe you will," Stacey replied. "I am sure it's a great comfort to know that you care for me a little; it's a great deal better than I expected."

"Did I say so? I didn't mean to," Milly exclaimed in consternation.

"No, you haven't committed yourself to anything, but you have intimated that I may ask you again after I have graduated from Harvard. And since I desire that time to come as soon as possible, I presume I have your permission to give up the tennis tournament and go on preparing for my examinations."

"Yes, certainly. But I'm sorry for the Home. I don't quite see how we are going to raise the money for the annex. Still, I suppose, as students, our first duty is to our studies."

"Exactly. But vacation is coming and we will see what we can do for the Home then. If your mother will only postpone the time I will see if I can get the boys together in July."

The old butler came in at this juncture with a tray of ices. He was followed by Mr. Van Silver, who protested against his introducing "coolness" between old friends, but who remained all the same, and spoiled their opportunity for any further conversation on the subject uppermost in Stacey's mind.

"I've an idea, Stacey," said Mr. Van Silver. "I want you to go to Europe with me this summer. You'd enjoy the trip I propose to make among the Scottish hills and lakes. I know your parents will approve, for it will be a regular education for you, especially with my improving society thrown in." Mr. Van Silver winked as he said this, and he was greatly surprised when Stacey answered promptly:

"Awfully kind of you, Mr. Van Silver, but I can't go possibly."

"Why not?"

"Well, first of all, I'm bound to be conditioned on some of my studies at my Harvard examinations, and I shall have to coach all summer in a less agreeable way than the one which you suggest. Then I have engaged to get up a tennis tournament at the Pier----"

"Tennis! what's that to such a trip as I propose. Don't be an idiot, Stacey."

"It is really not an ordinary tournament," Milly added, with a desire to make peace between the two. "But, Mr. Van Silver, when do you sail? Perhaps Stacey can go after the tournament."

"I sail the last of June."

"Then there's no use talking," said Stacey.

"Unless you could join Mr. Van Silver by going over later."

Stacey shook his head vigorously. He had no desire to be expatriated this summer.

"I comprehend," said Mr. Van Silver. "The Pier possesses greater attractions than I can offer, but you needn't try to humbug me into believing that tennis is the magnet which draws you thither. Tell that to the unsophisticated, but strive not to impose on your grandfather. He has been young himself."

Mrs. Roseveldt came in with quite a party from the supper, and Stacey promptly took his leave.

When Milly confided this to me,--as she did nearly all of her joys and sorrows,--I could not help expressing my sympathy for Stacey.

"Stacey will recover," she said confidently. "Men are never as constant as we women." And Milly nodded her head with the gravity of an elderly matron who had experienced all the vicissitudes of life, and who could now regard the ardours of youthful affection and despair with a benign tolerance, as foreseeing the end from the beginning.

"Do you know, Tib," she continued, "Mr. Van Silver was joking in the way that he always does about Stacey, when papa came to us; and papa said, 'Don't put such notions in my little girl's head, Mr. Van Silver. Stacey has his college course before him and may be able to quote from my favourite poet when it is over.' With that he took down an old volume of Praed and read something which is so cute that I copied it afterward. Here it is:

We parted; months and years rolled by;
We met again four summers after.
Our parting was all sob and sigh;
Our meeting was all mirth and laughter.
For in my heart's most secret cell
There had been many other lodgers:
And she was not the ball-room's belle
But only--Mrs. Something Rogers.

"I wonder whether I shall be Mrs. Rogers, or Mrs. Smith, or Mrs. What? I'd rather be just Miss Milly Roseveldt."

"And how about Professor Waite?" I asked, hardly daring to believe that the fresh wind of common sense had cleared away the old miasmatic glamour.

"Oh, Adelaide must repent. They would make such a romantic couple. I have set my heart on it. And Tib, I believe she does like him, just a little, though she hasn't found it out herself yet. I am going to take charge of their case, and some day you and I will be bridesmaids, Tib. I've planned just how it will be. It's a pity Celeste acted so. Do you really think Miss Billings will be equal to a wedding dress?"

"What, yours, Milly?"

"Mine? No, indeed. I don't want to be married. It's a great deal nicer not to be. Don't you think so?"

"Milly, darling, I really believe that you have recovered from that old folly."

"Why, of course I have--ages and centuries ago." And Milly laughed a wholesome, gay-hearted laugh, which astonished as much as it pleased me.

"Alas for woman's constancy," I laughed; "but, indeed, Milly, I am very glad that you are so thoroughly heart-whole. We will keep a jolly old maids' hall together, only you must not encourage poor Stacey."

"Why not?" asked the incomprehensible Milly. "I am sure he is a great deal happier with matters left unsettled than he would have been if I had told him that I hated him; and that would not have been true either."

"You told him that he might ask you again after he graduates, and you certainly ought not to allow him any shadow of hope when you know positively that you can never love him."

What was my surprise to hear Milly reply very seriously: "But I don't know that, Tib. Four years may change everything. Stacey may not care a bit for me at the end of his college course. In that case, I'm sure I shan't repine. But then, again, if he should happen to hold out faithful, perhaps my stony heart may be touched by the spectacle of such devotion. Who knows?"

And Milly looked up archly, with a pretty blush that augured ill--for the old maids' hall.