Wilmet came in first, ascertained that all was ready, put an arranging touch to Lance's pillows, and ushered in the two dignitaries, who shook his languid hand, and asked after him kindly.
'You have put the Chapter into great difficulties by disabling yourself and Harewood,' said the Bishop. 'What! did you not know that the poor fellow entirely broke down?' as the eager eyes inquired.
'Nobody would tell me anything about it,' said Lance.
'It could not be helped,' continued the Bishop, 'but the examiners said they felt it a great cruelty when they saw how utterly astray distress rendered him. However, his papers and yours were both so good-his verses especially, and your arithmetic-that it was impossible to reject them, so the decision was put off till my return on Saturday.'
'We think,' said the Dean, who was very old, very gentle, and very slow of speech-'we think, my little fellow, that though there is no doubt that Shapcote did best in the examination, and ought to have the exhibition, yet under the peculiar circumstances, you and Harewood can be retained as choir scholars for another year, so as to try again. You don't look sixteen, I'm sure, and we should be sorry to lose your voice.'
'I'm only just turned sixteen,' said Lance, 'only on the 14th of June. Thank you, sir;-thank you, my Lord;' and his face beamed joy, though his words faltered.
'Moreover,' proceeded the Bishop, 'I have the greatest pleasure in giving the good-conduct prize where, so far as I am able to judge, it has been well deserved.'
A perilous flush of joy overspread the pale face; he started up on his elbows, and his eyes danced rapture, as some one at the door handed in the beautiful red morocco quarto of the Cathedral music; and the Bishop, with a fatherly hand making him lie down again, laid the book beside him, as he gasped out something like thanks.
'We are quite convinced that you have deserved it,' repeated the Dean, again shaking hands with him, and then taking leave; but the Bishop remained, talking kindly to Clement about Cambridge, and inquiring for Felix; while Wilmet helped Lance's feeble fingers to turn the thick creamy pages on which he durst not fix his eyes.
Presently the Bishop sat down again, and said, 'I have acted on my own judgment in giving you this, my boy. I have seen enough of our choir these six years to know that what caused so much displeasure was certainly not to be laid to your charge.'
Lance made an uneasy movement, became alarmingly red, and said in a choked voice, 'I don't know but what it might, my Lord.'
'You mean that you knew of this custom of getting out at night through the Cathedral!'
'Yes, my Lord; I found out the way.'
There was a silence.
Then the Bishop said, 'After this, I can only leave it to your own conscience whether you ought to keep this book; but I think you would do wisely to let me know, remembering that I have no authority in the school.'
Lance brightened, and he answered, 'My Lord, I did get out once, but only once, and I don't think I did wrong. It was a long time ago-in the autumn.'
'Last autumn! Was it not then that there was a report of a chorister in his shirt sleeves being seen at the Green Man at eleven o'clock at night?'
'That was I, my Lord.'
Clement was ready to start forward, under the impression that Lance was talking his 'nonsense;' but the Bishop said, 'You were named, but nobody believed it for a moment.'
'One of our little fellows was very ill, my Lord,' said Lance, excitement restoring something of his natural briskness. 'We thought he was going to have the cholera, and I went to get something for him. The chemists' shops were shut, so I went in there.'
'May I ask the question,' said the Bishop, rather as if taking a liberty, 'why did you not call up Mr. Stokes?'
'We couldn't, my Lord, for it was all Mr. Shapcote's swans' eggs. He caught them-three of our least fellows, I mean-jumping at the branches that hung over the river wall, and he blackguar-abused them so that they got into a rage and vowed he shouldn't have a plum left on the tree. We seniors knew nothing about it; but they got over the wall at dark, and one ate eighty-five and the other eighty-one; but, little Dick-one of them, I mean-could only get down nineteen, and brought the rest in his pockets. It was the first time such a thing had happened, and it put me in a proper rage. The little one was the one I found out first; and I thought he was sulky, so I licked him till he howled, so that I was afraid I'd done him some dreadful harm, like a regular brute; and when I found it was his inside instead of his outside, I was so glad, I could have done anything for him. But we couldn't call Stokes, or the poor little chap would have suffered for it three times over.'
'That would have been hard measure! And did your remedy succeed?'
'Yes; I think a good deal was fright. He went to sleep on the brandy, and was all right next day.'
'And the gentlemen with 'the eighty-five and eighty-one suffered no inconvenience, of course!' said his Lordship, much amused. 'May I hear how you got out?'
'With Mr. Harewood's key,' said Lance. 'He used to keep it on a nail inside the study door, which opens into the passage leading into this court, and is never locked.'
'That is the key of the Cathedral library.'
'Yes, my lord; it unlocks the outer door, and the door into the north transept.'
'And after that-'
'You can shoot the bolt on the inside of the little side-door at the west front, and climb over the railing.'
'Boys are animals not to be kept in, that is certain! So you were pioneer! But you had nothing to do with those cards?'
'No, my Lord. But I ought not to have told how I got out, for there were some who would do it afterwards. However, those cards were none of ours.'
'Whose were they!'
'Walter Shapcote's, my Lord. He is gone now, so it does not signify.'
'That nephew Mr. Shapcote had in his office?'
'Yes, my Lord; he had got the command of poor Gus, because he had lent him money for some debt that Gus was afraid to let his father know of, and made him get the key, and let him out and in.'
'You all knew of this?'
'Yes, my Lord; but poor Gus was sure that his father would be so dreadful, that we durst not let out a word. Mr. Shapcote makes every soul afraid of him.'
'The young man is gone?'
'Yes, my Lord, to London.'
'And there is no danger of the like with Gus?'
'Oh no, my Lord. He's too like a sheep! and now his debt is paid- after the last concert-he's sure not to get into the same scrape again.'
'Thank you very sincerely,' said the Bishop. 'It is a great relief to me to know all this; and it is safe with me. I am only afraid I have made you talk more than is good for you.'
'And may I keep this, my Lord?' he wistfully asked.
'Indeed you may, my dear boy. If you have transgressed the letter of discipline, you have kept the spirit of charity. I am glad to keep you, as well as your voice. But I have tired you out.'
And laying a hand of blessing on his brow, the Bishop took leave, Wilmet going to the door with him, to answer his fears that the interview had been too much for her patient, with assurances that the relief and gratification must do good in the end.
He told her that the threat of the withholding of the prize had not been made by his authority, and that he had much regretted it. Just as the tidings of the sun-stroke and its cause had reached him, he had been with Mr. Nixon, the former Precentor, who had spoken warmly of Lance, saying that the whole tone of the boys had improved since his coming, though he was too much of a pickle ever to get the credit. Wilmet's pleasure was great; but before she could get back, Lance was nervously calling for her. The excitement was still great, his head was aching violently, and yet he could not leave off eager talking, which, as feverishness came on, began to degenerate into such rambling as terribly frightened Clement lest a relapse should be coming on. He wanted to hurry off to the doctor at once; but Wilmet, well knowing he would not be at home, repressed him, and quietly said she had some draughts ready, and knew what to do. While she was out of sight, preparing them, a great alarm came over the patient lest she should have left him; and all the rest of those noonday hours were spent in a continual restless desire to keep her in view, hold her hand, and elicit her assurances that she was not going home, nor going to leave him-no, not
