Wilton School | Page 6

only thirteen years old, he was, in point of mind, far beyond his years,
not in his school work, but in his ideas and feelings on general subjects
of every-day life; and the reason of this was his having had, for so long,
his mother as his only companion.

Presently Mrs Valentine came out to him. Her eyes were very red, for
she had been crying.
"You can come in now, Master Harry."
"Mrs Valentine, is mamma dying? What can I do? She mustn't die.
Can't Mr Bromley do anything for her?" cried Harry.
"No, dear boy. Mr Bromley can't do anything for her, poor dear; nor
any one else either, for the matter of that. He can only make her easier
for the time, like."
"But will mamma die before papa comes home?"
"She may die very--very soon," sobbed Mrs Valentine.
By this time they were at the door, and Mrs Valentine left Harry to run
quietly upstairs to his mother's room. He found her in bed, looking
fearfully white, saving two red hectic spots glowing in her wasted
cheeks. Her hands were dry and hot; and when she began to speak, a fit
of coughing made utterance impossible. Harry sat by the bedside, and
burst out crying. After a few minutes, Mrs Campbell said in a low
voice, but so cheerfully--
"Well, Harry dear, how did the examination go off?"
"It's not over, mamma; and, please, don't talk about that. Are you really
going to die, mamma? Tell me, is it really true?"
"Yes, darling boy, I am really going away from you now, and soon,
too--very soon."
"What shall I do when you are gone, mamma? How shall I----" and
here Harry fairly broke down; he could speak no more.
"Don't cry, Harry; it makes me so sad. Don't you know I am going to
heaven, and there will be no pain there. I shall not cough any more.
You mustn't cry so. Tell me about school; I like to hear it all. I am not
going to die to-day, darling boy. We shall have a little longer together.

Tell me about the examination."
How Harry longed to pour his story out to her, of Egerton and Mr
Prichard. But he wouldn't do so now. He would bear it by himself. He
had run home so quickly, meaning to tell her all, and knowing she
would believe and pity him, and tell him what to do. But how could he
distress her now? So he only answered very quietly--
"I did the paper pretty well, mamma; I think; the examiner doesn't
come for two or three days; but--but--you won't be here--then," and
back came the memory of the fateful message, back came the fears at
the thought that he would be alone in the world then.
"How hot the room is," sighed Mrs Campbell. "It makes me feel so
weak."
"Ah! the air isn't like it was at Malta; is it, mamma? You told me it was
so cool and sweet there; didn't you, mamma?"
"Yes, dear boy; but those cool winds have made me like this. It was
sitting out, in the evenings there, that first gave me my cough. But it
was God's will," she said half to herself, "and why should one look to
second causes?"
"Go and have your dinner, Harry dear or you will be late for school,"
she said to him.
"Must I go to school, mamma, and leave you?"
"Yes, dear," she answered, "it is far better for you to go, as usual. They
shall send for you if--if-- Go down now, dear," she added, falteringly.
And when Harry hesitatingly left the room, Mrs Campbell turned her
face to the wall, and prayed to God, to guard the motherless child; to
guard the toilers on the sea; and then she thought of her girlhood, of her
bright, strong, healthy days; and then of her marriage in the ominous
Scotch mists, of the sojourning at Malta, of the journeyings to and fro;
and chiefly of her husband's love, and of her happy life; and from the

depths of her heart she thanked God for it all, and confessed that it had
indeed "been well."
CHAPTER VI.
INJURED INNOCENCE.
A surprise--Public opinion--Questioned--Circumstantial
evidence--Inexorable.
With a heavy heart Harry set out for school; but it was a walk of a mile,
and his spirits were very elastic; so that by the time he had settled to his
afternoon's work, all his old interest and excitement in the examination
had returned. Again the class sat writing in their corner-classroom, with
busy fingers and hushed voices.
At half-past four Mr Prichard rose, contrary to his ordinary custom, to
collect the papers. Harry had just opened his desk hastily for some
blotting paper, and as he took the piece