The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1863-05-21
The Green Room at OakieEgsi
ParVa.
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FaFVa.
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The next morning found our new charge
the same as ever, cold, civil, and shrinking
from any approach to intimacy, but with
kind smile and kind word for the children
Only the later circumstance, | believe, pre-
vented Clara, who was very impulsive, from
absolutely detesting our guest. The little
ones, as | have said, took to him from the
first, and so did abig spaniel about the house
which had been left behind by the Rev. Gid
con Trump, now bishopof Calcutta. But the
servants were evidently afraid Of him, proba-
blp on account Of his precocious gravity and
the chilly polish Of his n He was
very well-bred, having mixed, though spar
ingly, in the best foreign society, and hao
nothing awkward or hobbledehoyish in his
bearing. His abilities seemed very good, and
his information far from scanty. He had
Travelled much, had read many books, and
conversed with many eminent persons; and
though his remarks were characterized by
great modesty, felt as if my pupil was in
many respects ahead Of his master. But |
could not fathom his nature. He was tract
able enough, and readily opened his books
and submitted to an examination in'his class
ical proficiency, but when | suggested an eX-
petition to StauntOn Dene, to have a look at
the old hall which must ere long be his home,
he quietly declined. | pressed the point, less
from curiosity than because | had a wish that
he should benefit by air and exercise.
mo, Mr.. Harper, | would rather not.
will not cross the threshold Of that old house
much as | cherish a childish reccollection
of it-until l enter as its master, if ever | do
So And with these words he turned abrupt
ly away.
Clara and | now agreed that pride-a false,
perverted pride-waS the true key to the char
acter of this unhappy boy; and thought it
my duty to read him a long lecture on this
score, as well as on his evident insensibility
to the kindness and affection Of his estimable
guardian, an uncle, Mr.. Staunton. lie list
ened to me with perfect equanimity, and then
said, with a smile of, | will say, a most pro
vo}Iirg character:
lave you quite finished, Mr.. Harper?"
Quite" said |, sorrowfully.
Il nm obliged for your good intentions
DO you happen to know the amount Of the
rental Of the Stanton property p
"About fifteen thousand a year, or nearl y
sixteen, - said |, much surprised. But pray,
why do you ask ?'
Sir Frederick did not seem to hear Or heed
my query.
Fifteen thousand a year, or more, " he NUT
tered, abstractedly, land large accumulations,
l suppose. The stake is a high one, Many
a man has sold his soul for less"
And he sauntered off in a way that | could
not but feel excessively u~nbecoming and in
subordinate, considering our positions as tutor
and pupil. l did not get on very well with
my charge. My wife was still less pleased
with him, and took little pains to conceal her
displeasure. She cared sedulously for his
comforts, but as a matter Of duty, and we both
felt that his presence IN the house was dis
tasteful and wearisome. Yet he gave little or
no cause for open complaint. He was very
courteous to both Clara and me; uniformly
kind to the children, who were his staunch
friends kind to the servants who took an
unaocountablc fancy to him; kind to the dog,
whose whole allegiance was transferable him.
He read as much or as little as he pleased, and
at other times he went out alone, on horseback,
or on foot with his f~ishing-rod. and saught the
~loneliest and widest nook in the country
side.
Mr.. Staunton sometimes wrote to inquire
tenderly concerning his nephew's health and
studies and when | wrote in reply, | always
I dShtNl El IACtCllCh Il lit llttl any IilCoSA2CS
to send. but his answer was always q negative.
There seemed to be some charm in this
strange young man, visible to every one but
my wife and me, for soon the villagers began
to speak with praise to me of young Sir Fred
erick, and to express bright hopes of the time
when he should nave the control of his own
property. Then, too, [ heard for the first time
what was surely a c%alurnny, that MIR. Richard
Staunton was a hard landlord, merciIessly
stern in exacting the last farthing due, no
matter what might be the misfortunes of the
tenant.
Very strange, that but Clara and | agreed
that duty, and a care for his nephew's inter
ests, must be the ruling passion with our ben-
~efactor. One day, Clara overheard the child
rem whispering some garbled fragments of the
legend Of the ghostly monk who w~asrumored
to haunt the parsonage. They had heard an
old woman, Dame Bright, tell it to Sir Fred
erck when he stopped to chat with her at her
cottage door. Now it was this very Dame
Bright from whom ! had heard the wierd tale,
of which Clara had hitherto known nothing.
Clara, who was gentle enough in general, was
very angry now she was indignant With Sir
Frederick for frightening the children with
ghost stories, and vowed to give him a hearty
scoIding. But the scoIding was deferred,
for my queer pupil did not comc back at his
usual hour, did not come back to dinner and
when he did return at dusk, he was fatigued,
wettcd through by the storm of rain and hail,
and 50 haggard and wretched of aspect that
the Gliding words died away on Clara lips.
'.Dear me, how i'll the poor boy looks - ex-
claimed my wife, as the white, wan face of
our guest glanced past the open door. 'Do,
Philip, make him drink something hot, and
change his clothes at once. it's enough to
kill him"
And Clara, instead Of scolding Sir Frede-
rick, ran to bid Susan get a hot bath ready,
and warm the bed in the green room.
The next morning came, and the bell rang
for prayers and breakfast, but no Frederick
Staunton appeared. I went up stairs and
found the young man very i'll and feverish-
The doctor was summoned, and the doctor
came not a very learned doctor perhaps, but
of very wide practice in a thinly peopled coun-
try-a surgeon named Gooch.
"Ague, no doubt Of it" said Mr.. Gooch.
when the diagnosis was complete.
"Ague! You think so? said L,anxiously ;
and Clara, who was always in terror of measles
and scarlet fever, for the Titles ones sake.
echoed me.
Think so? Sure of it," said the surgeon.
I've been five and thirty years a practiti oner
and l ought to know. Pooh my dear madam
no danger-none. I'll set him on his LEGS
again in a iify.'
And with this pledge confidently spoken,
off cantered the doctor; and presently the
doctors boy came over on his ambling pony
with indictments. OF course l thought it
my duty to communicate what had happened,
by letter, to Mr.. Staunton. l told him Sir
Frederick had been caught in the rain, that
he had a slight attack of ague, that all posi-
bic care should be taken of him, and that the
experienced surgeon of the district felt certain
of a speedy cure. l added, TO calm Mr..
%Staunton's natural anxiety, that l would soon
write again.
I did soon write again, but not, alas {. to
communicate any tidings of a re-assuring