University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
MR. DON FOLLOWS IT UP A LITTLE.

Hanging on the staircase was a very tolerable
painting, on a large scale, of the Acropolis at Athens,
and its ruins, by moonlight. Further up, on the same
wall, was a smaller painting of the Field of Marathon.

Upon each of these, whether intending it or without
any thought, the lively Trustee turned his eyes in passing.
So, too, he looked in passing upon two engravings
of the Coliseum and the Tomb of Adrian, which were
hung upon the opposite wall of the upper entry. He
smelt of one of the flowers, and plucked a leaf from
one of the geraniums, which were standing in tiers in
a sunny bay-window at the front of the entry; but he
scarcely made the slightest pause until, with a familiar
and assured tread, he reached a door, which he gently
and slowly opened to himself, passing into the room
beyond. Here he did stand still.

The character of this room which the Trustee had so
confidently entered would have declared itself to any
intelligent eye; for books, on their shelves, made its
chief furniture and ornament. These were arranged,
not straight along its sides, and from floor to ceiling,
but in double cases, standing out as wings from the
walls and reaching about two-thirds up, having books
on the two sides and one end.

Busts and statuettes stood atop of the several cases,
and behind and above these the room on the walls was
given to handsome photographs and engravings. A
long black cross occupied the middle of the chimney,
with a strong-lined engraving of Rubens's Descent
from the Cross on one side, and a like engraving of
Raphael's Transfiguration on the other. Underneath
the cross was an illuminated legend, “ Γίνου πιστός .”[1]

Perhaps a single intelligent glance would have taken
in all this; and there was a moment or two that the
Trustee lingered after coming inside the room, for the
gentleman who was busy at the study-table took no
notice of his entrance. Presently, without looking up,
the student asked, “Who's there?”

“It's I, sir,” said the Trustee, with a gentle voice and
in unexceptionable grammar, such as became an official
of a great institution of learning, “Mr. Don. I didn't
wish to disturb you. How is Mrs. Warren, sir? She's
well, I hope? and the children? I wanted to inquire,
sir, if any one — a foreign gentleman — had been to
see you this afternoon.”

Mr. Warren laid down, open, a book on which he
was engaged, and turned round to his visitor, deliberately,
a large-eyed, thoughtful face, of thirty four or
five years, needing a moment to bring his eyes to
bear.

“Oh, Mr. Don, excuse me!” he said, smiling at the
other's eagerness. “You came in so quietly that I
thought it must be one of the family. No; no one has
been here.”

“You were not far wrong, sir, I believe,” said the
social Trustee. “I presume all who are connected with

Saint Bartholomew's School are, in one sense, of a
family: are they not, sir? Have you a few moments
to spare (I'll lay my things down here, if you please,”
proceeding to dispose of his hat and gloves, with much
kindness and courtesy, on the study-table, and seating
himself near them) — “for something,” he then added,
“which has an interest for us all, I think.”

An announcement of this kind made a strong claim
for attention; and Mr. Warren assented, very readily
and definitely, and turned his open book, whose leaves
had been a little fluttered by Mr. Don's movements,
over upon its face, and sat all ready to hear.

“I was very happy, sir,” continued Mr. Don, seriously,
as if he were beginning an autobiography (and
Mr. Warren listened with proportionate respect), — “I
don't know what you may think of it, — in being on the
spot as a representative of Saint Bartholomew's School,
when something happened which, I think, may prove
an entering-wedge, — a turning-point, perhaps, sir, in
the history of young Brade.” (At this name his hearer
looked still more curious for what was to follow.)
“Young Brade, you know, when he came to us was
reported as fatherless and motherless, if I am not mistaken?
I believe the conclusion now is, that he's a
young nobleman from abroad, — ah! of course from
abroad, if he's a young nobleman at all, for we don't
have them here.”

By this time his listener had changed his attitude,
and his expression had become a mixed one of amusement
and annoyance. As Mr. Don was about beginning
again after this correction of himself, Mr. Warren
said decidedly: —

“Oh, no; no, no! he's a particularly fine little fellow,

but I don't think there's any such mystery about Brade.
I know some nonsense has been talked about him, in
Eastham, — fun of Mr. Greenwood's, probably, — and
the boys have got up wonderful fancies;” but, after
this rather unsympathizing dash of cold upon Mr.
Don's account of his marvellous incident, he stopped.

Mr. Don himself was for a moment quite taken
aback; indeed, it might well be asked, Now, even if
Mr. Warren's mind, being sedentary and studious, was
not so active as those of others in inquiry, why should
he feel inclined to set himself against so natural and
reasonable an opinion? Mr. Don's face was clouded.

“Pardon me, sir:” he said, when he began to recover
himself, and with a look of honest astonishment at the
backwardness of the Head of the School in information
about a boy under his charge which the community
about him were well advanced in. “I thought it was
taken for granted that there was a mystery about the
boy, although we possessed a clue to it, or to a part
of it.”

“Oh!” said the Rector of the School, pleasantly, “I
won't go so far as to say that there is nothing which
might be called a sort of mystery in the case. I'm
only saying that I'm sure there isn't a particle of that
particular mystery about him.”

“In your opinion, sir, if I may be allowed to suggest,”
said the Trustee, very gravely, proposing a correction;
“but I must be pardoned if I can't quite agree
with you, sir. I'm surprised that there should be so
great a difference.” Then he added very patiently,
“Perhaps you will allow me to give an account of the
adventure in which I was a party myself, and which is
certainly not a little remarkable. It may affect your

own opinion, sir. I hold in my hand an important
testimony to the character of the stranger,” and he produced
what seemed a letter, or the envelope of a letter.

“Of course,” said the Rector of the School, cheerfully,
“I shall be glad to hear about the adventure, by all
means;” and (having for whatever reason committed
himself already to the other side) he looked both amused
and curious.

“We may differ, sir, as to the bearing of the incident,”
said Mr. Don, who was at no loss for well-chosen
words; “but I think we shall hardly differ as to its
interest and importance. As I came up toward the
School, about half an hour ago, I observed quite a
foreign-looking gentleman — a man of distinction, I
think I may say, sir — standing at the front door, looking
at our emblem. I offered my services, and told
him the character of our institution. At the time, a
number of boys were playing on the upper ground: he
singled out Brade, and asked if he might speak with
him; said a great deal to him about his name, and said
there was a mystery about it, which Brade would find
out some day; said that Brade was like his father in
being fond of play. Oh! I almost forgot, sir: he said
it was his first wish to see Brade, and he gave the boy
a Greek sentence, as he said, `for his name.' The Greek
was very striking, sir. If all I supposed was Greek
was Greek, he talked it as I talk English. The remarkable
thing about that is, that Greek, if I'm not
misinformed (perhaps you can instruct me better, sir),
is the language of the Greek Church, — I should say,
of the Russian Church. That seems to me an important
item, sir.”

During the telling of this story, Mr. Warren's look

of amused curiosity had undergone some change, and
he now looked a little puzzled besides.

“If it had been so, why should he say so much, and
yet say no more? And did this remarkable foreigner
say all this before you?” he asked.

“Not exactly before me, sir, — I was at some distance.”

“He was at the house-door?” asked Mr. Warren,
again.

“But he wouldn't come in, sir. I asked him, of
course, and he made a pretence of inquiring whether
this was a hotel.”

“People do that, now and then: we're a big building,
and look something like it, outside; and we were a
famous hotel, you know, once.”

“But you see, sir,” said the Trustee, who looked
deeper into things, “he would very naturally do that,
if he was desirous of concealment.”

Mr. Warren smiled; but it may have been that the
Trustee was too much taken up with what he was telling,
to see the smile.

“And where's the wonderful paper that he gave
Brade for his name?” asked the Rector of St. Bart's
School.

“Yes, sir,” said the Trustee, with alacrity, “I took the
precaution; but I would first take the liberty of suggesting,
sir, might it not be well, in view of the peculiar
character of the case, to send Mr. Stout after him? A
little attention, perhaps, might not be altogether thrown
away. Beside the immediate result to Brade, I see the
possibility of an important connection for our school
in the future.” (Mr. Don was a business man.)

“But, if he declined to come in, I don't think we

can well force him in, can we? He's gone away?”
said Mr. Warren. “If he had wished to come in, I
should have been glad to see him.”

“Yes, sir: he's gone away; but it'll be an hour or
two before he can take the cars for Weston,” said Mr.
Don, taking out and consulting his watch.

“He's going to Weston, then, is he?”

“Yes, sir: `to see the manufactories,' he said; though
I suppose it would be easy to explain that consistently
with the theory: he comes here first and sees Brade,
and then says `he has made a mistake, and is on his
way to see the Weston factories.' I should say that
might be easily reconciled: doesn't it strike you so,
sir? It seems to me nothing is simpler,” said the Trustee,
with much animation over a living secret involving
foreigners (perhaps, too, foreigners of the most exalted
rank) which was now passing toward its discovery, in
open air, through the channel of his own intelligence.
“Perhaps, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for you,
sir, to make a chance for a few words with him, you
would easily” —

“No,” said the Rector, with singular indifference to
the opportunity, “I think I won't do any thing about
him. You've got the paper that you were going to
show me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Don, with less animation, “I
took the precaution (you think nothing is to be done,
sir) to go round the house and head Brade. It was
then he disappeared. I made this copy, however,
hastily,” — and here he presented an envelope. “If
it will give you too much trouble, sir,” he added, in a
tone of disappointment, “Mr. Parmenter, I know, has
Greek dictionaries.”

“Oh! I'll give what help I can; but why not the
paper itself, instead of a copy?”

“Why not, indeed, sir? You remind me; I didn't
think of that. I'll get it, and return it to the boy;”
and Mr. Don disappeared, after snatching up his hat
and gloves, and bowing to the Rector of the School, who
was sitting at the moment thinking, and smiling at his
thought.

Mr. Warren, now, as his visitor was departing, recalled
himself, and turned to his work again.