was regarding him wildly, uncertain of his meaning.
"Shall we," cried Sir William, heartily, "bid the nymphs and dryads farewell forever, lad, and save our learning for Roderick Random and a bowl of cider and the bitter nights of December?"
His meaning was dawning upon me slowly, for what with the pain of my hand and the dizziness, I was perhaps more stupid than usual.
"No," said Sir William, with a thump of his fist on his knee, "the college which my Lord Dartmouth has endowed is a haven for those who seek it, not a prison for men to be driven to."
He paused.
"I should have sought it," he said, dropping his head. "No wilderness, no wintry terrors, neither French scalping parties nor the savages of all the Canadas could have kept me from instruction had I, in my youth, been favoured by the opportunity I offer you."
I gazed at him in silence while the blood, overrunning my leather pocket, ran down to my knee-buckles.
"I was poor, without means, without counsel, save for the letters Sir Peter Warren wrote me. I traded for my daily bread; I read Ovid by lighted pine splinters; I worked – God knows I worked my flesh to the bone."
He sat, fingering the bunch of scarlet feather-flies in his breast.
"Our Lord gives us according to our needs —when we take it," he said, without irreverence. "I could have gone to England, to Oxford; I had saved enough. I did neither; I did not take the instruction I wished for, and God did not teach me Greek in my dreams," he added, bitterly.
The blood was now stealing down my stocking towards my shoe. I turned the leg so he could not observe it.
"Come, lad," he said, brightening up; "learning lies not always between thumbed leaves. I only wish that you bear yourself modestly and nobly through the world; that you keep faith with men, that your word once given shall never be withdrawn.
"This is the foundation. It includes courage. Further than that, I desire you, once a purpose formed and a course set, to steer fearlessly to the goal.
"I know you to be brave and honest; I know you to be a very Mohawk in the forest; I believe you to be merciful and tender underneath that boy's thoughtless and cruel hide.
"As for learning, I can do no more for you than I have done and have offered to do. If it pleases you, you may go to England, and learn the arts, bearing, and deportment you can never acquire here with us. No? Well, then, stay with us. I want you, Micky. We Irish are fond of each other – and I am an old man now – I am nigh sixty years, Michael – sixty years of battle. I would be glad of rest – with those I love."
My heart was very soft now. I looked at Sir William with an affection I had never before understood.
"There is one last thing I wish to add," he said, gravely, almost sadly. "Perhaps I may again refer to it – but I pray that it may not be necessary."
I sat up and rubbed my eyes to clear them from the sickly faintness which stole upward from my throbbing hand.
"It is this," he continued, in a low voice. "If it ever comes to you to choose between his Majesty our King and – and your native land – which God forbid! – go to your closet and kneel down, and stay there on your knees, hours, days! – until you have learned your own heart. Then – then – God go with you, Michael Cardigan."
He rose, and his face was years older. Slowly the colour came back into his cheeks; he fumbled with the brass-work on his fish-rod, then smiled.
"That is all," he said; "let Pluto chase Proserpine to hell, lad; and a devilish good place they say it is for those who like it! Where is that ferret? What! Running about unmuzzled! Hey! Vix! Vix! Come here, little reptile!"
"I'll catch her, sir," said I, stumbling forward.
But as I laid my hand on Vix the floor rose and struck me, and there I lay sprawling and senseless, with the blood running over the floor; and Sir William, believing me bitten by the ferret, pouched the poor beast and lifted me to a bench.
He must have seen my hand, however, for, when a cup of cold water set me spluttering and blinking, I found my hand tied up in Sir William's handkerchief and Sir William himself eying me strangely.
"How came that wound?" he said, bluntly.
I could not reply – or would not.
He asked me again whether the ferret bit me, and I was tempted to say yes. Treachery was abhorrent to me; I hated Silver Heels, but could not betray her, and it was easy to clap the blame on Vix.
"Sir?" I stammered.
"I asked what bit you," he said, icily.
I tried to say Vix, but the lie, too, stuck in my throat.
"I cannot tell you," I muttered.
"Then," said Sir William, with a strange smile of relief, "I shall not force you, Michael. May I honourably ask you how you come by this jack-knife?"
I shook my head. My face was on fire.
"Very well," he said. "Only remember that you are a man, now – a man of sixteen, and that I have to-day treated you as a man, and shall continue. And remember that a man's first duty is to protect the weaker sex, and his second duty is to endure from them all taunts, caprice, and torments without revenge. It is a hard lesson to learn, Micky, and only the true and gallant gentleman can ever learn it."
He smiled, then said:
"Pray find our little Silver Heels and return to her the jack-knife, which was her wampum-belt of faith in the honour of a gentleman."
And so he walked away, smoothing the fur of the red-eyed ferret against his breast.
CHAPTER II
When Sir William left me in the school-room, he left a lad of sixteen puffed up in a glow of pride. To be treated no longer as a fractious child – to be received at last as a man among men!
And what would Esk say? And Silver Heels, poor little mouse harnessed in the stocks below?
I had entered the school-room that morning a lazy, sullen, defiant lad, heavy-hearted, with chronic resentment against the discipline of those who had sent me into a hateful trap from the windows of which I could see the young, thirsty year quaffing spring sunshine. Now I was free to leave the accursed trap forever, a man of discretion, responsible before men, exacting from other men the same courtesies, attentions, and considerations which I might render them.
What a change had come to me, all in one brief May morning! As I stood there, resting my bandaged hand in the palm of the other, looking about me to realize the fortune which set my veins tingling, a great tide of benevolent condescension for the others swept over me, a ripple of pity and good-will for the hapless children whose benches lay in a row before me.
I no longer detested Silver Heels. I walked on tiptoe to her bench. There lay her slate and slate-pen; upon it I read a portion of the longer catechism. There, too, lay her quill and inky horn and a foolscap book sewed neatly and marked:
Poor child, doomed for years still to steep her little fingers in ink-powder while, with the powder I should require hereafter, I
