Fiction > Serialisations > London, 1896-1897 - St. Ives > Volume 10

ST. IVES. 327
hound us together with a closeness heyontl that of mere comrades was a secret to
which we were all committed and a design in which all were equally engaged. No
need to inquire as to its nature : there is only one desire, and only one kind of
design, that blooms in prisons. And the fact that our tunnel was near done
supported and inspired us.
1 came off in public, as I have said, with flying colours; the sittings of the
court of inquiry died away like a tune that no one listens to ; and yet I was
unmasked — I, whom my very adversary defended, as good as confessed, as good
as told the nature of the quarrel, and by so doing prepared for myself in the
future a most anxious, disagreeable adventure. It was the third morning after
the duel, and Goguelat was still in life, when the time came round for me to give
Major Chevenix a lesson. I was fond of this occupation ; not that he paid me
much — no more, indeed, than eighteenpence a month, the customary figure, being
a miser in the grain ; but because I liked his breakfasts and (to some extent)
himself. At least, he was a man of education ; and of the others with whom 1
had any opportunity of speech, those that would not have held a book upside-
down would have torn the pages out for pipelights. For I must repeat again that
our body of prisoners was exceptional : there was in Edinburgh Castle none of
that educational busyness that distinguished some of the other prisons, so that men
entered them unable to read, and left them fit for high employments. Chevenix
was handsome, and surprisingly young to be a major : six feet in his stockings,
well set up, with regular features and very clear grey eyes. It was impossible to
pick a fault in him, and yet the sum-total was displeasing. Perhaps he was too
clean ; he seemed to bear about with him the smell of soap. Cleanliness is good,
but I cannot bear a man's nails to seem japanned. And certainly he was too
self-possessed and cold. There was none of the fire of youth, none of the swiftness
of the soldier, in this young ofificer. His kindness was cold, and cruel cold ; his
deliberation exasperating. And perhaps it was from this character, which is very
much the opposite of my own, that even in these days, when he was of service
to me, I approached him with suspicion and reserve.
I looked over his exercise in the usual form, and marked six faults.
" H'm. Six," says he, looking at the paper. "Very annoying! I can never
get it right."
"Oh, but you make excellent progress!" I said. I would not discourage him,
you understand, but he was congenitally unable to learn French. Some fire, I
think, is needful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds.
He put the exercise down, leaned his chin upon his hand, and looked at me
with clear, severe eyes.
" I think we must have a little talk," said he.
" I am entirely at your disposition," I replied ; but I quaked, for I knew what
subject to expect.
" You have been some time giving me these lessons," he went on, " and I am
tempted to think rather well of you. I believe you are a gentleman."
" I have that honour, sir," said I.
" You have seen me for the same period. I do not know how I strike you ;
but perhaps you will be prepared to believe that I also am a man of honour,"
said he.
" I require no assurances ; the thing is manifest," and I bowed.
" Very well, then," said he. " What about this Goguelat ? "
" You heard me yesterday before the court," I began. " I was awakened
only "