A Tale of a Lonely Parish | Page 3

Honourable Cornelius on the other hand had plenty of money. Short
was undeniably clever; Angleside was uncommonly dull. Short was the
son of a decayed literary man; Angleside was the son of a nobleman.
Short was by nature a hard worker; Angleside was amazingly idle.
Short meant to do something in the world; Angleside had early
determined to do nothing.

It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose
to receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil
on any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he
should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity
came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his
friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from his
education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been
the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had
got a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not
enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself
naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had
nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course,
married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His
wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had
sent to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly
taken the boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his
old friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend
Augustin considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and
being charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to
educate his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old
friend to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's
board, he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he
might at least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with
boundless gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the
small sum agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had
grown very fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from
his position. He possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely
a strong bent in one direction, and there was no doubt that he would
distinguish himself if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had
determined to give him. He had made up his mind that his old friend's
son should go to college and show what he was able to do. It was not
an easy thing to manage, but the vicar had friends in Cambridge and
John had brains; moreover the vicar and John were both very obstinate
people and had both determined upon the same plan, so that there was a
strong probability of their succeeding.
John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking

nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a
lucky face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of
honesty in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his
features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a
handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair
whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him,
which was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his
mouth too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at,
generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of
doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes
were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already
inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched
his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence
over the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way
of standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of
expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he
was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared
that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not
necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting
him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed
his own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was
merely laughed at, he would