Julian Home | Page 9

form together, and Julian was in his sixteenth year. It was one March morning, when, shortly after they entered the school-room, the school "Custos" came in and handed to the master a letter--
"It's for Mister Home, sir, by telegraph."
The master called Julian, (whose heart beat quick when he heard his name), and said to him--
"Perhaps you had better take it out of the room, Home, before you read it, as it may contain something important."
With a grateful look for this considerate kindness, Julian took the hint, and leaving the room, tore open the message, which was from his mother--
"Dear Julian--Come home instantly; your father is most dangerously ill. I cannot add more."
The boys heard a cry, and the master made a sign to Lillyston, who had already started to his feet. Springing out of the unclosed door, he found Julian half-fainting; for his home affections were the very mainsprings of his life. He read the message, helped Julian down-stairs, flung a little cold water over his face, and then led him to their own study, where he immediately began, without a word, to pack up for him such things as he thought he would require.
Lillyston made all the necessary arrangements, and did not leave his friend until he had seen him into the railway carriage, and pressed his hand with a silent farewell. He watched the train till it was out of sight.
Then first did Julian's anguish find vent in tears. Passionately he longed at least to know the worst, and would have given anything to speed the progress of the train, far too slow for his impatient misery. He was tormented by remembering the unusually solemn look and tone with which his father had parted from him a month before, and by the presentiment which at that moment had flashed across him with uncontrollable vividness, that they should never meet again. At last, at last they reached Ildown late in the evening, just as the flushed glare of crimson told the death-struggle of an angry sunset with the dull and heavy clouds. The station was a mile from the town, and it was a raw, gusty, foggy evening. There was no conveyance at the station, but leaving with the porter a hasty direction about his luggage, Julian flew along the road heedless of observation, reached the cliff, and at length stood before the rectory door. He was wet, hungry, and exhausted, for since morning he had tasted nothing, and his run had spattered him with mud from head to heel. It was too dark to judge what had happened from the appearance of the house, and half-frantic as he was with fear and eagerness, he had yet not dared to give a loud summons at the door, lest he should disturb his father's slumber or excite his nerves.
Ah! Julian, you need not restrain your impetuous dread from that cause now--
The door opened very quietly, and in reply to Julian's incoherent question, the good old servant only shook her head, and turned away to brush off with her apron the tears which she vainly struggled to repress. But the boy burst into the study where he knew that the rest would be, and in another moment his arm was round his mother's neck, while Cyril and Violet and little Frank drew close and wept silently beside them both. But still Julian knew not or would not know the full truth, and at last he drew up courage to ask the question which had been so long trembling on his lips--
"Is there no hope, mother, no hope?"
"Don't you know then, my boy? Your father is--"
"Not dead," said Julian, in a hollow voice. "Oh, mother, mother, mother."
His head drooped on her shoulder the news fell on him like a horrible blow, and, stunned as he was with weariness and anxiety, all sense and life flowed from him for a time.
The necessity for action and the consolation of others are God's blessed remedies to lull, during the first intolerable moments, the poignancy of bereavement. Mrs Home had to soothe her children, and to see that they took needful food and rest; and she watched by the bedside of her younger boys till the silken swathe of a soft boyish sleep fell on their eyes, red and swollen with many tears. Then she saw Violet to bed, and at last sat down alone with her eldest son, who by a great prayerful effort aroused himself at last to a sense of his position.
He took her hand in his, and said in a low whisper, "Mother, let me see him?"
"Not now, dearest Julian; wait till to-morrow, for our sakes."
"What was the cause of death, mother?"
"Disease of the heart;" and once more the widow's strength seemed likely to give way. But this time it was Julian's