Louis School Days | Page 3

the doctor's fame, as an
excellent man, and what, in the eyes of some was even a greater
recommendation, as a first-rate classical scholar, was spread far and

wide. At the door of this house, one fine April day, Louis presented
himself; and, after descending from the vehicle which brought him
from Bristol, followed the servant into the doctor's dining-room, where
we will leave him in solitary grandeur, or, more correctly speaking, in
agitating expectation, while we take a peep at the room on the opposite
side of the hall. In this, Dr. Wilkinson was giving audience to a
gentleman who had brought back his little boy a few minutes before
Louis arrived. Having some private business to transact, the child was
sent to the school-room, and then Mr. Percy entered into a discussion
respecting the capabilities of his son, and many other particulars, which,
however interesting to himself, would fail of being so to us.
At length these topics were exhausted, and it seemed nearly decided
how much was to be done or discontinued in Master Percy's education.
Mr. Percy paused to consider if any thing were left unsaid.
"Oh! by the by, Dr. Wilkinson," he said, letting fall the pencil with
which he had been tapping the table during his cogitations, "you have
one of Sir George Vernon's grandsons with you, I believe?"
"Two of them," replied the doctor.
"Ah! indeed, I mean young Mortimer, son of Mr. Mortimer of
Dashwood."
"I have his eldest son, and am expecting another to-day."
"Then it was your expected pupil that I saw this morning," said Mr.
Percy.
"May I ask where?" said the doctor.
"At the White Lion. He came down by the London coach. I saw his
trunk, in the first place, addressed to you, and supposed him to be the
young gentleman who attained to some rather undesirable notoriety last
year."
"How so?" asked the doctor.

"Oh! he very ungenerously and artfully endeavored to retain for himself
the honor of writing a clever little essay, really the work of his brother,
and actually obtained a prize from his grandfather for it."
"How came that about?" asked Dr. Wilkinson.
"Oh! there was some mistake in the first instance, I believe, and the
mean little fellow took advantage of it."
Mr. Percy then gave a detailed account of Louis' birthday at Heronhurst,
and concluded by saying--
"I was not present, but I heard it from a spectator; I should be afraid
that you will not have a little trouble with such a character."
"It is extraordinary," said the doctor; "his brother is the most frank,
candid fellow possible."
"I hear he is a nice boy," said Mr. Percy. "There is frequently great
dissimilarity among members of the same family; but of course, this
goes no further. It is as well you should know it,--but I should not talk
of it to every one."
Dr. Wilkinson bowed slightly, and remained silent, without exhibiting
any peculiar gratification at having been made the depository of the
secret. Mr. Percy presently rose and took his leave; and Dr. Wilkinson
was turning towards the staircase, when a servant informed him that a
young gentleman waited to see him in the dining-room.
"Oh!" said the doctor to himself, "my dilatory pupil, I presume."
He seemed lost in thought for a minute, and then slowly crossing the
hall, entered the dining-room.
Louis had been very anxious for the appearance of his master, yet
almost afraid to see him; and when the door opened, and this gentleman
stood before him, he was seized with such a palpitation as scarcely to
have the power of speech.

Dr. Wilkinson was certainly a person calculated to inspire a school-boy
with awe. He was a tall, dignified man, between fifty and sixty years of
age, with a magnificent forehead and good countenance: the latter was
not, however, generally pleasing, the usual expression being stern and
unyielding. When he smiled, that expression vanished; but to a
new-comer there was something rather terrible in the compressed lips
and overhanging eyebrows, from under which a pair of the keenest
black eyes seemed to look him through.
Louis rose and bowed on his master's entrance.
"How do you do, Mortimer?" said the doctor, shaking hands with him.
"I dare say you are tired of waiting. You have not seen your brother, I
suppose?"
"No, sir," replied Louis, looking in the stern face with something of his
customary simple confidence. Doctor Wilkinson smiled, and added,
"You are very like your father,--exceedingly like what he was at your
age."
"Did you know him then, sir?" asked Louis, timidly.
"Yes, as well as I hope to know you in a short time. What is your
name?"
"Louis Francis, sir."
"What! your father's name--that is just what it should be. Well, I hope,