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“In ordinary cases, perhaps.” Irving’s tone did not invite questioning, and he did not confide to Barclay what extraordinary case he had under consideration. When he reached his room, he wrote out on a slip of paper, “Westby, insolence and disorder in class, three sheets,” and laid the paper on his desk.
Westby set about airing the story for the benefit of the table, appealing now and then to Irving himself for confirmation of the passages which were least gratifying to Irving’s vanity. “You did look so woe-begone when you stood up on shore, Mr. Upton,” was the genial statement which Irving especially resented.
“It’s great to see you again, Lawrence,” said Irving. He could not help being a little conscious and constrained, with so many eyes upon him. He tucked one hand in his brother’s arm and with the other reached for Lawrence’s bag. Lawrence laughed, and with hardly an effort detached it from Irving’s grasp. “You carry that, you little fellow! I guess not,” he said.
Now and then in his morning classes Irving’s thoughts would wander, there would be a gentle rush of excitement in his veins. He would turn his mind firmly back to his work; he did not do any less well that day because his heart was singing happily. In three hours more—in two—in one—he was going to see Lawrence again; he wondered if he would find his brother much changed.
The author himself did not believe in “Old Scratch.” The real devils for him were the slave-traders and the witch-hunters of Salem fame. It is interesting now to read a contemporary critic of Washington Irving’s devil-story: “If Mr.
The crowd as it entered thinned; Irving was beginning to hope that Westby and Carroll had gone elsewhere,—and then, just as Mr. Randolph was mounting to the head table on the dais, two boys slipped in and stood at the seats at Irving’s right. He recognized them as having been two of the three who had laughed when he had proclaimed himself a master.
The fact that the French author resisted Sir Henry Irving’s pressing invitations to visit him in no way indicates a lack of interest in the success of the play.
Only two months had passed since they had parted; yet in that time how remote Lawrence had grown in Irving’s eyes from the Lawrence of the Ohio farm! The bell announcing the noon recess rang; Irving dismissed his last class.
Irving’s lips twitched; Westby was enjoying so thoroughly his revenge! And the other boys were all stifling their amusement. “We are said not to look very much alike,” he answered. “He is of a somewhat heavier build.” “He must be somewhat lacking, then, in grace and agility, sir,” said Westby; and the boys broke into a shout, and Irving gave way to a faint smile.
For a few moments Irving’s thoughts were diverted from his brother, and his joyous excitement was overshadowed by regret. He felt less indignant with Westby than sorry for him; he knew that the boy had repented of his hasty and intemperate words. If he would only come up and acknowledge it—so that he might be forgiven! Then Irving put Westby out of his mind. St.
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