Cashel Byron's Profession
Moncrief House, Panley Common. Scholastic establishment for the sons
of gentlemen, etc.
Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of Moncrief House, is a
tract of grass, furze and rushes, stretching away to the western
horizon.
One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken clouds, and the
common was swept by their shadows, between which patches of green
and yellow gorse were bright in the broken sunlight. The hills to
the northward were obscured by a heavy shower, traces of which were
drying off the slates of the school, a square white building,
formerly a gentleman's country-house. In front of it was a well-kept
lawn with a few clipped holly-trees. At the rear, a quarter of an
common could hear, at certain hours, a hubbub of voices and racing
footsteps from within the boundary wall. Sometimes, when the
strollers were boys themselves, they climbed to the coping, and saw
on the other side a piece of common trampled bare and brown, with a
few square yards of concrete, so worn into hollows as to be unfit
for its original use as a ball-alley. Also a long shed, a pump, a
door defaced by innumerable incised inscriptions, the back of the
house in much worse repair than the front, and about fifty boys in
tailless jackets and broad, turned-down collars. When the fifty boys
perceived a stranger on the wall they rushed to the spot with a wild
halloo, overwhelmed him with insult and defiance, and dislodged him
projectiles as were at hand.
On this rainy spring afternoon a brougham stood at the door of
Moncrief House. The coachman, enveloped in a white india-rubber
coat, was bestirring himself a little after the recent shower.
Within-doors, in the drawing-room, Dr. Moncrief was conversing with
a stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly dressed, of
attractive manner, and only falling short of absolute beauty in her
complexion, which was deficient in freshness.
"No progress whatever, I am sorry to say," the doctor was remarking.
"That is very disappointing," said the lady, contracting her brows.
"It is natural that you should feel disappointed," replied the
placing him at some other--" The doctor stopped. The lady's face had
lit up with a wonderful smile, and she had raised her hand with a
bewitching gesture of protest.
"Oh, no, Dr. Moncrief," she said. "I am not disappointed with YOU;
but I am all the more angry with Cashel, because I know that if he
makes no progress with you it must be his own fault. As to taking
him away, that is out of the question. I should not have a moment's
peace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him very
seriously about his conduct before I leave to-day. You will give him
another trial, will you not?"