The illness of Millbank, the character of which soon transpired, and was soon exaggerated, attracted the public attention with increased interest to the circumstances out of which it had arisen, and from which the parties principally concerned had wished to have diverted notice. The sufferer, indeed, had transgressed the rules of the school by bathing at an unlicensed spot, where there were no expert swimmers in attendance, as is customary, to instruct the practice and to guard over the lives of the young adventurers. But the circumstances with which this violation of rules had been accompanied, and the assurance of several of the party that they had not themselves infringed the regulations, combined with the high character of Millbank, made the authorities not over anxious to visit with penalties a breach of observance which, in the case of the only proved offender, had been attended with such impressive consequences. The feat of Coningsby was extolled by all as an act of high gallantry and skill. It confirmed and increased the great reputation which he already enjoyed. ‘Millbank is getting quite well,’ said Buckhurst to Coningsby a few days after the accident. ‘Henry Sydney and I are going to see him. Will you come?’ ‘I think we shall be too many. I will go another day,’ replied Coningsby. So they went without him. They found Millbank up and reading. ‘Well, old fellow,’ said Buckhurst, ‘how are you? We should have come up before, but they would not let us. And you are quite right now, eh?’ ‘Quite. Has there been any row about it?’ ‘All blown over,’ said Henry Sydney; ‘C*******y behaved like a trump.’ ‘I have seen nobody yet,’ said Millbank; ‘they would not let me till to-day. Vere looked in this morning and left me this book, but I was asleep. I hope they will let me out in a day or two. I want to thank Coningsby; I never shall rest till I have thanked Coningsby.’ ‘Oh, he will come to see you,’ said Henry Sydney; ‘I asked him just now to come with us.’ ‘Yes!’ said Millbank, eagerly; ‘and what did he say?’ ‘He thought we should be too many.’ ‘I hope I shall see him soon,’ said Millbank, ‘somehow or other.’ ‘I will tell him to come,’ said Buckhurst. ‘Oh! no, no, don’t tell him to come,’ said Millbank. ‘Don’t bore him.’ ‘I know he is going to play a match at fives this afternoon,’ said Buckhurst, ‘for I am one.’ ‘And who are the others?’ inquired Millbank. ‘Herbert and Campbell.’ ‘Herbert is no match for Coningsby,’ said Millbank. And then they talked over all that had happened since his absence; and Buckhurst gave him a graphic report of the excitement on the afternoon of the accident; at last they were obliged to leave him. ‘Well, good-bye, old fellow; we will come and see you every day. What can we do for you? Any books, or anything?’ ‘If any fellow asks after me,’ said Millbank, ‘tell him I shall be glad to see him. It is very dull being alone. But do not tell any fellow to come if he does not ask after me.’