Burr Junior Part 69

There was again a painful silence, and I stood there, shrinking, but with a hot feeling of anger swelling within me, waiting for Tom Mercer to speak out and save me from disgrace. And with this hot tide of bitterness and rage that I should be so doubted and suspected, came a feeling of obstinacy that was maddening, while something within me seemed to say, "They would not believe you if you spoke."

"No," said the Doctor at last, "I am afraid that you cannot; and I now address myself to you, Burr junior. Do you confess that you are guilty?"

"No, sir," I cried angrily, "I am not!" and again there was silence.

"I think I will give you time for reflection," said the Doctor. "Mr Rebble, I place Burr junior in your charge. Of course he must be secluded. I, too, want time for reflection before sending word to the unhappy lad's friends--a most painful task--a most painful task."

He walked slowly toward the steps, and a fresh feeling of excitement surged up within me. I wanted to speak now--to say something in my own defence, as I thought of the Doctor's letter going to my mother, and of her agony, then of my uncle learning this, and coming over. It seemed too terrible, and I tried to call the Doctor back, but no words would come. I saw him descend slowly, and Mr Hasnip sign to the boys to follow, after which, giving me a sad look, he too descended, leaving me alone with Mr Rebble, whose first words were so stern and harsh that I could not turn to him and confide and ask his sympathy and help.

"This way, sir," he said sharply, and without a word I followed him down and across the stable-yard, pa.s.sing cook at the door ready to give me a pitying glance for being in disgrace.

Then, as if it was all a dream, I was led into the house, and up-stairs to a small room containing only one bed--a room whose window looked out away toward the General's estates.

The door was closed behind me without a word, and as I stood there I heard it locked and the key withdrawn, followed by Mr Rebble's footsteps along the pa.s.sage, and then I threw myself down on the bed in a pa.s.sion of rage against Mercer.

"You coward!" I cried, and as I ground my teeth I indulged in a wish that I could have him there.

"Oh!" I cried, "only for half an hour, and then--" I did not finish my sentence, but bounded off the bed to stand up there alone, unconsciously enough in the position Lomax had taught me, and with my left hand raised to strike.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

It was very different to be a prisoner now alone. I longed for Mercer's companions.h.i.+p, but it was so that I might punish him for what I again and again called his miserable cowardice, which seemed to me to make his crime ten times worse. And so I walked up and down the little room restlessly, thinking over the times when my school-fellow had talked about the watch, and his intense longing to possess it, or such a one.

Nothing could be plainer. He had given way at last, and taken it on that unlucky day when he was hanging about talking to me as I lay on the gra.s.s with my head throbbing, and then walking away toward the tent or to where he could get a good look at the cricketers.

"Too much for him," I said,--"too much for him, and I am to take the credit of his theft. But I will not. If he is such a mean coward as to let me take his stealing on my shoulders, he is not worth sparing, and he shall take the credit for himself--upon his own shoulders and not mine."

"Oh, what an a.s.s I have been ever to make friends with such a fellow!"

I cried, after a pause. "I ought to have known better. Never mind, I do know better now, and to-morrow morning I'll ask to see the Doctor, and I'll tell him everything, and--get him expelled!"

That set me thinking once more about his people at home, and as I did, I began to waver, and call to mind how terrible it would be, and that I liked him too well in spite of all.

For I did like him. I had never had a brother, and he had seemed to fill his place, so that now, for the first time, I fully understood how we two lads had become knit together, and how terribly hard it would be to speak out.

I sat down by the window at last, to let the cool breeze play upon my aching temples, and as I leaned my head against the side, the cheery voices of the boys in the field floated up to me, to make me more wretched still.

"It's nothing to them," I said to myself. "n.o.body there cares, and Eely and d.i.c.ksee were only too glad to have their revenge upon me. I don't know, though," I said; "they both thought I took the watch, and believed all they said. But it was a triumph for them."

I sat thinking.

"I wonder what Lomax will say? Will he believe that I am a common thief?

"What is Tom doing now? Out at play, I suppose, and glorying in his escape. He knows I would not be such a sneak as to tell, and thinks I shall bear it all patiently--too ready to spare him, or too cowardly to say a word."

I was interrupted by steps, and in my misery I hoped that they would pa.s.s the door, but a key was thrust in, and I caught a glimpse of Mr Rebble, who waited outside while one of the maids brought in my tea on a tray,--a plain mug, and a plate of bread and b.u.t.ter; then she gave me a look of commiseration, making my cheeks burn, as I wondered whether she knew that I was shut up because people thought I was a thief, and unfit to a.s.sociate with the other boys. But no word was spoken; she pa.s.sed out, the door was shut and locked, and I rested my aching head once more against the side of the window, the very sight of food making me feel disgust; and there I stayed for how long I cannot say, but at last I started up, puzzled and wondering, to find that I must have dropped asleep, regularly wearied out, and that it was growing dusk, and the moon, like a thin curved streak, was sailing down in the faint glow of the heavens, not far from where the sun had gone.

I s.h.i.+vered a little, for I was cold, but my head was better, and I began to go over the events of the afternoon again, wondering whether the Doctor would send for me in the morning, to say that Mercer had confessed, and that he was glad to be able once more to take me by the hand.

Just then I heard a faint sigh, apparently coming up from the garden, and I involuntarily looked down, but could see nothing.

The sigh rose again, and now I was able to locate it in a clump of evergreens at the edge of the lawn. But I could see nothing save green leaves; and started again and drew back a little a few minutes later, as the sigh was again repeated, this time followed by a faint whisper, and I heard my name.

"Frank--Frank Burr. Hist!"

"Yes; who called?" I said.

"Me. Can't you hear? Tom--Tom Mercer."

I was silent, and stood, feeling hot and angry, gazing down into the grounds.

"Frank!" came up again. "I say!"

I remained silent.

"Have you got any string? Let a piece down."

I knew what that meant. He had been to the kitchens and was going to send me up some supper. In other words, he was going to try and smooth over his despicable behaviour.

"A coward! A sneak! I hate him!" I muttered, as I stood there close to the window, as if unable to drag myself away, but listening greedily all the while, as Mercer went on in an excited whisper, insulting me, as I called it.

"Oh, I say, do speak, Frank," he said. "I can't stop long, and there'd be a row if any one knew I came to you. I am so sorry, Frank. I've been down to Polly Hopley's, and bought a lot of her turnovers and some sweet tuck. I want to send it up to you. Haven't you any string?"

I made no reply.

"Frank! I say: I know: tear up your handkerchiefs. I'll give you some of mine to make up. Tie the bits together so as to make a long string, and let it down. Frank!"

"Go away, you miserable, cowardly sneak!" I cried pa.s.sionately; "and never dare to speak to me again."

He was silent for a few minutes, as if stunned by my fierce words. Then he began again.

"Oh, I say," he whispered, "don't turn on a chap like that when he was going to stick to you. I couldn't help it."

I knew that the temptation had been too strong for him, but I was none the less bitter against him, and my wrath reached its climax soon after, when he said eagerly,--

"I say, Frank, I am indeed so sorry! and I'd have said it was I did it, if it would have got you off; but they wouldn't have believed me."

_Bang_!

That was the window, which, in my pa.s.sion at his coolness, I shut down with all my might, and then went and threw myself on the bed, with my head aching violently, and the sensation of misery increasing, so that at times I felt as if I must try and break open the door, creep down in the night, and run away somewhere--anywhere, so as to end the trouble I was in.

I never knew when, but I suppose the throbbing in my head must have lulled a little, and I once more dropped off to sleep, to wake up with a start in the darkness, wondering where I was, and whether I had been having a confused dream about a watch being stolen, and some one getting into trouble. Who it was I could not quite tell, for my head ached, I felt sick, and everything was confused and strange.

While I was trying hard to collect myself, I suppose I must have dropped to sleep again, for when I next opened my eyes, the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly, and, light-hearted and eager, I jumped off the bed to run and open the window, but, as my feet touched the floor, memory began to come back with its heavy load of misery.

Why was I dressed even to my boots? Why was I in a fresh room? Where was Tom Mercer?