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He was not long reaching the farm, and went cautiously up to the gate. Not a sound! not a light in any window! There was the great silver moon making everything as bright almost as day, and there was the slow munching of the cows in the adjoining orchard. Harry's heart rose higher. No dog! not a sign of him! He put his hand to open the gate. The latch stuck. He pushed harder; it flew open with a sharp click, and he had not time to listen whether the sound had been heard or no, when a dog's low growl solved the question.
He started back from the gate, which fell to with a loud crash. It was all up now. Out rushed the dog, barking fiercely, and off rushed Harry simultaneously. And naturally enough, too. It is not pleasant to be mauled by a huge mastiff.
Had the idea struck him, he would have kept at a respectful distance, and there waited in hopes that the baying of the dog would disturb the inmates of the house, and that on their coming out to discover the reason, he would gain his object of being let in.
But it is very doubtful whether a much older and, therefore, more thoughtful person than Harry would have considered anything but the fierceness of the dog, and the desirability of getting away as quickly, and as far, as possible.
So Harry bolted down the lane at headlong speed, while the dog, seeing the intruder depart, only uttered a few self-satisfied growls, and returned to his mat in the porch, conscious that he had done his duty. At the same moment, Mrs Valentine opened her window and put out a night-capped head into the moonlight, and craning it all round, to see what was the matter, and seeing nothing extraordinary, put it in again, with a slight shiver.
Good soul! how little she dreamt of the apparently-trifling episode enacted underneath her window! How gladly would she have welcomed the runaway frightened boy! And how different that boy's after life would have been had she but wakened sooner.
Meanwhile, Harry was stopping at the churchyard-gate. He longed to go in. He hesitated. On another occasion, and in his mother's lifetime, he would not have dared to go inside the wicket after dark. But now, now he was going away, he knew not where! Out into the world, and that seemed a very long way off to Harry. It was like another country. Besides, what would hurt him while she was there, he asked himself?
So, without more ado, he passed through the creaking gate, up the lime-tree avenue, heedless of the ghost-like shadows of the tombstones, and the rustle of the fragrant leaves.
It was soon found, that little grassy mound in the corner by the ivy-covered porch. And then he could bear up no longer. He burst into tears, and throwing himself on the dewy moonlit sward, wept bitterly.
"Oh, mamma, mamma, why did you die? why did you die? What shall I do?" he sobbed in a low, excited tone, "I'm so lonely, mamma! mamma!"
And the quiet night stole on, and the soft winds of June whispered over the motherless boy, weeping there alone in the churchyard.
The sound of footsteps! Harry jumped up and listened, eager, and frightened. The churchyard wicket was opened and shut again, and then he heard a steady measured tread of persons slowly approaching. He was riveted to the spot, and a cold perspiration broke upon his forehead. The steps were nearing, and then, rounding the corner of the tower, the new comers came into sight.
One look was enough, and Harry was off down the other path that led from the churchyard to the further end of the village.
It was only a funeral of a drowned man who had been picked up the previous night upon the shore of Wilton. But the dark, slow-moving figures of the bearers, and the flickering gleam of the lanthorns, made dim by the moonshine, froze his heart with terror, and drove him away from his mother's grave without one word of parting. Perhaps it was better so. It saved him the difficulty and sorrow of having to decide to say good-bye for ever to that grassy sleeping-place where slept the one so dear to him.
Away he ran, heedless, frightened, through the straggling remainder of the village. Not a light was burning, not a person stirring, which was fortunate, though he never paused to see; or think, but hastened on till he fancied he had gone miles; and then, seeing an inviting barn close by the roadside, turned in, and, worn out with fatigue and excitement, soon slept heavily in a low, broken manger full of hay -- a strange but welcome bed.
Chapter XV.
The Biters Bit.
Excitement in school -- Expecting a row -- The doctor speaks -- Deliberate falsehood -- The truth comes out -- The two culprits -- Manly confession -- Mr Franklyn speaks -- Honest shame -- Egerton convicted -- The doctor's speech -- Warburton caned -- Egerton birched -- Justification.
The bright fresh summer hour of seven, the following morning, was very different in the barn where Harry had taken up his abode to what it was at the grammar-school. In the former, it saw the tired lonely boy sleeping heavily, his face stained with tears; in the latter, a great stir and confusion. Campbell had run away. The search in the night had been fruitless; and to add to the general excitement, that morning the Examiner was to commence the viva voce part of the examination. The hour of preparation, from seven to eight, was not a very industrious one. Boys were too full of surmises, and Mr Prichard, who happened that morning to be in charge of the school-room, was too much disturbed about Harry's disappearance to pay much attention to the whispers which were spreading through the room. Breakfast, too, was by no means the usual ordinarily quiet meal.
The only boys who betrayed any symptoms of nervousness or uneasiness (all were excited, of course) were those who had joined Egerton and Warburton in their assault on Harry the previous night.
These looked guilty; but their ringleaders preserved the utmost coolness and indifference; and a casual observer, if asked, would have said, "Well, if there are two boys more than any others who certainly have nothing to do with the whole affair, those two are Egerton and Warburton."
So much for guilt, and the mask it can so well assume.
Before the nine o'clock bell had ceased ringing, every boy was in his place in the big school-room -- a rare occurrence, indeed -- waiting eagerly for the appearance of the Doctor. For boys like nothing better than a "row" when they themselves are not implicated. And remember, those who were so implicated were but an exceedingly small fraction of the whole number. What the guilty ones felt will best be known by those who have been in a similar position.
Dr Palmer entered with the Examiner, a fresh-coloured young man, in a very new gown, and a very new hood, thrown jauntily over his shoulders. The doctor was grave and stern, and looked at nobody. The Examiner played with his watch-chain, and looked at everybody, running his eyes rapidly along the different desks and forms. And the other masters followed in due order. And, when all were in their respective places, prayers were said, and Dr Palmer, amid breathless silence, spoke as follows:
"You are most of you, if not all, aware of what occurred last night. One of your number, Campbell, has, in a fit of rashness and haste, run away, and as yet has not been found. There must be some special reason for this;" and the Doctor paused and looked round the room. "I left him in my study at half-past seven last night, having his tea, and as happy as he could be under the sad circumstances of his mother's death." And his voice trembled; "On reaching home a few minutes after nine I find he has disappeared. The dormitory, in which he slept, is discovered in a disgraceful state of disorder and confusion. The boys who sleep there must have an explanation to give. On another matter with regard to Campbell, I shall have to speak presently." And again the dignified voice was broken with ill-concealed emotion. "Sit down, all of you, except those who sleep in No. 7 dormitory."
The order was obeyed, and the sixteen stood in their places, the observed of all eyes.
"Egerton, you are eldest in the dormitory. Did you do anything, or see anything done, that might provoke Campbell to this rash act?"
"No, sir; nothing at all," answered Egerton, fearlessly.
"You did not interfere with him in any way?"
Egerton hesitated. "No, sir, I didn't. I didn't even speak to him. It wasn't likely after what he said of me to you."
"That will do," said Doctor Palmer, in a strange tone. "You may sit down. Warburton!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Did you interfere with Campbell in any way last night?"
"No, sir, not at all," answered Warburton.
"Sit down!" again said the Doctor.
Two deliberate liars out of sixteen is a large proportion, and it is not to be supposed that there would be more such. The rest would either maintain a frightened silence or tell the truth. Fortunately, the boy next questioned was one of the latter class. And his fearless answer gave courage to the rest.
"Yes, sir, I did. I pulled his bed out into the room and upset it," answered Williams, when the same question was put to him. And before the Doctor could say a word, the remaining three implicated with Egerton, Warburton, and Williams, confessed their share in the matter. The rest denied, with truth, having done anything to Campbell, and were told to sit down.
Those who had confessed were then called into the centre of the room and further questioned as to who commenced the attack on Campbell, and what was the cause of it.
Williams looked at the other three who stood with him, and the three looked at Williams; and all got very red, and said nothing.
The Doctor repeated his question.
The boys hesitated, and looked doubtfully towards Egerton and Warburton, to see if they would come forward; but no! the two preserved the same stolid demeanour. So at length Williams told the whole story, not exculpating himself in the least degree, but only saying how sorry he was; and the others confirmed his statement.
"Egerton and Warburton, stand out. Do you hear what Williams says? Do you still deny the charge brought against you?"
The room was breathless. The two culprits turned deadly pale, and began to stammer out what was partially denial, partially excuse. And then in an abject tone implored forgiveness.
Doctor Palmer took no notice of their entreaties, but mentioned to them to stand by his desk. The other four he dismissed to their seats.
He then addressed the whole assemblage of boys and masters:
"I have now another matter of very serious moment to speak to you about. A great injustice has been done to Campbell -- an injustice which has in a measure contributed, I fear, to his reasons for running away. To set you an example of the manliness of confession, I tell you openly, and Mr Prichard wishes me to say the same for him, that we -- he and I -- have made a great mistake, and judged and punished Campbell unjustly. You will understand that I am referring to the book found in his possession during the examination. At the same time, I wish you all fully to understand that appearances went decidedly against Campbell, and evidence proved his guilt. And it was acting upon these appearances and this evidence that we punished him. Mr Franklyn, however, will kindly explain the matter to you;" and the Doctor sat down overcome by excitement and emotion.
And then Mr Franklyn (the Examiner), after a preliminary "ahem!" spoke to the boys in a clear ringing voice, going straight to the point without any introductory remarks.
"On Tuesday last I received the papers done by you on Monday morning. With those of the Lower Third Form came a note from Mr Prichard, saying that he had sent with the papers a book -- a Delectus translation ('Crib' as you would call it) -- which he had found in Campbell's possession during the examination. And he requested me, and very properly, too, to take the necessary steps respecting Campbell's place in his class. Here, however, Mr Prichard begs me to plainly state the mistake he made. He did not compare the papers sent in, with the translation of the book. This would at once have acquitted Campbell. For I at once emphatically say that, even if the book were his, he never used it during the examination. His work was correct, but boyish in style. The rendering of the book is the work of a man. So much, then, is clear, that of the charge of using the book during the examination, Campbell is perfectly innocent; and I only wish he were here to hear me say so."