CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
AN ACT OF FOLLY.
Bedtime at last, and as Dexter bade the doctor and his daughter"good-night," it seemed to him that they had never spoken so kindly tohim, and the place had never appeared to be so pleasant and homelikebefore.
His heart sank as he went up to his room, and he felt as if he could notgo away. The lessons Mr Limpney had given him to write out were notdone; but he had better stop and face him, and every other trouble,including the window he had broken, and never owned to yet.
It was impossible to go away and leave everybody who was so kind. Aharsh word would have kept him to the point; but now he wavered as hesat down on the edge of his bed, with his mind in a whirl.
Then, as he sat there, he pictured in his own mind the figure of BobDimsted, waiting for him, laden with articles of outfit necessary fortheir voyage, and behind Bob loomed up bright sunny scenes by sea andland; and with his imagination once more excited by all that the boy hadsuggested, Dexter blinded himself to everything but the object he had inview.
He had planned in his own mind what he would take with him, but now ithad come to the point he felt a strange compunction. Everything hepossessed seemed to him as if it belonged to the doctor, and, finally,he resolved to take nothing with him but the clothes in which he stood.
He began walking about the room in a listless way, looking about at thevarious familiar objects that he was to see no more, and one of thefirst things to strike him was a teacup on the washstand, containingMrs Millett's infusion, bitter, nauseous, and sweetened to sickliness;and it struck Dexter that the mixture had been placed in a cup insteadof a glass, so as to make it less objectionable in appearance.
He could not help smiling as he took up the cup and smelt it, seeing atthe same time the old dame's pleasant earnest face--a face that suddenlyseemed to have become very loving, now he was to see it no more.
He set down the cup, and shook his head, and then, as if nerving himselffor the task, he went to the drawers, took out a key from his pocket,and then, from the place where it lay, hidden beneath his clean linen,brought forth the old clothes-line twisted and knotted together--theline which had done duty in the loft as a swing.
He listened as he crossed to the door, but all was still downstairs, andit was not likely that any one would come near his room that night; butstill he moved about cautiously, and taking the line with his hands,about two feet apart, snapped it again and again with all his might, totry if it was likely to give way now beneath his weight.
It seemed firm as ever, but he could not help a shiver as he laid it bythe window, and thought of a boy being found in the shrubbery beneath,with a broken leg, or, worse still, neck.
Then as he waited for the time to glide by, so that all might be in bedbefore he made his escape, a sudden chill ran through him.
He had remembered everything, as he thought; and yet there was onething, perhaps the simplest of all, forgotten. He was going to take nobundle, no money, nothing which the doctor had in his kindness providedfor him; but he could not go without a cap, and that was hanging in thehall, close to the drawing-room door.
The question arose whether he should venture down to get it now, orafter the doctor had gone to bed.
It took him some time to make up his mind; but when he had come to adecision he opened his door softly, listened, and stole out on to thelanding.
All was very still as he looked over the balustrade to where the lampshed its yellow rays all round, and to his mind more strangely upon theobject he wanted to obtain than elsewhere.
It was a very simple thing to do, and yet it required a great deal ofnerve, for if the drawing-room door were opened just as he reached thehat-stand, and the doctor came out, what should he say?
Then there was the risk of being heard, for there were, he knew, two ofthe old oaken stairs which always gave a loud crack when any one passeddown, and if they cracked now, some one would be sure to come out to seewhat it meant.
Taking a long catching breath he went quickly to the top of the stairs,and was about to descend in a desperate determination to go through withhis task, when an idea struck him, and bending over the balustrade hespread his hands, balanced himself carefully, and then slid down themahogany rail, round curve after curve as silently as could be, andreaching the curl at the bottom dropped upon the mat.
Only five or six yards now to the hat-stand, and going on tiptoe pastthe entrance to the drawing-room, he was in the act of taking down thecap, when the handle rattled, the door was thrown open, and the hallgrew more light.
In his desperation Dexter snatched down the cap, and stood there tryingto think of what he should say in answer to the question that would beasked in a moment--
"What are you doing there!"
It was Helen, chamber-candlestick in hand, and she was in the act ofstepping out, when her step was arrested by words which seemed to pierceinto the listener's brain:--
"Oh, about Dexter!"
"Yes, papa," said Helen, turning.
"What do you think about--"
Dexter heard no more. Taking advantage of Helen's back being turned asshe bent over towards the speaker, the boy stepped quickly to thestaircase, ran up, and had reached the first landing before Helen cameout into the hall, while before she had closed the door he was upanother flight, and gliding softly toward his own room, where he stoodpanting as he closed the door, just as if he had been running a distancewhich had taken away his breath.
It was a narrow escape, and he was safe; but his ears tingled still, andhe longed to know what the doctor had said about him.
As he stood listening, cap in hand, he heard Helen pass his door singingsoftly one of the ballads he had heard that evening; and once more acurious dull sensation of misery came over him, as he seemed to feelthat he would never hear her sing again, never feel the touch of hersoft caressing hand; and somehow there was a vague confused sense oflonging to go to one who had treated him with an affectionate interesthe had never known before, even now hardly understood, but it seemed tohim such gentleness and love as might have come from a mother.
For a moment or two he felt that he must open the door, call to her,throw himself upon his knees before her, and confess everything, but atthat moment the laughing, mocking face of Bob Dimsted seemed to risebetween them, and his words buzzed in his ear--words that he had oftensaid when listening to some account of Dexter's troubles--
"Bother the old lessons, and all on 'em! I wouldn't stand it if I wasyou. They've no right to order you about, and scold you as they do."
The weak moments passed, and just then there was the doctor's coughheard, and the closing of his door, while directly after came thechiming of the church clock--a quarter past eleven.
Half an hour to wait and think, and then good-bye to all his troubles,and the beginning of a new life of freedom!
All the freedom and the future seemed to be behind a black cloud; but inthe fond belief that all would soon grow clear Dexter waited.
Half-past eleven, and he wondered that he did not feel sleepy.
It was time to begin though now, and he took the line and laid it out ina serpentine fashion upon the carpet, so that there should be no kinksin the way; and then the next thing was to fasten one end tightly sothat he could safely slide down.
He had well thought out his plans, and, taking one end of the line, heknotted it securely to the most substantial place he could find in theroom, passing it behind two of the bars of the grate. Then cautiouslyopening his window, a little bit at a time, he thrust it higher andhigher, every faint creak sending a chill through him, while, when helooked out upon the dark starlight night, it seemed as if he would haveto descend into a black gulf, where something blacker was waiting toseize him.
But he knew that the black things below were only great shrubs, andlowering the rope softly down he at last had the satisfaction of hearingit rustle among the leaves.
Then he waited, and after a glance round to see that everything
wasstraight, and the letter laid ready upon the table, he put out thecandle.
"For the last time!" he said to himself, and a great sigh came unbiddenfrom his breast.
A quarter to twelve.
Dexter waited till the last stroke on the bell was thrilling in the airbefore setting his cap on tightly, and passing one leg over the sill.
He sat astride for a few moments, hesitating for the last time, and thenpassed the other leg, and lowered himself down till he hung by hishands, then twisted his legs about the rope, seized it with first onehand then the other, and hung by it with his whole weight, in theprecarious position of one trusting to an old doubled clothes-line,suspended from a second-floor window.
It was hard work that descent, for he could not slide on account of theknots; and, to make his position more awkward, the rope began tountwist--one line from the other,--and, in consequence, as the boydescended slowly, he bore no small resemblance to a leg of muttonturning before a fire.
That was the only mishap which occurred to him then, for after restingfor a few moments upon the first-floor sill he continued his journey,and reached the bottom in the midst of a great laurel, which rustledloudly as he tried to get out, and then tripped over a horizontalbranch, and fell flat.
He was up again in an instant, and, trembling and panting, made a coupleof bounds which took him over the gravel walk and on to the lawn, wherehe stood panting and listening.
There was a light in the doctor's room, and one in Helen's; and justthen the doctor's shadow, looking horribly threatening, was thrown uponthe blind.
He must be coming, Dexter thought, and, turning quickly, he sped downthe lawn, avoiding the flower-beds by instinct, and the next minute hadreached the kitchen-garden, down whose winding green walk he rapidlymade his way.