CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT.
The squire was very quiet over the evening meal, but he looked across atDick very sternly two or three times, and the lad did not meet his eye.
For certain plans which he had been concerting with Tom wore so strangean aspect in his eyes that he felt quite guilty, and the old frank lightin his face seemed to have died out as he bent down over his supper, andlistened to his father's answers to his mother about the proceedings ofthe past day.
Bed-time at last, and for the first time since he had returned Dick wasalone with his mother, the squire having gone to take his customary lookround the house.
"Good-night, mother!" said Dick in a low sombre manner, very differentto his usual way.
Mrs Winthorpe did not answer for a moment or two, but gazed full at herson.
"And so the magistrate thought you guilty, Dick?" she said.
"Yes, mother," he flashed out, "and--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs Winthorpe, flinging her arms about his neck."That's my boy who spoke out then. Dick, if you had spoken out likethat to your father and everyone they would not have suspected you for amoment. There, good-night! It will all come right at last."
Dick said "good-night" to his father, who gave him a short nod, and thenthe lad went slowly up to his room, to sit on the edge of the bed andthink of the possibility of building a hut out there in the island theyhad found in the fen, and then of how it would be if he and Tom did so,and went there to live; and when he had debated it well, he askedhimself what would be the use, and confessed that it would be allnonsense, and that he had been thinking like a child.
"No," he said; "I'm no baby now. All this has made a man of me, and TomTallington is right; we must go and begin life somewhere else--where theworld will not be so hard."
"He will not be here for an hour yet," he thought; so he employedhimself very busily in putting together the few things he meant to takeon his journey into that little-known place beyond the fen, where therewere big towns, and people different to themselves; and as Dick packedhis bundle he tried to keep back a weak tear or two which would gatheras if to drop on the lavender-scented linen, that reminded him of herwho had that night called him her boy.
But there was a stubborn feeling upon him which made him viciously knottogether the handkerchief ends of his bundle, and then go and stand atthe window and watch and listen for the coming of Tom.
For he had made up his mind to go with Tom if he came, without him if hefailed, for he told himself the world elsewhere would not be so hard.
One hour--two hours passed. He heard them strike on the old eight-dayclock below. But no Tom.
Could he have repented and made up his mind not to keep faith, or wasthere some reason?
Never mind, he would go alone and fight the world, and some day peoplewould be sorry for having suspected him as they did now.
He laughed bitterly, and stepped to the open window bundle in hand. Hehad but to swing himself out and drop to the ground, and trudge awayinto that romantic land--the unknown. Yes, he would go. "Good-bye,dear mother; father, good-bye!" he whispered softly; and the next momentone foot was over the window-sill, and he was about to drop, when amiserably absurd sound rose on the midnight air, a sound which made himdart back into his room like some guilty creature, as there rang out thestrange cry:
"He--haw, he--haw!" as dismal a bray as Solomon had ever uttered in hislife; and for no reason whatever, as it seemed, Dick Winthorpe went backand sat upon his bed thinking of the wheelwright's words:
That if he went away people would declare he fired the shot.
"I can't help it," cried Dick at last, after an hour's bitter strugglethere in the darkness of the night; and once more he ran to the window,meaning to drop out, when, as if he saw what was about to take place,Solomon roused the echoes about the old buildings with another dismalbray.
"Who can run away with a donkey crying out at him like that!" said Dickto himself; and in spite of his misery, he once more seated himself uponthe bed-side and laughed.
It was more a hysterical than a natural laugh; but it relieved DickWinthorpe's feelings, and just then the clock struck two.
Dick sat on the bed-side and thought. He was not afraid to go--far fromit. A reckless spirit of determination had come over him, and he wasready to do anything, dare anything; but all the same the wheelwright'swords troubled him, and he could not master the feeling that it would bepainful for the constant repetition to come to his mother's knowledge,till even she began to think that there must be some truth in thematter, and he would not be there to defend himself.
That was a painful thought, one which made Dick Winthorpe rise and goand seat himself on the window-sill and gaze out over the fen.
From where he was seated his eyes ranged over the portion where thedrain was being cut; and as he looked, it seemed to him that all histroubles had dated from the commencement of the venture by his father,and those who had joined in the experiment.
Then he thought of the evening when Mr Marston had been brought inwounded, and the other cases which had evidently been the work of thoseopposed to the draining--the fire at Tallington's, the houghing of thehorses, the shots fired, the blowing up of the sluice-gate.
"And they think I did it all," he said to himself with a bitter laugh;"a boy like me!"
Then he began considering as to who possibly could be the culprit, andthought and thought till his head ached, and he rose sadly and replacedthe articles in his bundle in the drawer.
"I can't go," he said softly. "I'll face it out like a man, and theymay say what they like."
He stood looking at his bed, with its white pillow just showing in thefaint light which came through the open window, but it did not tempt himto undress.
"I can't sleep," he said; "and perhaps, if I lie down, I may not hearTom coming, if he comes. Why is one so miserable? What have I done?"
There was no mental answer to his question, and he once more went softlyacross the room, and sat in the window-sill to gaze out across the fen.
How long he had been watching he could not tell, for his brain feltdazed, and he was in a half-dreamy state, when all of a sudden he grewwakeful and alert, for right away out over the mere he saw a faint gleamof light which flashed upon the water and then expired.
For a moment he thought that it might have been the reflection of astar, but it flashed out again, and then was gone.
The marsh lights always had a strange fascination for him, and thisappearance completely changed the current of his thoughts. A fewmoments before and they were dull and sluggish, now they were allexcitement; and he sat there longing for the next appearance when, as ofold, he expected to see the faint light go dancing along, as a mothdances over the moist herbage, disappearing from time to time.
He strained his eyes, but there was no light, and he was beginning tothink that it was fancy, when he heard a faint rustling apparentlyoutside his door; and as he listened, he felt that someone must be goingdown stairs.
Then there was complete silence for a few minutes, and he was ready tothink that both the light and the sound were fancy, when all doubts wereset at rest, for the door below opened and someone passed out.
It was still very dark, in spite of a faint sign of dawn in thenorth-east; but the watcher had no difficulty in making out the figurewhich passed silently along in the shadow of the house, and closebeneath him, to be that of his father.
What did it mean? Dick asked himself as he sat there holding hisbreath, while he watched intently, and saw his father steal from placeto place in the most secretive manner, taking advantage of bush, wall,and outbuilding, and every now and then pausing as if gazing out acrossthe fen.
"I know," thought Dick, as a flash of comprehension came across hisbrain. "He saw that light, and he is watching too."
The thought was quite exciting.
The reaction as depressing, for directly after he very naturally said tohimself: "My father would
not get out of bed to watch awill-o'-the-wisp."
But suppose it was not a will-o'-the-wisp, but a light!
He sat thinking and trying to trace which way his father had gone; andas far as he could make out, he had gone right down to the nearest spotto the water, where, about a hundred yards away, there was fair landing,by one of the many clumps of alder.
Dick had just come to the conclusion that he ought not to watch hisfather, who was angry enough with him as it was, and who would be moresuspicious still if he again caught him at the window dressed, and hewas about to close it, after wondering whether anyone would be on thewater with a light--Dave, for instance--and if so, what form of fowlingor netting it would be, when there was a low hiss--such a sound as ismade by a snake--just beneath his window.
"Dick!"
"Hallo!"
"Couldn't come before. Ready?"
"No," said Dick shortly, for the plan to run away seemed now to belongto some project of the past.
"I couldn't come before," whispered Tom. "I was all ready, but fatherdid not go to bed for ever so long; and when at last I thought it wasall right, and was ready to start, I heard him go down and open theback-door."
"And go out?" whispered Dick.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I didn't know, but my father has done just the same."
"Oh!"
"Did yours come back?"
"No," said Tom; "and I daren't start for ever so long. But I've comenow, so let's start off quick."
"Which way did your father go?"
"I don't know, but we're wasting time."
"Did he take the boat?"
"How should I know? I didn't see him go. I only heard. Come, are youready?"
"No," said Dick hoarsely, and not prepared to tell his companion that hehad repented. "How can we go now with them both somewhere about? Theywould be sure to catch us and bring us back."
It was a subterfuge, and Dick's face turned scarlet, as he knew by theburning sensation. The next instant he had felt so ashamed of hispaltry excuse that he blurted out:
"I sha'n't go. I'm sorry I said I would. It's cowardly, but I don'tmean to go--there!"
The hot tears of vexation and misery stood in his eyes as he made thisconfession, and rose up prepared to resent his companion's reproacheswith angry words; but he was disarmed, for Tom whispered hastily:
"Oh, Dick, I am so glad! I wouldn't show the white feather and playsneak, but I didn't want to go. It seemed too bad to mother and father.But you mean it?"
"Yes, I mean it!" said Dick, with a load off his breast. "I felt thatit would be like running away because we were afraid to face a charge."
"Hooray!" cried Tom in a whisper. "I say, Dick, don't think me acoward, but I am so glad! I say, shall I go back now?"
"No; stop a bit," whispered Dick, with his heart beating, and a strangesuspicion making its way into his breast. For in an incoherent vaguemanner he found himself thinking of Farmer Tallington stealing out ofhis house in the middle of the night. He had a boat, as most of the fenfarmers had, for gunning, fishing, and cutting reeds. What was he doingon the water at night? For it must have been he with a light.
Then a terrible suspicion flashed across him, and the vague ideas beganto shape themselves and grow solid. Suppose it was Farmer Tallingtonwho had been guilty of--
Dick made a strong effort at this point to master his wanderingimagination, and forced himself to think only of what he really knew tobe the fact, namely, that Farmer Tallington was out somewhere, and thatthe squire was out too.
"My father must have come to meet yours, Dick," whispered Tom at thatpoint. "I know they suspect there's something wrong, and they have gonedown to watch the drain, or to meet Mr Marston."
"Yes," said Dick, in a tone which did not carry conviction with it."That must be it."
"What shall we do? Go back to bed?"
"Ye-es, we had better," said Dick thoughtfully. "I say, Tom, we havedone quite right. We couldn't have gone away."
"Hist! did you hear that?"
For answer Dick strained out of the window. He had heard that--a suddensplashing in the water, a shout--and the next moment there was a flashwhich cut the darkness apparently a couple of hundred yards away, andthen came a dull report, and silence.
The boys remained listening for some moments, but they could not hear asound. The signs of the coming morning were growing plainer; there wasa faint twittering in some bushes at a distance, followed by the sharpmetallic _chink chink_ of a blackbird; and then all at once, loud andclear from the farm-yard, rang out the morning challenge of a cock.
Then once more all was still. There was no footstep, no splash of polein the water.
For a few minutes neither spoke, but listened intently with every nerveupon the strain; and then with a catching of the breath as he realisedwhat had gone before, and that he had seen his father steal carefullydown in the direction of the mere, Dick sprang from the window andgripped his companion by the arm.
"Tom," he gasped, "quick! come on! Some one else has been--"
He would have said _shot_, but his voice failed, and with a cold chillof horror stealing over him he remained for a few moments as ifparalysed.
Then, with Tom Tallington close behind, he ran swiftly down towards themere.
Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp Page 18