"Go on," whispered the old man softly.
"I can't," muttered Wilfred. "It isn't in my heart; I daren't go on. It is speaking with a forked tongue: words one way, thoughts another; telling lies to God."
Caleb Acland looked at him as if he were slowly grasping the position.
"Is it Bowkett that you can't forgive?" he asked gently. "Did you think he need not have lost you? Did you think he would not know you, my poor boy?"
"Have I got to live with him always?" returned Wilfred.
"No, not if you don't like him. I'll send you back to school," answered his uncle in a tone of decision.
"Do you mean it, uncle? Do you really say that I shall go back to school?" exclaimed the boy, his heavy heart's lead beginning to melt, as the way of escape opened so unexpectedly before him.
"It is a promise," repeated the old man soothingly. It was obvious now there was something wrong, which the boy refused to explain.
"Patience a bit," he thought; "I can't distress him. It will leak out soon; but it is growing strange that nobody comes near us."
CHAPTER XIV