Chapter Twenty Three.
A Broken Friendship.
Everard, Everard, which was the truest,
God in the future, and Time will show,
Ne’er will I stoop to defence or excuses—
If you despise me—be it so!
But, my Everard, still (for I love you)
This to the end my prayer shall be—
Ne’er may you be so sternly treated,
Never be judged as you judge me.—F.
Kenrick did not happen to meet Walter during the remainder of that Sunday, because Walter was chiefly sitting in Mr Percival’s room, but the next day, still nursing the smouldering fire of his anger, he determined to get the first opportunity he could of meeting him, in order that he might tax him with his supposed false friendship and breach of confidence.
Accordingly, when school was over next day, he went with Whalley to look for him in the playground. Walter was walking with Henderson, never dreaming that anything unpleasant was likely to happen. Henderson was the first to catch sight of them, and as he never saw Whalley without chaffing him in some ridiculous way or other—for Whalley’s charming good humour made him a capital subject for a joke—he at once began, as might have been expected, to sing—
“O Whalley, Whalley up the bank,
And Whalley, Whalley down the brae,
And Whalley, Whalley, by yon burnside—”
whereupon his song was interrupted by Whalley’s giving chase to him, which did not end till he had been led a dance half round the school buildings, while the ground was left clear for Kenrick’s expostulations.
Walter came up to him as cordially as usual, but stopped short in surprise, when he caught the scornful lowering expression of his friend’s face; but as Kenrick did not speak at once, he took him by the hand, and said, “Why, Ken, what’s the matter?”
Kenrick very coldly withdrew his hand.
“Evson, I came to ask you if—whether—if you’ve been telling to any of the fellows all about me; all I told you about my father?”