But Walter still rested with his white cheeks on his hands upon the desk, and neither moved nor spoke. And Mr Percival, turning indignantly upon his heel, with one last glance of unmitigated contempt, had walked off to his own form.
“Walter, don’t take it to heart so,” said Henderson, putting his arm round his neck; “you couldn’t help it; you made a sad mistake, that’s all. Go and tell Paton so, and I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”
A slight quiver was all that showed that Walter heard. Henderson would have liked to see his anguish relieved by a burst of tears; but the tears did not come, and Walter did not move.
At last a hand touched him, and he heard the voice of the head boy say to him, “Get up, Evson; I’m to take you to Dr Lane with a note from Mr Percival.”
He rose and followed mechanically, waiting in the headmaster’s porch while the monitor went in.
“Dr Lane won’t see you now,” said Somers, coming out again. “Croft,” (addressing the school Famulus), “Dr Lane says you’re to lock up Mr Evson by himself in the private room.”
Walter followed the Famulus to the private room, a little room at the top of the house, where he knew that boys were locked previous to expulsion, that they might have no opportunity for doing any mischief before they went.
The Famulus left him here, and returned a few minutes after with some dry bread and milk, which he placed on the deal table, which, with a wooden chair, constituted the sole furniture of the room; he then locked the door, and left Walter finally to his own reflections.
Then it was that flood after flood of passionate tears seemed to remove the iron cramp which had pained his heart. He flung himself on the floor, and as he thought of the irreparable cruelty which he had inflicted on a man who had been severe indeed, but never unkind to him, and of the apparent malignity to which all who heard it would attribute what he had done, he sobbed and sobbed as though his heart would break.
At one o’clock the Famulus returned with some dinner. He found Walter sitting at a corner of the room, his head resting against the angle of the wall, and his eyes red and inflamed with long crying. The morning’s meal still lay untasted on the table.