So after a time Murtagh bade Pat good night and hurried homewards. In his present state of excitement he could not venture into the schoolroom, but sending Peggy in to say that he had gone to bed, he went straight to his own room.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
He tossed and tumbled all night long, wakening Bobbo sometimes, and frightening him by the wild things he called out in his sleep, and next morning when he woke he was in such a state of nervous exaltation as made even Bobbo's companionship almost too painful to be borne. Only now did he fully realize that his share in this enterprise was done, and the greatness of the catastrophe he was helping to bring about seemed to begin to dawn upon him as the time for its fulfilment approached. His heart thumped against his side; his lips and hands were hot and dry. How was he to spend his day in the companionship of the others without betraying himself?
He knew that he could not keep away from them all day without causing remark and perhaps search; so he tried to force himself to feel calmer, and when the breakfast bell summoned him to the dining-room, he went in and took his usual seat at the table.
But so startling was his appearance that Nessa exclaimed anxiously, "Murtagh dear, you are ill!"
His uncle looked up, and was shocked, too, at the face that his eyes rested upon.
"Why, my boy," he said kindly, "what is the matter with you? Do you feel pain anywhere?"
"I am quite well, thank you," said Murtagh. His uncle continued to look anxiously at him. Nessa said no more, but put a cup of tea beside his plate, laying her hand for one instant on his head as she passed back to her own seat. Her touch thrilled through him in a way that was almost pain. He drank some of the tea, and then his heart began to beat less rapidly; so that when his uncle asked him if he had slept well, he was able to answer more naturally, "Yes, thank you."
"Awfully queerly!" said Bobbo; "you were shouting out all sorts of things all the time!"