“I think I will give you time for reflection,” said the Doctor. “Mr Rebble, I place Burr junior in your charge. Of course he must be secluded. I, too, want time for reflection before sending word to the unhappy lad’s friends—a most painful task—a most painful task.”
He walked slowly toward the steps, and a fresh feeling of excitement surged up within me. I wanted to speak now—to say something in my own defence, as I thought of the Doctor’s letter going to my mother, and of her agony, then of my uncle learning this, and coming over. It seemed too terrible, and I tried to call the Doctor back, but no words would come. I saw him descend slowly, and Mr Hasnip sign to the boys to follow, after which, giving me a sad look, he too descended, leaving me alone with Mr Rebble, whose first words were so stern and harsh that I could not turn to him and confide and ask his sympathy and help.
“This way, sir,” he said sharply, and without a word I followed him down and across the stable-yard, passing cook at the door ready to give me a pitying glance for being in disgrace.
Then, as if it was all a dream, I was led into the house, and up-stairs to a small room containing only one bed—a room whose window looked out away toward the General’s estates.
The door was closed behind me without a word, and as I stood there I heard it locked and the key withdrawn, followed by Mr Rebble’s footsteps along the passage, and then I threw myself down on the bed in a passion of rage against Mercer.
“You coward!” I cried, and as I ground my teeth I indulged in a wish that I could have him there.
“Oh!” I cried, “only for half an hour, and then—” I did not finish my sentence, but bounded off the bed to stand up there alone, unconsciously enough in the position Lomax had taught me, and with my left hand raised to strike.