For a moment or two he felt that he must open the door, call to her, throw himself upon his knees before her, and confess everything, but at that moment the laughing, mocking face of Bob Dimsted seemed to rise between them, and his words buzzed in his ear—words that he had often said when listening to some account of Dexter’s troubles—
“Bother the old lessons, and all on ’em! I wouldn’t stand it if I was you. They’ve no right to order you about, and scold you as they do.”
The weak moments passed, and just then there was the doctor’s cough heard, and the closing of his door, while directly after came the chiming of the church clock—a quarter past eleven.
Half an hour to wait and think, and then good-bye to all his troubles, and the beginning of a new life of freedom!
All the freedom and the future seemed to be behind a black cloud; but in the fond belief that all would soon grow clear Dexter waited.
Half-past eleven, and he wondered that he did not feel sleepy.
It was time to begin though now, and he took the line and laid it out in a serpentine fashion upon the carpet, so that there should be no kinks in the way; and then the next thing was to fasten one end tightly so that he could safely slide down.
He had well thought out his plans, and, taking one end of the line, he knotted it securely to the most substantial place he could find in the room, passing it behind two of the bars of the grate. Then cautiously opening his window, a little bit at a time, he thrust it higher and higher, every faint creak sending a chill through him, while, when he looked out upon the dark starlight night, it seemed as if he would have to descend into a black gulf, where something blacker was waiting to seize him.
But he knew that the black things below were only great shrubs, and lowering the rope softly down he at last had the satisfaction of hearing it rustle among the leaves.
Then he waited, and after a glance round to see that everything was straight, and the letter laid ready upon the table, he put out the candle.