The operation served to put new ideas into the fertile mind of Drake.
“Let’s have a genuine society,” he said, “and have a black star for a badge, and every one that belongs to it wear it under the lapel of his coat, or inside his jacket.”
The idea was caught up enthusiastically, and in a few moments a dozen hands were busy cutting rude stars out of paper, daubing them with black ink, and pinning them to coats and vests. In the midst of this occupation the signal for retreat was heard; and with an understanding that they should hold all matters secret, and meet again in the same room immediately after supper, the members of the new Order hurried away.
On no one in the school had Colonel Silsbee’s address of the morning fallen with greater severity than on Brightly. The strong denunciation of the language of the petition had cut deeply into his sensibilities. Every boy in the school knew that he had drawn the paper; he believed that Colonel Silsbee himself knew it.
He had of late grown partially indifferent to his suspension and disgrace; even the stings of conscience were becoming somewhat dulled; but now came a thrust at his pride and vanity that not only made new, deep wounds, but set the old ones bleeding afresh. It roused within him a spirit of resentment that he had not felt before; it changed his moodiness into reckless obstinacy; it gave him an excuse to take another long leap downward.
He had descended, by degrees, from his lofty height of six months before, one step after another, three steps at a time, until, with this latest plunge, he found himself down among the common elements, among ignoble spirits, mixing with the lawless crowd.
He felt, indeed, the shame, the disgrace, the humiliation of it all; he suffered far more than he himself knew. But he had allowed this insidious disease so to sap his moral strength and weaken his force of character, that he had now neither the courage nor the will to make the attempt to climb back to manhood and self-respect.
The situation had become so manifestly serious that Harple again made the attempt, that afternoon, to reason his misguided chum into a different state of mind. The good fellow was patient, persevering, tearfully earnest; but, alas! he was wholly unsuccessful. The demoralized student was in no mood even to listen with respect. He repelled every kind advance with sharp impatience. He was excited and feverish; he paced the floor nervously; he was fast losing control of his own will.
Harple’s alarm increased rapidly and materially. He put on his cap, went downstairs, and walked out alone across the fields, trying to devise some plan of rescue for his friend. He felt that the danger was great and immediate.
Brede was no less annoyed and excited about the result of the petition than was Brightly himself. His name had been the first one signed to it. He felt that Colonel Silsbee’s denunciation had been aimed directly at him, and it roused anger and resentment in his breast also.