At the conclusion of his remarks, Colonel Brockridge ordered Richard to be conducted to the guard house, where he was to spend the night. Mr. Gault was directed to see the order executed, and the culprit was marched to the apartment which served as a place of confinement for offenders. He submitted to the punishment with the best grace he could command, but he was mortified and humiliated.
The guard house was a bugbear to the boys of the Institute. It was a small room, with the mockery of iron bars at the window, placed there more for effect than for any thing else. It contained a bed and a stool, with no other furniture. But it was regarded as a terrible place by the boys; not that it was a very great hardship to spend a night there, but because of the disgrace which the popular sentiment of the establishment had attached to the prison.
Richard entered, and the door was locked upon him. The room was dark, but he was not permitted to have a light. He seated himself upon the stool, and it was literally the stool of repentance to him. His supper was brought to him, and the servant stood by with a lamp till he had eaten it. He was then left alone for the night, to meditate upon the folly and wickedness of engaging in a fight without justifiable cause.
One of the first questions which the hero of the fight asked himself was, whether he had not too tamely submitted to the authority which had humiliated and punished him. That he had done so was the most surprising thing he had ever known himself to do. And when he came to ask himself why he had submitted, he could very clearly trace the reason to the good resolution he had made to reform his life and character—to conquer himself. It was hard for him to give in, but he was satisfied with himself, and began to feel that he had really made some progress in the great work.
He wanted to write a letter to Bertha, and tell her all about the events of the day—how patiently he had submitted to reproof and punishment; and record his solemn determination to conquer himself. He had no light, and no materials for writing; so, at an early hour, he went to bed; and fatigued with the labors and excitement of the day, he forgot in sleep that he was a prisoner.
At reveille, in the morning, he was discharged from arrest, and ordered to report for duty in the school room. He was still strong in his good resolutions, and the sneers and frowns of Nevers and his clique did not disturb him—did not even tempt him to indulge in the cheap retaliation of sneers and frowns in return.
In the course of the day Richard found that he was a lion. He had thrashed the bully of the school, and won the enviable position of champion of the Institute. But even this glory did not seem to be worth much; for since the fight, he realized that he had whipped a bigger fellow than Nevers.
For a week, in school and out, Richard was true to himself, and behaved nobly. More times than we have room to record, during this period, he got the better of his ever-familiar foe, and every new victory improved his morale and added to his prestige.
At this point in his school career, the students were ordered to perform the usual round of camp duty; and at eight o'clock in the morning, the battalion took up the line of march for the appointed place, at the other end of Tunbrook Lake, distant ten miles by the road.