It struck upon him at times with a sense of amazement that misery could wear so many faces, and that one could know them all, and yet not die. There were nights of fear, when the furies sat beside his bed. He would fall asleep quietly, like every one else, to wake, quivering, from nightmares of Porthcarrick, his teeth knocking together and damp skin drawn up beneath the roots of his hair. There were nights of rage, when he would clench his hands and grit his teeth with hatred of the God, Whoever He might be, Who had made the world so unjust and the people in it so wretched. There were nights of despair, when he could only sob and sob for very desolation, till his head ached and his eyes burned and the struggle to breathe seemed to tear his throat in pieces. There were nights of loathing and horror, when hideous imaginations pursued him and the photographs glared out of the darkness whichever way he turned. But the worst were the nights of shame.
Of all torments the keenest was to see his schoolfellows asleep. By day he now envied, now despised them; by night he was ashamed before them. He would sit on the edge of his bed, watching the long still rows of placid figures, listening to the sound of their breathing. Sometimes one would turn over with a sigh, or another would fling a bare arm out upon the coverlet; and to the desolate onlooker the sight was as the stab of a knife. They seemed to him so beautiful, so intolerably white and clean; what place had he among them? They had no evil dreams, no secret horrors, no shameful scars to hide; they had not been dragged through the byways of hell or polluted with the knowledge of a man's damnation... Then he would lie down and hide his face against the pillow, and tell himself that he must get accustomed; that what is done is done; that his body had been utterly defiled; that he should never be clean again.
The Easter holidays were close at hand, and a flutter of excitement had begun in the school. To Jack the prospect of solitude and silence was now a relief, now an added terror. Suddenly it flashed upon him that only four months remained till the long summer vacation; and that then he should have to go home. Somehow, he had never thought of that before.
Now this new dread took possession of him so wholly that all lesser griefs were driven out. Fear walked behind him all day long, and caught him by the throat when night came on. "Four months," he would repeat to himself; "four months!" four months to decide in, to make up his mind, to think of a plan. He must run away, drown himself, escape somehow — anyhow. To go back to Porthcarrick would drive him mad.
"Raymond," said Dr. Cross, on the last Monday of the term, "you remember it was arranged that you should spend Easter here? I find now that it can't be managed, because of the spring cleaning; so I wrote to ask your uncle if he could make it convenient to have you home, and he wires that he'll expect you next Saturday. I'm glad, for I think a scamper on the moors will do you good."
The spring cleaning difficulty was a kindly fiction, Dr. Cross having decided that the boy must be homesick.
Jack went out into the playing fields with a face of stone. His four months' grace had vanished, and he must decide now what he would do. He walked straight before him, thinking, his eyes on the ground.
He might run away. But there was the risk of being caught and taken home by force. Also, to run away, when one has no money and no friend to go to, would mean a lot of thinking, and planning, and arranging; and he was too tired. There was a way of escape that was quite safe and simple, and one could take it without any trouble.
He walked down to the pond in the hollow of the furthest field. The deep water lay still and black, bordered by trails of leafless bramble and sodden wrecks of last year's rushes. He threw a stone into the middle of the pond, and watched till the slow ripples died away; then crept along an overhanging tree trunk, and looked down into the water. Yes, it would be quite easy.
Then in one instant the fear of death took hold upon him. He shut his eyes, that he might not see the water, and clung with both hands to the tree trunk. "I can't!" he pleaded with the thing that seemed to be behind him, driving him into the pond. "Oh, I can't! I can't! I can't!"
He reached solid ground again, and opened his eyes. If he had only been brave for one minute, it would have been all over by now; but he was a coward. All degraded creatures are cowards; he remembered reading that somewhere. He was not brave enough to drown himself, or to run away; so he must submit, as cowards always have to do. He must go back to Porthcarrick, and see the wood-shed, and his uncle's face, and the staircase which they had gone up together. He would be put to sleep in that same room; to pass interminable nights alone there; and to see the day dawn and the sun arise and shame him, shining in upon the place where he had been tied up like a dog...
"Why, Raymond, what's the matter with you, boy?"
Jack put out both hands in the direction of the voice.
"I... feel sick."
Dr. Cross took him by the arm. "Come indoors," he said; "you'd better lie down."
The dormitory was quiet and airy. Jack lay down on his bed, and the head-master brought him a glass of water.
"Let me look at your tongue. No, that's all right; and you're not feverish..."
"There's nothing the matter with me; I only got a bit giddy."
Dr. Cross stood looking down at him for a little while.
"I wonder whether you've been feeling rather lonely, perhaps, as you hadn't been away from home before? I remember when I was a youngster I didn't like it at first."
Jack clenched his teeth. Oh, if they would leave him alone, all these people! What was it to them? He was not going to make a fuss; he never made a fuss about things. He would manage to bear it somehow, if they'd only let him alone.
"You'll be all right next term," said Dr. Cross. "Perhaps you feel rather a stranger here still, but you'll soon get used to it."
It was a little time before Jack unclenched his teeth.
"Oh, yes," he said; " I shall get used to it."
The class bell rang, and Jack lifted his head from the pillow. Dr. Cross gently pushed him down again.
"No, you'd better lie still for a bit, and go to sleep."
The door shut behind him at last. Jack put up his left hand, and bit it till tears started under his closed eyelids; then he pressed it down over his eyes, trying to make shapes and colours come, and shut out other images. The marks of his teeth showed in livid crescents on the brown skin.
CHAPTER VIII
"Raymond!" cried Theo, bursting into the form room. "Mother's come!"
Jack's head went down over the algebra book.
"Hold your noise, you little donkey! Can't you see I'm doing lessons?"
"Well, you needn't be so beastly sulky, if you are!" Theo was making rapid progress in English, and his unfamiliar elegance of speech had vanished with his golden curls. "I only came to say that mother wants you."