The Hero of Garside School Part 43

"Very long--ten minutes."

"I can't sleep longer till I've said what I've got to say. Doesn't it say somewhere in the Bible that we ought to confess our sins?"

Paul could now see clearly enough that there was something troubling Hibbert, and that it would only increase the trouble if he were to refuse to answer him. So he answered:

"Of course it does. Let me see--you must know the words as well as I do--'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.'"

"Yes, those are the words I was trying to think of. I remember them quite well now. The water from the river seems to have got into my brain, and things aren't quite so clear to me now as they used to be, you see."

"That will come all right presently, and things will be quite as clear to you as ever they were. But you mustn't worry, or else they won't."

"I can't help it; but I shan't worry so much when what is on my mind is off it."

"Shall I send for Mr. Weevil?"

"No, no," answered the boy quickly; "it's you I want to speak to. Don't leave me."

Paul did not move. He kept his place beside the bed, though he had no wish to hear any confession. He guessed what it was. Some boyish freak or escapade, magnified into undue proportion by the sensitive boy now that he was so weak.

"I won't leave you, but if you've got anything to say, I'm not the fellow to say it to. There's One can do you a great deal more good than I can, Hibbert. Just confess to Him when you say your prayers to-night.

He'll help you a lot more than I can."

"Supposing I have done that, Percival. Supposing I did it when I closed my eyes a little while ago; and supposing even then a voice seemed whispering in my ear, 'If you want peace, if you want to meet your mother in heaven, act the hypocrite no longer. Speak to Percival.' What then?"

"Then I should say use your own judgment. Do what seems best."

Hibbert closed his eyes for a moment, as though he were trying to decide within himself what was best. At length he opened them again.

"Do you remember that afternoon when I came to you in the writing-room and told you Mr. Travers wished to speak to you?"

"Quite well. Nearly all the fellows had deserted me but you. I was wretched."

"You looked it. You gave me a letter to post. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," answered Paul shortly. He remembered it but too well. It was the letter he had written to Mr. Moncrief, to which that gentleman had not deigned to answer.

"When I came back to you in the writing-room you were tracing names on the blotting-pad. I caught sight of one--Zuker. You noticed that I was surprised at seeing it, and asked me if I knew anybody of that name. I told you that I did. That I once knew a boy of that name when I was at school in Germany. And then you told me something I'm never likely to forget--never likely to forget to my dying hour. You may think it strange, but the words came suddenly to my ears when I fell off the raft into the river."

"Indeed! What was it I told you?"

"You told me that it was through a man of the name of Zuker that your father lost his life."

"Yes, that's true enough. So it was--Israel Zuker. What about it?"

"What about it!" Hibbert made a painful effort to laugh. "Why, Percival----"

He stopped abruptly, as the door suddenly opened, and Mr. Weevil entered.

"What, Percival! You here?" exclaimed the master. "Where is Mrs.

Trounce?"

"Hibbert wanted me to sit by him, and I'm taking her place for a short time. She'll be back presently, sir."

"Are you feeling better?" asked the master, as he turned from Paul to the patient.

"Oh, yes, much better. It's done me good to have Percival here."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Mr. Weevil's hand went gently, lovingly over the boy's brow, and he watched him anxiously through his half-closed eyes. Paul recalled the master's grief when he first saw the boy after the accident, and other little traits of kindness--traits which had shown him that Mr. Weevil was not altogether the stern, harsh man he had one time thought him.

None the less, he was sorry that he had entered the room at that moment.

Hibbert had awakened his curiosity. What was it that was weighing on his mind? What had he to tell him about the man Zuker? He wished Mr. Weevil had kept from the room a bit longer.

Paul waited, hoping that he would go out. But the master did not move from the position he had taken up at the bedside, and his hand continued to move caressingly over the boy's forehead. After a minute or two's silence he turned to Paul.

"You've had your fair spell of watching, Percival. I'll take your place till Mrs. Trounce returns. Hibbert looks very flushed and feverish. I'm afraid he's been speaking too much."

What could Paul say? He had no alternative but to obey. Hibbert's eyes followed him as he went out.

"What was it he had to tell me, I wonder?" Paul asked himself, as he pa.s.sed along the corridor.

It was a long time before he slept that night. His mind kept travelling back over the many events of a singularly eventful day. And when he at last dozed off to sleep, he could hear the voice of Hibbert sounding a long way off.

"Oh, why didn't you let me die? Why didn't you let me go down in the river? Why did you save me? Don't leave me, Percival--don't leave me.

I'll be quieter if you stay with me a little longer."

Then the voice died away and all was blank.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR ARRIVES AT GARSIDE

Two things, outside the ordinary school routine, occupied attention on the morrow. The first was the adventures which had so nearly cost Hibbert his life; the second the loss of the school flag. The report as to the condition of Hibbert was neither good nor bad. There was no improvement, but neither had he gone back. His condition, in fact, was just what it had been the night before.

The loss of the flag caused the greatest excitement. The masters held a meeting about it, but nothing was done. The Sixth Form held a meeting about it, but nothing was done--for the simple reason that nothing could be done. So far there was not the slightest clue as to what had become of it. It had disappeared just as mysteriously as the pages torn from the Black Book.

But in one thing there was a manifest change. A manifest improvement took place in the school's att.i.tude towards Paul. Whereas previously nearly all the school was opposed to him, the greater proportion of the Garsiders now came over to his side with a swing; but his own Form, with the exception of Waterman, still held aloof. He received a communication from Stanley, however, through his cousin.

"Stanley's sorry that he did not lend you a helping hand when he met you with Hibbert yesterday," said Harry. "He did not dream that anything serious had happened."

Paul had felt it even more than he dared admit to himself that Stanley had not come forward on the previous day and given him a helping hand when he was struggling along with Hibbert.

"How could he dream that anything serious had happened unless he inquired?" he asked, with some bitterness. "Did he really send that message?"

"Really."