Chapter 8 - Page 2

the boy that he had answered every letter
he had received. This led to the clear inference that Pemberton's note
had been kept from him so that the game practised should not be
interfered with. Mrs. Moreen was prepared to see the fact exposed, as
Pemberton saw the moment he faced her that she was prepared for a good
many other things. She was prepared above all to maintain that she had
acted from a sense of duty, that she was enchanted she had got him over,
whatever they might say, and that it was useless of him to pretend he
didn't know in all his bones that his place at such a time was with
Morgan. He had taken the boy away from them and now had no right to
abandon him. He had created for himself the gravest responsibilities and
must at least abide by what he had done.

"Taken him away from you?" Pemberton exclaimed indignantly.

"Do it--do it for pity's sake; that's just what I want. I can't stand
_this_--and such scenes. They're awful frauds--poor dears!" These words
broke from Morgan, who had intermitted his embrace, in a key which made
Pemberton turn quickly to him and see that he had suddenly seated
himself, was breathing in great pain, and was very pale.

"_Now_ do you say he's not in a state, my precious pet?" shouted his
mother, dropping on her knees before him with clasped hands, but touching
him no more than if he had been a gilded idol. "It will pass--it's only
for an instant; but don't say such dreadful things!"

"I'm all right--all right," Morgan panted to Pemberton, whom he sat
looking up at with a strange smile, his hands resting on either side of
the sofa.

"Now do you pretend I've been dishonest, that I've deceived?" Mrs. Moreen
flashed at Pemberton as she got up.

"It isn't _he_ says it, it's I!" the boy returned, apparently easier, but
sinking back against the wall; while his restored friend, who had sat
down beside him, took his hand and bent over him.

"Darling child, one does what one can; there are so many things to
consider," urged Mrs. Moreen. "It's his _place_--his only place. You
see _you_ think it is now."

"Take me away--take me away," Morgan went on, smiling to Pemberton with
his white face.

"Where shall I take you, and how--oh _how_, my boy?" the young man
stammered, thinking of the rude way in which his friends in London held
that, for his convenience, with no assurance of prompt return, he had
thrown them over; of the just resentment with which they would already
have called in a successor, and of the scant help to finding fresh
employment that resided for him in the grossness of his having failed to
pass his pupil.