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1Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be
2construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went
3about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt
4was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he
5would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he
6refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little
7forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And
8he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would
9throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she
10would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer,
11whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep
12swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down
13and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear
14to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so,
15presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one
16week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at
17the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his
18spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary
19vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without
20undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and
21wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and
22wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the
23hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his
24mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the
25darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he
26paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a
27second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants,
28till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under
29it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus
30he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps
31from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus she would see him when she
32looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave
33one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a
34maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The
35strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur
36of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the
37gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip,
38Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his
39peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note
40of the omission.
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