ruth."

Dexter turned to him with bursting heart, but he could not speak, and as
soon as he was in his bedroom he threw himself before a chair, and
buried his face in his hands, so as to try and shut out the reproachful
face of Helen, which he seemed to see.

"I wish I had not been saved," he cried at last passionately, and then
he glanced at the window, and listened, while downstairs Sir James was
saying quietly--

"There, Grayson, I think you understand the boy's character now."

"No," said the doctor shortly. "I don't think I do."

"What!"

"And I'd give a hundred pounds," said the doctor, "to know the truth."

"Really," said Sir James, laughing. "You are the most obstinate man I
ever knew."

"Yes," said the doctor. "I suppose I am."

CHAPTER FORTY.

"HUZZA! WE'RE HOMEWARD BOUND!"

The first wet day there had been for a month. It seemed as if Mother
Nature had been saving up all her rain in a great cistern, and was then
letting it out at once.

No glorious sapphire seas and brilliant skies; no golden sunshine
pouring down on tawny sands, over which waved the long pinnate leaves of
the cocoa-nuts palms; no brilliant-coloured fish that seemed to be
waiting to be caught; no glorious life of freedom, with their boat to
enable them to glide from isle to isle, where it was always summer; but
rain, rain, rain, always rain, pouring down from a lead-black sky.

A dreary prospect, but not half so dreary as Dexter's spirits, as he
thought of what was to come.

If ever boy felt miserable, he did that next morning, for they were all
going back to Coleby. The romantic adventure was at an end, and he was
like a prisoner.

Why had he left the doctor's? What had he gained by it but misery and
wretchedness. Bob had turned out one of the most contemptible cowards
that ever stepped. He had proved to be a miserable tyrannical bully
when they were alone; and in the face of danger a wretched cur; while
now that they were caught he was ready to tell any lie to save his own
skin.

What would Helen say to him, and think of him? What would Mr Hippetts
say--and Mr Sibery?

He would be sent back to the Union of course; and one moment he found
himself wishing that he had never left the schools to be confronted with
such misery as he felt now.

They were on their way back by rail. The doctor, who had not even
looked at him, was in a first-class carriage with Sir James, and the
plans being altered, and the bo