wandering about a village, alone, at half-past nine?

So he retraced his steps a short distance, until he came to a stile
leading to a lane which skirted the village; and which, running past
the farm and the church, as before-mentioned, joined the highroad at
the further end of the village.

Once in the lane, and safe from sight, he slackened his pace; and then,
with the feeling of comparative safety, came very mingled feelings of
exultation, loneliness, and fear--each striving to have the uppermost
in the poor boy's heart.

Hitherto the excitement of achieving that vague performance of running
away from school had pre-occupied him, and kept away all thoughts of
the future. But the dangers of the escape were now all overcome, or at
least Harry thought they were. What, then, was the next thing to be
done? Should he go to Mrs Valentine? If he went there, perhaps she
would send him back to school. And besides, the farm would be shut up,
and every one gone to bed. How should he attract Mrs Valentine's
attention; and make her come down and let him in? The dog was always
loose at night, to keep intruders off. He would be sure to fly at him,
if he attempted to go near the place.

So Harry was very sore perplexed, and began to think that running away
was not such an easy thing after all. And he remembered that Egerton
was the cause of all this trouble. Had it not been for him, he would
have been at school; motherless, it is true, but not in disgrace as he
was; sad at heart, but not hated and suspected by boys and masters.
Egerton! Egerton had caused it all! And Harry longed for revenge. He
would treasure up his hatred, his thirst for vengeance, and some day,
perhaps, he would meet the one who had done him this wrong, and then
the debt should be paid off. This feeling of revenge was already
firmly rooted in his heart, already beginning to be the one purpose of
his life.

He would go on towards the farm, at any rate, and see how things stood.
Perhaps the dog was not loose that night, or if it were, might
recognise him.

So, plucking up his spirits, he ran along the lane towards the little
farm, where he had been so happy with his dear dead mother, and towards
the quiet churchyard, whose coverlet of green was over her.

He was not long reaching the farm, and went cautiously up to the gate.
Not a sound! not a light in any window! There was the great silver
moon making everything as bright almost as day, and