ight follow.

IX

The powers of justice in Bladesover made an extraordinary mess of my
case.

I have regretfully to admit that the Honourable Beatrice Normandy did,
at the age of ten, betray me, abandon me, and lie most abominably about
me. She was, as a matter of fact, panic-stricken about me, conscience
stricken too; she bolted from the very thought of my being her affianced
lover and so forth, from the faintest memory of kissing; she was
indeed altogether disgraceful and human in her betrayal. She and her
half-brother lied in perfect concord, and I was presented as a wanton
assailant of my social betters. They were waiting about in the Warren,
when I came up and spoke to them, etc.

On the whole, I now perceive Lady Drew's decisions were, in the light of
the evidence, reasonable and merciful.

They were conveyed to me by my mother, who was, I really believe, even
more shocked by the grossness of my social insubordination than Lady
Drew. She dilated on her ladyship's kindnesses to me, on the effrontery
and wickedness of my procedure, and so came at last to the terms of my
penance. "You must go up to young Mr. Garvell, and beg his pardon."

"I won't beg his pardon," I said, speaking for the first time.

My mother paused, incredulous.

I folded my arms on her table-cloth, and delivered my wicked little
ultimatum. "I won't beg his pardon nohow," I said. "See?"

"Then you will have to go off to your uncle Frapp at Chatham."

"I don't care where I have to go or what I have to do, I won't beg his
pardon," I said.

And I didn't.

After that I was one against the world. Perhaps in my mother's heart
there lurked some pity for me, but she did not show it. She took the
side of the young gentleman; she tried hard, she tried very hard, to
make me say I was sorry I had struck him. Sorry!

I couldn't explain.

So I went into exile in the dog-cart to Redwood station, with Jukes the
coachman, coldly silent, driving me, and all my personal belongings in a
small American cloth portmanteau behind.

I felt I had much to embitter me; the game had and the beginnings of
fairness by any standards I knew.... But the thing that embittered me
most was that the Honourable Beatrice Normandy should have repudiated
and fled from me as though I was some sort of leper, and not even have
taken a chance or so, to give me a good-bye. She might have done that
anyhow! Supposing I had told on her! But the son of a servant counts as
a ser