s words came in a passionate appeal, but in a broken,
disjointed way; and it seemed as if the memory of all he had suffered
roused his nature into a passionate fit of indignation against the
author of all the trouble.

"I--I couldn't bear it," he cried; "I tried so hard--so cruel--said he
was to break my spirit--that I was bad--he beat me--seven times--I did
try--you wanted me to--Miss Grayson wanted me to--I was always trying--
punished me because--so stupid--but I tried--I took a bit of candle--I
was trying to learn the piece--the other boys were asleep--he came up--
he caned me till I--till I couldn't bear it--break my spirit--he said
he'd break it--I dropped from the window--fell down and sprained my
ankle--but I walked--back here--then I was--afraid to tell you, and I
hid up there."

There were no tears save in the boy's voice; but there was a ring of
passionate agony and suffering in every tone and utterance; and, as
Helen read in the gaunt figure, hollow eyes, and pallor of the cheeks
what the boy must have gone through, she turned in her chair, laid her
arm on the back, her face went down upon it, and the tears came fast.

The doctor was silent as the boy went on; his lips were compressed and
his brow rugged; but he did not speak, till, with wondering eyes, he saw
Dexter turn, go painfully toward where Helen sat with averted face, look
at her as if he wanted to speak, but the words would not come, and, with
a sigh, he limped toward the door.

"Where are you going, sir!" said the doctor roughly.

"Up there, sir," said Dexter, in a low-toned weary voice, which sounded
as if all the spirit had gone.

"Up there!" cried the doctor.

"Yes," said Dexter feebly; and without turning round--"to Mr Hippetts,
and to Mr Sibery, sir. To take me back. It's no good. I did try so--
hard--so hard--but I never had--no mother--no father--not like--other
boys--and--and--"

He looked wildly round, clutching at vacancy, and then reeled and fell
heavily upon the carpet.

For Mr Mastrum had done his work well. His system for breaking the
spirit of unruly boys, and making them perfectly tame, seemed to have
reached perfection.

With a cry of horror Helen Grayson sprang from her seat, and sank upon
her knees by Dexter's side, to catch his head to her breast, while the
doctor tore at the bell.

"Bring brandy--water, quick!" he said; "the boy has fainted."

It was quite true, and an hour elapsed before he looked wildly ro