Half
contemplating the possibility of such an intention on Eric's part, Dr.
Rowlands had locked it behind him when he went out.
"Ha!" thought the boy, "then he, too, knows and suspects. Never mind. I
must give up my treasures--yes, even poor Verny's picture; perhaps it is
best I should, for I'm only disgracing his noble memory. But they shan't
prevent me from running away."
Once more he deliberated. Yes, there could be no doubt about the
decision. He _could_, not endure another public expulsion, or even
another birching; he _could_ not endure the cold faces of even his best
friends. No, no! he _could_ not face the horrible phantom of detection,
and exposure, and shame. Escape he must.
After using all his strength in long-continued efforts, he succeeded in
loosening the bar of his bed-room window. He then took his two sheets,
tied them together in a firm knot, wound one end tightly round the
remaining bar, and let the other fall down the side of the building. He
took one more glance round his little room, and then let himself down by
the sheet, hand under hand, until he could drop to the ground.
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