Part 38 (2/2)
”And to think that you even fancied there could be any good in him! Long ago you could have turned him out of Fardale by speaking a word, but you let up on him until at last he drove you out. Pard, I say fair and open that I like you a-plenty, but I do think you made a mistake with Arlington. You must know it now.”
d.i.c.k was silent for some moments.
”Perhaps you are right,” he finally confessed. ”I suppose you are. But I had rather make a mistake by being too generous than to make one in the opposite direction. It isn't natural for me to be easy with an enemy. I love revenge. But I took my brother for my model. I'm not sorry, either.
I think I have changed my revengeful nature to a certain degree. The best friend Frank has in the world, Bart Hodge, was originally his bitterest enemy. Had Frank been revengeful, Hodge might have been ruined. He says so himself. Even if Frank were to make a hundred mistakes in generosity, that one instance-that one good result-would more than outweigh them all. Had I been revengeful, I should have fought Hal Darrell to the bitter end. Such a struggle between us must have been disastrous for one of us at Fardale. I became satisfied that there was little chance that Arlington would reform, and, after becoming thus satisfied, I continued to be lenient with him. You know I gave my promise to his sister, and I couldn't go back on my word.”
”She must be a whole lot sore with herself for exacting such a promise.
Wonder what she thinks about it now?”
”I don't know. I'll know some time. But Arlington is not going to triumph in the end. I shall return to Fardale. We're both going back with the professor. Then it will be my day.”
”And I sure hope you make the most of it. If you get your innings, it will be up to you to rub it into Arlington good and hard.”
This led them to speculating about what was taking place at the old school while they were traveling in foreign lands. They remained talking in low tones until finally, on peering into the next room, it was found that Teresa had fallen asleep.
Brad went to bed, with the understanding that he was to be called at a certain hour for the purpose of remaining on guard during the latter part of the night. Already Professor Gunn was snoring in his room.
Buckhart was soon sleeping. About an hour later d.i.c.k heard a low, moaning sound coming from the girl's room.
He hastened to the door.
Teresa was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped over her heart, staring fixedly at the wall, the moaning sound issuing from her pale lips. Merriwell lost no time in reaching her side.
”What is it?” he asked. ”Is there anything I can do, Teresa?”
”Look!” she whispered. ”I see him-I see my brother, dead on the stairs!
Nicola Mullura has killed him!”
”There, there!” said the boy, soothingly, trying his best to speak her language so she would understand. ”You must sleep-you must try to forget it for a while.”
Night pa.s.sed and morning came, and a great change had come over Teresa.
She even greeted her friends with a smile!
”I am glad to see you feel better, Teresa,” said d.i.c.k.
”I do feel better, good friend. I am almost happy now.”
”Great horn spoon!” muttered Brad. ”And she saw her brother done to death last night! Trouble runs off these Venetians like water off a duck.”
They had breakfast, and through it all the girl maintained the same unnatural light and lively manner.
After breakfast she suggested that, in order to bring no further peril on them, she should depart.
”Not at all!” cried Zenas. ”You must remain right here. I am going to the authorities. I am going to inform them all about this band of Ten.
<script>