Part 9 (1/2)
”I speak the truth. I did not set it afire, or even know that it was going to be set on fire.”
Mr. Nason closed the door which he had opened to depart. The firm denial, as well as the tone and manner of the boy, arrested his judgment against him. He had learned to place implicit confidence in Harry's word; for, though he might have told lies to others, he never told them to him.
”Who did burn the barn?” asked the keeper, looking sternly into the eye of the culprit.
Harry hesitated. A sense of honor and magnanimity pervaded his soul.
He had obtained some false notions; and he did not understand that he could hardly be false to one who had been false to himself--that to help a criminal conceal his crime was to conspire against the peace and happiness of his fellow-beings. Shabbily as Ben Smart had used him, he could not make up his mind to betray him.
”You don't answer,” added Mr. Nason.
”I didn't do it.”
”But who did?”
”I don't like to tell.”
”Very well; you can do as you like. After what I had done for you, it was a little strange that you should do as you have.”
”I will tell you all about it, Mr. Nason, if you will promise not to tell.”
”I know all about it. You and Ben Smart put your heads together to be revenged on the squire; you set his barn afire, and then stole Leman's boat.”
”No, sir; I didn't set the barn afire, nor steal the boat, nor help to do either.”
”You and he were together.”
”We were; and if it wasn't for being mean to Ben, I would tell you all about it.”
”Mean to Ben! As soon as it was known that you and Ben were missing, everybody in the village knew who set the barn afire. All you have got to do is to clear yourself, if you can; Ben is condemned already.”
”If you will hear my story I will tell you all about it.”
Harry proceeded to narrate everything that had occurred since he left the house on the preceding night. It was a very clear and plausible statement. He answered all the questions which Mr. Nason proposed with promptness, and his replies were consistent.
”I believe you, Harry,” said the keeper, when he had finished his examination. ”Somehow I couldn't believe you would do such a thing as set the squire's barn afire.”
”I wouldn't,” replied Harry, warmly, and much pleased to find he had re-established the confidence of his friend.
”But it is a bad case. The fact of your being with Ben Smart is almost enough to convict you.”
”I shouldn't have been with him, if I had known he set the barn afire.”
”I don't know as I can do anything for you, Harry; but I will try.”
”Thank you.”
Mr. Nason left him, and Harry had an opportunity to consider the desperate circ.u.mstances of his position. It looked just as though he should be sent to the house of correction. But he was innocent. He felt his innocence; as he expressed it to the keeper afterwards, he ”felt it in his bones.” It did not, on further consideration, seem probable that he would be punished for doing what he had not done, either as princ.i.p.al or accessory. A vague idea of an all-pervading justice consoled him; and he soon reasoned himself into a firm a.s.surance that he should escape unharmed.
He was in the mood for reasoning just then--perhaps because he had nothing better to do, or perhaps because the added experience of the last twenty-four hours enabled him to reason better than before. His fine scheme of getting to Boston, and there making a rich and great man of himself, had signally failed. He did not give it up, however.