ERIC

OR, LITTLE BY LITTLE

A TALE OF ROSLYN SCHOOL

By

FREDERIC W. FARRAR, D. D. 

Author of "The Life of Christ, " "Julian Home, " "St. Winifreds, " etc

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

GEORGE A. TRAVER

1902

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER I--CHILDHOODCHAPTER II--A NEW HOMECHAPTER III--BULLYINGCHAPTER IV--CRIBBINGCHAPTER V--THE SECOND TERMCHAPTER VI--HOME AFFECTIONSCHAPTER VII--ERIC A BOARDERCHAPTER VIII--"TAKING UP"CHAPTER IX--"DEAD FLIES, " OR "YE SHALL BE AS GODS"CHAPTER X--DORMITORY LIFECHAPTER XI--ERIC IN COVENTRYCHAPTER XII--THE TRIALCHAPTER XIII--THE ADVENTURE AT THE STACKCHAPTER XIV--THE SILVER CORD BROKENCHAPTER XV--HOME AGAIN

PART II

CHAPTER I--ABDIELCHAPTER II--WILDNEYCHAPTER III--THE JOLLY HERRINGCHAPTER IV--MR. ROSE AND BRIGSONCHAPTER V--RIPPLESCHAPTER VI--ERIC AND MONTAGUCHAPTER VII--THE PIGEONSCHAPTER VIII--SOWING THE WINDCHAPTER IX--WHOM THE GODS LOVE DIE YOUNGCHAPTER X--THE LAST TEMPTATIONCHAPTER XI--REAPING THE WHIRLWINDCHAPTER XII--THE STORMY PETRELCHAPTER XIII--HOME AT LASTCHAPTER XIV--CONCLUSION

ILLUSTRATIONS

BULLYINGERIC _Vignette on title-page_SMOKINGON THE ROCKOUT OF THE WINDOWERIC AND VERNONHIDINGERIC ESCAPING FROM THE SHIP _Frontispiece_

ERIC: OR, LITTLE BY LITTLE

PART 1

CHAPTER I

CHILDHOOD

 "Ah dear delights, that o'er my soul On memory's wing like shadows fly! Ah flowers that Joy from Eden stole, While Innocence stood laughing by. "--COLERIDGE. 

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" cried a young boy, as he capered vigorouslyabout, and clapped his hands. "Papa and mamma will be home in a weeknow, and then we shall stay here a little time, and _then_, and _then_, I shall go to school. "

The last words were enunciated with immense importance, as he stoppedhis impromptu dance before the chair where his sober cousin Fanny waspatiently working at her crochet; but she did not look so much affectedby the announcement as the boy seemed to demand, so he again exclaimed, "And then, Miss Fanny, I shall go to school. "

"Well, Eric, " said Fanny, raising her matter-of-fact quiet face from herendless work, "I doubt, dear, whether you will talk of it with quite asmuch joy a year hence. "

"O ay, Fanny, that's just like you to say so; you're always talking andprophesying; but never mind, I'm going to school, so hurrah! hurrah!hurrah!" and he again began his capering, --jumping over the chairs, trying to vault the tables, singing and dancing with an exuberance ofdelight, till, catching a sudden sight of his little spaniel Flo, hesprang through the open window into the garden, and disappeared behindthe trees of the shrubbery; but Fanny still heard his clear, ringing, silvery laughter, as he continued his games in the summer air. 

She looked up from her work after he had gone, and sighed. In spite ofthe sunshine and balm of the bright weather, a sense of heaviness andforeboding oppressed her. Everything looked smiling and beautiful, andthere was an almost irresistible contagion in the mirth of her youngcousin, but still she could not help feeling sad. It was not merely thatshe would have to part with Eric, "but that bright boy, " thought Fanny, "what will become of him? I have heard strange things of schools; oh, ifhe should be spoilt and ruined, what misery it would be. Those babylips, that pure young heart, a year may work sad change in their wordsand thoughts!" She sighed again, and her eyes glistened as she raisedthem upwards, and breathed a silent prayer. 

She loved the boy dearly, and had taught him from his earliest years. In most things she found him an apt pupil. Truthful, ingenuous, quick, he would acquire almost without effort any subject that interested him, and a word was often enough to bring the impetuous blood to his cheeks, in a flush, of pride or indignation. He required the gentlest teaching, and had received it, while his mind seemed cast in such a mould ofstainless honor that he avoided most of the faults to which children areprone. But he was far from blameless. He was proud to a fault; he wellknew that few of his fellows had gifts like his, either of mind orperson, and his fair face often showed a clear impression of his ownsuperiority. His passion, too, was imperious, and though it always metwith prompt correction, his cousin had latterly found it difficult tosubdue. She felt, in a word, that he was outgrowing her rule. Beyond acertain age no boy of spirit can be safely guided by a woman'shand alone. 

Eric Williams was now twelve years old. His father was a civilian inIndia, and was returning on furlough to England after a long absence. Eric had been born in India, but had been sent to England by his parentsat an early age, in charge of a lady friend of his mother. The parting, which had been agony to his father and mother, he was too young to feel;indeed the moment itself passed by without his being conscious of it. They took him on board the ship, and, after a time, gave him a hammerand some nails to play with. These had always been to him a supremedelight, and while he hammered away, Mr. And Mrs. Williams, denyingthemselves, for the child's sake, even one more tearful embrace, wentashore in the boat and left him. It was not till the ship sailed that hewas told he would not see them again for a long, long time. Poor child, his tears and cries were wild when he first understood it; but thesorrows of four years old are very transient, and before a week wasover, little Eric felt almost reconciled to his position, and had becomethe universal pet and plaything of every one on board, from CaptainBroadland down to the cabin boy, with whom he very soon struck up anacquaintance. Yet twice a day at least, he would shed a tear, as helisped his little prayer, kneeling at Mrs. Munro's knee, and asked God"to bless his dear dear father and mother, and make him a good boy. "

When Eric arrived in England, he was intrusted to the care of a widowedaunt, whose daughter, Fanny, had the main charge of his early teaching. At first, the wayward little Indian seemed likely to form no accessionto the quiet household, but he soon became its brightest ornament andpride. Everything was in his favor at the pleasant home of Mrs. Trevor. He was treated with motherly kindness and tenderness, yet firmly checkedwhen he went wrong. From the first he had a well-spring of strength, against temptation, in the long letters which every mail brought fromhis parents; and all his childish affections were entwined round thefancied image of a brother born since he had left India. In his bed-roomthere hung a cherub's head, drawn in pencil by his mother, and thispicture was inextricably identified in his imagination with his "littlebrother Vernon. " He loved it dearly, and whenever he went astray, nothing weighed on his mind so strongly as the thought, that if he werenaughty he would teach little Vernon to be naughty too when hecame home. 

And Nature also--wisest, gentlest, holiest of teachers-was with him inhis childhood. Fairholm Cottage, where his aunt lived, was situated inthe beautiful Vale of Ayrton, and a clear stream ran through the valleyat the bottom of Mrs. Trevor's orchard. Eric loved this stream, and wasalways happy as he roamed by its side, or over the low green hills andscattered dingles, which lent unusual loveliness to every winding of itswaters. He was allowed to go about a good deal by himself, and it didhim good. He grew up fearless and self-dependent, and never felt thewant of amusement. The garden and orchard supplied him a theatre forendless games and romps, sometimes with no other companion than hiscousin and his dog, and sometimes with the few children of his own agewhom he knew in the hamlet. Very soon he forgot all about India; it onlyhung like a distant golden haze on the horizon of his memory. When askedif he remembered it, he would say thoughtfully, that in dreams and atsome other times, he saw a little child, with long curly hair, runningabout in a little garden, near a great river, in a place where the airwas very bright. But whether the little boy was himself or his brotherVernon, whom he had never seen, he couldn't quite tell. 

But above all, it was happy for Eric that his training was religious andenlightened. With Mrs. Trevor and her daughter, religion was not asystem but a habit--not a theory, but a continued act of life. All wassimple, sweet, and unaffected about their charity and their devotions. They loved God, and they did all the good they could to those aroundthem. The floating gossip and ill-nature of the little village neveraffected them; it melted away insensibly in the presence of theircultivated minds; and so friendship with them was a bond of union amongall, and from the vicar to the dairyman every one loved and respectedthem, asked their counsel, and sought their sympathy. 

They called themselves by no sectarian name, nor could they have told towhat "party" they belonged. They troubled themselves with no theories ofeducation, but mingled gentle nurture with "wholesome neglect. " Therewas nothing exotic or constrained in the growth of Eric's character. Hewas not one of your angelically good children at all, and knew none ofthe phrases of which infant prodigies are supposed to be so fond. He hadnot been taught any distinction between "Sunday books" and "week-day"books, but no book had been put in his way that was not healthy andgenuine in tone. He had not been told that he might use his Noah's arkon Sunday, because it was "a Sunday plaything, " while all other toyswere on that day forbidden. Of these things the Trevors thought little;they only saw that no child could be happy in enforced idleness orconstrained employment; and so Eric grew up to love Sunday quite as wellas any other day in the week, though, unlike your angelic children, henever professed to like it better. But to be truthful, to be honest, tobe kind, to be brave, these had been taught him, and he never _quite_forgot the lesson; nor amid the sorrows of after life did he ever quitelose the sense--learnt at dear quiet Fairholm--of a present loving God, of a tender and long-suffering Father. 

As yet he could be hardly said to know what school was. He had been sentindeed to Mr. Lawley's grammar-school for the last half-year, and hadlearned a few declensions in his Latin grammar. But as Mr. Lawleyallowed his upper class to hear the little boys their lessons, Eric hadmanaged to get on pretty much as he liked. Only _once_ in the entirehalf-year had he said a lesson to the dreadful master himself, and ofcourse it was a ruinous failure, involving some tremendous pulls ofEric's hair, and making him tremble like a leaf. Several things combinedto make Mr. Lawley dreadful to his imagination. Ever since he was quitelittle, he remembered hearing the howls which proceeded from the "Latinschool" as he passed by, whilst some luckless youngster was gettingcaned; and the reverend pedagogue was notoriously passionate. Then, again, he spoke so indistinctly with his deep, gruff voice, that Ericnever could and never did syllable a word he said, and this kept him ina perpetual terror. Once Mr. Lawley had told him to go out, and see whattime it was by the church clock. Only hearing that he was to dosomething, too frightened to ask what it was, and feeling sure that evenif he did, he should not understand what the master said, Eric ran out, went straight to Mr. Lawley's house, and after having managed bystrenuous jumps to touch the knocker, informed the servant "that Mr. Lawley wanted his man. "

"What man?" said the maid-servant, "the young man? or the butler? or isit the clerk?"

Here was a puzzler! all Eric knew was that he was in the habit ofsending sometimes for one or the other of these functionaries; but hewas in for it, so with a faltering voice he said "the young man" athazard, and went back to the Latin school. 

"Why have you been so long?" roared Mr. Lawley, as he timidly entered. Fear entirely prevented Eric from hearing what was said, so he answeredat random, "He's coming, sir. " The master, seeing by his scared lookthat something was wrong, waited to see what would turn up. 

Soon after, in walked "the young man, " and coming to the astonished Mr. Lawley, bowed, scraped, and said, "Master Williams said you sent forme, sir. "

"A mistake, " growled the schoolmaster, turning on Eric a look whichnearly petrified him; he quite expected a book at his head, or at best agreat whack of the cane; but Mr. Lawley had naturally a kind heart, soured as it was, and pitying perhaps the child's white face, hecontented himself with the effects of his look. 

The simple truth was, that poor Mr. Lawley was a little wrong in thehead. A scholar and a gentleman, early misfortunes and an imprudentmarriage had driven him to the mastership of the little countrygrammar-school; and here the perpetual annoyance caused to his refinedmind by the coarseness of clumsy or spiteful boys, had graduallyunhinged his intellect. Often did he tell the boys "that it was aneasier life by far to break stones by the roadside than to teach them;"and at last his eccentricities became too obvious to be any longeroverlooked. 

The dénouement of his history was a tragic one, and had come a few daysbefore the time when, our narrative opens. It was a common practiceamong the Latin school boys, as I suppose among all boys, to amusethemselves by putting a heavy book on the top of a door left partiallyajar, and to cry out "Crown him" as the first luckless youngster whohappened to come in received the book thundering on his head. One day, just as the trap had been adroitly laid, Mr. Lawley walked inunexpectedly. The moment he entered the school-room, down came anAinsworth's Dictionary on the top of his hat, and the boy, concealedbehind the door, unconscious of who the victim was, enunciated with mockgravity, "Crown him! three cheers. "

It took Mr. Lawley a second to raise from his eyebrows the battered hat, and recover from his confusion; the next instant he was springing afterthe boy who had caused the mishap, and who, knowing the effects of themaster's fury, fled with precipitation. In one minute the offender wascaught, and Mr. Lawley's heavy hand fell recklessly on his ears andback, until he screamed with terror. At last by a tremendous writhe, wrenching himself free, he darted towards the door, and Mr. Lawley, tooexhausted to pursue, snatched his large gold watch out of his fob, andhurled it at the boy's retreating figure. The watch flew through theair;--crash! it had missed its aim, and, striking the wall above thelintel, fell smashed into a thousand shivers. 

The sound, the violence of the action, the sight of the broken watch, which was the gift of a cherished friend, instantly woke the master tohis senses. The whole school had seen it; they sate there pale andbreathless with excitement and awe. The poor man could bear it nolonger. He flung himself into his chair, hid his face with his hands, and burst into hysterical tears. It was the outbreak of feelings longpent up. In that instant all his life passed before him--its hopes, itsfailures, its miseries, its madness. "Yes!" he thought, "I am mad. "

Raising his head, he cried wildly, "Boys, go, I am mad!" and sank againinto his former position, rocking himself to and fro. One by one theboys stole out, and he was left alone. The end is soon told. Forced toleave Ayrton, he had no means of earning his daily bread; and the weightof this new anxiety hastening the crisis, the handsome proud scholarbecame an inmate of the Brerely Lunatic Asylum. A few years afterwards, Eric heard that he was dead. Poor broken human heart! may he restin peace. 

Such was Eric's first school and schoolmaster. But although he learntlittle there, and gained no experience of the character of others or ofhis own, yet there was one point about Ayrton Latin School, which henever regretted. It was the mixture there of all classes. On thosebenches gentlemen's sons sat side by side with plebeians, and no harm, but only good, seemed to come from the intercourse. The neighboringgentry, most of whom had begun their education there, were drawn intocloser and kindlier union with their neighbors and dependents, from thefact of having been their associates in the days of their boyhood. Manya time afterwards, when Eric, as he passed down the streets, interchanged friendly greetings with some young glazier or tradesmanwhom he remembered at school, he felt glad that thus early he had learntpractically to despise the accidental and nominal differences whichseparate man from man. 

CHAPTER II

A NEW HOME

 "Life hath its May, and all is joyous then; The woods are vocal and the flowers breathe odour, The very breeze hath, mirth in't. "--OLD PLAY. 

At last the longed-for yet dreaded day approached, and a letter informedthe Trevors that Mr. And Mrs. Williams would arrive at Southampton onJuly 5th, and would probably reach Ayrton the evening after. Theyparticularly requested that no one should come to meet them on theirlanding. "We shall reach Southampton, " wrote Mrs. Trevor, "tired, pale, and travel-stained, and had much rather see you first at dear Fairholm, where we shall be spared the painful constraint of a meeting in public. So please expect our arrival at about seven in the evening. "

Poor Eric! although he had been longing for the time ever since the newscame, yet now he was too agitated to enjoy. Exertion and expectationmade him restless, and he could settle down to nothing all day, everyhour of which hung most heavily on his hands. 

At last the afternoon wore away, and a soft summer evening filled thesky with its gorgeous calm. Far off they caught the sound of wheels; acarriage dashed up to the door, and the next moment Eric sprang into hismother's arms. 

"O mother, mother!"

"My own darling, darling boy!"

And as the pale sweet face of the mother met the bright and rosychild-face, each of them was wet with a rush of ineffable tears. Inanother moment Eric had been folded to his father's heart, and locked inthe arms of "little brother Vernon. " Who shall describe the emotions ofthose few moments? they did not seem like earthly moments; they seemedto belong not to time, but to eternity. 

The first evening of such a scene is too excited to be happy. The littleparty at Fairholm retired early, and Eric was soon fast asleep with hisarm round his newfound brother's neck. 

Quiet steps entered the little room, and noiselessly the father andmother sat down by the bedside of their children. Earth could have shownno scene more perfect in its beauty than that which met their eyes. Thepure moonlight flooded the little room, and showed distinctly the formsand countenances of the sleepers, whose soft regular breathing was theonly sound that broke the stillness of the July night. The small shiningflower-like faces, with their fair hair--the trustful loving arms foldedround each brother's neck--the closed lids and parted lips made anexquisite picture, and one never to be forgotten. Side by side, withouta word, the parents knelt down, and with eyes wet with tears ofjoyfulness, poured out their hearts in passionate prayer for their youngand beloved boys. 

Very happily the next month glided away; a new life seemed opened toEric in the world of rich affections which had unfolded itself beforehim. His parents--above all, his mother--were everything that he hadlonged for; and Vernon more than fulfilled to his loving heart the idealof his childish fancy. He was never tired of playing with andpatronising his little brother, and their rambles by stream and hillmade those days appear the happiest he had ever spent. Every evening(for he had not yet laid aside the habits of childhood) he said hisprayers by his mother's knee, and at the end of one long summer's day, when prayers were finished, and full of life and happiness he lay downto sleep, "O mother, " he said, "I am so happy--I like to say my prayerswhen you are here. "

"Yes, my boy, and God loves to hear them. "

"Aren't there some who never say prayers, mother?"

"Very many, love, I fear. "

"How unhappy they must be! I shall _always_ love to say my prayers. "

"Ah, Eric, God grant that you may!"

And the fond mother hoped he always would. But these words often cameback to Eric's mind in later and less happy days--days when that gentlehand could no longer rest lovingly on his head--when those mild blueeyes were dim with tears, and the fair boy, changed in heart and life, often flung himself down with an unreproaching conscience toprayerless sleep. 

It had been settled that in another week Eric was to go to school inthe Isle of Roslyn. Mr. Williams had hired a small house in the town ofEllan, and intended to stay there for his year of furlough, at the endof which period Vernon was to be left at Fairholm, and Eric in the houseof the head-master of the school. Eric enjoyed the prospect of allthings, and he hardly fancied that Paradise itself could be happier thana life at the seaside with his father and mother and Vernon, combinedwith the commencement of schoolboy dignity. When the time for the voyagecame, his first glimpse of the sea, and the sensation of sailing over itwith only a few planks between him and the deep waters, struck himsilent with admiring wonder. It was a cloudless day; the line of bluesky melted into the line of blue wave, and the air was filled withsunlight. At evening they landed, and the coach took them to Ellan. Onthe way Eric saw for the first time the strength of the hills, so thatwhen they reached the town and took possession of their cottage, he wasdumb with the inrush of new and marvellous impressions. 

Next morning he was awake early, and jumping out of bed, so as not todisturb the sleeping Vernon, he drew up the window-blind, and gentlyopened the window. A very beautiful scene burst on him, one destined tobe long mingled with all his most vivid reminiscences. Not twenty yardsbelow the garden, in front of the house, lay Ellan Bay, at that momentrippling with golden laughter in the fresh breeze of sunrise. On eitherside of the bay was a bold headland, the one stretching out in a seriesof broken crags, the other terminating in a huge mass of rock, calledfrom its shape the Stack. To the right lay the town, with its grey oldcastle, and the mountain stream running through it into the sea; to theleft, high above the beach, rose the crumbling fragment of a picturesquefort, behind which towered the lofty buildings of Roslyn School. Ericlearnt the whole landscape by heart, and thought himself a most happyboy to come to such a place. He fancied that he should be never tired oflooking at the sea, and could not take his eyes off the great buoy thatrolled about in the centre of the bay, and flashed in the sunlight atevery move. He turned round full of hope and spirits, and, afterwatching for a few moments the beautiful face of his sleeping brother, he awoke him with a boisterous kiss. 

That day Eric was to have his first interview with Dr. Rowlands. Theschool had already re-opened, and one of the boys in his college cappassed by the window while they were breakfasting. He looked very happyand engaging, and was humming a tune as he strolled along. Eric startedup and gazed after him with the most intense curiosity. At that momentthe unconscious schoolboy was to him the most interesting person in thewhole world, and he couldn't realize the fact that, before the day wasover, he would be a Roslyn boy himself. He very much wondered what sortof a fellow the boy was, and whether he should ever recognise him again, and make his acquaintance. Yes, Eric, the thread of that boy's destinyis twined a good deal with yours; his name is Montagu, as you will knowvery soon. 

At nine o'clock Mr. Williams started towards the school with his son. The walk led them by the sea-side, over the sands, and past the ruin, atthe foot of which the waves broke at high tide. At any other time Ericwould have been overflowing with life and wonder at the murmur of theripples, the sight of the ships passing by the rock-bound bay, and thenumberless little shells, with their bright colors and sculpturedshapes, which lay about the beach. But now his mind was too full of asingle sensation, and when, after crossing a green playground, theystood by the head-master's door, his heart fluttered, and it requiredall his energy to keep down the nervous trembling which shook him. 

Mr. Williams gave his card, and they were shown into Dr. Rowlands'study. He was a kind-looking gentlemanly man, and when he turned toaddress Eric, after a few minutes' conversation with his father, the boyfelt instantly reassured by the pleasant sincerity and frank courtesy ofhis manner. A short examination showed that Eric's attainments were veryslight as yet, and he was to be put in the lowest form of all, under thesuperintendence of the Rev. Henry Gordon. Dr. Rowlands wrote a shortnote in pencil, and giving it to Eric, directed the servant to show himto Mr. Gordon's school-room. 

The bell had just done ringing when they had started for the school, sothat Eric knew that all the boys would be by this time assembled attheir work, and that he should have to go alone into the middle of them. As he walked after the servant through the long corridors and up thebroad stairs, he longed to make friends with him, so as, if possible, tofeel less lonely. But he had only time to get out, "I say, what sort ofa fellow is Mr. Gordon?"

"Terrible strict, Sir, I hear, " said the man, touching his cap with acomic expression, which didn't at all tend to enliven the future pupil. "That's the door, " he continued, "and you'll have to give him thedoctor's note;" and, pointing to a door at the end of the passage, hewalked off. 

Eric stopped irresolutely. The man had disappeared, and he was byhimself in the great silent building. Afraid of the sound of his ownfootsteps, he ran along the passage, and knocked timidly. He heard alow, a very low murmur in the room, but there was no answer. He knockedagain a little louder; still no notice; then, overdoing it in hisfright, he gave a very loud tap indeed. 

"Come in, " said a voice, which to the new boy sounded awful; buthe opened the door, and entered. As he came in every head wasquickly raised, he heard a whisper of "New fellow, " and the crimsonflooded his face, as he felt himself the cynosure of some fortyintensely-inquisitive pairs of eyes. 

He found himself in a high airy room, with three large windows openingtowards the sea. At one end was the master's throne, and facing it, alldown the room, were desks and benches, along which the boys were sittingat work. Every one knows how very confusing it is to enter a strangeroom full of strange people, and especially when you enter it from adarker passage. Eric felt dazzled, and not seeing the regular route tothe master's desk, went towards it between two of the benches. As thesewere at no great distance from each other, he stumbled against severallegs on his way, and felt pretty sure that they were put out on purposeto trip him, especially by one boy, who, pretending to be much hurt, drew up his leg, and began rubbing it, ejaculating _sotto voce_, "awkward little fool. "

In this very clumsy way he at last reached the desk, and presented hismissive. The master's eye was on him, but all Eric had time to observewas, that he looked rather stern, and had in his hand a book which heseemed to be studying with the deepest interest. He glanced first at thenote, and then looked full at the boy, as though determined to read hischaracter at a glance. 

"Williams, I suppose?"

"Yes, Sir, " said Eric, very low, still painfully conscious that all theboys were looking at him, as well as the master. 

"Very well, Williams, you are placed in the lowest form--the fourth. Ihope you will work well. At present they are learning their Cesar. Goand sit next to that boy, " pointing towards the lower end of the room;"he will show you the lesson, and let you look over his book. Barker, let Williams look over you!"

Eric went and sat down at the end of a bench by the boy indicated. Hewas a rough-looking fellow, with a shock head of black hair, and a verydogged look. Eric secretly thought that he wasn't a very nice-lookingspecimen of Roslyn school. However, he sate by him, and glanced at theCesar which the boy shoved about a quarter of an inch in his direction. But Barker didn't seem inclined to make any further advances, andpresently Eric asked in a whisper, "What's the lesson?"

The boy glanced at him, but took no further notice. 

Eric repeated, "I say, what's the lesson?"

Instead of answering, Barker stared at him, and grunted, "What's your name?"

"Eric--I mean Williams. "

"Then why don't you say what you mean?"

Eric moved his foot impatiently at this ungracious reception; but as heseemed to have no redress, he pulled the Cesar nearer towards him. 

"Drop that; 't isn't yours. "

Mr. Gordon heard a whisper, and glanced that way. "Silence!" he said, and Barker pretended to be deep in his work, while Eric, resigninghimself to his fate, looked about him. 

He had plenty to occupy his attention in the faces round him. Hefurtively examined Mr. Gordon, as he bent over his high desk, writing, but couldn't make our the physiognomy. There had been something reservedand imperious in the master's manner, yet he thought he should notdislike him on the whole. With the countenances of his futureschoolfellows he was not altogether pleased, but there were one or twowhich thoroughly attracted him. One boy, whose side face was turnedtowards him as he sat on the bench in front, took his fancyparticularly, so, tired of doing nothing, he plucked up courage, andleaning forward whispered, "Do lend me your Cesar for a few minutes. "The boy at once handed it to him with a pleasant smile, and as thelesson was marked, Eric had time to hurry over a few sentences, when Mr. Gordon's sonorous voice exclaimed, "Fourth form, come up!"

Some twenty of the boys went up, and stood in a large semicircle roundthe desk. Eric of course was placed last, and the lesson commenced. 

"Russell, begin, " said the master; and immediately the boy who hadhanded Eric his Caesar, began reading a few sentences, and construedthem very creditably, only losing a place or two. He had a frank openface, bright intelligent fearless eyes, and a very taking voice andmanner. Eric listened admiringly and felt sure he should like him. 

Barker was put on next. He bungled through the Latin in a gratingirresolute sort of a way, with several false quantities, for each ofwhich the next boy took him up. Then he began to construe;--a frightfulconfusion of nominatives without verbs, accusatives translated asablatives, and perfects turned into prepositions ensued, and after ahopeless flounder, during which Mr. Gordon left him entirely to himself, Barker came to a full stop; his catastrophe was so ludicrous, that Ericcould not help joining in the general titter Barker scowled. 

"As usual, Barker, " said the master, with a curl of the lip. "Hold outyour hand!"

Barker did so, looking sullen defiance, and the cane immediatelydescended on his open palm. Six similar cuts followed, during which theform looked on, not without terror; and Barker, squeezing his handstight together, went back to his seat. 

"Williams, translate the piece in which Barker has just failed!"

Eric did as he was bid, and got through it pretty well. He had now quiterecovered his ordinary bearing, and spoke out clearly and withoutnervousness. He afterwards won several places by answering questions, and at the end of the lesson was marked about half-way up the form. Theboys' numbers were then taken down in the weekly register, and they wentback to their seats. 

On his desk Eric found a torn bit of paper, on which was clumsilyscrawled, "I'll teach you to grin when I'm turned, you young brute. "

The paper seemed to fascinate his eyes. He stared at it fixedly, andaugured ominously of Barker's intentions, since that worthy obviouslyalluded to his having smiled in form, and chose to interpret it as anintentional provocation. He felt that he was in for it, and that Barkermeant to pick a quarrel with him. This puzzled and annoyed him, and hefelt very sad to have found an enemy already. 

While he was looking at the paper, the great school-clock struck twelve;and the captain of the form getting up, threw open the folding-doors ofthe school-room. 

"You may go, " said Mr. Gordon; and leaving his seat disappeared by adoor at the further end of the room. 

Instantly there was a rash for caps, and the boys poured out in aconfused and noisy stream, while at the same moment the otherschool-rooms disgorged their inmates. Eric naturally went out among thelast; but just as he was going to take his cap, Barker seized it, andflung it with a whoop to the end of the passage, where it was trampledon by a number of the boys as they ran out. 

Eric, gulping down his fury with a great effort, turned to his opponent, and said coolly, "Is that what you always do to new fellows?"

"Yes, you bumptious young owl, it is, and that too;" and a tolerablysmart slap on the face followed--leaving a red mark on a cheek alreadyaflame with, anger and indignation, --"should you like a little more?"

He was hurt, both mind and body, but was too proud to cry. "What's thatfor?" he said, with flashing eyes. 

"For your conceit in laughing at me when I was caned. "

Eric stamped. "I did nothing of the kind, and you know it as well as Ido. "

"What! I'm a liar, am I? O we shall take this kind of thing out of you, you young cub--take that;" and a heavier blow followed. 

"You brutal cowardly bully, " shouted Eric; and in another moment hewould have sprung upon him. It was lucky for him that he did not, forBarker was three years older than he, and very powerful. Such an attackwould hare been most unfortunate for him in every way. But at thisinstant some boys hearing the quarrel ran up, and Russell among them. 

"Hallo, Barker, " said one, "what's up?"

"Why, I'm teaching this new fry to be less bumptious, that's all. "

"Shame!" said Russell, as he saw the mark on Eric's cheek; "what afellow you are, Barker. Why couldn't you leave him alone for his firstday, at any rate?"

"What's that to you? I'll kick you too, if you say much. "

"Cavè, cavè!" whispered half a dozen voices, and instantly the knot ofboys dispersed in every direction, as Mr. Gordon was seen approaching. He had caught a glimpse of the scene without understanding it, andseeing the new boy's red and angry face, he only said, as he passed by, "What, Williams! fighting already? Take care. "

This was the cruellest cut of all. "So, " thought Eric, "a nicebeginning! it seems both boys and masters are against me;" and verydisconsolately he walked to pick up his cap. 

The boys were all dispersed in the play-ground at different games, andas he went home he was stopped perpetually, and had to answer the usualquestions, "What's your name? Are you a boarder or a day scholar? Whatform are you in?" Eric expected all this, and it therefore did not annoyhim. Under any other circumstances, he would have answered cheerfullyand frankly enough; but now he felt miserable at his morning'srencontre, and his answers were short and sheepish, his only desirebeing to get away as soon as possible. It was an additional vexation tofeel sure that his manner did not make a favorable impression. 

Before he had got out of the play ground, Russell ran up to him. "I'mafraid you won't like this, or think much of us, Williams, " he said. "But never mind. It'll only last a day or two, and the fellows are notso bad as they seem; except that Barker. I'm sorry you've come acrosshim, but it can't be helped. "

It was the first kind word he had had since the morning, and after histroubles kindness melted him. He felt half inclined to cry, and for afew moments could say nothing in reply to Russell's soothing words. Butthe boy's friendliness went far to comfort him, and at last, shakinghands with him, he said--

"Do let me speak to you sometimes, while I am a new boy, Russell. "

"O yes, " said Russell, laughing, "as much as ever you like. And asBarker hates me pretty much as he seems inclined to hate you, we are inthe same box. Good bye. "

So Eric left the field, and wandered home, like Calchas in the Iliad, "Sorrowful by the side of the sounding sea. " Already the purple mantlehad fallen from his ideal of schoolboy life. He got home later than theyexpected, and found his parents waiting for him. It was ratherdisappointing to them to see his face so melancholy, when they expectedhim to be full of animation and pleasure. Mrs. Williams drew her ownconclusions from the red mark on his cheek, as well as the traces oftears welling to his eyes; but, like a wise mother, she asked nothing, and left the boy to tell his own story, --which, in time he did, omittingall the painful part, speaking enthusiastically of Russell, and onlyadmitting that he had been a little teased. 

CHAPTER III

BULLYING

"Give to the morn of life its natural blessedness. " Wordsworth. 

Why is it that new boys are almost invariably ill-treated? I have oftenfancied that there must be in boyhood a pseudo-instinctive cruelty, asort of "wild trick of the ancestral savage, " which, no amount ofcivilization can entirely repress. Certain it is, that to most boys thefirst term is a trying ordeal. They are being tested and weighed. Theirplace in the general estimation is not yet fixed, and the slightestcircumstances are seized upon to settle the category under which the boyis to be classed. A few apparently trivial accidents of his first fewweeks at school often decide his position in the general regard for theremainder of his boyhood. And yet these are _not_ accidents; they arethe slight indications which give an unerring proof of the generaltendencies of his character and training. Hence much of the apparentcruelty with which new boys are treated is not exactly intentional. Atfirst, of course, as they can have no friends worth speaking of, thereare always plenty of coarse and brutal minds that take a pleasure intheir torment, particularly if they at once recognise any innatesuperiority to themselves. Of this class was Barker. He hated Eric atfirst sight, simply because his feeble mind could only realise one ideaabout him, and that was the new boy's striking contrast with his ownimperfections. Hence he left no means untried to vent on Eric his lowand mean jealousy. He showed undisguised pleasure when he fell in form, and signs of disgust when he rose; he fomented every little source ofdisapproval or quarrelling which happened to arise against him; he neverlooked at him without a frown or a sneer; he waited for him to kick andannoy him as he came out of, or went into, the school-room. In fact, hedid his very best to make the boy's life miserable, and the occupationof hating him seemed in some measure to fill up the vacuity of anill-conditioned and degraded mind. 

Hatred is a most mysterious and painful phenomenon to the unhappy personwho is the object of it, and more especially if he have incurred it byno one assignable reason. To Eric it was peculiarly painful; he wasutterly unprepared for it. In his bright joyous life at Fairholm, in thelittle he saw of the boys at the Latin school, he had met with nothingbut kindness and caresses, and the generous nobleness of his characterhad seemed to claim them as a natural element. "And now, why, " he askedimpatiently, "should this bull-dog sort of fellow have set his whole aimto annoy, vex, and hurt me?" Incapable himself of so mean a spirit ofjealousy at superior excellence, he could not make it out; but such, was the fact, and the very mysteriousness of it made it moreintolerable to bear. 

But it must be admitted that he made matters worse by his own bursts ofpassion. His was not the temper to turn the other cheek; but, brave andspirited as he was, he felt how utterly hopeless would be any attempt onhis part to repel force by force. He would have tried some slightconciliation, but it was really impossible with such a boy as his enemy. Barker never gave him even so much as an indifferent look, much less acivil word. Eric loathed him, and the only good and happy part of thematter to his own mind was, that conscientiously his only desire was toget rid of him and be left alone, while he never cherished a particleof revenge. 

While every day Eric was getting on better in form, and winning himselfa very good position with the other boys, who liked his frankness, hismirth, his spirit, and cleverness, he felt this feud with Barker like adark background to all his enjoyment. He even had to manoeuvre daily howto escape him, and violent scenes were of constant occurrence betweenthem. Eric could not, and would not, brook his bullying with silence. His resentment was loud and stinging, and, Ishmaelite as Barker was, even _his_ phlegmatic temperament took fire when Eric shouted his fierceand uncompromising retorts in the hearing of the others. 

Meanwhile Eric was on the best of terms with the rest of the form, andsuch of the other boys as he knew, although, at first, his position as ahome-boarder prevented his knowing many. Besides Russell, there werethree whom he liked best, and respected most--Duncan, Montagu, and Owen. They were very different boys, but all of them had qualities which welldeserved his esteem. Duncan was the most boyish of boys, intensely fullof fun, good-nature, and vigor; with fair abilities, he never got onwell, because he could not be still for two minutes, and even if, insome fit of sudden ambition, he got up high in the form, he was sure tobe put to the bottom again before the day was over, for trifling ortalking. But out of school he was the soul of every game; whatever _he_took up was sure to be done pleasantly, and no party of amusement wasever planned without endeavoring to secure him as one of the number. 

Montagu's chief merit was, that he was such a thorough little gentleman;"such a jolly little fellow" every one said of him. Without being cleveror athletic, he managed to do very fairly both at work and at the games, and while he was too exclusive to make many _intimate_ friends, everybody liked walking about or talking with him. Even Barker, blackguard as he was, seemed to be a little uneasy when confronted withMontagu's naturally noble and chivalrous bearing. In nearly all respectshis influence was thoroughly good, and few boys were moregenerally popular. 

Owen, again, was a very different boy. His merit was a ceaselessdiligence, in which it was doubtful whether ambition orconscientiousness had the greatest share. Reserved and thoughtful, unfitted for or indifferent to most games, he was anything but afavorite with the rest, and Eric rather respected than liked him. Whenhe first came, he had been one of the most natural butts for Barker'scraving ill-nature, and for a time he had been tremendously bullied. Butgradually his mental superiority asserted itself. He took everythingwithout tears and without passion, and this diminished the pleasure ofannoying him. One day when Barker had given him an unprovoked kick, hequietly said, "Barker, next time you do that, I'll tell Mr. Gordon. "

"Sneak! do it if you dare. " And he kicked him again; but the momentafter he was sorry for it, for there was a dark look in Owen's eyes, ashe turned instantly into the door of the master's room, and laid aformal complaint against Barker for bullying. 

Mr. Gordon didn't like "telling, " and he said so to Owen, withoutreserve. An ordinary boy would have broken into a flood of explanationsand palliations, but Owen simply bowed, and said nothing. "He stoodthere for justice, " and he had counted the cost. Strong-minded andclear-headed, he calculated correctly that the momentary dislike of hisschoolfellows, with whom he well knew that he never could be popular, would be less unbearable than Barker's villanous insults. Theconsequence was that Barker was caned soundly, although, with someinjustice, Mr. Gordon made no attempt to conceal that he did itunwillingly. 

Of course the fellows were very indignant with Owen for sneaking, asthey called it, and for a week or two he had the keen mortification ofseeing "Owen is a sneak, " written up all about the walls. But he wastoo proud or too cold to make any defence till called upon, and bore itin silence. Barker vowed eternal vengeance, and the very day after, hadseized Owen with the avowed intention of "half murdering him. " Butbefore he could once strike him, Owen said in the most chill tone, "Barker, if you touch me, I shall go straight to Dr. Rowlands. " Thebully well knew that Owen never broke his word, but he could not governhis rage, and first giving Owen a violent shake, he proceeded to thrashhim without limit or remorse. 

Pale, but unmoved, Owen got away, and walked straight to Dr. Rowlands'door. The thing was unheard of, and the boys were amazed at histemerity, for the doctor was to all their imaginations a regular _Deusex machinâ. _ That afternoon, again Barker was publicly caned, with thethreat that the next offence would be followed by instant and publicexpulsion. This punishment he particularly dreaded, because he wasintended for the army, and he well knew that it might ruin hisprospects. The consequence was, that Owen never suffered from him again, although he daily received a shower of oaths and curses, which he passedover with silent contempt. 

My dear boy-reader, don't suppose that I want you to imitate Owen inthis matter. I despise a boy who "tells" as much as you do, and it is afar better and braver thing to bear bullying with such a mixture ofspirit and good humor, as in time to disarm it. But Owen was a peculiarboy, and remember he had _no_ redress. He bore for a time, until he feltthat he _must_ have the justice and defence, without which it wouldhave been impossible for him to continue at Roslyn school. 

But why, you ask, didn't he tell the monitors? Unfortunately at Roslynthe monitorial system was not established. Although it was a school of250 boys, the sixth form, with all their privileges, had no prerogativeof authority. They hadn't the least right to interfere, because no suchpower had been delegated to them, and therefore they felt themselvesmerely on a par with the rest, except for such eminence as theirintellectual superiority gave them. The consequence was, that anyinterference from them would have been of a simply individual nature, and was exerted very rarely. It would have done Owen no more good totell a sixth-form boy, than to tell any other boy; and as he was not afavorite, he was not likely to find any champion to fight his battles ormaintain his just rights. 

All this had happened before Eric's time, and he heard it from his bestfriend Russell. His heart clave to that boy. They became friends at onceby a kind of electric sympathy; the first glance of each at the other'sface prepared the friendship, and every day of acquaintance more firmlycemented it. Eric could not have had a better friend; not so clever ashimself, not so diligent as Owen, not so athletic as Duncan, or sofascinating as Montagu, Russell combined the best qualities of them all. And, above all, he acted invariably from the highest principle; hepresented that noblest of all noble spectacles--one so rare that manythink it impossible--the spectacle of an honorable, pure-hearted, happyboy, who, as his early years speed by, is ever growing in wisdom, andstature, and favor with God and man. 

"Did that brute Barker ever bully you as he bullies me?" said Eric, oneday, as he walked on the sea-shore with his friend. 

"Yes, " said Russell; "I slept in his dormitory when I first came, and hehas often made me so wretched that I have flung myself on my knees atnight in pretence of prayer, but really to get a little quiet time tocry like a child. "

"And when was it he left off at last?"

"Why, you know, Upton in the fifth is my cousin, and very fond of me; heheard of it, though I didn't say anything about it, and told Barker thatif ever he caught him at it, he would thrash him within an inch of hislife; and that frightened him for one thing. Besides, Duncan, Montagu, and other friends of mine began to cut him in consequence, so he thoughtit best to leave off. "

"How is it, Russell, that fellows stand by and let him do it?"

"You see, Williams, " said Russell, "Barker is an enormously strongfellow, and that makes the younger chaps, whom he fags, look up to himas a great hero. And there isn't one in our part of the school who canthrash him. Besides, people never do interfere, you know--at least notoften. I remember once seeing a street-row in London, at which twentypeople stood by, and let a drunken beast of a husband strike his wifewithout ever stirring to defend her. "

"Well, " sighed Eric, "I hope my day of deliverance will come soon, forI can't stand it much longer, and 'tell' I won't, whatever Owen may do. "

Eric's deliverance came very soon. It was afternoon; the boys wereplaying at different games in the green playground, and he was waitingfor his turn at rounders. At this moment Barker lounged up, and calmlysnatching off Eric's cap, shied it over Dr. Rowlands' garden wall. "There, go and fetch that. "

"You blackguard!" said Eric, standing irresolutely for a few minutes;and then with tears in his eyes began to climb the wall. It was not veryhigh, but boys were peremptorily forbidden to get over it under anycircumstances, and Eric broke the rule not without trepidation. However, he dropped down on one of Mrs. Rowlands' flower-beds, and got his cap ina hurry, and clambered back undiscovered. 

He thought this would have satisfied his tormentor for one day; butBarker was in a mischievous mood, so he again came up to Eric, andcalling out, "Who'll have a game at football?" again snatched the cap, and gave it a kick; Eric tried to recover it, but every time he came upBarker gave it a fresh kick, and finally kicked it into a puddle. 

Eric stood still, trembling with rage, while his eyes lightened scornand indignation. "You hulking, stupid, cowardly bully, "--here Barkerseized him, and every word brought a tremendous blow on the head, butblind with passion Eric went on--"you despicable bully, I won't touchthat cap again, you shall pick it up yourself. Duncan, Russell, here! dohelp me against this intolerable brute. "

Several boys ran up, but they were all weaker than Barker, who besideswas now in a towering fury, and kicked Eric unmercifully. 

"Leave him alone, " shouted Duncan, "or by heaven I'll get you a soundthrashing from some fellow. "

"I won't; mind your own business, " growled Barker, shaking himself freefrom Duncan's hand. 

"Barker, I'll never speak to you again from this day, " said Montagu, turning on his heel with a look of withering contempt. 

"What do I care? puppy, you want taking down too, " was the reply, andsome more kicks at Eric followed. 

"Barker, I won't stand this any longer, " said Russell; and seizing himby the arm, he dealt him a swinging blow on the face. 

The bully stood in amazement, and dropped Eric, who fell on the turfnearly fainting, and bleeding at the nose. But now Russell's turn came, and in a moment Barker, who was twice his weight, had tripped him up, when he found himself collared in an iron grasp. 

There had been an unobserved spectator of the whole scene, in the personof Mr. Williams himself, and it was his strong hand that now gripedBarker's shoulder. He was greatly respected by the boys, who all knewhis tall handsome figure by sight, and he frequently stood a quiet andpleased observer of their games. The boys in the playground camecrowding round, and Barker in vain struggled to escape. Mr. Williamsheld him firmly, and said in a calm voice, "I have just seen you treatone of your schoolfellows with the grossest violence. It makes me blushfor you, Roslyn Boys, " he continued, turning to the group thatsurrounded him, "that you can stand by unmoved, and see such thingsdone. You know that you despise any one who tells a master, yet youallow this bullying to go on, and that, too, without any provocation. Now, mark; it makes no difference that the boy hurt is my own son; Iwould have punished this scoundrel, whoever it had been, and I shallpunish him now. " With these words he lifted the riding-whip which hehappened to be carrying, and gave Barker one of the most satisfactorycastigations he had ever undergone; the boys declared that Dr. Rowlands'"swishings" were nothing to it. Mr. Williams saw that the offender was atough subject, and determined that he should not soon forget thepunishment he then received. He had never heard from Eric how this boyhad been treating him, but he had heard it from Russell, and now he hadseen one of the worst specimens of it with his own eyes. He thereforebelabored him till his sullen obstinacy gave way to a roar for mercy, and promises never so to offend again. 

At this crisis he flung the boy from him with a "phew" of disgust, andsaid, "I give nothing for your word; but if ever you do bully in thisway again, and I see or hear of it, your present punishment shall be atrifle to what I shall then administer. At present, thank me for notinforming your master. " So saying, he made Barker pick up the cap, and, turning away, walked home with Eric leaning on his arm. 

Barker, too, carried himself off with the best grace be could; but itcertainly didn't mend matters when he heard numbers of fellows, evenlittle boys, say openly, "I'm so glad; serves you right. "

From that day Eric was never troubled with personal violence from Barkeror any other boy. But rancor smouldered deep in the mind of the baffledtyrant, and, as we shall see hereafter, there are subtler means ofmaking an enemy wretched than striking or kicking him. 

CHAPTER IV

CRIBBING

 "Et nos ergo manum forulae subduximus. "--Juv. I. 15. 

It must not be thought that Eric's year as a home boarder was made up ofdark experiences. Roslyn had a very bright as well as a dark side, andEric enjoyed it "to the finger-tips. " School-life, like all other life, is an April day of shower and sunshine. Its joys may be more childish, its sorrows more trifling than those of after years;--but they are morekeenly felt. 

And yet, although we know it to be a mere delusion, we all idealise andidolise our childhood. The memory of it makes pleasant purple in thedistance, and as we look back on the sunlight of its blue far-off hills, we forget how steep we sometimes found them. 

After Barker's discomfiture, which took place some three weeks after hisarrival, Eric liked the school more and more, and got liked by it moreand more. This might have been easily foreseen, for he was the type of athoroughly boyish mind in its more genial and honorable characteristics, and his round of acquaintances daily increased. Among others, a few ofthe sixth, who were also day-scholars, began to notice and walk homewith him. He looked on them as great heroes, and their condescensionmuch increased his dignity both in his own estimation and that ofhis equals. 

Now, too, he began to ask some of his most intimate acquaintances tospend an evening with him sometimes at home. This was a pleasure muchcoveted, for no boy ever saw Mrs. Williams without loving her, and theyfelt themselves humanised by the friendly interest of a lady whoreminded every boy of his own mother. Vernon, too, now a lively andactive child of nine, was a great pet among them, so that every oneliked Eric who "knew him at home. " A boy generally shows his best sideat home; the softening shadows of a mother's tender influence play overhim, and tone down the roughness of boyish character. Duncan, Montagu, and Owen were special favorites in the home circle, and Mrs. Williamsfelt truly glad that her son had singled out friends who seemed, on thewhole, so desirable. But Montagu and Russell were the most frequentvisitors, and the latter became almost like one of the family; he won somuch on all their hearts that Mrs. Williams was not surprised when Ericconfided to her one day that he loved Russell almost as well as beloved Vernon. 

As Christmas approached, the boys began to take a lively interest in thehalf-year's prizes, and Eric was particularly eager about them. He hadimproved wonderfully, and as both his father and mother prevented himfrom being idle, even had he been so inclined, he had soon shown thathe was one of the best in the form. Two prizes were given, half-yearlyto each remove; one for "marks" indicating the boy who had generallybeen highest throughout the half year, and the other for the test proofsof proficiency in a special examination. It was commonly thought in theform that Owen would get the first of these prizes, and Eric the other;and towards the approach of the examination, he threw his whole energyinto the desire to win. The desire was not selfish. Some ambition was ofcourse natural; but he longed for the prize chiefly for the delightwhich he knew his success would cause at Fairholm, and still more to hisown family. 

During the last week, an untoward circumstance happened, which, while itincreased his popularity, diminished a good deal (as he thought) hischance of success. The fourth form were learning a Homer lesson, andBarker, totally unable to do it by his own resources, was trying toborrow a crib. Eric, much to their mutual disgust, still sat next to himin school, and would have helped him if he had chosen to ask; but henever did choose, nor did Eric care to volunteer. The consequence was, that unless he could borrow a crib, he was invariably turned, and he wasnow particularly anxious to get one, because the time was nearly up. 

There was a certain idle, good-natured boy, named Llewellyn, who had"cribs" to every book they did, and who, with a pernicious _bonhommie, _lent them promiscuously to the rest, all of whom were only too glad toavail themselves of the help, except the few at the top of the form, whofound it a slovenly way of learning the lesson, which was sure to getthem into worse difficulties than an honest attempt to master themeaning for themselves. Llewellyn sat at the farther end of the form infront, so Barker scribbled in the fly-leaf of his book, "Please send usyour Homer crib, " and got the book passed on to Llewellyn, whoimmediately shoved his crib in Barker's direction. The only danger ofthe transaction being noticed, was when the book was being handed fromone bench to another, and as Eric unluckily had an end seat, he had gotinto trouble more than once. 

On this occasion, just as Graham, the last boy on the form in front, handed Eric the crib, Mr. Gordon happened to look up, and Eric, verynaturally anxious to screen another from trouble, popped the book underhis own Homer. 

"Williams, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Sir, " said Eric, looking up innocently. 

"Bring me that book under your Homer. "

Eric blushed, hesitated--but at last, amid a dead silence, took up thebook. Mr. Gordon looked at it for a moment, let it fall on the ground, and then, with an unnecessary affectation of disgust, took it up withthe tongs, and dropped it into the fire. There was a titter roundthe room. 

"Silence, " thundered the master; "this is no matter for laughing. So, sir, _this_ is the way you get up to the top of the form?"

"I wasn't using it, sir, " said Eric. 

"Not using it! Why, I saw you put it, open, under your Homer. "

"It isn't mine, sir. "

"Then whose is it?" Mr. Gordon looked at the fly leaf, but of course noname was there; in those days it was dangerous to write one's name in atranslation. 

Eric was silent. 

"Under the circumstances, Williams, I must punish you, " said Mr. Gordon. "Of course I am _bound_ to believe you, but the circumstances are verysuspicious. You had no business with such a book at all. Hold outyour hand. "

As yet, Eric had never been caned. It would have been easy for him inthis case to clear himself without mentioning names, but (very rightly)he thought it unmanly to clamor about being punished, and he feltnettled at Mr. Gordon's merely official belief of his word. He knew thathe had his faults, but certainly want of honor was not among them. Indeed, there were only three boys out of the twenty in the form, whodid not resort to modes of unfairness far worse than the use of cribs, and those three were Russell, Owen, and himself; even Duncan, evenMontagu, inured to it by custom, were not ashamed to read their lessonoff a concealed book, or copy a date from a furtive piece of paper. Theywould have been ashamed of it before they came to Roslyn school, but thecommonness of the habit had now made them blind or indifferent to itsmeanness. It was peculiarly bad in the fourth form, because the mastertreated them with implicit confidence, and being scrupulously honorablehimself, was unsuspicious of others. He was therefore extremelyindignant at this apparent discovery of an attempt to overreach him ina boy so promising and so much of a favorite as Eric Williams. 

"Hold out your hand, " he repeated. 

Eric did so, and the cane tingled sharply across his palm. He could bearthe pain well enough, but he was keenly alive to the disgrace; he, a boyat the head of his form, to be caned in this way by a man who didn'tunderstand him, and unjustly too! He mustered up an indifferent air, closed his lips tight, and determined to give no further signs. Thedefiance of his look made Mr. Gordon angry, and he inflicted insuccession five hard cuts on either hand, each one of which, was moreexcruciating than the last. 

"Now, go to your seat. "

Eric did go to his seat, with all his bad passions roused, and he walkedin a jaunty and defiant kind of way that made the master really grieveat the disgrace into which he had fallen. But he instantly became a herowith the form, who unanimously called him a great brick for not telling, and admired him immensely for bearing up without crying under so severea punishment. The punishment _was_ most severe, and for some weeks afterthere were dark weals visible across Eric's palm, which rendered the useof his hands painful. 

"Poor Williams, " said Duncan, as they went out of school, "how veryplucky of you not to cry. "

 "Vengeance deep brooding o'er the _cane_, Had locked the source of softer woe; And burning pride, and high disdain, Forbade the gentler tear to flow, "

said Eric, with a smile. 

But he only bore up until he got home, and there, while he was tellinghis father the occurrence, he burst into a storm of passionate tears, mingled with the fiercest invectives against Mr. Gordon for hisinjustice. 

"Never mind, Eric, " said his father; "only take care that you never geta punishment _justly_, and I shall always be as proud of you as I amnow. And don't cherish this resentment, my boy; it will only do youharm. Try to forgive and forget. "

"But, Papa, Mr. Gordon is so hasty. I have indeed been rather a favoriteof his, yet now he shows that he has no confidence in me. It is a greatshame that he shouldn't believe my word. I don't mind the pain; but Ishan't like him any more, and I'm sure, now, I shan't get theexamination prize. "

"You don't mean, Eric, that he will be influenced by partiality in thematter?"

"No, Papa, not exactly; at least I dare say he won't _intend_ to be. Butit is unlucky to be on bad terms with a master, and I know I shan'twork so well. "

On the whole, the boy was right in thinking this incident a misfortune. Although he had nothing particular for which to blame himself, yet theaffair had increased his pride, while it lowered his self-respect; andhe had an indistinct consciousness that the popularity in his form woulddo him as much harm as the change of feeling in his master. He grewcareless and dispirited, nor was it till in the very heat of the finalcompetition, that he felt his energies fully revived. 

Half the form were as eager about the examination as the other halfwere indifferent; but none were more eager than Eric. He was muchhindered by Barker's unceasing attempt to copy his paperssurreptitiously; and very much disgusted at the shameless way in whichmany of the boys "cribbed" from books, and from each other, or used tornleaves concealed in their sleeves, or dates written on their wristbands, and on their nails. He saw how easily much of this might have beenprevented; but Mr. Gordon was fresh at his work, and had not yet learntthe practical lesson, that to trust young boys to any great extent, isreally to increase their temptations. He _did_ learn the lessonafterwards, and then almost entirely suppressed the practice, partly byincreased vigilance, and partly by forbidding _any_ book to be broughtinto the room during the time of examination. But meanwhile, much evilhad been done by the habitual abuse of his former confidence. 

I shall not linger over the examination. At its close, the day beforethe breaking-up, the list was posted on the door of the greatschool-room, and most boys made an impetuous rush to see the result. ButEric was too nervous to be present at the hour when this was usuallydone, and he had asked Russell to bring him the news. 

He was walking up and down the garden, counting the number of steps hetook, counting the number of shrubs along each path, and devising everysort of means to beguile the time, when he heard hasty steps, andRussell burst in at the back gate, breathless with haste, and brightwith excitement. 

"Hurrah! old fellow, " he cried, seizing both Eric's hands; "I neverfelt so glad in my life;" and he shook his friend's arms up and down, laughing joyously. 

"Well! tell me, " said Eric. 

"First, {Owen/Williams} Aequales, " "you've got head remove you see, inspite of your forebodings, as I always said you would; and Icongratulate you with all my heart. "

"No?" said Eric, "have I really?--you're not joking? Oh! hurrah!--I mustrush in and tell them;" and he bounded off. 

In a second he was back at Russell's side. "What a selfish animal I am!Where are you placed, Russell?"

"Oh! magnificent; I'm third;--far higher than I expected. "

"I'm so glad, " said Eric. "Come in with me and tell them. I'm headremove, mother, " he shouted, springing into the parlor where his fatherand mother sat. 

In the lively joy that this announcement excited, Russell stood by forthe moment unheeded; and when Eric took him by the hand to tell themthat he was third, he hung his head, and a tear was in his eye. 

"Poor boy! I'm afraid you're disappointed, " said Mrs. Williams kindly, drawing him to her side. 

"Oh no, no! it's not _that_, " said Russell, hastily, as he lifted hisswimming eyes towards her face. 

"Are you hurt, Russell?" asked Eric, surprised. 

"Oh! no; don't ask me; I am only foolish to-day;" and with a burst ofsorrow he flung his arms round Mrs. Williams' neck. She folded him toher heart, and kissed him tenderly; and when his sobs would let himspeak, he whispered to her in a low tone, "It is but a year since Ibecame an orphan. "

"Dearest child, " she said, "look on me as a mother; I love you verydearly for your own sake as well as Eric's. "

Gradually he grew calmer. They made him stay to dinner and spend therest of the day there, and by the evening he had recovered all his usualsprightliness. Towards sunset he and Eric went for a stroll down thebay, and talked over the term and the examination. 

They sat down on a green bank just beyond the beach, and watched thetide come in, while the sea-distance was crimson with the glory ofevening. The beauty and the murmur filled them with a quiet happiness, not untinged with the melancholy thought of parting the next day. 

At last Eric broke the silence. "Russell, let me always call you Edwin, and call me Eric. "

"Very gladly, Eric. Your coming here has made me so happy. " And the twoboys squeezed each other's hands, and looked into each other's faces, and silently promised that they would be loving friends for ever. 

CHAPTER V

THE SECOND TERM

 "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil our vines; for our vines have tender grapes. "--CANT. Ii. 15. 

The second term at school is generally the great test of the strength ofa boy's principles and resolutions. During the first term the novelty, the loneliness, the dread of unknown punishments, the respect forauthorities, the desire to measure himself with his companions--all tendto keep him right and diligent. But many of these incentives are removedafter the first brush of novelty, and many a lad who has given goodpromise at first, turns out, after a short probation, idle, or vicious, or indifferent. 

But there was little comparative danger for Eric, so long as hecontinued to be a home boarder, which was for another half-year. On thecontrary, he was anxious to support in his new remove the prestige ofhaving been head boy; and as he still continued under Mr. Gordon, hereally wished to turn over a new leaf in his conduct towards him, andrecover, if possible, his lost esteem. 

His popularity was a fatal snare. He enjoyed and was very proud of it, and was half inclined to be angry with Russell for not fully sharing hisfeelings; but Russell had a far larger experience of school life thanhis new friend, and dreaded with all his heart lest "he should follow amultitude to do evil. "

The "cribbing, " which had astonished and pained Eric at first, was moreflagrant than even in the Upper Fourth, and assumed a chronic form. Inall the repetition lessons one of the boys used to write out in a largehand the passage to be learnt by heart, and dexterously pin it to thefront of Mr. Gordon's desk. There any boy who chose could read it offwith little danger of detection, and, as before, the only boys whorefused to avail themselves of this trickery were Eric, Russell, and Owen. 

Eric did _not_ yield to it; never once did he suffer his eyes to glanceat the paper when his turn to repeat came round. But although this wasthe case, he never spoke against the practice to the other boys, evenwhen he lost places by it. Nay more, he would laugh when any one toldhim how he had escaped "skewing" (_i. E. _ being turned) by reading itoff; and he even went so far as to allow them to suppose that hewouldn't himself object to take advantage of the master's unsuspiciousconfidence. 

"I say, Williams, " said Duncan, one morning as they strolled into theschool-yard, "do you know your Rep. ?"

"No, " said Eric, "not very well; I haven't given more than ten minutesto it. "

"Oh, well, never mind it now; come and have a game at racquets? Russeland Montagu have taken the court. "

"But I shall skew. "

"Oh no, you needn't, you know. I'll take care to pin it up on the desknear you. "

"Well, I don't much care. At any rate I'll chance it. " And off the boysran to the racquet-court, Eric intending to occupy the last quarter ofan hour before school-time in learning his lesson. Russell and he stoodthe other two, and they were very well matched. They had finished twosplendid games, and each side had been victorious in turn, when Duncan, in the highest spirits, shouted, "Now, Russell, for the conqueror. "

"Get some one else in my place, " said Russell; "I don't know my Rep. , and must cut and learn it. "

"O bother the Rep. , " said Montagu; "somebody's sure to write it out inschool, and old Gordon'll never see. "

"You forget, Montagu, I never condescend to that. "

"O ay, I forgot. Well, after all, you're quite right; I only wish I wasas good. "

"What a capital fellow he is, " continued Montagu, leaning on his racquetand looking after him, as Russell left the court; "but I say, Williams, you're not going too, are you?"

"I think I must, I don't know half my lesson. "

"O no! don't go; there's Llewellyn; he'll take Russell's place, and we_must_ have the conquering game. "

Again Eric yielded; and when the clock struck he ran into school, hot, vexed with himself, and certain to break down, just as Russell strolledin, whispering, "I've had lots of time to get up the Horace, and knowit pat. "

Still he clung to the little thistledown of hope that he should haveplenty of time to cram it before the form were called up. But anothertemptation awaited him. No sooner was he seated than Graham whispered, "Williams, it's your turn to write out the Horace; I did last time, you know. "

Poor Eric. He was reaping the fruits of his desire to keep uppopularity, by never denying his complicity in the general cheating. Everybody seemed to assume now that _he_ at any rate didn't think muchof it, and he had never claimed his real right up to that time ofasserting his innocence. But this was a step further than he had evergone before. He drew back--

"My _turn_, what do you mean?"

"Why, you know as well as I do that we all write it out by turns. "

"Do you mean to say that Owen or Russell ever wrote it out?"

"Of course not; you wouldn't expect the saints to be guilty of such athing, would you?"

"I'd rather not, Graham, " he said, getting very red. 

"Well, that _is_ cowardly, " answered Graham, angrily; "then I suppose Imust do it myself. "

"Here, I'll do it, " said Eric suddenly; "shy us the paper. "

His conscience smote him bitterly. In his silly dread of givingoffence, he was doing what he heartily despised, and he felt mostuncomfortable. 

"There, " he said, pushing the paper from him in a pet; "I've written it, and I'll have nothing more to do with it. "

Just as he finished they were called up, and Barker, taking the paper, succeeded in pinning it as usual on the front of the desk. Eric hadnever seen it done so carelessly and clumsily before, and firmlybelieved, what was indeed a fact, that Barker had done it badly onpurpose, in the hope that it might be discovered, and so Eric be gotonce more into a scrape. He was in an agony of apprehension, and whenput on, was totally unable to say a word of his Rep. But low as he hadfallen, he would not cheat like the rest; he kept his eyes resolutelyturned away from the guilty paper, and even refused to repeat the wordswhich were prompted in his ear by the boys on each side. Mr. Gordon, after waiting a moment, said--

"Why, Sir, you know nothing about it; you can't have looked at it. Go tothe bottom and write it out five times. "

"_Write it out_" thought Eric; "this is retribution, I suppose;" andcovered with shame and vexation, he took his place below the maliciousBarker at the bottom of the form. 

It happened that during the lesson the fire began to smoke, and Mr. Gordon told Owen to open the window for a moment. No sooner was thisdone than the mischievous whiff of sea air which entered the room beganto trifle and coquet with the perdulous half sheet pinned in front ofthe desk, causing thereby an unwonted little pattering crepitation. Inalarm, Duncan thoughtlessly pulled out the pin, and immediately thepaper floated gracefully over Russell's head, as he sat at the top ofthe form, and, after one or two gyrations, fluttered down in the centreof the room. 

"Bring me that piece of paper, " said Mr. Gordon, full of vaguesuspicion. 

Several boys moved uneasily, and Eric looked nervously around. 

"Did you hear? fetch me that half sheet of paper. "

A boy picked it up and handed it to him. He held it for a full minute inhis hands without a word, while vexation, deep disgust, and rising angerstruggled in his countenance. At last, he suddenly turned full on Eric, whose writing he recognized, and broke out, "So, Sir! a second time caught in gross deceit. I should not havethought it possible. Your face and manners belie you. You have lost myconfidence forever. I _despise_ you. "

"Indeed, Sir, " said the penitent Eric, "I never meant--"

"Silence--you are detected, as cheats always will be. I shall report youto Dr. Rowlands. "

The next boy was put on, and broke down. The same with the next, and thenext, and the next; Montagu, Graham, Llewellyn, Duncan, Barker, allhopeless failures; only two boys had said it right--Russell and Owen. 

Mr. Gordon's face grew blacker and blacker. The deep undisguised painwhich the discovery caused him was swallowed up in unboundedindignation. "False-hearted, dishonorable boys, " he exclaimed, "henceforth my treatment of you shall be very different. The whole form, except Russell and Owen, shall have an extra lesson every half-holiday;not one of the rest of you will I trust again. I took you for gentlemen. I was mistaken. Go. " And so saying, he waved them to their seats withimperious disdain. 

They went, looking sheepish, and ashamed. Eric, deeply vexed, kepttwisting and untwisting a bit of paper, without raising his eyes, andeven Barker thoroughly repented his short-sighted treachery; the restwere silent and miserable. 

At twelve o'clock two boys lingered in the room to speak to Mr. Gordon;they were Eric Williams and Edwin Russell, but they were full of verydifferent feelings. 

Eric stepped to the desk first. Mr. Gordon looked up. 

"You! Williams, I wonder that you have the audacity to speak to me. Go--I have nothing to say to you!"

"But, sir, I want to tell you that--"

"Your guilt is only too clear, Williams. You will hear more of this. Go, I tell you. "

Eric's passion overcame him; he stamped furiously on the ground, andburst out, "I _will_ speak, sir; you have been unjust to me for a longtime, but I will _not_ be--"

Mr. Gordon's cane fell sharply across the boy's back; he stopped, glaredfor a moment; and then saying:

"Very well, sir! I shall tell Dr. Rowlands that you strike before youhear me, " he angrily left the room, and slammed the door violentlybehind him. 

Before Mr. Gordon had time to recover from his astonishment, Russellstood by him. 

"Well, my boy, " said the master, softening in a moment, and laying hishand gently on Russell's head, "what have you to say? You cannot tellhow I rejoice, amid the deep sorrow that this has caused me, to findthat _you_ at least are uncontaminated. But I _knew_, Edwin, that Icould trust you. "

"O sir, I come to speak for Eric--for Williams. " Mr. Gordon's browdarkened again, and the storm gathered, as he interrupted vehemently, "Not a word, Russell; not a word. This is the _second_ time that he haswilfully deceived me; and this time he has involved others too in hisbase deceit. "

"Indeed, sir, you wrong him. I can't think how he came to write thepaper, but I _know_ that he did not and would not use it. Didn't you seeyourself, sir, how he turned his head quite another way when hebroke down. "

"It is very kind of you, Edwin, to defend him, " said Mr. Gordon coldly, "but at present, at any rate, I must not hear you. Leave me; I feel verysad, and must have time to think over this disgraceful affair. "

Russell went away disconsolate, and met his friend striding up and down, the passage, waiting for Dr. Rowlands to come out of the library. 

"O Eric, " he said, "how came you to write that paper?"

"Why, Russell, I did feel very much ashamed, and I would have explainedit, and said so; but that Gordon spites me so. It is such a shame; Idon't feel now as if I cared one bit. "

"I am sorry you don't get on with him; but remember you have given himin this case good cause to suspect. You never crib, Eric, I know, but Ican't help being sorry that you wrote the paper. "

"But then Graham asked me to do it, and called me cowardly because Irefused at first. "

"Ah, Eric, " said Russell, "they will ask you to do worse things if youyield so easily. I wouldn't say anything to Dr. Rowlands about it, if Iwere you. "

Eric took the advice, and, full of mortification, went home. He gave hisfather a true and manly account of the whole occurrence, and thatafternoon Mr. Williams wrote a note of apology and explanation to Mr. Gordon. Next time the form went up, Mr. Gordon said, in his mostfreezing tones, "Williams, at present I shall take no further notice ofyour offence beyond including you in the extra lesson everyhalf-holiday. "

From that day forward Eric felt that he was marked and suspected, andthe feeling worked on him with the worst effects. He grew more carelessin work, and more trifling and indifferent in manner. Several boys nowbeat him whom he had easily surpassed before, and his energies were fora time entirely directed to keeping that supremacy in the games which hehad won by his activity and strength. 

It was a Sunday afternoon, towards the end of the summer term, and theboys were sauntering about in the green playground, or lying on thebanks reading and chatting. Eric was with a little knot of his chieffriends, enjoying the sea breeze as they sat on the grass. At last thebell of the school chapel began to ring, and they went in to theafternoon service. Eric usually sat with Duncan and Llewellyn, immediately behind the benches allotted to chance visitors. The bench infront of them happened on this afternoon to be occupied by some ratherodd people, viz. , an old man with long white hair, and two ladiesremarkably stout, who were dressed with much juvenility, although pastmiddle age. Their appearance immediately attracted notice, and no soonerhad they taken their seats than Duncan and Llewellyn began to titter. The ladies' bonnets, which were of white, trimmed with long green leavesand flowers, just peered over the top of the boys' pew, and excited muchamusement. But Eric had not yet learnt to disregard the solemnity of theplace, and the sacred act in which they were engaged. He tried to lookaway, and attend to the service, and for a time he partially succeeded, although, seated as he was between the two triflers, who wereperpetually telegraphing to each other their jokes, he found it adifficult task, and secretly he began to be much tickled. 

At last the sermon commenced, and Llewellyn, who had imprisoned agrasshopper in a paper cage, suddenly let it hop out. The first hop tookit to the top of the pew; the second perched it on the shoulder of thestoutest lady. Duncan and Llewellyn tittered louder, and even Eric couldnot resist a smile. But when the lady, feeling some irritation on hershoulder, raised her hand, and the grasshopper took a frightened leapinto the centre of the green foliage which enwreathed her bonnet, noneof the three could stand it, and they burst into fits of laughter, whichthey tried in vain to conceal by bending down their heads and crammingtheir handkerchiefs into their mouths. Eric, having once given way, enjoyed the joke uncontrollably, and the lady made matters worse by heruneasy attempts to dislodge the unknown intruder, and discover the causeof the tittering, which she could not help hearing. At last all threebegan to laugh so violently that several heads were turned in theirdirection, and Dr. Rowlands' stern eye caught sight of their levity. Hestopped short in his sermon, and for one instant transfixed them withhis indignant glance. Quiet was instantly restored, and alarm reducedthem to the most perfect order, although the grasshopper still satimperturbable among the artificial flowers. Meanwhile the stout lady haddiscovered that for some unknown reason she had been causingconsiderable amusement, and, attributing it to intentional ridicule, looked round, justly hurt. Eric, with real shame, observed the deepvexation of her manner, and bitterly repented his share in thetransaction. 

Next morning Dr. Rowlands, in full academicals, sailed into thefourth-form room. His entrance was the signal for every boy to rise, andafter a word or two to Mr. Gordon, he motioned them to be seated. Eric'sheart sank within him. 

"Williams, Duncan, and Llewellyn, stand out!" said the Doctor. The boys, with downcast eyes and burning cheeks, stood before him. 

"I was sorry to notice, " said he, "your shameful conduct in chapelyesterday afternoon. As far as I could observe, you were makingyourselves merry in that sacred place with the personal defects ofothers. The lessons you receive here must be futile indeed, if they donot teach you the duty of reverence to God, and courtesy to man. Itgives me special pain, Williams, to have observed that you, too, a boyhigh in your remove, were guilty of this most culpable levity. You willall come to me at twelve o'clock in the library. "

At twelve o'clock they each received a flogging. The pain inflicted wasnot great, and Duncan and Llewellyn, who had got into similar troublebefore, cared very little for it, and went out laughing to tell thenumber of swishes they had received, to a little crowd of boys who werelingering outside the library door. But not so Eric. It was his _first_flogging, and he felt it deeply. To his proud spirit the disgrace wasintolerable. At that moment he hated Dr. Rowlands, he hated Mr. Gordon, he hated his schoolfellows, he hated everybody. He had been flogged; thethought haunted him; he, Eric Williams, had been forced to receive thismost degrading corporal punishment. He pushed fiercely through the knotof boys, and strode as quick as he could along the playground, angry andimpenitent. 

At the gate Russell met him. Eric felt the meeting inopportune; he wasashamed to meet his friend, ashamed to speak to him, envious of him, andjealous of his better reputation. He wanted to pass him by withoutnotice, but Russell would not suffer this. He came up to him and tookhis arm affectionately. The slightest allusion to his late disgracewould have made Eric flame out into passion; but Russell was too kind toallude to it then. He talked as if nothing had happened, and tried toturn his friend's thoughts to more pleasant subjects. Eric appreciatedhis kindness, but he was still sullen and fretful, and it was not untilthey parted that his better feelings won the day. But when Russell saidto him "Good bye, Eric, " it was too much for him, and seizing Edwin'shand, he wrung it hard, and tears rushed to his eyes. 

"Dear, good Edwin! how I wish I was like you. If all my friends werelike you, I should never get into these troubles. "

"Nay, Eric, " said Russell, "you may be far better than I. You have farbatter gifts, if you will only do yourself justice. "

They parted by Mr. Williams' door, and Russell walked home sad andthoughtful; but Eric, barely answering his brother's greeting, rushed upto his room, and, flinging himself on his bed, sobbed like a child atthe remembrance of his disgrace. They were not refreshing tears; he feltsomething hard at his heart, and, as he prayed neither for help norforgiveness, it was pride and rebellion, not penitence, that made himmiserable. 

CHAPTER VI

HOME AFFECTIONS

 "Keep the spell of home affection. Still alive in every heart; May its power, with mild direction, Draw our love from self apart, Till thy children Feel that thou their Father art. "

 SCHOOL HYMN. 

"I have caught such a lot of pretty sea anemones, Eric, " said littleVernon Williams, as his brother strolled in after morning school; "Iwish you would come and look at them. "

"O, I can't come now, Verny; I am going out to play cricket with somefellows directly. "

"But it won't take you a minute; do come. "

"What a little bore you are. Where are the things?"

"O, never mind, Eric, if you don't want to look at them, " said Vernon, hurt at his brother's rough manner. 

"First you ask me to look, and then say 'never mind, '" said Ericimpatiently; "here, show me them. "

The little boy brought a large saucer, round which the crimsonsea-flowers were waving their long tentacula in the salt water. 

"Oh, ay; very pretty indeed. But I must be off to cricket. "

Vernon looked up at his brother sadly. 

"You aren't so kind to me, Eric, as you used to be. "

"What nonsense! and all because I don't admire those nasty red-jellythings, which one may see on the shore by thousands any day. What alittle goose you are, Vernon!"

Vernon made no reply, but was putting away his sea-anemones with a sigh, when in came Russell to fetch Eric to the cricket. 

"Well, Verny, " he said, "have you been getting those prettysea-anemones? come here and show me them. Ah, I declare you've got oneof those famous white plumosa fellows among them. What a lucky littlechap you are!"

Vernon was delighted. 

"Mind you take care of them, " said Russell. "Where did you find them?"

"I have been down the shore getting them. "

"And have you had a pleasant morning?"

"Yes, Russell, thank you. Only it is rather dull being always by myself, and Eric never comes with me now. "

"Naughty Eric, " said Russell, playfully. "Never mind, Verny; you and Iwill cut him, and go by ourselves. "

Eric had stood by during the conversation, and the contrast of Russel'sunselfish kindness with his own harsh want of sympathy, struck him. Hethrew his arms round his brother's neck, and said, "We will both go withyou, Verny, next half holiday. "

"O, thank you, Eric, " said his brother; and the two schoolboys ran out. But when the next half holiday came, warm and bright, with the promiseof a good match that afternoon, Eric repented his promise, and leftRussell to amuse his little brother, while he went off, as usual, to theplayground. 

There was one silent witness of scenes like these, who laid them updeeply in her heart. Mrs. Williams was not unobservant of the gradualbut steady falling off in Eric's character, and the first thing shenoticed was the blunting of his home affections. When they first came toRoslyn, the boy used constantly to join his father and mother in theirwalks; but now he went seldom or never; and even if he did go, he seemedashamed, while with them, to meet any of his schoolfellows. The spiritof false independence was awake and growing in her darling son. Thebright afternoons they had spent together on the sunny shore, or seekingfor sea-flowers among the lonely rocks of the neighboringheadlands, --the walks at evening and sunset among the hills, and thesweet counsel they had together, when the boy's character opened like aflower in the light and warmth of his mother's love, --the long twilightswhen he would sit on a stool with his young head resting on her knees, and her loving hand among his fair hair, --all these things were becomingto Mrs. Williams memories, and nothing more. 

It was the trial of her life, and very sad to bear; the more so becausethey were soon to be parted, certainly for years, perhaps for ever. Thetime was drawing nearer and nearer; it was now June, and Mr. Williams'term of furlough ended in two months. The holidays at Roslyn were themonths of July and August, and towards their close Mr. And Mrs. Williamsintended to leave Vernon at Fairholm, and start for India--sending backEric by himself as a boarder in Dr. Rowlands' house. 

After morning school, on fine days, the boys used to run straight downto the shore and bathe. A bright and joyous scene it was. They strippedoff their clothes on the shingle that adjoined the beach, and thenrunning along the sands, would swim out far into the bay till theirheads looked like small dots glancing in the sunshine. This year Erichad learned to swim, and he enjoyed the bathing more than anyother pleasure. 

One day after they had dressed, Russell and he began to amuse themselveson the sea-shore. The little translucent pools left on the sands by theebbing tide always swarm with life, and the two boys found great fun inhunting audacious little crabs, or catching the shrimps that shuffledabout in the shallow water. At last Eric picked up a piece of wood whichhe found lying on the beach, and said, "What do you say to comingcrabfishing, Edwin? this bit of stick will do capitally to thrustbetween the rocks in the holes where they lie?"

Russell agreed, and they started to the rocks of the Ness to seek alikely place for their purpose. The Ness was a mile off, but in theexcitement of their pleasure they were oblivious of time. 

The Williams', for the boys' convenience, usually dined at one, but onthis day they waited half an hour for Eric. Since, however, he didn'tappear, they dined without him, supposing that he was accidentallydetained, and expecting him to come in every minute. But two o'clockcame, and no Eric; half-past two, and no Eric; three, but still no Eric. Mrs. Williams became seriously alarmed, and even her husbandgrew uneasy. 

Vernon was watching for his brother at the window, and seeing Duncanpass by, ran down to ask him, "If he knew where Eric was?"

"No, " said Duncan; "last time I saw him was on the shore. We bathedtogether, and I remember his clothes were lying by mine when I dressed. But I hav'n't seen him since. If you like we'll go and look for him. Idaresay he's on the beach somewhere. "

But they found no traces of him there; and when they returned with thisintelligence, his mother got so agitated that it required all herhusband's firm gentleness to support her sinking spirits. There wasenough to cause anxiety, for Vernon repeatedly ran out to ask the boyswho were passing if they had seen his brother, and the answer alwayswas, that they had left him bathing in the sea. 

Meanwhile our young friends, having caught several crabs, suddenlynoticed by the sun that it was getting late. 

"Good gracious, Edwin, " said Eric, pulling out his watch, "it'shalf-past three; what have we been thinking of? How frightened they'llbe at home;" and running back as fast as they could, they reached thehouse at five o'clock, and rushed into the room. 

"Eric, Eric, " said Mrs. Williams faintly, "where have you been? hasanything happened to you, my child?"

"No, mother, nothing. I've only been crabfishing with Russell, and weforgot the time. "

"Thoughtless boy, " said his father, "your mother has been in an agonyabout you. "

Eric saw her pale face and tearful eyes, and flung himself in her arms, and mother and son wept in a long embrace. "Only two months, " whisperedMrs. Williams, "and we shall leave you, dear boy, perhaps forever. O donot forget your love for us in the midst of new companions. "

The end of term arrived; this time Eric came out eighth only instead offirst, and, therefore, on the prize day, was obliged to sit among thecrowd of undistinguished boys. He saw that his parents weredisappointed, and his own ambition was grievously mortified. But he hadfull confidence in his own powers, and made the strongest resolutions towork hard the next half-year, when he had got out of "thatGordon's" clutches. 

The Williams' spent the holidays at Fairholm, and now, indeed, in theprospect of losing them, Eric's feelings to his parents came out in alltheir strength. Most happily the days glided by, and the father andmother used them wisely. All their gentle influence, all their deepaffection, were employed in leaving on the boy's heart lastingimpressions of godliness and truth. He learnt to feel that their lovewould encircle him for ever with its heavenly tenderness, and their pureprayers rise for him night and day to the throne of God. 

The day of parting came, and most bitter and heartrending it was. In thewildness of their passionate sorrow, Eric and Vernon seemed to hear thesound of everlasting farewells. It is God's mercy that ordains howseldom young hearts have to endure such misery. 

At length it was over. The last sound of wheels had died away; andduring those hours the hearts of parents and children felt thebitterness of death. Mrs. Trevor and Fanny, themselves filled withgrief, still used all their unselfish endeavors to comfort their dearboys. Vernon, weary of crying, soon sank to sleep; but not so Eric. Hesat on a low stool, his face buried in his hands, breaking the stillnessevery now and then with his convulsive sobs. 

"O Aunty, " he cried, "do you think I shall ever see them again? I havebeen so wicked, and so little grateful for all their love. O, I wish Ihad thought at Roslyn how soon I was to lose them. "

"Yes, dearest, " said Mrs. Trevor, "I have no doubt we shall all meetagain soon. Your father is only going for five years, you know, and thatwill not seem very long. And then they will be writing continually tous, and we to them. Think, Eric, how gladdened their hearts will be tohear that you and Vernon are good boys, and getting on well. "

"O, I _will_ be a better boy, I _will_ indeed, " said Eric; "I mean to dogreat things, and they shall have nothing but good reports of me. "

"God helping you, dear, " said his aunt, pushing back his hair from hisforehead, and kissing it softly; "without his help, Eric, we are allweak indeed. "

She sighed. But how far deeper her sigh would have been had she knownthe future. Merciful is the darkness that shrouds it from human eyes!

CHAPTER VII

ERIC A BOARDER

 "We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. "--WINTER'S TALE, i. 2. 

The holidays were over. Vernon was to have a tutor at Fairholm, and Ericwas to return alone, and be received into Dr. Rowlands' house. 

As he went on board the steam-packet, he saw numbers of the well-knownfaces on deck, and merry voices greeted him. 

"Hallo, Williams! here you are at last, " said Duncan, seizing his hand. "How have you enjoyed the holidays? It's so jolly to see you again. "

"So you're coming as a boarder, " said Montagu, "and to our noble house, too. Mind you stick up for it, old fellow. Come along, and let's watchwhether the boats are bringing any more fellows; we shall be starting ina few minutes. "

"Ha! there's Russell, " said Eric, springing to the gangway, and warmlyshaking his friend's hand as he came on board. 

"Have your father and mother gone, Eric?" said Russell, after a fewminutes' talk. 

"Yes, " said Eric, turning away his head, and hastily brushing his eyes. "They are on their way back to India. "

"I'm so sorry, " said Russell; "I don't think anyone has ever been sokind to me as they were. "

"And they loved you, Edwin, dearly, and told me, almost the last thing, that they hoped we should always be friends. Stop! they gave mesomething for you. " Eric opened his carpet-bag, and took out a littlebox carefully wrapped up, which he gave to Russell. It contained apretty silver watch, and inside the case was engraved--"Edwin Russell, from the mother of his friend Eric. "

The boy's eyes glistened with joyful surprise. "How good they are, " hesaid; "I shall write and thank Mrs. Williams directly we get to Roslyn. "

They had a fine bright voyage, and arrived that night. Eric, as a newcomer, was ushered at once into Dr. Rowlands' drawing-room, where thehead master was sitting with his wife and children. His greeting wasdignified, but not unkindly; and, on saying "good night, " he gave Eric afew plain words of affectionate advice. 

At that moment Eric hardly cared for advice. He was full of life andspirits, brave, bright, impetuous, tingling with hope, in the flush andflower of boyhood. He bounded down the stairs, and in another minuteentered the large room where all Dr. Rowlands' boarders assembled, andwhere most of them lived, except the few privileged sixth form, andother boys who had "studies. " A cheer greeted his entrance into theroom. By this time most of the Rowlandites knew him, and were proud tohave him among their number. They knew that he was clever enough to getthem credit in the school, and, what was better still, that he would bea capital accession of strength to the cricket and football. ExceptBarker, there was not one who had not a personal liking for him, and onthis occasion even Barker was gracious. 

The room in which Eric found himself was large and high. At one end wasa huge fire-place, and there was generally a throng of boys round thegreat iron fender, where, in cold weather, a little boy could seldomget. The large windows opened on the green playground; and iron barsprevented any exit through them. This large room, called "the boarders'room, " was the joint habitation of Eric and some thirty other boys; andat one side ran a range of shelves and drawers, where they kept theirbooks and private property. There the younger Rowlandites breakfasted, dined, had tea, and, for the most part, lived. Here, too, they had toget through all such work as was not performed under direct supervision. How many and what varied scenes had not that room beheld! had those dumbwalls any feeling, what worlds of life and experience they would haveacquired! If against each boy's name, as it was rudely cut on the oakpanels, could have been also cut the fate that had befallen him, thegood that he had there learnt, the evil that he had there suffered--what_noble_ histories would the records unfold of honor and success, ofbaffled temptations and hard-won triumphs; what _awful_ histories ofhopes blighted and habits learned, of wasted talents and ruined lives!

The routine of school-life was on this wise:--At half-past seven theboys came down to prayers, which were immediately followed by breakfast. At nine they went into school, where they continued, with littleinterruption, till twelve. At one they dined, and, except onhalf-holidays, went into school again from two till five. The lock-upbell rang at dusk; at six o'clock they had tea--which was a repetitionof breakfast, with leave to add to it whatever else they liked--andimmediately after sat down to "preparation, " which lasted from seventill nine. During this time one of the masters was always in the room, who allowed them to read amusing books, or employ themselves in anyother quiet way they liked, as soon as ever they had learnt theirlessons for the following day. At nine Dr. Rowlands came in and readprayers, after which the boys were dismissed to bed. 

The arrangement of the dormitories was peculiar. They were a suite ofrooms, exactly the same size, each opening into the other; six on eachside of a lavatory, which occupied the space between them, so that, whenall the doors were open, you could see from one end of the whole rangeto the other. The only advantage of this arrangement was, that onemaster walking up and down could keep all the boys in order while theywere getting into bed. About a quarter of an hour was allowed for thisprocess, and then the master went along the rooms putting out thelights. A few of the "study-boys" were allowed to sit up till ten, andtheir bedrooms were elsewhere. The consequence was, that in thesedormitories the boys felt perfectly secure from any interruption. Therewere only two ways by which a master could get at them; one up the greatstaircase, and through the lavatory; the other by a door at the extremeend of the range, which led into Dr. Rowlands' house, but was generallykept locked. 

In each dormitory slept four or five boys, distributed by their order inthe school list, so that, in all the dormitories, there were nearlysixty; and of these a goodly number were, on Eric's arrival, collectedin the boarders' room, the rest being in their studies, or in theclassrooms which some were allowed to use in order to prevent too greata crowd in the room below. 

At nine o'clock the prayer-bell rang. Immediately all the boarders tooktheir seats for prayers, each with an open Bible before him; and whenthe school servants had also come in, Dr. Rowlands read a chapter, andoffered up an extempore prayer. While reading, he generally intersperseda few pointed remarks or graphic explanations, and Eric learnt much inthis simple way. The prayer, though short, was always well suited to theoccasion, and calculated to carry with it the attention of theworshippers. 

Prayers over, the boys noisily dispersed to their bed rooms, and Ericfound himself placed in a room immediately to the right of the lavatory, occupied by Duncan, Graham, Llewellyn, and two other boys named Bull andAttlay, all in the same form with himself They were all tired with theirvoyage, and the excitement of coming back to school, so that they didnot talk much that night, and before long Eric was fast asleep, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming that he should have a very happy life atRoslyn school, and seeing himself win no end of distinctions, and makeno end of new friends. 

CHAPTER VIII

"TAKING UP"

 "We are not worst at once; the course of evil Begins so slowly, and from such slight source, An infant's hand might stop the breach with clay; But let the stream grow wider, and Philosophy-- Ay, and Religion too--may strive in vain To stem the headlong current!"--ANON. 

With intense delight Eric heard it announced next morning, when the newschool-list was read, that he had got his remove into the "Shell, " asthe form was called which intervened between the fourth and the fifth. Russell, Owen, and Montagu also got their removes with him, but hisother friends were left for the present in the form below. 

Mr. Rose, hiss new master, was in every respect a great contrast withMr. Gordon. He was not so brilliant in his acquirements, nor so vigorousin his teaching, and therefore clever boys did not catch fire from himso much as from the fourth-form master. But he was a far truer anddeeper Christian; and, with no less scrupulous a sense of honor, anddetestation of every form of moral obliquity, he never yielded to thosestorms of passionate indignation which Mr. Gordon found it impossible tocontrol. Disappointed in early life, subjected to the deepest and mostpainful trials, Mr. Rose's fine character had come out like gold fromthe flame. He now lived in and for the boys alone, and his whole lifewas one long self-devotion to their service and interests. The boys feltthis, and even the worst of them, in their worst moments, loved andhonored Mr. Rose. But he was not seeking for gratitude, which he neitherexpected nor required; he asked no affection in return for hisself-denials; he worked with a pure spirit of human and self-sacrificinglove, happy beyond all payment if ever he were instrumental in savingone of his charge from evil, or turning one wanderer from the errorof his ways. 

He was an unmarried man, and therefore took no boarders himself, butlived in the school-buildings, and had the care of the boys in Dr. Rowlands' house. 

Such was the master under whom Eric was now placed, and the boy wassadly afraid that an evil report would have reached his ears, and givenhim already an unfavorable impression. But he was soon happilyundeceived. Mr. Rose at once addressed him with much kindness, and hefelt that, however bad he had been before, he would now have anopportunity to turn over a new leaf, and begin again a career of hope. He worked admirably at first, and even beat, for the first week or two, his old competitors, Owen and Russell. 

From the beginning, Mr. Rose took a deep interest in him. Few could lookat the boy's bright blue eyes and noble face without doing so, and themore when they knew that his father and mother were thousands of milesaway, leaving him alone in the midst of so many dangers. Often themaster asked him, and Russell, and Owen, and Montagu, to supper with himin the library, which gave them the privilege of sitting up later thanusual, and enjoying a more quiet and pleasant evening than was possiblein the noisy rooms. Boys and master were soon quite at home with eachother, and in this way Mr. Rose had an opportunity of instilling many auseful warning without the formality of regular discipline orstereotyped instruction. 

Eric found the life of the "boarders' room" far rougher than he hadexpected. Work was out of the question there, except during the hours ofpreparation, and the long dark winter evenings were often dull enough. Sometimes, indeed, they would all join in some regular indoor boys' gamelike "baste the bear, " or "high-cockolorum;" or they would have amusing"ghost-hunts, " as they called them, after some dressed-up boy among thedark corridors and staircases. This was good enough fun, but at othertimes they got tired of games, and could not get them up, and thennumbers of boys felt the idle time hang heavy on their hands. When thiswas the case, some of the worse sort, as might have been expected, wouldfill up their leisure with bullying or mischief. 

For some time they had a form of diversion which disgusted and annoyedEric exceedingly. On each of the long iron-bound deal tables were placedtwo or three tallow candles in tin candlesticks, and this was the onlylight the boys had. Of course, these candles often, wanted snuffing, andas snuffers were sure to be thrown about and broken as soon as theywere brought into the room, the only resource was to snuff them with thefingers, at which all the boys became great adepts from necessity. Oneevening Barker, having snuffed the candle, suddenly and slyly put thesmouldering wick unnoticed on the head of a little quiet inoffensivefellow named Wright, who happened to be sitting next to him. It went onsmouldering for some time without Wright's perceiving it, and at lastBarker, highly delighted, exclaimed--

"I see a chimney, " and laughed. 

Four or five boys looked up, and very soon every one in the room hadnoticed the trick except little Wright himself, who unconsciously wroteon at the letter he was sending home. 

Eric did not like this; but not wishing to come across Barker again, said nothing, and affected not to have observed. But Russell saidquietly, "There's something on your head, Wright, " and the little boyputting up his hand, hastily brushed off the horrid wick. 

"What a shame!" he said, as it fell on his letter, and made a smudge. 

"Who told you to interfere?" said Barker, turning fiercely to Russell. Russell, as usual, took not the slightest notice of him, and Barker, after a little more bluster, repeated the trick on another boy. Thistime Russell thought that every one might be on the look out forhimself, and so went on with his work. But when Barker again chantedmaliciously--

"I see a chimney, " every boy who happened to be reading or writing, uneasily felt to discover this time he was himself the victim or no; andso things continued for half an hour. 

Ridiculous and disgusting as this folly was, it became, when constantlyrepeated, very annoying. A boy could not sit down to any quiet workwithout constant danger of having some one creep up behind him and putthe offensive fragment of smoking snuff on his head; and neither Barkernor any of his little gang of imitators seemed disposed to give up theirlow mischief. 

One night, when the usual exclamation was made, Eric felt sure, fromseeing several boys looking at him, that this time some one had beentreating him in the same way. He indignantly shook his head, and sureenough the bit of wick dropped off. Eric was furious, and springing up, he shouted--

"By Jove! I _won't_ stand this any longer. "

"You'll have to sit it then, " said Barker. 

"O, it was _you_ who did it, was it? Then take that;" and, seizing oneof the tin candlesticks, Eric hurled it at Barker's head. Barker dodged, but the edge of it cut open his eyebrow as it whizzed by, and the bloodflowed fast. 

"I'll kill you for that, " said Barker, leaping at Eric, and seizing himby the hair. 

"You'll get killed yourself then, you brute, " said Upton, Russell'scousin, a fifth-form boy, who had just come into the room--and he boxedhis ears as a premonitory admonition. "But, I say, young un, " continuedhe to Eric, "this kind of thing won't do, you snow. You'll get intorows if you shy candlesticks at fellows' heads at that rate. "

"He has been making the room intolerable for the last month by hisfilthy tricks, " said Eric hotly; "some one must stop him, and I willsomehow, if no one else does. "

"It wasn't I who put the thing on your head, you passionate young fool, "growled Barker. 

"Who was it then? How was I to know? You began it. "

"You shut up, Barker, " said Upton; "I've heard of your ways before, andwhen I catch you at your tricks, I'll teach you a lesson. Come up to mystudy, Williams, if you like. "

Upton was a fine sturdy fellow of eighteen, immensely popular in theschool for his prowess and good looks. He hated bullying, and ofteninterfered to protect little boys, who accordingly idolised him, and didanything he told them very willingly. He meant to do no harm, but he didgreat harm. He was full of misdirected impulses, and had a great notionof being manly, which he thought consisted in a fearless disregard ofall school rules, and the performance of the wildest tricks. For thisreason he was never very intimate with his cousin Russell, whom he likedvery much, but who was too scrupulous and independent to please him. Eric, on the other hand, was just the boy to take his fancy, and toadmire him in return; his life, strength, and pluck, made him a readypupil in all schemes of mischief, and Upton, who had often noticed him, would have been the first to shudder had he known how far his examplewent to undermine all Eric's lingering good resolutions, and ruin forever the boy of whom he was so fond. 

From this time Eric was much in Upton's study, and constantly by hisside in the playground. In spite of their disparity in age and positionin the school, they became sworn friends, though, their friendship wasbroken every now and then by little quarrels, which united them all themore closely after they had not spoken to each other perhaps for a week. 

"Your cousin Upton has 'taken up' Williams, " said Montagu to Russell oneafternoon, as he saw the two strolling together on the beach, withEric's arm in Upton's. 

"Yes, I am sorry for it. "

"So am I. We shan't see so much of him now. "

"O, that's not my only reason, " answered Russell, who had a rare habitof always going straight to the point. 

"You mean you don't like the 'taking-up' system. "

"No, Montagu; I used once to have fine theories about it. I used tofancy that a big fellow would do no end of good to one lower in theschool, and that the two would stand to each other in the relation ofknight to squire. You know what the young knights were taught, Monty--tokeep their bodies under, and bring them into subjection; to love God, and speak the truth always. That sounds very grand and noble to me. Butwhen a big fellow takes up a little one _you_ know pretty well that_those_ are not the kind of lessons he teaches"

"No, Russell; you're quite right. It's bad for a fellow in every way. First of all, it keeps him in an unnatural sort of dependence; then tento one it makes him conceited, and prevents his character from reallycoming out well. And besides, the young chap generally gets paid out inkicks and abuse from the jealousy and contempt of the rest; and if hisprotector happens to leave, or anything of that kind, woe betide him!"

"No fear for Eric in that line, though, " said Russell; "he can hold hisown pretty well against any one. And after all, he is a most jollyfellow. I don't think even Upton will spoil him; it's chiefly the softself-indulgent fellows, who are all straw and no iron, who get spoilt bybeing 'taken up. '"

Russell was partly right. Eric learnt a great deal of harm from Upton, and the misapplied hero-worship led to bad results. But he was too manlya little fellow, and had too much self-respect, to sink into theeffeminate condition which usually grows on the young delectables whohave the misfortune to be "taken up. "

Nor did he in the least drop his old friends, except Owen. A coolnessgrew up between the latter and Eric, not unmingled with a little mutualcontempt. Eric sneered at Owen as a fellow who did nothing but grind allday long, and had no geniality in him; while Owen pitied the love ofpopularity which so often led Eric into delinquencies, which he himselfdespised. Owen had, indeed, but few friends in the school; the only boywho knew him well enough to respect and like him thoroughly was Russell, who found in him the only one who took the same high, ground withhimself. But Russell loved the good in every one, and was loved by allin return, and Eric he loved most of all, while he often mourned overhis increasing failures. 

One day as the two were walking together in the green playground, Mr. Gordon passed by; and as the boys touched their caps, he nodded andsmiled pleasantly at Russell, but hardly noticed, and did not returnEric's salute. He had begun to dislike the latter more and more, and hadgiven him up altogether as one of the reprobates. 

"What a surly devil that is, " said Eric, when he had passed; "did yousee how he purposely cut me?"

"A surly . . . ? Oh Eric, that's the first time I ever heard you swear. "

Eric blushed. He hadn't meant the word to slip out in Russell's hearing, though similar expressions were common enough in his talk with otherboys. But he didn't like to be reproved, even by Russell, and in theready spirit of self-defence, he answered--

"Pooh, Edwin, you don't call that swearing, do you? You're so strict, soreligious, you know. I love you for it, but then, there are none likeyou. Nobody thinks anything of swearing here. "

Russell was silent. 

"Besides, what can be the harm of it? it means nothing. I was thinkingthe other night, and I concluded that you and Owen are the only twofellows here who don't swear. "

Russell still said nothing. 

"And, after all, I didn't swear; I only called that fellow a surlydevil. "

"O, hush! Eric, hush!" said Russell sadly. "You wouldn't have said sohalf-a-year ago. "

Eric knew what he meant. The image of his father and mother rose beforehim, as they sate far away in their lonely Indian home, thinking of him, praying for him, centring all their hopes in him. In him!--and he knewhow many things he was daily doing and saying, which would cut them tothe heart. He knew that all his moral consciousness was fast vanishing, and leaving him a bad and reckless boy. 

In a moment, all this passed through his mind. He remembered how shockedhe had been at swearing at first; and even when it became too familiarto shock him, how he determined never to fall into the habit himself. Then he remembered how gradually it had become quite a graceful sound inhis ears; a sound of entire freedom and independence of moral restraint;an open casting off, as it were, of all authority, so that he had begunto admire it, particularly in Duncan, and above all, in his new hero, Upton; and he recollected how, at last, an oath had one day slipped outsuddenly in his own words, and how strange it sounded to him, and howUpton smiled to hear it, though conscience had reproached him bitterly;but now that he had done it once, it became less dreadful, and graduallygrew common enough, till even conscience hardly reminded him that he wasdoing wrong. 

He thought of all this, and hung his head. Pride struggled with him fora moment, but at length he answered, "O Edwin, I fear I am gettingutterly bad; I wish I were more like you, " he added, in a low sad tone. 

"Dear Eric, I have no right to say it, full of faults as I am myself;but you will be so much happier, if you try not to yield to all the badthings round us. Remember, I know more of school than you. "

The two boys strolled on silently. That night Eric knelt at his bedside, and prayed as he had not done for many a long day. 

CHAPTER IX

"DEAD FLIES, " OR "YE SHALL BE AS GODS"

"In the twilight, in the evening, in the black and dark night. " PROV. Vii. 9. 

At Roslyn, even in summer, the hour for going to bed was half-past nine. It was hardly likely that so many boys, overflowing with turbulent life, should lie down quietly, and get to sleep. They never dreamt of doingso. Very soon after the masters were gone, the sconces were oftenrelighted, sometimes in separate dormitories, sometimes in all of them, and the boys amused themselves by reading novels or making a row. Theywould play various games about the bedrooms, vaulting or jumping overthe beds, running races in sheets, getting through the windows upon theroofs, to frighten the study-boys with sham ghosts, or playing thethousand other pranks which suggested themselves to the fertileimagination of fifteen. But the favorite amusement was a bolsteringmatch. One room would challenge another, and, stripping the covers offtheir bolsters, would meet in mortal fray. A bolster well wielded, especially when dexterously applied to the legs, is a very efficientinstrument to bring a boy to the ground; but it doesn't hurt very much, even when the blows fall on the head. Hence these matches were excellenttrials of strength and temper, and were generally accompanied withshouts of laughter, never ending until one side was driven back to itsown room. Many a long and tough struggle had Eric enjoyed, and hisprowess was so universally acknowledged, that his dormitory, No. 7, wasa match for any other, and far stronger in this warfare than most of therest. At bolstering, Duncan was a perfect champion; his strength andactivity were marvellous, and his mirth uproarious. Eric and Grahambacked him up brilliantly; while Llewellyn and Attlay, with sturdyvigor, supported the skirmishers. Bull, the sixth boy in No. 7, was theonly _fainéant_ among them, though he did occasionally help to keep offthe smaller fry. 

Happy would it have been for all of them if Bull had never been placedin No. 7; happier still if he had never come to Roslyn school. Backwardin work, overflowing with vanity at his supposed good looks, of meandisposition and feeble intellect, he was the very worst specimen of aboy that Eric had ever seen. Not even Barker so deeply excited Eric'srepulsion and contempt. And yet, since the affair of Upton, Barker andEric were declared enemies, and, much to the satisfaction of the latter, never spoke to each other; but with Bull--much as he inwardly loathedhim--he was professedly and apparently on good terms. His silly love ofuniversal popularity made him accept and tolerate the society even ofthis worthless boy. 

Any two boys talking to each other about Bull would probably profess tolike him "well enough, " but if they were honest, they would generallyend by allowing their contempt. 

"We've got a nice set in No. 7, haven't we?" said Duncan to Eric oneday. 

"Capital. Old Llewellyn's a stunner, and I like Attlay and Graham. "

"Don't you like Bull then?"

"O yes; pretty well. "

The two boys looked each other in the face, then, like the confidentialaugurs, burst out laughing. 

"You know you detest him, " said Duncan. 

"No, I don't. He never did me any harm that I know of. "

"Him!--well, _I_ detest him. "

"Well!" answered Eric, "on coming to think of it, so do I. And yet he ispopular enough in the school. I wonder how that is. "

"He's not _really_ popular. I've often noticed that fellows prettygenerally despise him, yet somehow don't like to say so. "

"Why do you dislike him, Duncan?"

"I don't know. Why do you?"

"I don't know either. "

Neither Eric nor Duncan meant this answer to be false, and yet if theyhad taken the trouble to consider, they would have found out in theirsecret souls the reasons of their dislike. 

Bull had been to school before, and of this school he often bragged asthe acmé of desirability and wickedness. He was always telling boys whatthey did at "his old school, " and he quite inflamed the minds of such asfell under his influence by marvellous tales of the wild and wilfulthings which he and his former school-fellows had done. Many and many ascheme of sin and mischief, at Roslyn was suggested, planned, andcarried out on the model of Bull's reminiscences of his previous life. 

He had tasted more largely of the tree of the knowledge of evil than anyother boy, and strange to say, this was the secret why the general odiumwas never expressed. He claimed his guilty experience so often as aground of superiority, that at last the claim was silently allowed. Hespoke from the platform of more advanced iniquity, and the otherslistened first curiously, then eagerly to his words. 

"Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. " Such was the temptationwhich assailed the other boys in dormitory No. 7; and Eric among thenumber. Bull was the tempter. Secretly, gradually, he dropped into theirtoo willing ears the poison of his polluting acquirements. 

In brief, Bull was cursed with a degraded and corrupting mind. 

I hurry over a part of my subject inconceivably painful; I hurry overit, but if I am to perform my self-imposed duty of giving a true pictureof what school life _sometimes_ is, I must not pass it by altogether. 

The first time that Eric heard indecent words in dormitory No. 7, he wasshocked beyond bound or measure. Dark though it was, he felt himselfblushing scarlet to the roots of his hair, and then growing pale again, while a hot dew was left upon his forehead. Bull was the speaker; butthis time there was a silence, and the subject instantly dropped. Theothers felt that "a new boy" was in the room; they did not know how hewould take it; they were unconsciously abashed. 

Besides, though they had themselves joined in such conversation before, they did not love it, and on the contrary, felt ashamed of yieldingto it. 

Now, Eric, now or never! Life and death, ruin and salvation, corruptionand purity, are perhaps in the balance together, and the scale of yourdestiny may hang on a single word of yours. Speak out, boy! Tell thesefellows that unseemly words wound your conscience; tell them that theyare ruinous, sinful, damnable; speak out and save yourself and the rest. Virtue is strong and beautiful, Eric, and vice is downcast in her awfulpresence. Lose your purity of heart, Eric, and you have lost a jewelwhich the whole world, if it were "one entire and perfect chrysolite, "cannot replace. 

Good spirits guard that young boy, and give him grace in this his hourof trial! Open his eyes that he may see the fiery horses and the fierychariots of the angels who would defend him, and the dark array ofspiritual foes who throng around his bed. Point a pitying finger to theyawning abyss of shame, ruin, and despair that even now perhaps is beingcleft under his feet. Show him the garlands of the present and the past, withering at the touch of the Erinnys in the future. In pity, in pityshow him the canker which he is introducing into the sap of the tree oflife, which shall cause its root to be hereafter as bitterness, and itsblossom to go up as dust. 

But the sense of sin was on Eric's mind. How _could_ he speak? was nothis own language sometimes profane? How--how could he profess to reproveanother boy on the ground of morality, when he himself said did thingsless ruinous perhaps, but equally forbidden?

For half an hour, in an agony of struggle with himself, Eric lay silent. Since Bull's last words nobody had spoken. They were going to sleep. Itwas too late to speak now, Eric thought. The moment passed by for ever;Eric had listened without objection to foul words, and the irreparableharm was done. 

How easy it would have been to speak! With the temptation, God hadprovided also a way to escape. Next time it came, it was far harder toresist, and it soon became, to men, impossible. 

Ah Eric, Eric! how little we know the moments which decide the destiniesof life. We live on as usual. The day is a common day, the hour a commonhour. We never thought twice about the change of intention, which by oneof the accidents--(accidents!)--of life determined for good or for evil, for happiness or misery, the color of our remaining years. The stroke ofthe pen was done in a moment which led unconsciously to our ruin; theword was uttered quite heedlessly, on which turned for ever the decisionof our weal or woe. 

Eric lay silent. The darkness was not broken by the flashing of anangel's wing, the stillness was not syllabled by the sound of an angel'svoice; but to his dying day Eric never forgot the moments which passed, until, weary and self-reproachful, he fell asleep. 

Next morning he awoke, restless and feverish. He at once remembered whathad passed. Bull's words haunted him; he could not forget them; theyburnt within him like the flame of a moral fever. He was moody andpetulant, and for a time could hardly conceal his aversion to Bull. AhEric! moodiness and petulance cannot save you, but prayerfulness would;one word, Eric, at the throne of grace--one prayer before you go downamong the boys, that God in his mercy would wash away, in the blood ofhis dear Son, your crimson stains, and keep your conscience andmemory clean. 

The boy knelt down for a few minutes, and repeated to himself a fewformal words. Had he stayed longer on his knees, he might have given wayto a burst of penitence and supplication--but he heard Bull's footstep, and getting up, he ran down stairs to breakfast; so Eric did not pray. 

Conversations did not generally drop so suddenly in dormitory No. 7. Onthe contrary, they generally flashed along in the liveliest way, tillsome one said "Good night;" and then the boys turned off to sleep. Ericknew this, and instantly conjectured that it was only a sort of respectfor him, and ignorance of the manner in which he would consider it, thatprevented Duncan and the rest from taking any further notice of Bull'sremark. It was therefore no good disburdening his mind to any of them;but he determined to speak about the matter to Russell in theirnext walk. 

They usually walked together on Sunday. Dr. Rowlands had discontinuedthe odious and ridiculous custom of the younger boys taking theirexercise under a master's inspection. Boys are not generally fond ofconstitutionals, so that on the half-holidays they almost entirelyconfined their open-air exercise to the regular games, and many of themhardly left the play-ground boundaries once a week. But on Sundays theyoften went walks, each with his favorite friend or companion. When Ericfirst came as a boarder, he invariably went with Russell on Sunday, andmany a pleasant stroll they had taken together, sometimes accompanied byDuncan, Montagu, or Owen. The latter, however, had dropped even thisintercourse with Eric, who for the last few weeks had more often gonewith his new friend Upton. 

"Come a walk, boy, " said Upton, as they left the dining-room. 

"O excuse me to-day, Upton, " said Eric, "I'm going with your cousin. "

"Oh _very_ well, " said Upton, in high dudgeon, and, hoping to make Ericjealous, he went a walk with Graham, whom he had "taken up" before heknew Williams. 

Russell was rather surprised when Eric came to him and said, "Come astroll to Fort Island, Edwin--will you?"

"O yes, " said Russell cheerfully; "why, we haven't seen each other forsome time lately! I was beginning to fancy that you meant to dropme, Eric. "

He spoke with a smile, and in a rallying tone, but Eric hung his head, for the charge was true. Proud of his popularity among all the school, and especially at his friendship with so leading a fellow as Upton, Erichad _not_ seen much of his friend since their last conversation aboutswearing. Indeed, conscious of failure, he felt sometimes uneasy inRussell's company. 

He faltered, and answered humbly, "I hope you will never drop _me_, Edwin, however bad I get? But I particularly want to speak toyou to-day. "

In an instant Russell had twined his arm in Eric's, as they turnedtowards Fort Island; and Eric, with an effort, was just going to begin, when they heard Montagu's voice calling after them--

"I say, you fellows, where are you off to! may I come with you?"

"O yes, Monty, do, " said Russell, "It will be quite like old times; nowthat my cousin Horace has got hold of Eric, we have to sing 'When shallwe three meet again?'"

Russell only spoke in fun; but, unintentionally, his words jarred inEric's heart. He was silent, and answered in monosyllables, so the walkwas provokingly dull. At last they reached Fort Island, and sat down bythe ruined chapel looking on the sea. 

"Why what's the row with you, old boy, " said Montagu, playfully shakingEric by the shoulder, "you're as silent as Zimmerman on Solitude, and asdoleful as Harvey on the Tombs. I expect you've been going through aselect course of Blair's Grave, Young's Night Thoughts, and Drelincourton Death. "

To his surprise Eric's head was still bent, and, at last, he heard adeep suppressed sigh. 

"My dear child, what is the matter with you?" said Russell, affectionately taking his hand, "surely you're not offended at mynonsense?"

Eric had not liked to speak while Montagu was by, but now he gulped downhis rising emotion, and briefly told them of Bull's vile words the nightbefore. They listened in silence. 

"I knew it must come, Eric, " said Russell at last, "and I am so sorryyou didn't speak at the time. "

"Do the fellows ever talk in that way in either of your dormitories?"asked Eric. 

"No, " said Russell. 

"Very little, " said Montagu. 

A pause followed, during which all three plucked the grass and lookedaway. 

"Let me tell you, " said Russell solemnly; "my father (he is dead now youknow, Eric), when I was sent to school, warned me of this kind of thing. I had been brought up in utter ignorance of such coarse knowledge as isforced upon one here, and with my reminiscences of home, I could notbear even that much of it which was impossible to avoid. But the veryfirst time such talk was begun in my dormitory I spoke out. What I saidI don't know, but I felt as if I was trampling on a slimy poisonousadder, and, at any rate, I showed such pain and distress that thefellows dropped it at the time. Since then I have absolutely refused tostay in the room if ever such talk is begun. So it never is now, and Ido think the fellows are very glad of it themselves. "

"Well, " said Montagu, "I don't profess to look on it from the religiousground, you know, but I thought it blackguardly, and in bad taste, andsaid so. The fellow who began it, threatened to kick me for a conceitedlittle fool, but he didn't; and they hardly ever venture on thatground now. "

"It is more than blackguardly--it is deadly, " answered Russell; "myfather said it was the most fatal curse which could ever become rife ina public school. "

"Why do masters never give us any help or advice on these matters?"asked Eric thoughtfully. 

"In sermons they do. Don't you remember Rowlands' sermon not two weeksago on Kibroth-Hattaavah? But I for one think them quite right not tospeak to us privately on such subjects, unless we invite confidence. Besides, they cannot know that any boys talk in this way. After all, itis only a very few of the worst who ever do. "

They got up and walked home, but from day to day Eric put off performingthe duty which Russell had advised, viz. --a private request to Bull toabstain from his offensive communications, and an endeavor to enlistDuncan into his wishes. 

One evening they were telling each other stories in No. 7. Bull's turncame, and in his story the vile element again appeared. For a while Ericsaid nothing, but as the strain grew worse, he made a faintremonstrance. 

"Shut up there, Williams, " said Attlay, "and don't spoil the story. "

"Very well. It's your own fault, and I shall shut my ears. "

He did for a time, but a general laugh awoke him. He pretended to beasleep, but he listened. Iniquity of this kind was utterly new to him;his curiosity was awakened; he no longer feigned indifference, and thepoison flowed deep into his veins. Before that evening was over, EricWilliams was "a god, knowing good from evil. "

O young boys, if your eyes ever read these pages, pause and beware. Theknowledge of evil is ruin, and the continuance in it hell. That littlematter--that beginning of evil, --it will be like the snowflake detachedby the breath of air from the mountain-top, which, as it rushes down, gains size, and strength, and impetus, till it has swollen to the mightyand irresistible avalanche that overwhelms garden, and field, andvillage, in a chaos of undistinguishable death. 

Kibroth-Hattaavah! Many and many a young Englishman has perished there!Many and many a happy English boy, the jewel of his mother'sheart, --brave, and beautiful, and strong, --lies buried there. Very paletheir shadows rise before us--the shadows of our young brothers who havesinned and suffered. From the sea and the sod, from foreign graves andEnglish churchyards, they start up and throng around us in the palenessof their fall. May every schoolboy who reads this page be warned by thewaving of their wasted hands, from that burning marle of passion, wherethey found nothing but shame and ruin, polluted affections, and anearly grave. 

CHAPTER X

DORMITORY LIFE

 [Greek: Aspasiae trillistos hepaeluths nux herebennae. ] HOM. 

For a few days after the Sunday walk narrated in the last chapter, Uptonand Eric cut each other dead. Upton was angry at Eric's declining thehonor of his company, and Eric was piqued at Upton's unreasonableness. In the "taking up" system, such quarrels were of frequent occurrence, and as the existence of a misunderstanding was generally indicated inthis very public way, the variations of good will between such friendsgenerally excited no little notice and amusement among the other boys. But both Upton and Eric were too sensible to carry their differences sofar as others similarly circumstanced; each thoroughly enjoyed theother's company, and they generally seized an early opportunity foreffecting a reconciliation, which united them more firmly than ever. 

As soon as Eric had got over his little pique, he made the firstadvances, by writing a note to Upton, which he slipped under his studydoor, and which ran as follows:--

"Dear Horace--Don't let us quarrel about nothing. Silly fellow, whyshould you be angry with me because for once I wanted to go a walk withRussell, who, by the bye, is twice as good a fellow as you? I shallexpect you to make it up directly after prayers. --Yours, if you are notsilly, E. W. "

The consequence was, that as they came out from prayers, Upton seizedEric's hand, and slapped him on the back, after which they had a goodlaugh over their own foolish fracas, and ran up stairs chatteringmerrily. 

"There's to be an awful lark in the dormitories tonight, " said Eric;"the doctor's gone to a dinner-party, and we're going to have no endof fun. "

"Are you? Well, if it gets amusing, come to my study and tell me, I'llcome and look on. "

"Very well; depend upon it, I'll come. " And they parted at the foot ofthe study stairs. 

It was Mr. Rose's night of duty. He walked slowly up and down the rangeof Dormitories until every boy seemed ready to get into bed, and then heput out all the candles. So long as he was present, the boys observedthe utmost quiet and decorum. All continued quite orderly until he hadpassed away through the lavatory, and one of the boys following him as ascout, had seen the last glimmer of his candle disappear round thecorner at the foot of the great staircase, and heard the library doorclose behind him. 

After that, particularly as Dr. Rowlands was absent, the boys knew thatthey were safe from disturbance, and the occupants of No. 7 were thefirst to stir. 

"Now for some fun, " said Duncan, starting up, and by way of initiativepitching his pillow at Eric's head. 

"I'll pay you out for that when I'm ready, " said Eric, laughing; "butgive us a match, first. "

Duncan produced some vestas, and no sooner had they lighted theircandle, than several of the dormitory doors began to be thrown open, andone after another all requested a light, which Duncan and Eric conveyedto them in a sort of emulous lampadephoria, so that a length all thetwelve dormitories had their sconces lit, and the boys began all sortsof amusement, some in their night-shirts and others with their trousersslipped on. Leap-frog was the prevalent game for a time, but at lastGraham suggested theatricals, and they were agreed on. 

"But we're making a regular knock-me-down shindy, " said Llewellyn;"somebody must keep cavè. "

"O, old Rose is safe enough at his Hebrew in the library; no fear ofdisturbing him if we were dancing hippopotami, " answered Graham. 

But it was generally considered safest to put some one at the top of thestairs, in case of an unexpected diversion in that direction, and littleWright consented to go first. He had only to leave the lavatory dooropen; and stand at the top of the staircase, and he then commanded for agreat distance the only avenue in which danger was expected. If anymaster's candle appeared n the hall, the boys had full three minutes'warning, and a single loudly-whispered "cave" would cause some one ineach dormitory instantly to "douse the glim, " and shut the door; so thatby the time of the adversary's arrival, they would all be (of course)fast asleep in bed, some of them snoring in an alarming manner. Whatevernoise the master might have heard, it would be impossible to fix it onany of the sleepers. 

So at the top of the stairs stood little Wright, shoeless, and shiveringin his night-gown, but keenly entering into the fun, and notunconscious of the dignity of his position. Meanwhile the rest weregetting up a scenic representation of Bombastes Furioso, arranging astage, piling a lot of beds together for a theatre, and dressing up theactors in the most fantastic apparel. 

The impromptu Bombastes excited universal applause, and just at the endWright ran in through the lavatory. 

"I say, " said the little fellow, "it's jolly cold standing at the top ofthe stairs. Won't some one relieve guard?"

"O, I will, " answered Eric, good-naturedly; "it's a shame that onefellow should have all the bother and none of the fun;" and he ran totake Wright's post. 

After watching a minute or two, he felt sure that there was no danger, and therefore ran up to Upton's study for a change. 

"Well, what's up?" said the study-boy, approvingly, as he glanced atEric's laughing eyes. 

"O, we've been having leap-frog, and then Bombastes Furioso. But I'mkeeping 'cavè' now; only it's so cold that I thought I'd run up toyour study. "

"Little traitor; we'll shoot you for a deserting sentinel. "

"O no;" said Eric, "it's all serene; Rowley's out, and dear old Rose'dnever dream of supposing us elsewhere than in the arms of Morpheus. Besides the fellows are making less row now. "

"Well! look here! let's go and look on, and I'll tell you a dodge; putone of the tin washing-basins against the iron door of the lavatory, andthen if any one comes he'll make clang enough to wake dead; and whilehe's amusing himself with this, there'll be lots of time to 'extinguishthe superfluous abundance of the nocturnal illuminators. ' Eh?"

"Capital!" said Eric, "come along. "

They went down and arranged the signal very artistically, leaving theiron door ajar a little, and then neatly poising the large tin basin onits edge, so as to lean against it. Having extremely enjoyed this partof the proceeding, they went to look at the theatricals again, the boysbeing highly delighted at Upton's appearance among them. 

They at once made Eric take a part in some very distant reminiscences ofMacbeth, and corked his cheeks with whiskers and mustachios to make himresemble Banquo, his costume being completed by a girdle round hisnightshirt, consisting of a very fine crimson silk handkerchief, richlybroidered with gold, which had been brought to him from India, and whichat first, in the innocence of his heart, he used to wear on Sundays, until he acquired the sobriquet of "the Dragon. " Duncan made asuperb Macbeth. 

They were doing the dagger-scene, which was put on the stage in a mostnovel manner. A sheet had been pinned from the top of the room, on oneside of which stood a boy with a broken dinner knife, the handle end ofwhich he was pushing through a hole in the middle of the sheet at theshadow of Duncan on the other side. 

Duncan himself, in an attitude of intensely affected melodrama, wasspouting--

 "Is this a dagger which I see before me? The handle towards me now? come, let me clutch thee;"

And he snatched convulsively at the handle of the protruded knife; butas soon as he nearly touched it, this end was immediately withdrawn, andthe blade end substituted, which made the comic Macbeth instantly drawback again, and recommence his apostrophe. This scene had tickled theaudience immensely, and Duncan, amid shouts of laughter, was justdrawing the somewhat unwarrantable conclusion that it was

 "A dagger of the mind, a false creation, "

when a sudden grating, followed by a reverbrated clang, produced a deadsilence. 

"Cavè, " shouted Eric, and took a flying leap into his bed. Instantlythere was a bolt in different directions; the sheet was torn down, thecandles dashed out, the beds shoved aside, and the dormitories at onceplunged in profound silence, only broken by the heavy breathing ofsleepers, when in strode--not Mr. Rose or any of the undermasters--but--Dr. Rowlands himself!

He stood for a moment to survey the scene. All the dormitory doors werewide open; the sheet which had formed the stage curtain lay torn on thefloor of No. 7; the beds in all the adjoining rooms were in thestrangest positions; and half-extinguished wicks still smouldered inseveral of the sconces. Every boy was in bed, but the extraordinary wayin which the bed clothes were huddled about told an unmistakeable tale. 

He glanced quickly round, but the moment he had passed into No. 8, heheard a run, and, turning, just caught sight of Upton's figure vanishinginto the darkness of the lavatory, towards the study stairs. 

He said not a word, but stalked hastily through all dormitories, againstopping at No. 7 on his return. 

He heard nothing but the deep snores of Duncan, and instantly fixed onhim as a chief culprit. 

"Duncan!"

No reply; but calm stertorous music from Duncan's bed. 

"Duncan!" he said, still louder and more sternly, "you sleep soundly, sir, too soundly; get up directly, " and he laid his hand on theboy's arm. 

"Get away, you old donkey, " said Duncan sleepily; "'t, aint time to getup yet. First bell hasn't rung. "

"Come, sir, this shamming will only increase your punishment;" but theimperturbable Duncan stretched himself lazily, gave a great yawn, andthen awoke with such an admirably feigned start at seeing Dr. Rowlands, that Eric, who had been peeping at the scene from over his bed-clothes, burst into an irresistible explosion of laughter. 

Dr. Rowlands swung round on his heel--"What! Williams! get out of bed, sir, this instant. "

Eric, forgetful of his disguise, sheepishly obeyed; but when he stood onthe floor, he looked so odd in his crimson girdle and corked cheeks, with Dr. Rowlands surveying him in intense astonishment, that the scenebecame overpoweringly ludicrous to Duncan, who now in his turn wasconvulsed with a storm of laughter, faintly echoed in stifled titteringsfrom other beds. 

"_Very_ good, " said Dr. Rowlands, now thoroughly angry, "you will hearof this to-morrow;" and he walked away with a heavy step, stopping atthe lavatory door to restore the tin basin to its proper place, and thenmounting to the studies. 

Standing in the passage into which the studies opened, he knocked atone of the doors, and told a boy to summon all their occupants at onceto the library. 

Meanwhile, the dormitory-boys were aghast, and as soon as they heard thedoctor's retreating footsteps, began flocking in the dark to No. 7, notdaring to relight their candles. 

"Good gracious!" said Attlay, "only to think of Rowley appearing! Howcould he have twigged?"

"He must have seen our lights in the window as he came home, " said Eric. 

"I say, what a row that tin-basin dodge of yours made! What a rage theDoctor will be in to-morrow?"

"Won't you just catch it!" said Barker to Duncan, but intending theremark for Eric. 

"Just like your mean chaff, " retorted Duncan. "But I say, Williams, " hecontinued, laughing, "you _did_ look so funny in the whiskers. "

At this juncture they heard all the study-boys running down stairs tothe library, and, lost in conjecture, retired to their different rooms. 

"What do you think he'll do to us?" asked Eric. 

"I don't know, " said Duncan uneasily; "flog us, for one thing, that'scertain. I'm so sorry about that basin, Eric; but it's no good fretting. We've had our cake, and now we must pay for it, that's all. "

Erie's cogitations began to be unpleasant, when the door opened, andsomebody stole noiselessly in. 

"Who's there?"

"Upton. I've come to have a chat. The Doctor's like a turkey-cock insight of a red handkerchief. Never saw him in such a rage. "

"Why, what's he been saying?" asked Eric, as Upton came and took a seaton his bed. 

"Oh! he's been rowing us like six o'clock, " said Upton, "about 'moralresponsibility, ' 'abetting the follies of children, ' 'forgetting ourposition in the school, ' and I don't know what all; and he ended byasking who'd been in the dormitories. Of course I confessed the softimpeachment, whereon he snorted 'Ha! I suspected so. Very well, Sir, youdon't know how to use a study; you shall be deprived of it till the endof term. '"

"Did he really, Horace?" said Eric. "And it's all my doing that you'vegot into the scrape. Do forgive me. "

"Bosh! My dear fellow, " said Upton, "it's twice as much my fault asyours; and, after all, it was only a bit of fun. It's rather a borelosing the study, certainly; but never mind, we shall see all the moreof each other. Good night; I must be off. "

Next morning, prayers were no sooner over than Dr. Rowlands said to theboys, "Stop! I have a word to say to you"

"I find that there was the utmost disorder in the dormitories yesterdayevening. All the candles were relighted at forbidden hours, and thenoise made was so great that it was heard through the whole building. Iam grieved that I cannot leave you, even for a few hours, without yourtaking such advantage of my absence; and that the upper boys, so farfrom using their influence to prevent these infractions of discipline, seem inclined rather to join in them themselves. On this occasion I havepunished Upton, by depriving him of a privilege which he has abused; andas I myself detected Duncan and Williams, they will be flogged in thelibrary at twelve. But I now come to the worst part of the proceeding. Somebody had been reckless enough to try and prevent surprise by thedangerous expedient of putting a tin basin against the iron door. Theconsequence was, that I was severely hurt, and _might_ have beenseriously injured in entering the lavatory. I must know the name of thedelinquent. "

Upton and Eric immediately stood up. Dr. Rowlands looked surprised, andthere was an expression of grieved interest in Mr. Rose's face. 

"Very well, " said the Doctor, "I shall speak to you both privately. "

Twelve o'clock came, and Duncan and Eric received a severe caning. Corporal punishment, however necessary and desirable for somedispositions, always produced on Eric the worst effects. He burned, notwith remorse or regret, but with shame and violent indignation, andlistened, with a glare in his eye, to Dr. Rowlands' warnings. When theflogging was over, he almost rushed out of the room, to choke insolitude his sense of humiliation, nor would he suffer any one for aninstant to allude to his disgrace. Dr. Rowlands had hinted that Uptonwas doing him no good; but he passionately resented the suggestion, anddetermined, with obstinate perversity, to cling more than ever to theboy whom he had helped to involve in the same trouble with himself. 

Any attempt on the part of masters to interfere in the friendships ofboys is usually unsuccessful. The boy who has been warned against hisnew acquaintance not seldom repeats to him the fact that Mr. So-and-sodoesn't like seeing them together, and after that they fancy themselvesbound in honor to show that they are not afraid of continuing theirconnection. It was not strange, therefore, that Eric and Upton werethrown more than ever into each other's society, and consequently, thatEric, while he improved daily in strength, activity, and prowess, neglected more and more his school duties and honorable ambitions. 

Mr. Rose sadly remarked the failure of promise in his character andabilities, and did all that could be done, by gentle firmness andunwavering kindness, to recal his pupil to a sense of duty. One night hesent for him to supper, and invited no one else. During the evening hedrew out Eric's exercise, and compared it with, those of Russell andOwen, who were now getting easily ahead of him in marks. Eric's wascareless, hurried, and untidy; the other two were neat, spirited, andpainstaking, and had, therefore, been marked much higher. 

"Your exercises _used_ to be far better--I may say incomparably better, "said Mr. Rose; "what is the cause of this falling off?"

Eric was silent. 

Mr. Rose laid his hand gently on his head. "I fear, my boy, you have notbeen improving lately. You have got into many scrapes, and are lettingboys beat you in form who are far your inferiors in ability. That is avery bad _sign_, Eric; in itself it is a discouraging fact, but I fearit indicates worse evils. You are wasting the golden hours, my boy, thatcan never return. I only hope and trust that no other change for theworse is going on in your character. "

And so he talked on till the boy's sorrow was undisguised. "Come, " hesaid gently, "let us kneel down together before we part. "

Boy and master knelt down humbly side by side, and, from a full heart, the young man poured out his fervent petitions for the child beside him. Eric's heart seemed to catch a glow from his words, and he loved him asa brother. He rose from his knees full of the strongest resolutions, andearnestly promised amendment for the future. 

But poor Eric did not yet know his own infirmity. For a time, indeed, there was a marked improvement; but daily life flowed on with its usualallurements, and when the hours of temptation came, his good intentionsmelted away, so that, in a few more weeks, the prayer, and the vows thatfollowed it, had been obliterated from his memory without leaving anytraces in his life. 

CHAPTER XI

ERIC IN COVENTRY

 "And either greet him not Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more Than if not looked on. "--TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, iii. 3. 

Upton, expatriated from his study, was allowed to use one of the smallerclass-rooms which were occupied during play-hours by those boys who weretoo high in the school for "the boarders' room, " and who were waiting tosucceed to the studies as they fell vacant. There were three or fourothers with him in this class-room, and although it was less pleasantthan his old quarters, it was yet far more comfortable than thePandemonium of the shell and fourth-form boys. 

As a general rule, no boys were allowed to sit in any of the class-roomsexcept their legitimate occupants. The rule, however, was very generallyoverlooked, and hence Eric, always glad of an opportunity to escape fromthe company of Barker and his associates, became a constant frequenterof his friend's new abode. Here they used to make themselves verycomfortable. Joining the rest, they would drink coffee or chocolate, andamuse themselves over the fire with Punch, or some warlike novel in agreen or yellow cover. One of them very often read aloud to the rest:and Eric, being both a good reader and a merry, intelligent listener, soon became quite a favorite among the other boys. 

Mr. Rose had often seen him sitting there, and left him unmolested; butif ever Mr. Gordon happened to come in and notice him, he invariablyturned him out, and after the first offence or two, had several timesset him an imposition. This treatment gave fresh intensity to his nowdeeply-seated disgust at his late master, and his expressions ofindignation at "Gordon's spite" were loud and frequent. 

One day Mr. Gordon had accidentally come in, and found no one there butUpton and Eric; they were standing very harmlessly by the window, withUpton's arm resting kindly on Eric's shoulder as they watched withadmiration the net-work of rippled sunbeams that flashed over the sea. Upton had just been telling Eric the splendid phrase [Greek: anêrithmongelasma pontiôn], which he had stumbled upon in an Aeschylus lesson thatmorning, and they were trying which would hit on the best rendering ofit. Eric stuck up for the literal sublimity of "the innumerable laughterof the sea, " while Upton was trying to win him over to "themany-twinkling smile of ocean. " They were enjoying the discussion, andeach stoutly maintaining his own rendering, when Mr. Gordon entered. 

On this occasion he was particularly angry; he had an especial dislikeof seeing the two boys together, because he fancied that the younger hadgrown more than usually conceited and neglectful, since he had beenunder the fifth-form patronage; and he saw in Eric's presence there, anew case of wilful disobedience. 

"Williams, here _again!_" he exclaimed sharply. "Why, sir, you seem tosuppose that you may defy rules with impunity! How often have I told youthat no one is allowed to sit here, except the regular occupants?"

His voice startled the two boys from their pleasant discussion. 

"No other master takes any notice of it, sir, " said Upton. 

"I have nothing to do with other masters, Williams, you will bring methe fourth Georgic, written out by Saturday morning, for your repeateddisobedience. Upton, I have a great mind to punish you also, fortempting him to come here. "

This was a mistake on Mr. Gordon's part, of which Upton took immediateadvantage. 

"I have no power to prevent it, sir, if he wishes it. Besides, " hecontinued, with annoying blandness of tone, "it would be inhospitable;and I am too glad of his company. "

Eric smiled, and Mr. Gordon frowned. "Williams, leave the roominstantly. "

The boy obeyed slowly and doggedly. "Mr. Rose never interferes with me, when he sees me here, " he said as he retreated. 

"Then I shall request Mr. Rose to do so in future; your conceit andimpertinence are getting intolerable. "

Eric only answered with a fiery glance; the next minute Upton joined himon the stairs, and Mr. Gordon heard them laughing a littleostentatiously, as they ran out into the playground together. He wentaway full of strong contempt, and from that moment began to look on thefriends as two of the worst boys in the school. 

This incident had happened on Thursday, which was a half-holiday, andinstead of being able to join in any of the games, Eric had to spendthat weary afternoon in writing away at the fourth Georgic; Uptonstaying in a part of the time to help him a little, by dictating thelines to him--an occupation not unfrequently interrupted by storms offurious denunciation against Mr. Gordon's injustice and tyranny; Ericvowing "that he would pay him out somehow yet. "

The imposition was not finished that evening, and it again consumed someof the next day's leisure, part of it being written between schools inthe forbidden class-room. Still it was not quite finished on Fridayafternoon at six, when school ended, and Eric stayed a few minutesbehind the rest to scribble off the last ten lines; which done, hebanged down the lid of his desk, not locking it, and ran out. 

The next morning an incident happened which involved considerableconsequences to some of the actors in my story. 

Mr. Rose and several other masters had not a room to themselves, likeMr. Gordon, but heard their forms in the great hall. At one end of thishall was a board used for the various school notices, to which therewere always affixed two or three pieces of paper containingannouncements about examinations and other matters of general interest. 

On Saturday morning (when Eric was to give up his Georgic), the boys, asthey dropped into the hall for morning school, observed a new notice onthe board, and, thronging round to see what it was, read these words, written on a half-sheet of paper, attached by wafers to the board--

"GORDON IS A SURLY DEVIL. "

As may be supposed, so completely novel an announcement took them allvery much by surprise, and they wondered who had been so audacious as toplay this trick. But their wonder was cut short by the entrance of themasters, and they all took their seats, without any one tearing down thedangerous paper. 

After a few minutes the eye of the second master, Mr. Ready, fell on thepaper, and, going up, he read it, stood for a moment transfixed withastonishment, and then called Mr. Rose. 

Pointing to the inscription, he said: "I think we had better leave thatthere, Rose, exactly as it is, till Dr. Rowlands has seen it. Would youmind asking him to step in here?"

Just at this juncture Eric came in, having been delayed by Mr. Gordonwhile he rigidly inspected the imposition. As he took his seat, Montagu, who was next him, whispered--

"I say, have you seen the notice-board?"

"No. Why?"

"Why, some fellow has been writing up an opinion of Gordon not veryfavorable. "

"And serve him right, too, brute!" said Eric, smarting with the memoryof his imposition. 

"Well, there'll be no end of a row; you'll see. "

During this conversation, Dr. Rowlands came in with Mr. Rose. He readthe paper, frowned, pondered a moment, and then said to Mr. Rose--"Wouldyou kindly summon the lower school into the hall? As it would be painfulto Mr. Gordon to be present, you had better explain to him howmatters stand. "

"Halloa! here's a rumpus!" whispered Montagu; "he never has the lowerschool down for nothing. "

A noise was heard on the stairs, and in flocked the lower school. Whenthey had ranged themselves on the vacant forms, there was a dead silenceand hush of expectation. 

"I have summoned you all together, " said the Doctor, "on a most seriousoccasion. This morning, on coming into the school-room, the mastersfound that the notice-board had been abused for the purpose of writingup an insult to one of our number, which is at once coarse and wicked. As only a few of you have seen it, it becomes my deeply painful duty toinform you of its purport; the words are these--'Gordon is a surlydevil. '"--A _very_ slight titter followed this statement, which wasinstantly succeeded by a sort of thrilling excitement; but Eric, when heheard the words, started perceptibly, and colored as he caught Montagu'seye fixed on him. 

Dr. Rowlands continued--"I suppose this dastardly impertinence has beenperpetrated by some boy out of a spirit of revenge. I am perfectlyamazed at the unparalleled audacity and meanness of the attempt, and itmay be very difficult to discover the author of it. But, depend upon it, discover him _we will_, at whatever cost. Whoever the offender may be, and he must be listening to me at this moment, let him be assured thathe shall _not_ be unpunished. His guilty secret shall be torn from him. His punishment can only be mitigated by his instantly yieldinghimself up. "

No one stirred, but during the latter part of this address Eric was souneasy, and his cheek burned with such hot crimson, that several eyeswere upon him, and the suspicions of more than one boy were awakened. 

"Very well, " said the head master, "the guilty boy is not inclined toconfess. Mark, then; if his name has not been given up to me by to-dayweek, every indulgence to the school will be forfeited, the next wholeholiday stopped, and the coming cricket-match prohibited. "

"The handwriting may be some clue, " suggested Mr. Ready. "Would you haveany objection to my examining the note-books of the Shell?"

"None at all. The Shell-boys are to show their books to Mr. Readyimmediately. "

The head-boy of the Shell collected the books, and took them to thedesk; the three masters glanced casually at about a dozen, and suddenlystopped at one. Eric's heart beat loud, as his saw Mr. Rose pointtowards him. 

"We have discovered a handwriting which remarkably resembles that on theboard. I give the offender one more chance of substituting confessionfor detection. "

No one stirred; but Montagu felt that his friend was tremblingviolently. 

"Eric Williams, stand out in the room. "

Blushing scarlet, and deeply agitated, the boy obeyed

"The writing on the notice is exactly like yours. Do you know anythingof this shameful proceeding?"

"Nothing, sir, " he murmured in a low tone. 

"Nothing whatever?"

"Nothing whatever, sir. "

Dr. Rowlands' look searched him through and through, and seemed to burninto his heart. He did not meet it, but hung his head. The Doctor feltcertain from his manner that he was guilty. He chained him to the spotwith his glance for a minute or two, and then said slowly, and with adeep sigh--

"Very well; I _hope_ you have spoken the truth; but whether you have orno, we shall soon discover. The school, and especially the upper boys, will remember what I have said. I shall now tear down the insultingnotice, and put it into your hands, Avonley, as head of the school, thatyou may make further inquiries. " He left the room, and the boys resumedtheir usual avocation till twelve o'clock. But poor Eric could hardlyget through his ordinary pursuits; he felt sick and giddy, untileverybody noticed his strange embarrassed manner, and random answers. 

No sooner had twelve o'clock struck, than the whole school broke up intoknots of buzzing and eager talkers. 

"I wonder who did it, " said a dozen voices at once. 

"The writing was undoubtedly Williams', " suggested some. 

"And did you notice how red and pale he got when the Doctor spoke tohim, and how he hung his head?"

"Yes; and one knows how he hates Gordon. "

"Ay; by the bye, Gordon set him a Georgic only on Thursday, and he hasbeen swearing at him ever since. "

"I noticed that he stayed in after all the rest last night, " saidBarker. 

"Did he? By Jove, that looks bad. "

"Has any one charged him with it?" asked Duncan. 

"Yes, " answered one of the group: "but he's as proud about it asLucifer, and is furious if you mention it to him. He says we ought toknow him better than to think him capable of such a thing. "

"And quite right, too, " said Duncan. "If he did it, he's done somethingtotally unlike what one would have believed possible of him. "

The various items of evidence were put together, and certainly theyseemed to prove a strong case against Eric. In addition to theprobabilities already mentioned, it was found that the ink used was of aviolet color, and a peculiar kind, which Eric was known to patronise;and not only so, but the wafers with which the paper had been attachedto the board were yellow, and exactly of the same size with some whichEric was said to possess. How the latter facts had been discovered, nobody exactly knew, but they began to be very generally whisperedthroughout the school. 

In short, the almost universal conviction among the boys proclaimed thathe was guilty, and many urged him to confess it at once, and save theschool from the threatened punishment. But he listened to suchsuggestions with the most passionate indignation. 

"What!" he said, angrily, "tell a wilful lie to blacken my own innocentcharacter? Never!"

The consequence was, they all began to shun him. Eric was put intoCoventry. Very few boys in the school still clung to him, and maintainedhis innocence in spite of appearances, but they were the boys whom hehad most loved and valued, and they were most vigorous in his defence. They were Russell, Montagu, Duncan, Owen, and little Wright. 

On the evening of the Saturday, Upton had sought out Eric, and said in avery serious tone, "This is a bad business, Williams. I cannot forgethow you have been abusing Gordon lately, and though I won't believe youguilty, yet you ought to explain. "

"What? even _you_, then suspect me?" said Eric, bursting into proudtears. "Very well. I shan't condescend to _deny_ it. I won't speak toyou again till you have repented of mistrusting me;" and he resolutelyrejected all further overtures on Upton's part. 

He was alone in his misery. Some one, he perceived, had plotted todestroy his character, and he saw too clearly how many causes ofsuspicion told against him. But it was very bitter to think that thewhole school could so readily suppose that he would do a thing whichfrom his soul he abhorred. "No, " he thought, "bad I may be, but I_could_ not have done such a base and cowardly trick. "

Never in his life had he been so wretched. He wandered alone to therocks, and watched the waves dashing against them with the rising tide. The tumult of the weather seemed to relieve and console the tumult ofhis heart. He drank in strength and defiance from the roar of thewaters, and climbed to their very edge along the rocks, where everyfresh, rush of the waves enveloped him in white swirls of angry loam. The look of the green, rough, hungry sea, harmonised with his feelings, and he sat down and stared into it, to find relief from the torment ofhis thoughts. 

At last, with a deep sigh, he turned away to go back, and meet the crowdof suspicious and unkindly companions, and brood alone over his sorrowin the midst of them. He had not gone many steps, when he caught sightof Russell in the distance. His first impulse was to run away andescape; but Russell determined to stop him, and when he came up, said, "Dear Eric, I have sought you out on purpose to tell you that _I_ don'tsuspect you, and have never done so for a moment. I know you too well, my boy, and be sure that _I_ will always stick to you, even if the wholeschool cut you. "

"Oh, Edwin, I am _so_ wretched. I needn't tell you that I am quiteinnocent of this. What have I done to be so suspected? Why, even yourcousin Upton won't believe me. "

"But he does, Eric, " said Russell; "he told me so just now, and severalothers said the same thing. "

A transient gleam passed over Eric's face. 

"O, I do so long for home again, " he said. "Except you, I have nofriend. "

"Don't say so, Eric. This cloud will soon blow over. Depend upon it, asthe Doctor said, we shall discover the offender yet, and the fellowswill soon make you reparation for their false suspicions. And you _have_one friend, Eric, " he continued, pointing reverently upwards. 

Eric was overcome; he sat down on the grass and hid his face till thetears flowed through his closed fingers. Russell sat silent and pityingbeside him, and let Eric's head rest upon his shoulder. 

When they got home, Eric found three notes in his drawer. One was fromMr. Gordon, and ran thus:--

"I have little doubt, Williams, that you have done this act. Believe me, I feel no anger, only pity for you. Come to me and confess, and Ipromise, by every means in my power, to befriend and save you. "

This note he read, and then, stamping on the floor, tore it up furiouslyinto twenty pieces, which he scattered about the room. 

Another was from Mr. Rose;

"Dear Eric--I _cannot, will_ not, believe you guilty, althoughappearances look very black. You have many faults, but I feel sure thatI cannot be mistaken in supposing you too noble-minded for a revenge sopetty and so mean. Come to me, dear boy, if I can help you in any way. I_trust you_, Eric, and will use every endeavor to right you in thegeneral estimation. You are innocent; pray to God for help under thiscruel trial, and be sure that your character will yet becleared. --Affectionately yours, WALTER ROSE. "

"_P. S. _--I can easily understand that just now you will like quiet; comeand sit with me in the library as much as you like. "

He read this note two or three times with grateful emotion, and at thatmoment would have died for Mr. Rose. The third note was from Owen, asfollows:--

"Dear Williams--We have been cool to each other lately; naturally, perhaps. But yet I think that it will be some consolation to you to betold, even by a rival, that I, for one, feel certain of your innocence. If you want company, I shall be delighted now to walk with you. --Yourstruly, D. OWEN. "

This note, too, brought much comfort to the poor boy's lonely andpassionate heart. He put it into his pocket, and determined at once toaccept Mr. Rose's kind offer of allowing him to sit for the present inthe library. 

There were several boys in the room while he was reading his notes, butnone of them spoke to him, and he was too proud to notice them, orinterrupt the constrained silence. As he went out he met Duncan andMontagu, who at once addressed him in the hearing of the rest. 

"Ha! Williams, " said Duncan, "we have been looking everywhere for you, dear fellow. Cheer up, you shall be cleared yet. I, for one, and Montyfor another, will maintain your innocence before the whole school. "

Montagu _said_ nothing, but Eric understood full well the trustfulkindness of his soft pressure of the hand. His heart was too full tospeak, and he went on towards the library. 

"I wonder at your speaking to that fellow, " said Bull, as the two newcomers joined the group at the fire-place. 

"You will be yourself ashamed of having ever suspected him before long, "said Montagu warmly; "ay, the whole lot of you; and you are very unkindto condemn him before you are certain. "

"I wish you joy of your _friend_, Duncan, " sneered Barker. 

"Friend?" said Duncan, firing up; "yes! he is my friend, and I'm notashamed of him. It would be well for the school if _all_ the fellowswere as honorable as Williams. "

Barker took the hint, and although he was too brazen to blush, thoughtit better to say no more. 

CHAPTER XII

THE TRIAL

"A plot, a plot, a plot, to ruin all. " TENNYSON, _The Princess_. 

On the Monday evening, the head boy reported to Dr. Rowlands that theperpetrator of the offence had not been discovered, but that one boy wasvery generally suspected, and on grounds that seemed plausible. "Iadmit, " he added, "that from the little I know of him he seems to me avery unlikely sort of boy to do it. "

"I think, " suggested the Doctor, "that the best way would be for you tohave a regular trial on the subject, and hear the evidence. Do you thinkthat you can be trusted to carry on the investigation publicly, withgood order and fairness?"

"I think so, sir, " said Avonley. 

"Very well. Put up a notice, asking all the school to meet by themselvesin the boarders' room tomorrow afternoon at three, and see what you cando among you. "

Avonley did as the Doctor suggested. At first, when the boys assembled, they seemed inclined to treat the matter as a joke, and were ratherdisorderly; but Avonley briefly begged them, if they determined to havea trial, to see that it was conducted sensibly; and by general consenthe was himself voted into the desk as president. He then got upand said--

"There must be no sham or nonsense about this affair. Let all the boystake their seats quietly down the room. "

They did so, and Avonley asked, "Is Williams here?"

Looking round, they discovered he was not. Russell instantly went to thelibrary to fetch him, and told him what was going on. He took Eric's armkindly as they entered, to show the whole school that he was not ashamedof him, and Eric deeply felt the delicacy of his goodwill. 

"Are you willing to be tried, Williams, " asked Avonley, "on the chargeof having written the insulting paper about Mr. Gordon? Of course weknow very little how these kind of things ought to be conducted, but wewill see that everything done is open and above ground, and try tomanage it properly. "

"There is nothing I should like better, " said Eric. 

He had quite recovered his firm, manly bearing. A quiet conversationwith his dearly loved friend and master had assured him in theconfidence of innocence, and though the color on his cheek had throughexcitement sunk into two bright red spots, he looked wonderfully nobleand winning as he stood before the boys in the centre of the room. Hisappearance caused a little reaction in his favor, and a murmur ofapplause followed his answer. 

"Good, " said Avonley; "who will prosecute on the part of the school?"

There was a pause. Nobody seemed to covet the office. 

"Very well; if no one is willing to prosecute, the charge drops. "

"I will do it, " said Gibson, a Rowlandite, one of the study boys at thetop of the fifth form. He was a clever fellow, and Eric liked the littlehe had seen of him. 

"Have you any objection, Williams, to the jury being composed of thesixth form? or are there any names among them which you wish tochallenge?"

"No, " said Eric, glancing round with confidence. 

"Well, now, who will defend the accused?"

Another pause, and Upton got up. 

"No, " said Eric, at once. "You were inclined to distrust me, Upton, andI will only be defended by somebody who never doubted my innocence. "

Another pause followed, and then, blushing crimson, Russell got up. "Iam only a Shell-boy, " he said, "but if Eric doesn't mind trusting hiscause to me, I will defend him, since no other fifth-form fellow stirs. "

"Thank you, Russell, _I wanted_ you to offer, I could wish no betterdefender. "

"Will Owen, Duncan, and Montagu help me, if they can?" asked Russell. 

"Very willingly, " they all three said, and went to take their seats byhim. They conversed eagerly for a few minutes, and then declaredthemselves ready. 

"All I have got to do, " said Gibson, rising, "is to bring before theschool the grounds for suspecting Williams, and all the evidence whichmakes it probable that he is the offender. Now, first of all, the thingmust have been done between Friday evening and Saturday morning; andsince the school-room door is generally locked soon after school, it wasprobably done in the short interval between six and a quarter past. Ishall now examine some witnesses. "

The first boy called upon was Pietrie, who deposed, that on Fridayevening, when he left the room, having been detained a few minutes, theonly boy remaining in it was Williams. 

Carter, the school-servant, was then sent for, and deposed, that he hadmet Master Williams hastily running out of the room, when he went at aquarter past six to lock the door. 

Examined by Gibson. --"Was any boy in the room when you did lock thedoor?"

"No one. "

"Did you meet any one else in the passage?"

"No. "

Cross-examined by Russell. --"Do boys ever get into the room after thedoor is locked?"

"Yes. "

"By what means?"

"Through the side windows. "

"That will do. "

Russell here whispered something to Duncan, who at once left the room, and on returning, after a few minutes' absence, gave Russell asignificant nod. 

Barker was next brought forward, and questioned by Gibson. 

"Do you know that Williams is in the habit of using a particular kind ofink?"

"Yes; it is of a violet color, and has a peculiar smell. "

"Could you recognise anything written with it?"

"Yes. "

Gibson here handed to Barker the paper which had caused so much trouble. 

"Is that the kind of ink?"

"Yes. "

"Do you know the handwriting on that paper?"

"Yes; it is Williams' hand. "

"How can you tell?"

"He makes his r's in a curious way. "

"Turn the paper over. Have you ever seen those kind of wafers before?"

"Yes; Williams has a box of them in his desk. "

"Has any other boy, that you are aware of, wafers like those?"

"No. "

Cross-examined by Duncan. --"_How_ do you know that Williams has waferslike those?"

"I have seen him use them. "

"For what purpose?"

"To fasten letters. "

"I can't help remarking that you seem very well acquainted with what hedoes. Several of those who know him best, and have seen him oftenest, never heard of these wafers. May I ask, " he said, "if any one else inthe school will witness to having seen Williams use these wafers?"

No one spoke, and Barker, whose malice seemed to have been changed intouneasiness, sat down. 

Upton was the next witness. Gibson began--"You have seen a good deal ofWilliams?"

"Yes, " said Upton smiling. 

"Have you ever heard him express any opinion of Mr. Gordon?"

"Often. "

"Of what kind?"

"Dislike and contempt, " said Upton, amidst general laughter. 

"Have you ever heard him say anything which implied a desire to injurehim?"

"The other day Mr. Gordon gave him a Georgic as an imposition, and Iheard Williams say that he would like to pay him out. "

This last fact was new to the school, and excited a great sensation. 

"When did he say this?"

"On Friday afternoon. "

Upton had given his evidence with great reluctance, although, beingsimply desirous that the truth should come out, he concealed nothingthat he knew. He brightened up a little when Russell rose tocross-examine him. 

"Have you ever known Williams to do any mean act?"

"Never. "

"Do you consider him a boy _likely_ to have been guilty on thisoccasion?"

"Distinctly the reverse. I am convinced of his innocence. "

The answer was given with vehement emphasis, and Eric felt greatlyrelieved by it. 

One or two other boys were then called on as witnesses to the greatagitation which Eric had shown during the investigation in theschool-room, and then Gibson, who was a sensible, self-contained fellow, said, "I have now done my part. I have shown that the accused had agrudge against Mr. Gordon at the time of the occurrence, and hadthreatened to be revenged on him; that he was the last boy in the roomduring the time when the offence must have been committed; that thehandwriting is known to resemble his, and that the ink and wafersemployed were such as he, and he only, was known to possess. In additionto all this, his behavior, when the matter was first publicly noticed, was exactly such as coincides with the supposition of his guilt. I thinkyou will all agree in considering these grounds of suspicion verystrong; and leaving them to carry their full weight with you, I closethe case for the prosecution. "

The school listened to Gibson's quiet formality with a kind of grim andgloomy satisfaction, and when he had concluded, there were probably fewbut Eric's own immediate friends who were not fully convinced of hisguilt, however sorry they might be to admit so unfavorable an opinion ofa companion whom they all admired. 

After a minute or two, Russell rose for the defence, and asked, "HasWilliams any objection to his desk being brought, and any of itscontents put in as evidence?"

"Not the least; there is the key, and you will find it in my place inschool. "

The desk was brought, but it was found to be already unlocked, andRussell looked at some of the note-paper which it contained. He thenbegan--"In spite of the evidence adduced, I think I can show thatWilliams is not guilty. It is quite true that he dislikes Mr. Gordon, and would not object to any open way of showing it; it is quite truethat he used the expressions attributed to him, and that the ink andwafers are such as may be found in his desk, and that the handwriting isnot unlike his. But is it probable that a boy intending to post up aninsult such as this, would do so in a manner, and at a time so likely toinvolve him in immediate detection, and certain punishment? At any rate, he would surely disguise his usual handwriting. Now, I ask any one tolook at this paper, and tell me whether it is not clear, on thecontrary, that these letters were traced slowly and with care, as wouldbe the case with an elaborate attempt to imitate?" Russell here handedthe paper to the jury, who again narrowly examined it. 

"Now the evidence of Pietrie and Carter is of no use, because Carterhimself admitted that boys often enter the room by the window; a fact towhich we shall have to allude again. 

"We admit the evidence about the ink and wafers. But it is ratherstrange that Barker should know about the wafers, since neither I, norany other friend of Williams, often as we have sat by him when writingletters, have ever observed that he possessed any like them. "

Several boys began to look at Barker, who was sitting very ill at easeon the corner of a form, in vain trying to appear unconcerned. 

"There is another fact which no one yet knows, but which I must mention. It will explain Williams' agitation when Dr. Rowlands read out the wordson that paper; and, confident of his innocence, I am indifferent to itsappearing to tell against him. I myself once heard Williams use the verywords written on that paper, and not only heard them, but expostulatedwith him strongly for the use of them. I need hardly say how veryunlikely it is, that remembering this, he should thus publicly draw mysuspicions on him, if he meant to insult Mr. Gordon, undiscovered. But, besides myself, there was another boy who accidentally overheard thatexpression. That boy was Barker. 

"I have to bring forward a new piece of evidence which at least ought togo for something. Looking at this half-sheet of note-paper, I see thatthe printer's name on the stamp in the corner is 'Graves, York. ' Now, Ihave just found that there is no paper at all like this in Williams'desk; all the note-paper it contains is marked 'Blakes, Ayrton. '

"I might bring many witnesses to prove how very unlike Williams' generalcharacter a trick of this kind would be. But I am not going to do this. We think we know the real offender. We have had one trial, and nowdemand another. It is our painful duty to prove Williams' innocence byproving another's guilt. That other is a known enemy of mine, and ofMontagu's, and of Owen's. We therefore leave the charge of stating thecase against him to Duncan, with whom he has never quarrelled. "

Russell sat down amid general applause; he had performed his task with awonderful modesty and self-possession, which filled every one withadmiration, and Eric warmly pressed his hand. 

The interest of the school was intensely excited, and Duncan, after aminute's pause, starting up, said--"Williams has allowed his desk to bebrought in and examined. Will Barker do the same?"

The real culprit now saw at once that his plot to ruin Eric wasrecoiling on himself. He got up, swore and blustered at Russell, Duncan, and Williams, and at first flatly refused to allow his desk to bebrought. He was, however, forced to yield, and when opened, it wasimmediately seen that the note-paper it contained was identical withthat on which the words had been written. At this he affected to beperfectly unconcerned, and merely protested against what he called themeanness of trying to fix the charge on him. 

"And what have you been doing the whole of the last day or two, " askedGibson, quietly, "but endeavoring to fix the charge on another?"

"We have stronger evidence against you, " said Duncan, confronting himwith an undaunted look, before which his insolence quailed. "Russell, will you call Graham?"

Graham was called, and put on his honor. 

"You were in the sick-room on Friday evening?"

"Yes. "

"Did you see any one get into the school-room through the side window?"

"I may as well tell you all about it. I was sitting doing nothing in thesick-room, when I suddenly saw Barker clamber in to the school-room bythe window, which he left open. I was looking on simply from curiosity, and saw him search Williams' desk, from which he took out something, Icould not make out what. He then went to his own place, and wrote forabout ten minutes, after which I observed him go up and stand by thenotice board. When he had done this he got out by the window again, and ran off. "

"Didn't this strike you as extraordinary?"

"No; I thought nothing more about it, till some one told me in thesick-room about this row. I then mentioned privately what I had seen, and it wasn't till I saw Duncan, half an hour ago, that I thought itworth while to make it generally known. "

Duncan turned an enquiring eye to Barker (who sat black and silent), andthen pulled some bits of torn paper from his pocket, put them together, and called Owen to stand up. Showing him the fragments of paper, heasked, "Have you ever seen these before?"

"Yes. On Saturday, when the boys left the schoolroom, I stayed behind tothink a little over what had occurred, feeling convinced that Williamswas _not_ guilty, spite of appearances. I was standing by the emptyfire-place, when these bits of paper caught my eye. I picked them up, and, after a great deal of trouble, fitted them together. They arecovered apparently with failures in an attempt at forgery, viz. , first, 'Gordon is a sur--' and then a stop, as though the writer weredissatisfied, and several of the words written over again for practice, and then a number of r's made in the way that Williams makes them. "

"There you may stop, " said Barker, stamping fiercely; "I did it all. "

A perfect yell of scorn and execration followed this announcement. 

"What! _you_ did it, and caused all this misery, you ineffableblackguard!" shouted Upton, grasping him with one hand, while he struckhim with the other. 

"Stop!" said Avonley; "just see that he doesn't escape, while we decideon his punishment. "

It was very soon decided by the sixth form that he should run thegauntlet of the school. The boys instantly took out their handkerchiefs, and knotted them tight. They then made a double line down each side ofthe corridor, and turned Barker loose. He stood stock-still at one end, while the fellows nearest him thrashed him unmercifully with the heavyknots. At last the pain was getting severe, and he moved on, finallybeginning to run. Five times he was forced up and down the line, andfive times did every boy in the line give him a blow, which, if it didnot hurt much, at least spoke of no slight anger and contempt. He wasdogged and unmoved to the last, and then Avonley hauled him into thepresence of Dr. Rowlands. He was put in a secure room by himself, andthe next morning was first flogged and then publicly expelled. Thenceforth he disappears from the history of Roslyn school. 

I need hardly say that neither Eric nor his friends took any part inthis retributive act. They sat together in the boarders' room till itwas over, engaged in exciting discussion of the recent event. Mostwarmly did Eric thank them for their trustfulness. "Thank you, " he said, "with all my heart, for proving my innocence; but thank you, even more agreat deal, for first believing it. "

Upton was the first to join them, and since he had but wavered for amoment, he was soon warmly reconciled with Eric. They had hardly shakenhands when the rest came flocking in. "We have all been unjust, " saidAvonley; "let's make up for it as well as we can. Three cheers for EricWilliams!"

They gave, not three, but a dozen, till they were tired; and meanwhile, every one was pressing round him, telling him how sorry they were forthe false suspicion, and doing all they could to show their regret forhis recent troubles. His genial, boyish heart readily forgave them, andhis eyes were long wet with tears of joy. The delicious sensation ofreturning esteem made him almost think it worth while to have under gonehis trial. 

Most happily did he spend the remainder of that afternoon, and it was nosmall relief to all the Rowlandites in the evening to find themselvesfinally rid of Barker, whose fate no one pitied, and whose name no onementioned without disgust. He had done more than any other boy tointroduce meanness, quarrelling, and vice, and the very atmosphere ofthe rooms seemed healthier in his absence. One boy only forgave him, oneboy only prayed for him, one boy only endeavored to see him for one lastkind word. That boy was Edwin Russell. 

After prayers, Mr. Gordon, who had been at Dr. Rowlands' to dinner, apologised to Eric amply and frankly for his note, and did and said allthat could be done by an honorable man to repair the injury of an unjustdoubt. Eric felt his generous humility, and from thenceforth, thoughthey were never friends, he and Mr. Gordon ceased to be enemies. 

That night Mr. Rose crowned his happiness by asking him and hisdefenders to supper in the library. A most bright and joyous eveningthey passed, for they were in the highest spirits; and when the masterbade them "good night, " he kindly detained Eric, and said to him, "Keepan innocent heart, my boy, and you need never fear trouble. Only thinkif you had been guilty, and were now in Barker's place!"

"O, I _couldn't_ be guilty, sir, " said Eric, gaily. 

"Not of such a fault, perhaps. But, " he added solemnly, "there are manykinds of temptation, Eric many kinds. And they are easy to fall into. You will find it no light battle to resist them. "

"Believe me, sir, I will try, " he answered with humility. 

"Jehovah-Nissi!" said Mr. Rose. "Let the Lord be your banner, Eric, andyou will win the victory. God bless you. "

And as the boy's graceful figure disappeared through the door, Mr. Rosedrew his arm-chair to the fire, and sat and meditated long. He wasimagining for Eric a sunny future--a future of splendid usefulness, ofreciprocated love, of brilliant fame. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE ADVENTURE AT THE STACK

 "Ten cables from where green meadows And quiet homes could be seen, No greater space From peril to peace, But the savage sea between!"--EDWIN ARNOLD. 

The Easter holidays at Roslyn lasted about ten days, and as most of theboys came from a distance, they usually spent them at school. Many ofthe usual rules were suspended during this time, and the boys weresupplied every day with pocket-money; consequently the Easter holidayspassed very pleasantly, and there was plenty of fun. 

It was the great time for excursions all over the island, and the boyswould often be out the whole day long among the hills, or about thecoast. Eric enjoyed the time particularly, and was in great requestamong all the boys. He was now more gay and popular than ever, and feltas if nothing were wanting to his happiness. But this brilliantprosperity was not good for him, and he felt continually that he caredfar less for the reproaches of conscience than he had done in the hoursof his trial; sought far less for help from God than he had done when hewas lonely and neglected. 

He always knew that his great safeguard was the affection of Russell. For Edwin's sake, and for shame at the thought of Edwin's disapproval, he abstained from many things into which he would otherwise haveinsensibly glided in conformation to the general looseness of the schoolmorality. But Russell's influence worked on him powerfully, and tendedto counteract a multitude of temptations. 

Among other dangerous lessons, Upton had taught Eric to smoke; and hewas now one of those who often spent a part of his holidays in lurkingabout with pipes in their mouths at places where they were unlikely tobe disturbed, instead of joining in some hearty and healthy game. Whenhe began to "learn" smoking, he found it anything but pleasant; but alittle practice had made him an adept, and he found a certain amount ofenjoyable excitement in finding out cozy places by the river, where heand Upton might go and lounge for an hour to enjoy the forbidden luxury. 

In reality he, like most boys, detested the habit; but it seemed a finething to do, and to some, at any rate, it was a refuge from vacuity. Besides, they had a confused notion that there was something "manly" init, and it derived an additional zest from the stringency of the rulesadopted to put it down. So a number of the boys smoked, and some few ofthem to such excess as to get them into great mischief, and form a habitwhich they could never afterwards abandon. 

One morning of the Easter holidays, Eric, Montagu, and Russell startedfor an excursion down the coast to Rilby Head. As they passed throughEllan, Eric was deputed to go and buy Easter eggs and other provisions, as they did not mean to be back for dinner. In about ten minutes hecaught up the other two, just as they were getting out of the town. 

"What an age you've been buying a few Easter eggs, " said Russell, laughing; "have you been waiting till the hens laid?"

"No; they are not the _only_ things I've got. "

"Well, but you might have got all the grub at the same shop. "

"Ay; but I've procured a more refined article. Guess what it is?"

The two boys didn't guess, and Eric said, to enlighten them, "Will youhave a whiff, Monty?"

"A whiff! Oh! I see you've been wasting your tin on cigars--_alias_, rolled cabbage-leaves. Oh fumose puer!"

"Well, will you have one?"

"If you like, " said Montagu, wavering; "but I don't much care to smoke. "

"Well, _I_ shall, at any rate, " said Eric, keeping off the wind with hiscap, as he lighted a cigar, and began to puff. 

They strolled on in silence; the smoking didn't promote conversation, and Russell thought he had never seen his friend look so ridiculous, andentirely unlike himself, as he did while strutting along with the weedin his mouth. The fact was, Eric didn't guess how much he was hurtingEdwin's feelings, and he was smoking more to "make things look like theholidays, " by a little bravado, than anything else. But suddenly hecaught the expression of Russell's face, and instantly said--

"O, I forgot, Edwin; I know you don't like smoking;" and he instantlyflung the cigar over the hedge, being really rather glad to get rid ofit. With the cigar, he seemed to have flung away the affected manner hedisplayed just before, and the spirits of all three rose at once. 

"It isn't that I don't _like_ smoking only, Eric, but I think itwrong--for _us_ I mean. "

"O, my dear fellow! surely there can't be any harm in it. Why everybodysmokes. "

"It may be all very well for men, although I'm not so sure of that. But, at any rate, it's wrong and ridiculous in boys. You know yourself whatharm it does in every way. "

"O, it's a mere school rule against it. How can it be wrong? Why, I evenknow clergymen who smoke. "

Montagu laughed. "Well, clergymen ain't immaculate, " said he; "but Inever met a man yet who didn't tell you that he was _sorry_ he'dacquired the habit. "

"I'm sure you won't thank that rascally cousin of mine for having taughtyou, " said Russell; "but seriously, isn't it a very moping way ofspending the afternoon, to go and lie down behind some hay-stack, or insome frowsy tumble-down barn, as you smokers do, instead of playingracquets or football?"

"O, it's pleasant enough sometimes, " said Eric, speaking rather againsthis own convictions. 

"As for me, I've nearly left it off, " said Montagu, "and I think Roseconvinced me that it was a mistake. Not that he knows that I ever didsmoke; I should be precious sorry if he did, for I know how he despisesit in boys. Were you in school the other day when he caught Pietrie andBrooking?"

"No. "

"Well, when Brooking went up to have his exercise corrected, Rose smeltthat he had been smoking, and charged him with it. Brooking stoutlydenied it, but after he had told the most robust lies, Rose made himempty his pockets, and there, sure enough, were a pipe and a cigar-casehalf full! You _should_ have heard how Rose thundered and lightened athim for his lying, and then sent him to the Doctor. I never saw him soterrific before. "

"You don't mean to say you were convinced it was wrong because Brookingwas caught, and told lies--do you? _Non sequitur_. "

"Stop--not so fast. " Very soon after Rose twigged Pietrie, who at onceconfessed, and was caned. I happened to be in the library when Rose sentfor him, and Pietrie said mildly that "he didn't see the harm of it. "Rose smiled in his kind way, and said, "Don't see the _harm_ of it! Doyou see any good in it?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, isn't it forbidden?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And doesn't it waste your money?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And tempt you to break rules, and tell lies to screen yourself?"

"Yes, sir, " said Pietrie, putting his tail between his legs. 

"And don't your parents disapprove it? And doesn't it throw you amongsome of the worst boys, and get you into great troubles? Silly child, "he said, pulling Pietrie's ear (as he sometimes does, you know), "don'ttalk nonsense; and remember next time you're caught I shall have youpunished. " So off went Pietrie, [Greek: achreian idon] as our friendHomer says. And your humble servant was convinced. "

"Well, well, " said Eric laughing, "I suppose you're right. At any rate, I give in. Two to one ain't fair; [Greek: ards duo o Aerachlaes], sinceyou're in a quoting humor. "

Talking in this way they got to Rilby Head, where they found plenty toamuse them. It was a splendid headland, rising bluff four hundred feetout of the sea, and presenting magnificent reaches of rock scenery onall sides. The boys lay on the turf at the summit, and flung innocuousstones at the sea-gulls as they sailed far below them over the water, and every now and then pounced at some stray fish that came to thesurface; or they watched the stately barks as they sailed by on thehorizon, wondering at their cargo and destination; or chaffed thefishermen, whose boats heaved on the waves at the foot of thepromontory. When they were rested, they visited a copper-mine by theside of the head, and filled their pockets with bits of bright quartz orred shining spar, which they found in plenty among the rocks. 

In the afternoon they strolled towards home, determining to stop alittle at the Stack on their way. The Stack formed one of theextremities of Ellan Bay, and was a huge mass of isolated schist, accessible at low water, but entirely surrounded at high tide. It was avery favorite resort of Eric's, as the coast all about it was bold andromantic; and he often went there with Russell on a Sunday evening towatch the long line of golden radiance slanting to them over the waterfrom the setting sun--a sight which they often agreed to consider oneof the most peaceful and mysteriously beautiful in nature. 

They reached the Stack, and began to climb to its summit. The sun wasjust preparing to set, and the west was gorgeous with red and gold. 

"We shan't see the line on the waters this evening, " said Eric; "there'stoo much of a breeze. But look, what a glorious sunset!"

"Yes; it'll be stormy tomorrow, " answered Russell, "but come along, let's get to the top; the wind's rising, and the waves will berather grand. "

"Ay, we'll sit and watch them; and let's finish our grub; I've gotseveral eggs left, and I want to get them out of my pocket. "

They devoured the eggs, and then stood enjoying the sight of the waves, which sometimes climbed up the rock almost to their feet, and then fellback, hissing and discomfited. Suddenly they remembered that it wasgetting late, and that they ought to gat home for tea at seven. 

"Hallo!" said Russell, looking at his watch, "it's half-past six. Wemust cut back as hard as we can. By the bye, I hope the tide hasn't beencoming in all this time. "

"Good God!" said Montagu, with a violent start, "I'm afraid it has, though! What asses we have been, with our waves and sunsets. Let's setoff as hard as we can pelt. "

Immediately they scrambled, by the aid of hands and knees, down theStack, and made their way for the belt of rock which joined it to themainland; but, to their horror, they at once saw that the tide had comein, and that a narrow gulf of sea already divided them from the shore. 

"There's only one way for it, " said Eric; "if we're plucky we can jumpthat; but we musn't wait till it gets worse. A good jump will take us_nearly_ to the other side--far enough, at any rate, to let us flounderacross somehow. "

As fast as they could they hurried along down to the place where themomentarily increasing zone of water seemed as yet to be narrowest; andwhere the rocks on the other side were lower than those on which theystood. Their situation was by no means pleasant. The wind had beenrising more and more, and the waves dashed into this little channel withsuch violence, that to swim it would have been a most hazardousexperiment, particularly as they could not dive in from the ledge onwhich they stood, from their ignorance of the depth of water. 

Eric's courage supported the other two. "There's no good _thinking_about it, " said he, "jump we _must_; the sooner the better. We can butbe a little hurt at the worst. Here, I'll set the example. "

He drew back a step or two, and sprang out with all his force. He was apractised and agile jumper, and, to their great relief, he alighted nearthe water's edge, on the other side, where, after slipping once or twiceon the wet and seaweed-covered rocks, he effected a safe landing, withno worse harm than a wetting up to the knees. 

"Now then, you too, " he shouted; "no time to lose. "

"Will you jump first, Monty?" said Russell; "both of you are betterjumpers than I, and to tell the truth I'm rather afraid. "

"Then I won't leave you, " said Montagu; "we'll both stay here. "

"And perhaps be drowned or starved for our pains No, Monty, _you_ canclear it, I've no doubt. "

"Couldn't we try to swim it together, Edwin?"

"Madness! look there. " And as he spoke, a huge furious wave swept downthe whole length of the gulf by which they stood, roaring and surgingalong till the whole water seethed, and tearing the seaweeds from theirroots in the rock. 

"Now's your time, " shouted Eric again. "What _are_ you waiting for? ForGod's sake, jump before another wave comes. "

"Monty, you _must_ jump now, " said Russell, "if only to help me when Itry. "

Montagu went back as far as he could, which was only a few steps, andleapt wildly forward. He lighted into deep water, nearly up to his neck, and at first tried in vain to secure a footing on the sharp slipperyschist; but he stumbled forwards vigorously, and in half a minute, Ericleaning out as far as he could, caught his hand, and just pulled him tothe other side in time to escape another rush of tumultuous andangry foam. 

"Now, Edwin, " they both shouted, "it'll be too late in another minute. Jump for your life. "

Russell stood on the rock pale and irresolute. Once or twice he preparedto spring, and stopped from fear at the critical instant. In truth, theleap was now most formidable; to clear it was hopeless; and the fury ofthe rock-tormented waves rendered the prospect of a swim on the otherside terrible to contemplate. Once in the grasp of one of those billows, even a strong man must have been carried out of the narrow channel, andhurled against the towering sweep of rocks which lay beyond it. 

"Oh Edwin, Edwin--dear Edwin--_do_ jump, " cried Eric with passionateexcitement. "We will rush in for you. "

Russell now seemed to have determined on running the risk; he steppedback, ran to the edge, missed his footing, and with a sharp cry of pain, fell heavily forward into the water. For an instant, Eric and Montagustood breathless, --but the next instant, they saw Russell's head emerge, and then another wave foaming madly by, made them run backwards fortheir lives, and hid him from their view. When it had passed, they sawhim clinging with both hands, in the desperate instinct ofself-preservation, to a projecting bit of rock, by the aid of which hegradually drew himself out of the water, and grasping at crevices orbits of seaweed, slowly and painfully reached the ledge on which theyhad stood before they took the leap. He presented a pitiable spectacle;his face, pale as death, was dabbled with blood; his head drooped on hisbreast; his clothes were torn, and streamed with the salt water; his capwas gone, and the wet hair, which he seemed too exhausted to push aside, hung over his forehead and eyes. He was evidently dizzy, and in pain;and they noticed that he only seemed to use one foot. 

While he was regaining the ledge, neither of the boys spoke, lest theirvoices should startle him, and make him fall; but now, they both criedout, "Are you hurt, Edwin?"

He did not answer, but supported his pale face on one hand, while he putthe other to his head, from which the blood was flowing fast. 

"O Edwin, for the love of God, try once more, " said Montagu; "you willdie if you spend the night on that rock. "

They could not catch the reply, and called again. The wind and waveswere both rising fast, and it was only by listening intently, that theycaught the faint words, "I can't, my leg is hurt. " Besides, they bothsaw that a jump was no longer possible; the channel was more than doublethe width which it had been when Eric leaped, and from the rapid ascentof rocks on both sides, it was now far out of depth. 

"O God, what can we do, " said Montagu, bursting into tears. "We cannever save him; and all but the very top of the Stack is covered athigh tide. "

Eric had not lost his presence of mind. "Cheer up, Edwin, " he shouted;"I _will_ get back to you somehow. If I fail, crawl up to thetop again. "

Again the wind carried away the reply, and Russell had sunk back on therock. 

"Monty, " said Eric, "just watch for a minute or two. When I have gotacross, run to Ellan as hard as you can tear, and tell them that we arecut off by the tide on the Stack. They'll bring round the life-boat. It's our only chance. "

"What are you going to do?" asked Montagu, terrified. "Why, Eric, it'sdeath to attempt swimming that. Heavens!" And he drew Eric back hastily, as another vast swell of water came rolling along, shaking its whitecurled mane, like a sea-monster bent on destruction. 

"Monty, it's no use, " said Eric hastily, tearing off his jacket andwaistcoat; "I'm not going to let Russell die on that ledge of rock. Ishall try to reach him, whatever happens to me. Here; I want to keepthese things dry. Be on the look out; if I get across, fling them overto me if you can, and then do as I told you. "

He turned round; the wave had just spent its fury, and knowing that hisonly chance was to swim over before another came, he plunged in, andstruck out like a man. He was a strong and expert swimmer, and as yetthe channel was not more than a dozen yards across. He dashed over withthe speed and strength of despair, and had just time to clutch the rockson the other side before the next mighty swirl of the tide swept up inits white and tormented course. In another minute he was on the ledge byRussell's side. 

He took him tenderly in his arms, and called to Montagu for the dryclothes. Montagu tied them skilfully with his neck-handkerchief round afragment of rock, adding his own jacket to the bundle, and then flung itover. Eric wrapped up his friend in the clothes, and once more shoutedto Montagu to go on his errand. For a short time the boy lingered, reluctant to leave them, and then started off at the run. Looking backafter a few minutes, he caught, through the gathering dusk, his lastglimpse of the friends in their perilous situation. Eric was seatedsupporting Russell across his knees; when he saw Montagu turn he wavedhis cap over his head as a signal of encouragement, and then began tocarry Edwin higher up the rock for safety. It soon grew too dark todistinguish them, and Montagu at full speed flew to Ellan, which was amile off. When he got to the harbor he told some sailors of the dangerin which his friends were, and then ran on to the school. It was noweight o'clock, and quite dark. Tea was over, and lock-up time long past, when he stood excited, breathless, and without his jacket, at Dr. Rowlands' door. 

"Good gracious! Master Montagu, " said the servant; "what's the matter;have you been robbed?"

He pushed the girl aside, and ran straight to Dr. Rowlands' study. "Osir!" he exclaimed, bursting in, "Williams and Russell are on the Stack, cut off by the tide. "

Dr. Rowlands started up hastily. "What! on this stormy night? Have youraised the alarm?"

"I told the life-boat people, sir, and then ran on. "

"I will set off myself at once, " said the Doctor, seizing his hat. "But, my poor boy, how pale and ill you look, and you are wet through too. Youhad better change your clothes at once, or go to bed. "

"O no, sir, " said Montagu, pleadingly; "do take me with you. "

"Very well; but you must change first, or you may suffer in consequence. Make haste, and directly you are dressed, a cup of tea shall be readyfor you down here, and we will start. "

Montagu was off in an instant, and only stopped on his way to tellDuncan and the others of the danger which threatened their companions. The absence of the three boys from tea and lock-up had already excitedgeneral surmise, and Montagu's appearance, jacketless and wet, at thedoor of the boarders' room, at once attracted a group round him. Herapidly told them how things stood, and, hastening off, left them nearlyas much agitated as himself. In a very short time he presented himselfagain before Dr. Rowlands, and when he had swallowed with difficulty thecup of tea, they sallied out. 

It was pitch dark, and only one or two stars were seen at intervalsstruggling through the ragged masses of cloud. The wind howled in fitfulgusts, and as their road led by the sea-side, Montagu shuddered to hearhow rough and turbulent the sea was, even on the sands. He stumbled onceor twice, and then the Doctor kindly drew his trembling arm through hisown, and made him describe the whole occurrence, while the servant wenton in front with the lantern. When Montagu told how Williams had bravedthe danger of reaching his friend at the risk of his life, Dr. Rowlands'admiration was unbounded. "Noble boy, " he exclaimed, with enthusiasm; "Ishall find it hard to believe any evil of him after this. "

They reached Ellan, and went to the boat-house. 

"Have you put out the life-boat?" said Dr. Rowlands anxiously. 

"Ill luck, sir, " said one of the sailors, touching his cap; "thelife-boat went to a wreck at Port Vash two days ago, and she hasn't beenbrought round again yet. "

"Indeed! but I do trust you have sent out another boat to try and savethose poor boys. "

"We've been trying, sir, and a boat has just managed to start; but in asea like that it's very dangerous, and it's so dark and gusty that Idoubt it's no use, so I expect they'll put back. "

The Doctor sighed deeply. "Don't alarm any other people, " he said; "itwill merely raise a crowd to no purpose. Here, George, " he continued tothe servant, "give me the lantern; I will go with this boy to the Stack;you follow us with ropes, and order a carriage from the King's Head. Take care to bring anything with you that seems likely to be useful. "

Montagu and Dr. Rowlands again started, and with difficulty made theirway through the storm to the shore opposite the Stack. Here they raisedthe lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with suchviolence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout. Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the hugeblack outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, andenveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray. On the top of itMontagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure. 

"Thank God, there is yet hope, " said the Doctor, with difficulty makinghis young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; "ifthey can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue thembefore morning. "

Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joinedhis clear ringing tones to the shout. This time they fancied that in oneof the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned, was soundmore welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals, and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and helpwere near. 

Eric heard them. When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to thehighest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothingwords, made him as comfortable as he could. He wrapped him in everypiece of dry clothing he could find, and held him in his arms, heedlessof the blood which covered him. Very faintly Russell thanked him, andpressed his hand; but he moaned in pain continually, and at lastfainted away. 

Meanwhile the wind rose higher, and the tide gained on the rocks, andthe sacred darkness came down. At first Eric could think of nothing butstorm and sea. Cold, and cruel, and remorseless, the sea beat up, drenching them to the skin continually with, its clammy spray; and thestorm shrieked round them pitilessly, and flung about the wet hair onEric's bare head, and forced him to plant himself firmly, lest the rageof the gusts should hurl them from their narrow resting-place. Thedarkness made everything more fearful, for his eyes could distinguishnothing but the gulfs of black water glistening here and there withhissing foam, and he shuddered as his ears caught the unearthly noisesthat came to him in the mingled scream of weltering tempest and plangentwave. It was fearful to be isolated on the black rent rock, and see thewaves gaining on them higher, higher, higher, every moment and he was inceaseless terror lest they should be swept away by the violence of thebreakers. "At least, " thought he, as he looked down and saw that theledge on which they had been standing had long been covered with deepand agitated waves, "at least I have saved Edwin's life. " And he bravelymade up his mind to keep up heart and hope, and weather the comfortlessnight with Russell in his arms. 

And then his thoughts turned to Russell, who was still unconscious; andstooping down he kissed fondly the pale white forehead of his friend. Hefelt _then_, how deeply he loved him, how much he owed him; and nomother could have nursed a child more tenderly than he did the faintingboy. Russell's head rested on his breast, and the soft hair, tangledwith welling blood, stained his clothes. Eric feared that he would die, his fainting-fit continued so long, and from the helpless way in whichone of his legs trailed on the ground he felt sure that he had receivedsome dangerous hurt. 

At last Russell stirred and groaned. "Where am I?" he said, and halfopened his eyes; he started up frightened, and fell-back heavily. He sawonly the darkness; felt only the fierce wind and salt mist; heard onlythe relentless yell of the blast. Memory had no time to wake, and hescreamed and fainted once more. 

Poor Eric knew not what to do but to shelter him to the best of hispower, and when he showed any signs of consciousness again, he bent overhim, and said, "Don't you remember, Edwin? We're quite safe. I'm withyou, and Monty's gone for help. "

"Oh! I daren't jump, " sobbed Russell; "oh mother, I shall be drowned. Save me! save me! I'm so glad they're safe, mother; but my leg hurtsso. " And he moaned again. He was delirious. 

"How cold it is, and wet too! where's Eric? are we bathing? run along, we shall be late. But stop, you're smoking. Dear Eric, don't smoke. Poor fellow, I'm afraid he's getting spoilt, and learning bad ways. Ohsave him. " And as he wandered on, he repeated a prayer for Eric, whichevidently had been often on his lips. 

Eric was touched to the heart's core, and in one rapid lightning-likeglance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all itssorrowfulness. And _he_, too, prayed wildly for help both for soul andbody. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them, growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terrorbegan to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, andexhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended onhis courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to growcalmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had donein the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn school. 

A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, nowdisappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the soundof voices. Thank God! help was near; they were coming in a boat tosave them. 

But the lights grew more distant; he saw then disappearing towards theharbor. Yes! it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at thefoot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair. His heart sank again, all the more for the glimpse of hope, and hisstrength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grewtoo frightened even to pray. 

A light from the land. The sound of shouts--yes, he could be sure ofit; it was Dr. Rowlands' voice and Montagu's. He got convinced of this, and summoned all his strength to shout in return. The light kept movingup and down on the shore, not a hundred yards off. His fear vanished;they were no longer alone. The first moment that the tide suffered anyone to reach them they would be rescued. His mind grew calm again, andhe determined to hold up for Russell's sake until help should come; andevery now and then, to make it feel less lonely, he answered the shoutswhich came from the friendly voices in the fitful pauses of the storm. 

But Dr. Rowlands and Montagu paced up and down, and the master soothedthe boy's fears, and talked to him so kindly, so gently, that Montagubegan to wonder if this really could be the awful head-master, whosewarm strong hand he was grasping, and who was comforting him as a fathermight. What a depth of genuine human kindness that stern exteriorconcealed! And every now and then, when the storm blew loudest, theDoctor would stand still for a moment, and offer up a short intenseprayer, or ejaculation, that help and safety might come to his belovedcharge in their exposure and peril. 

Six or seven hours passed away; at last the wind began to sink, and thesea to be less violent. The tide was on the turn. The carriage drove upwith, more men and lights, and the thoughtful servant brought with himthe school surgeon, Dr. Underhay. Long and anxiously did they watch theebbing tide, and when it had gone out sufficiently to allow of twostout planks being laid across the channel, an active sailor venturedover with a light, and in a few moments stood by Eric's side. Eric sawhim coming, but was too weak and numb to move; and when the sailorlifted up the unconscious Russell from his knees, Eric was too muchexhausted even to speak. The man returned for him, and lifting him onhis back crossed the plank once more in safety, and carried them both tothe carriage, where Dr. Underhay had taken care to have everythinglikely to revive and sustain them. They were driven rapidly to theschool, and the Doctor raised to God tearful eyes of gratitude as theboys were taken to the rooms prepared for them. Mrs. Rowlands wasanxiously awaiting their arrival, and the noise of wheels was the signalfor twenty heads to be put through the dormitory windows, with many ananxious inquiry, "Are they safe?"

"Yes, thank God!" called Dr. Rowlands; "so now, boys, shut the windows, and get to sleep. "

Russell was carefully undressed, and put to bed in the Doctor's ownhouse, and the wound in his head was dressed. Eric and Montagu had bedsprovided them in another room by themselves, away from the dormitory:the room was bright and cheerful, with a blazing fire, and looked likehome and when the two boys had drank some warm wine, and cried forweariness and joy, they sank to sleep after their dangers and fatigues, and slept the deep, calm, dreamless sleep of tired children. 

So ended the perilous adventure of that eventful night of the Easterholidays. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE SILVER CORD BROKEN

 "Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. "--MRS. HEMANS. 

They did not awake till noon. Montagu opened his eyes, and at firstcould not collect his thoughts, as he saw the carpeted little room, thebright fire, and the housekeeper seated in her arm-chair before it. Butturning his head, he caught a glimpse of Eric, who was still asleep, andhe then remembered all. He sprang out of bed, refreshed and perfectlywell, and the sound of his voice woke Eric; but Eric was still languidand weak, and did not get up that day, nor was he able to go to workagain for some days; but he was young and strong, and his vigorousconstitution soon threw off the effects of his fast and exposure. 

Their first inquiry was for Edwin. The nurse shook her head sadly. "Heis very dangerously ill. "

"Is he?" said they both, anxiously. And then they preserved a deepsilence; and when Montagu, who immediately began to dress, knelt down tosay his prayers, Eric, though unable to get up, knelt also over hispillow, and the two felt that their young earnest prayers were minglingfor the one who seemed to have been taken while they were left. 

The reports grew darker and darker about Edwin, At first it was thoughtthat the blow on his head was dangerous, and that the exposure to wet, cold, fear, and hunger, had permanently weakened his constitution; andwhen his youth seemed to be triumphing over these dangers, anotherbecame more threatening. His leg never mended; he had both sprained theknee badly, and given the tibia an awkward twist, so that the leastmotion was agony to him. 

In his fever he was constantly delirious. No one was allowed to see him, though many of the boys tried to do so, and many were the earnestinquiries for him day by day. It then became more fully apparent thanever, that, although Edwin was among them without being _of_ them, noboy in the school was more deeply honored and fondly loved than he. Eventhe elastic spirits of boyhood could not quite throw off the shadow ofgloom which his illness cast over the school. 

Very tenderly they nursed him. All that human kindness could do was donefor him by the stranger hands. And yet not all; poor Edwin had nofather, no mother, hardly any relatives. His only aunt, Mrs. Upton, would have come to nurse him, but she was an invalid, and he was oftenleft alone in his delirium and agony. 

Alone, yet not alone. There was One with him--always in his thoughts, always leading, guiding, blessing him unseen--not deserting the hurtlamb of his flock; one who was once a boy himself, and who, when he wasa boy, did his Father's business, and was subject unto his parents inthe obscure home of the despised village. Alone! nay, to them whoseeyes were opened, the room of sickness and pain was thronged andbeautiful with angelic presences. 

Often did Eric, and Upton, and Montagu, talk of their loved friend. Eric's life seemed absorbed in the thought of him, and in passionate, unspeakable longings for his recovery. Now he valued more than ever thesweet remembered hours spent with him; their games, and communnings, andwalks, and Russell's gentle influence, and brave, kindly rebukes. Yet hemust not even see him, must not whisper one word of soothing to him inhis anguish; he could only pray for him, and that he did with a depthof hope. 

At last Upton, in virtue of his relationship, was allowed to visit him. His delirium had become more infrequent, but he could not yet evenrecognise his cousin, and the visits to his sick-room were so sad anduseless, that Upton forbore. "And yet you should hear him talk in hisdelirium, " he said to Eric; "not one evil word, or bad thought, orwicked thing, ever escapes him. I'm afraid, Eric, it would hardly be sowith you or me. "

"No" said Eric, in a low and humble tone; and guilty conscience broughtthe deep color, wave after wave, of crimson into his cheeks. 

"And he talks with such affection of you, Eric. He speaks sometimes ofall of us very gently; but you seem to be always in his thoughts, andevery now and then he prays for you quite unconsciously. "

Eric turned his head to brush away a tear. "When do you think I shall beallowed too see him?"

"Not just yet, I fear. "

After a week or two of most anxious suspense, Russell's mind ceased towander, but the state of his sprain gave more cause for alarm. Freshadvice was called in, and it was decided that the leg must be amputated. 

When Eric was told of this, he burst into passionate complaints. "Onlythink, Monty, isn't it hard, isn't it cruel? When we see our brave, bright Edwin again, he will be a cripple. " Eric hardly understood thathe was railing at the providence of a merciful God. 

The day for the operation came. When it was over, poor Russell seemed toamend, and the removal of the perpetual pain gave him relief. They wereall deeply moved at his touching resignation; no murmur, no cry escapedhim; no words but the sweetest thanks for every little office ofkindness done to him. A few days after, he asked Dr. Underhay "if hemight see Eric?"

"Yes, my boy, " said the doctor kindly, "you may see him, and one or twoother of your particular friends if you like, provided you don't exciteyourself too much. I trust you will get better now. "

So Eric and Montagu were told by Dr. Rowlands that at six they might goand see their friend. "Be sure, " he added, "that you don't startle orexcite him. "

They promised, and after school on that beautiful evening of earlysummer they went to the sick-room door Stopping, they held their breath, and knocked very gently. Yes! it was the well-known voice which gave theanswer, but it was faint and low. Full of awe, they softly opened thedoor, which admitted them into the presence of the dear companion whomthey had not seen for so long. Since then it seemed as though gulfs fardeeper than the sea had been flowing between him and them. 

Full of awe, and hand in hand, they entered the room on tiptoe--thedarkened room where Russell was What a hush and oppression there seemedto them at first in the dim, silent chamber; what an awfulness in allthe appliances which showed how long and deeply their schoolfellow hadsuffered. But all this vanished directly they caught sight of his face. There he lay, so calm, and weak, and still, with his bright, earnesteyes turned towards them, as though to see whether any of theiraffection for him had ceased or been forgotten!

In an instant they were kneeling in silence by the bed with bowedforeheads; and the sick boy tenderly put his hands on their heads, andpushed the frail white fingers through their hair, and looked at themtearfully without a word, till they hid their faces with their hands, and broke into deep suppressed sobs of compassion. 

"Oh hush, hush!" he said, as he felt their tears dropping on his handswhile they kissed him. "Dear Eric, dear Monty, why should you cry so forme? I am very happy. "

But they caught the outline of his form as he lay on the bed, and hadnow for the first time realized that he was a cripple for life; and asthe throng of memories came on them--memories of his skill and fame atcricket, and racquets, and football--of their sunny bathes together insea and river, and all their happy holiday wanderings--they could notrestrain their emotion, and wept uncontrollably. Neither of them couldspeak a word, or break the holy silence; and as he patted their headsand cheeks, his own tears flowed fast in sympathy and self-pity. But hefelt the comforting affection which they could not utter; he felt it inhis loneliness, and it did him good. 

The nurse broke in upon the scene, which she feared would agitate Edwintoo much; and with red eyes and heavy hearts the boys left, onlywhispering, "We will come again to-morrow, Edwin!"

They came the next day, and many days, and got to talk quite cheerfullywith him, and read to him. They loved this occupation more than anygame, and devoted themselves to it. The sorrow of the sick-room morethan repaid them for the glad life without, when they heard Russell'ssimple and heartfelt thanks. "Ah! how good of you, dear fellows, " hewould say, "to give up the merry playground for a wretched cripple, " andhe would smile cheerfully to show that his trial had not made him wearyof life. Indeed, he often told them that he believed they felt for himmore than he did himself. 

One day Eric brought him a little bunch of primroses and violets. Heseemed much better, and Eric's spirits were high with the thoughts andhopes of the coming holidays. "There, Edwin, " he said, as the boygratefully and eagerly took the flowers, "don't they make you glad? Theyare one of our _three_ signs, you know, of the approaching holidays. Onesign was the first sight of the summer steamer going across the bay;another was May eve, when these island-fellows light big gorse fires allover the mountains, and throw yellow marsh-lilies at their doors to keepoff the fairies. Do you remember, Eddy, gathering some last May eve, andsitting out in the playground till sunset, watching the fires begin totwinkle on Cronck-Irey and Barrule for miles away? What a jolly talk wehad that evening about the holidays; but my father and mother were herethen, you know, and we were all going to Fairholm. But the thirdsign--the first primrose and violet--was always the happiest. You can'tthink how I _grabbed_ at the first primrose this year; I found it by acave on the Ness. And though these are rather the last than the first, yet I knew you'd like them, Eddy, so I hunted for them everywhere. Andhow much better you're looking too; such shining eyes, and, yes! Ipositively declare, quite a ruddy cheek like your old one. You'll soonbe out among us again, that's clear----"

He stopped abruptly: he had been rattling on just in the merry way thatRussell now most loved to hear, but, as he was talking, he caught thetouch of sadness on Russell's face, and saw his long, abstracted, eagerlook at the flowers. 

"Dear fellow, you're not worse, are you?" he said quickly. "What a foolI am to chatter so; it makes you ill. "

"No, no, Eric, talk on; you can't think how I love to hear you. Oh, howvery beautiful these primroses are! Thank you, thank you, for bringingthem. " And he again fixed on them the eager dreamy look which hadstartled Eric--as though he were learning their color and shapeby heart. 

"I wish I hadn't brought them, though, " said Eric, "they are fillingyour mind with regrets. But, Eddy, you'll be well by the holidays--amonth hence, you know--or else I shouldn't have talked so gladlyabout them. "

"No, Eric, " said Russell sadly, "these dear flowers are the last springblossoms that I shall see--_here_ at least. Yes, I will keep them, foryour sake, Eric, till I die. "

"Oh don't talk so, " said Eric, shocked and flustered, "why everybodyknows and says that you're getting better. "

Russell smiled and shook his head. "No, Eric, I shall die. There stop, dear fellow, don't cry, " said he, raising his hands quietly to Eric'sface; "isn't it better for me so? I own it seemed sad at first to leavethis bright world and the sea--yes, even that cruel sea, " he continuedsmiling; "and to leave Roslyn, and Upton, and Monty, and, above all, toleave _you_, Eric, whom I love best in all the world. Yes, remember I'veno home, Eric, and no prospects. There was nothing to be sorry for inthis, so long as God gave me health and strength; but health went forever into those waves at the Stack, where you saved my life, dear, gallant Eric; and what could I do now? It doesn't look so happy to_halt_ through life. Oh Eric, Eric, I am young, but I am dying--dying, Eric, " he said solemnly, "my brother; let me call you brother; I have nonear relations, you know, to fill up the love in my yearning heart, butI _do_ love _you_. Kiss me, Eric, as though I were a child, and you achild. There, that comforts me; I feel as if I _were_ a child again, andhad a dear brother;--and I _shall_ be a child again soon, Eric, in thecourts of a Father's house. "

Eric could not speak. These words startled him; he never dreamt_recently_ of Russell's death, but had begun to reckon on his recovery, and now life seemed darker to him than ever. 

But Russell was pressing the flowers to his lips. "The grasswithereth, " he murmured, "the flower fadeth, and the glory of its beautyperisheth; but--_but_ the word of the Lord endureth for ever. " And herehe too burst into natural tears, and Eric pressed his hand, with morethan a brother's fondness, to his heart. 

"Oh Eddy, Eddy, my heart is full, " he said, "too full to speak to you. Let me read to you;" and with Russell's arm round his neck he sat down, beside his pillow, and read to him about "the pure river of water oflife, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of theLamb. " At first sobs choked his voice, but it gathered firmness ashe went on. 

"In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, wasthere the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yieldedher fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healingof the nations. 

"And there shall be no more curse"--and here the reader's musical voicerose into deeper and steadier sweetness--"but the throne of God and ofthe Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him; and theyshall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. "

"And they shall see his face, " murmured Russell, "_and they shall seehis face_" Eric paused and looked at him; a sort of rapture seemed to belighted in his eyes, as though they saw heavenly things, and hiscountenance was like an angel's to look upon. Eric closed the bookreverently, and gazed. 

"And now pray for me, Eric, will you?" Eric knelt down, but no prayerwould come; his breast swelled; and his heart beat fast, but emotionprevented him from uttering a word. But Russell laid his hand on hishead and prayed. 

"O gracious Lord God, look down, merciful Father on us, two erring, weak, sinful boys; look down and bless us, Lord, for the love thoubearest unto thy children. One thou art taking; Lord, take me to thegreen pastures of thy home, where no curse is; and one remains--O Lord!bless him with the dew of thy blessing; lead and guide him, and keep himfor ever in thy fear and love, that he may continue thine for ever, andhereafter we may meet together among the redeemed, in the immortal gloryof the resurrection. Hear us, O Father, for thy dear Son's sake. Amen! Amen!"

The childlike, holy, reverent voice ceased, and Eric rose. One longbrotherly kiss he printed on Russell's forehead, and, full of sorrowfulforebodings, bade him good night. 

He asked Dr. Underhay whether his fears were correct. "Yes, " he said, "he may die at any time; he _must_ die soon. It is even best that heshould; besides the loss of a limb, that blow on the head wouldcertainly affect the brain and the intellect if he lived. "

Eric shuddered--a long cold shudder. 

The holidays drew on; for Russell's sake, and at his earnest wish, Erichad worked harder than he ever did before. All his brilliant abilities, all his boyish ambition, were called into exercise; and, to the delightof every one, he gained ground rapidly, and seemed likely once more todispute the palm with Owen. No one rejoiced more in this than Mr. Rose, and he often gladdened Russell's heart by telling him about it; forevery day he had a long visit to the sick boy's room, which refreshedand comforted them both. 

In other respects, too, Eric seemed to be turning over a new leaf. Heand Upton, by common consent, had laid aside smoking, and every badhabit or disobedient custom which would have grieved the dying boy, whomthey both loved so well. And although Eric's popularity, after theromantic Stack adventure and his chivalrous daring, was at its veryzenith, --although he had received a medal and flattering letter from theHumane Society, who had been informed of the transaction by Dr. Rowlands, --although his success both physical and intellectual washigher than ever, --yet the dread of the great loss he was doomed tosuffer, and the friendship which was to be snapped, overpowered everyother feeling, and his heart was ennobled and purified by contact withhis suffering friend. 

It was a June evening, and he and Russell were alone; he had drawn upthe blind, and through the open window the summer breeze, pure from thesea and fragrant from the garden, was blowing refreshfully into the sickboy's room. Russell was very, very happy. No doubt, no fear, assailedhim; all was peace and trustfulness. Long and earnestly that evening didhe talk to Eric, and implore him to shun evil ways, striving to lead himgently to that love of God which was his only support and refuge now. Tearfully and humbly Eric listened, and every now and then the suffererstopped to pray aloud. 

"Good night, Eric, " he said, "I am tired, _so_ tired. I hope we shallmeet again; I shall give you my desk and all my books, Eric, except afew for Horace, Owen, Duncan, and Monty. And my watch, that dear watchyour mother, _my_ mother, gave me, I shall leave to Rose as aremembrance of us both. Good night, brother. "

A little before ten that night Eric was again summoned with Upton andMontagu to Russell's bedside. He was sinking fast; and as he had but ashort time to live, he expressed a desire to see them, though he couldsee no others. 

They came, and were amazed to see how bright the dying boy looked. Theyreceived his last farewells--he would die that night. Sweetly he blessedthem, and made them promise to avoid all evil, and read the Bible, andpray to God. But he had only strength to speak at intervals. Mr. Rose, too, was there; it seemed as though he held the boy by the hand, asfearlessly now, yea, joyously, he entered the waters of the dark river. 

"Oh, I should _so_ like to stay with you, Monty, Horace, dear, dearEric, but God calls me. I am going--a long way--to my father andmother--and to the light. I shall not be a cripple there--nor be inpain. " His words grew slow and difficult. "God bless you, dear fellows;God bless you, dear Eric; I am going--to God. "

He sighed very gently; there was a slight sound in his throat, and hewas dead. A terrible scene of boyish anguish followed, as they kissedagain and again the lifeless brow. But quietly, calmly, Mr. Rose checkedthem, and they knelt down with streaming eyes while he prayed. 

CHAPTER XV

HOME AGAIN

 "O far beyond the waters The fickle feet may roam, But they find no light so pure and bright As the one fair star of home; The star of tender hearts, lady, That glows in an English home, "

 F. W. F. 

That night when Eric returned to No. 7, full of grief, and weighed downwith the sense of desolation and mystery, the other boys were silentfrom sympathy in his sorrow. Duncan and Llewellyn both knew and lovedRussell themselves, and they were awestruck to hear of his death; theyasked some of the particulars, but Eric was not calm enough to tell themthat evening. The one sense of infinite loss agitated him, and heindulged his paroxysms of emotion unrestrained, yet silently. Reader, ifever the life has been cut short which you most dearly loved, if everyou have been made to feel absolutely lonely in the world, then, andthen only, will you appreciate the depth of his affliction. 

But, like all affliction, it purified and sanctified. To Eric, as herested his aching head on a pillow wet with tears, and vainly sought forthe sleep whose blessing he had never learned to prize before, howodious seemed all the vice which he had seen and partaken in since hebecame an inmate of that little room. How his soul revolted withinfinite disgust from the language which he had heard, and the openglorying in sin of which he had so often been a witness. The stain andthe shame of sin fell heavier than ever on his heart; it rode on hisbreast like a nightmare; it haunted his fancy with visions of guiltymemory, and shapes of horrible regret. The ghosts of buried misdoings, which he had thought long lost in the mists of recollection, started upmenacingly from their forgotten graves, and made him shrink with a senseof their awful reality. Behind him, like a wilderness, lay years whichthe locust had eaten; the intrusted hours which had passed away, andbeen reckoned to him as they past. 

And the thought of Russell mingled with all--Russell, as he fondlyimagined him now, glorified with the glory of heaven, crowned, and inwhite robes, and with a palm in his hand. Yes, he had walked and talkedwith one of the Holy Ones. Had Edwin's death, quenched his humanaffections, and altered his human heart? If not, might not he be thereeven now, leaning over his friend with the beauty of his invisiblepresence? The thought startled him, and seemed to give an awful lustreto the moonbeam which fell into the room. No; he could not endure such apresence now, with his weak conscience and corrupted heart; and Eric hidhis head under the clothes, and shut his eyes. 

Once more the pang of separation entered like iron into his soul. Shouldhe ever meet Russell again? What if _he_ had died instead of Edwin, where would he have been? "Oh, no! no!" he murmured aloud, as theterrible thought came over him of his own utter unfitness for death, andthe possibility that he might never, never again hear the belovedaccents, or gaze on the cherished countenance of his school friend. 

In this tumult of accusing thoughts he fell asleep; but that night thedew of blessing did not fall for him on the fields of sleep. He wasfrightened by unbidden dreams, in all of which his conscience obtrudedon him his sinfulness, and his affection called up the hauntinglineaments of the dear dead face. He was wandering down a path, at theend of which Russell stood with open arms inviting him earnestly to joinhim there; he saw his bright ingenuous smile, and heard, as of old, hisjoyous words, and he hastened to meet him; when suddenly the boy-figuredisappeared, and in its place he saw the stern brow, and gleaminggarments, and drawn flaming sword of the Avenger. And then he was in agreat wood alone, and wandering, when the well-known voice called hisname, and entreated him to turn from that evil place; and he longed toturn, --but, whenever he tried, ghostly hands seemed to wave him backagain, and irresistible cords to drag him into the dark forest, amid thesound of mocking laughs. Then he was sinking, sinking, sinking into agulf, deep and darker even than the inner darkness of a sin-desolatedheart; sinking, helplessly, hopelessly, everlastingly; while far away, like a star, stood the loved figure in light infinitely above him, andwith pleading hands implored his deliverance, but could not prevail; andEric was still sinking, sinking, infinitely, when the agony awoke himwith a violent start and stifled scream. 

He could sleep no longer. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw the pale, dead, holy features of Edwin, and at last he fancied that he was prayingbeside his corpse, praying to be more like _him_, who lay there so whiteand calm; sorrowing beside it, sorrowing that he had so often rejectedhis kind warnings, and pained his affectionate heart. So Eric beganagain to make good resolutions about all his future life. Ah! how oftenhe had done so before, and how often they had failed. He had not yetlearned the lesson which David learned by sad experience; "Then I said, it is mine own infirmity, _but I will remember the years of the righthand of the Most High_. "

That, too, was an eventful night for Montagu. He had grown of late farmore thoughtful than before; under Edwin's influence he had been layingaside, one by one, the careless sins of school life, and his tone wasnobler and manlier than it had ever been. Montagu had never known orheard much about godliness; his father, a gentleman, a scholar, and aman of the world, had trained him in the principles of refinement andgood taste, and given him a high standard of conventional honor; but hepassed through life lightly, and had taught his son to do the same. Possessed of an ample fortune, which Montagu was to inherit, he troubledhimself with none of the deep mysteries of life, and

 "Pampered the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use; Nursing in some delicious solitude His dainty love and slothful sympathies. "

But Montagu in Edwin's sick-room and by his death bed; in the terriblestorm at the Stack, and by contact with Dr. Rowlands' earnestness, andMr. Rose's deep, unaffected, sorrow-mingled piety; by witnessing Eric'sfailures and recoveries; and by beginning to take in his course the sameheartfelt interest which Edwin taught him--Montagu, in consequence ofthese things, had begun to see another side of life, which awoke all hisdormant affections and profoundest reasonings. It seemed as though, forthe first time, he began to catch some of

 "The still gad music of humanity, "

and to listen with deep eagerness to the strain. Hitherto, to be welldressed, handsome, agreeable, rich, and popular, had been to him arealised ideal of life; but now he awoke to higher and worthier aims;and once, when Russell, whose intelligent interest in his work exceededthat of any other boy, had pointed out to him that solemn question ofEuripides--

 "[Greek: Ohiei su tous thanontas o Nichaezate Tzuphaes hapasaes metalabontas en bips Pepheugenai to theion];"

he fell into a train of reflection, which made a lasting impression uponhis character. 

The holidays were approaching. Eric, to escape as much, as possible fromhis sorrow, plunged into the excitement of working for the examination, and rapidly made up for lost ground. He now spent most of his time withthe best of his friends, particularly Montagu, Owen, and Upton; forUpton, like himself, had been much sobered by sorrow at their loss. Thistime he came out _second_ in his form, and gained more than one prize. This was his first glimpse of real delight since Russell's death; andwhen the prize-day came, and he stood with his companions in theflower-decorated room, and went up amid universal applause to take hisprize-books, and receive a few words of compliment from the governor whotook the chair, he felt almost happy, and keenly entered into thepleasure which his success caused, as well as into the honors won by hisfriends. One outward sign only remained of his late bereavement--hismourning dress. All the prize-boys wore rosebuds or lilies of the valleyin their button-holes on the occasion, but on this day Eric would notwear them. Little Wright, who was a great friend of theirs, had broughtsome as a present both to Eric and Montagu, as they stood together onthe prize-day morning; they took them with thanks, and, as their eyesmet, they understood each other's thoughts. 

"No, " said Eric to Wright, "we won't wear these to-day, although we haveboth got prizes. Come along I know what we will do with them. "

They all three walked together to the little green, quiet churchyard, where, by his own request, Edwin had been buried. Many a silent visithad the friends paid to that grave, on which the turf was now greenagain, and the daisies had begun to bloom. A stone had just been placedSACRED TO THE MEMORY

OF

AN ORPHAN, WHO DIED AT ROSLYN SCHOOL, MAY 1847, AGED FIFTEEN YEARS. 

 * * * * *

"_Is it well with the child? It is well_. "

2 KINGS iv. 26. 

The three boys stood by the grave in silence and sorrow for a time. 

"He would have been the gladdest at our success. Monty, " said Eric; "letus leave the signs of it upon his grave. "

And, with reverent hand, scattering over that small mound the choicerosebuds and fragrant lilies with their green leaves, they turned awaywithout another word. 

The next morning the great piles of corded boxes which crowded thepassage were put on the coach, and the boys, gladly leaving the desertedbuilding, drove in every sort of vehicle to the steamer. What joyoustriumphant mornings those were! How the heart exulted and bounded with, the sense of life and pleasure, and how universal was the gladness andgood humor of every one. Never were voyages so merry as those of thesteamer that day, and even the "good-byes" that had to be said atSouthpool were lightly borne. From thence the boys quickly scattered tothe different railways, and the numbers of those who were travellingtogether got thinner and thinner as the distance increased. Wright andone or two others went nearly all the way with Eric, and when he gotdown at the little roadside station, from whence started the branch railto Ayrton, he bade them merry and affectionate farewell. The branchtrain soon started, and in another hour he would be at Fairholm. 

It was not till then that his home feelings woke in all their intensity. He had not been there for a year. At Roslyn the summer holidays werenine weeks, and the holidays at Christmas and Easter were short, so thatit had not been worth while to travel so far as Fairholm, and Eric hadspent his Christmas with friends in another part of the island. But nowhe was once more to see dear Fairholm, and his aunt, his cousin Fanny, and above all, his little brother. His heart was beating fast with joy, and his eyes sparkling with pleasure and excitement. As he thrust hishead out of the window, each well-remembered landmark gave him thedelicious sensation of meeting again an old friend. "Ah! there's thewhite bridge, and there's the canal, and the stile; and _there_ runs theriver, and there's Velvet Lawn. Hurrah! here we are. " And springing outof the train before it had well stopped, he had shaken hands heartilywith the old coachman, who was expecting him, and jumped up into thecarriage in a moment. 

Through the lanes he knew so well, by whose hedgerows he had so oftenplucked sorrel and wild roses; past the old church with its sleepingchurchyard; through, the quiet village, where every ten yards he met oldacquaintances who looked pleased to see him, and whom he greeted withglad smiles and nods of recognition; past the Latin school, from whichcame murmurs and voices as of yore (what a man he felt himself now bycomparison!);--by the old Roman camp, where he had imagined such heroicthings when he was a child; through all the scenes so rich with thememories and associations of his happy childhood, they flew along; andnow they had entered the avenue, and Eric was painfully on the look-out. 

Yes! there they were all three--Mrs. Trevor, and Fanny, and Vernon, onthe mound at the end of the avenue; and the younger ones ran to meethim. It was a joyous meeting; he gave Fanny a hearty kiss, and put hisarm round Vernon's neck, and then held him in front to have a lookat him. 

"How tall you've grown, Verny, and how well you look, " he said, gazingproudly at him; and indeed the boy was a brother to be justly proud of. And Vernon quite returned the admiration as he saw the healthy glow ofEric's features, and the strong graceful development of his limbs. 

And so they quickly joined Mrs. Trevor, who embraced her nephew with amother's love: and, amid all that nameless questioning of delightfultrifles, that "blossoming vein" of household talk, which gives such anincommunicable charm to the revisiting of home, they all three turnedinto the house, where Eric, hungry with his travels, did ample justiceto the "jolly spread" prepared for him, luxurious beyond anything he hadseen for his last year at school. When he and Vernon went up to theirroom at night--the same little room in which they slept on the nightwhen they first had met--they marked their heights on the door again, which showed Eric that in the last year he had grown two inches, a factwhich he pointed out to Vernon with no little exultation. And then theywent to bed, and to a sleep over which brooded the indefinite sensationof a great unknown joy;--that rare heavenly sleep which only comes onceor twice or thrice in life, on occasions such as this. 

He was up early next morning, and, opening his window, leaned out withhis hands among the green vine-leaves which encircled it. The gardenlooked beautiful as ever, and he promised himself an early enjoyment ofthose currants which hung in ruby clusters over the walls. Everythingwas bathed in the dewy balm of summer morning, and he felt very happyas, with his little spaniel frisking round him, he visited the greatNewfoundland in his kennel, and his old pet the pony in the stable. Hehad barely finished his rounds when breakfast was ready, and he oncemore met the home-circle from which he had been separated for a year. And yet over all his happiness hung a sense of change and halfmelancholy; they were not changed but _he_ was changed. Mrs. Trevor, andFanny, and Vernon were the same as ever, but over _him_, had come analteration of feeling and circumstance; an unknown or half-known_something_ which cast a shadow between them and him, and sometimes madehim half shrink and start as he met their loving looks. Can noschoolboy, who reads history, understand and explain the feeling whichI mean?

By that mail he wrote to his father and mother an account of Russell'sdeath, and he felt that they would guess why the letter was so blurred. "But, " he wrote, "I have some friends still; especially Mr. Rose amongthe masters, and Monty and Upton among the boys. Monty you know; he ismore like Edwin than any other boy, and I like him very much. You didn'tknow Upton, but I am a great deal with him, though he is much older thanI am. He is a fine handsome fellow, and one of the most popular in theschool. I hope you will know him some day. "

The very next morning Eric received a letter which he at once recognisedto be in Upton's handwriting He eagerly tore off the envelope, and read--

"My dearest Eric--I have got bad news to tell you, at least, I feel itto be bad news for me, and I flatter myself that you will feel it to bebad news for you. In short, I am going to leave Roslyn, and probably weshall never meet there again. The reason is, I have had a cadetshipgiven me, and I am to sail for India in September. I have alreadywritten to the school to tell them to pack up and send me all my booksand clothes. 

"I feel leaving very much; it has made me quite miserable. I wanted tostay at school another year at least; and I will honestly tell you, Eric, one reason: I'm very much afraid that I've done you, and Graham, and other fellows, no good; and I wanted, if I possibly could, to undothe harm I had done. Poor Edwin's death opened my eyes to a good manythings, and now I'd give all I have never to have taught or encouragedyou in wrong things. Unluckily it's too late;--only, I hope that youalready see, as I do, that the things I mean lead to evil far greaterthan we ever used to dream of. 

"Good-bye now, old fellow! Do write to me soon, and forgive me, andbelieve me ever--Your most affectionate, HORACE UPTON. "

"P. S. --Is that jolly little Vernon going back to school with you thistime? I remember seeing him running about the shore with my poor cousin, when you were a home-boarder, and thinking what a nice little chap helooked. I hope you'll look after him as a brother should, and keep himout of mischief. "

Eric folded the letter sadly, and put it into his pocket; he didn'toften show them his school letters, because, like this one, they oftencontained allusions to things which he did not like his aunt to know. The thought of Upton's leaving him made him quite unhappy, and he wrotehim a long letter by that post, indignantly denying the supposition thathis friendship had ever done him anything but good. 

The postscript about Vernon suggested a thought that had often been inhis mind. He could not but shudder in himself, when he thought of thatbright little brother of his being initiated in the mysteries of evilwhich he himself had learnt, and sinking like himself into slowdegeneracy of heart and life. It puzzled and perplexed him, and at lasthe determined to open his heart, partially at least, in a letter to Mr. Rose. The master fully understood his doubts, and wrote him thefollowing reply:--

"My dear Eric--I have just received your letter about your brotherVernon, and I think that it does you honor. I will briefly give you myown opinion. 

"You mean, no doubt, that, from your own experience, you fear thatVernon will hear at school many things which will shock his modesty, andmuch language which is evil and blasphemous; you fear that he will meetwith many bad examples, and learn to look on God and godliness in a wayfar different from that to which he has been accustomed at home. Youfear, in short, that he must pass through the same painful temptationsto which you have yourself been subjected; to which, perhaps, you haveeven succumbed. 

"Well, Eric, this is all true. Yet, knowing this, I say, by all meanslet Vernon come to Roslyn. The innocence of mere ignorance is a poorthing; it _cannot_, under any circumstances, be permanent, nor is it atall valuable as a foundation of character. The true preparation forlife, the true basis of a manly character, is not to have been ignorantof evil, but to have known it and avoided it; not to hare been shelteredfrom temptation, but to have passed through it and overcome it by God'shelp. Many have drawn exaggerated pictures of the lowness of publicschool morality; the best answer is to point to the good and splendidmen that have been trained in public schools, and who lose noopportunity of recurring to them with affection. It is quite possible tobe _in_ the little world of school-life, and yet not _of_ it. The ruinof human souls can never be achieved by enemies from without, unlessthey be aided by traitors from within. Remember our lost friend; thepeculiar lustre of his piety was caused by the circumstances under whichhe was placed. He often told me before his last hour, that he rejoicedto have been at Roslyn; that he had experienced there much realhappiness, and derived in every way lasting good. 

"I hope you have been enjoying your holidays, and that you will comeback with the 'spell of home affection' alive in your heart. I shallrejoice to make Vernon's acquaintance, and will do for him all I can. Bring him with you to me in the library as soon as you arrive. --Ever, dear Eric, "Affectionately yours, "WALTER ROSA. "

END OF PART I

PART II

"Sed revocare gradum. "--VIRGIL. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER I

ABDIEL

 [Greek: Phtheirousin aethae chraesth' omiliai kakai]. --MENANDEB. 

A year had passed since the events narrated in the last chapter, and hadbrought with it many changes. 

To Eric the changes were not for good. The memories of Russell weregetting dim; the resolutions made during his illness had vanished; thebad habits laid aside after his death had been resumed. AH this tookplace very gradually; there were many inward struggles, much occasionalremorse, but the struggles by degrees grew weaker, and remorse lost itssting, and Eric Williams soon learned again to follow the multitudeto do evil. 

He was now sixteen years old, and high in the fifth form, and, besidesthis, he was captain of the school eleven. In work he had fallen off andno one now expected the fulfilment of that promise of genius which hehad given when he first came. But in all school sports he had improved, and was the acknowledged leader and champion in matters requiringboldness and courage. His popularity made him giddy; favor of man ledhim to forgetfulness of God; and even a glance at his countenance showeda self-sufficiency and arrogance which ill became the refinement of hisfeatures, and ill replaced the ingenuous modesty of former years. 

And Vernon Williams was no longer a new boy. The worst had happened tohim, which Eric in his better moments could have feared. He had falleninto thoroughly bad hands, and Eric, who should have been his naturalguardian and guide, began to treat him with indifference, and scarcelyever had any affectionate intercourse with him. It is by no meansunfrequent that brothers at school see but little of each other, andfollow their several pursuits, and choose their various companions, withsmall regard to the relationship between them. 

Yet Eric could not overlook or be blind to the fact, that Vernon's chieffriend or leader was the most undesirable whom he could have chosen. Itwas a new boy named Brigson. This boy had been expelled from one of themost ill-managed schools in Ireland, although, of course, the fact hadbeen most treacherously concealed from the authorities at Roslyn; andnow he was let loose, without warning or caution, among the Roslyn boys. Better for them if their gates had been open to the pestilence! thepestilence could but have killed the body, but this boy--this fore-frontfighter in the devil's battle--did ruin many an immortal soul. Hesystematically, from the very first, called evil good and good evil, put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. He openly threw aside theadmission of any one moral obligation. Never did some of the Roslynboys, to their dying day, forget the deep, intolerable, unfathomableflood of moral turpitude and iniquity which he bore with him; a flood, which seemed so irresistible, and the influence of such boys as Montaguand Owen to stay its onrush seemed as futile as the weight of a featherto bar the fury of a mountain stream. Eric might have done much, Duncanmight have done much, to aid the better cause, had they tried; but theyresisted at first but faintly, and then not at all, until they too wereswept away in the broadening tide of degeneracy and sin. 

Big, burly, and strong, though much younger than he looked (if he statedhis age correctly, which I doubt), Brigson, being low in the school, naturally became the bully and the Coryphaeus of all the lowerforms--the bully if they opposed him, the Coryphaeus if they acceptedhis guidance. A little army of small boys attended him, and were everready for the schemes of mischief to which he deliberately trained them, until they grew almost as turbulent, as disobedient, and as wicked, ashimself. He taught, both, by precept and example, that towards mastersneither honor was to be recognized, nor respect to be considered due. Tocheat them, to lie to them, to annoy them in every possible way--tomisrepresent their motives, mimic their defects, and calumniate theiractions--was the conduct which he inaugurated towards them; and for thetime that he continued at Roslyn the whole lower school was aPandemonium of evil passions and despicable habits. 

Every one of the little boys became more or less amenable to hisinfluence, and among them. Vernon Williams. Had Eric done his duty thiswould never have been; but he was half-ashamed to be often with hisbrother, and disliked to find him so often creeping to his side. Heflattered himself that in this feeling he was only anxious that Vernonshould grow spirited and independent; but, had he examined himself, hewould have found selfishness at the bottom of it. Once or twice hismanner showed harshness to Vernon, and the little boy both observed andresented it. Montagu and others noticed him for Eric's sake; but, beingin the same form with Brigson, Vernon was thrown much with him, andfeeling, as he did, deserted and lonely, he was easily caught by theascendancy of his physical strength and reckless daring. Before threemonths were over, he became, to Eric's intolerable disgust, a ringleaderin the band of troublesome scapegraces, whose increasing numbers werethe despair of all who had the interests of the school at heart. 

Unfortunately, Owen was now head of the school, and from hisconstitutional want of geniality, he was so little of a boy that he hadno sympathy from the others, and little authority over them. He simplykept aloof, holding his own way, and retiring into his own tastes andpursuits, and the society of one or two congenial spirits in the school, so as in no way to come in contact with the spreading corruption. 

Montagu, now Owen's chief friend, was also in the sixth, and fearlesslyexpressed at once his contempt for Brigson, and his dread of the evil hewas effecting. Had the monitorial system existed, that contagion couldhave been checked at once; but, as it was, brute force the unlimitedauthority. Ill indeed are those informed who raise a cry, and join inthe ignorant abuse of that noble safeguard of English schools. Any whohave had personal and intimate experience of how schools work _with_ itand _without_ it, know what a Palladium it is of happiness and morality;how it prevents bullying, upholds manliness, is the bulwark ofdiscipline, and makes boys more earnest and thoughtful, often at themost critical period of their lives, by enlisting all their sympathiesand interests on the side of the honorable and the just. 

Brigson knew at a glance whom he had most to fear; Bull, Attlay, Llewellyn, Graham, all tolerated or even approved of him. Owen did notcome in his way, so he left him unmolested. To Eric and Duncan he wasscrupulously civil, and by flattery and deference managed to keepapparently on excellent terms with them. Eric pretended to be ignorantof the harm he was bringing about, and in answer to the indignant andmeasureless invectives of Montagu and others, professed to see inBrigson a very good fellow; rather wild, perhaps, but still a verygood fellow. 

Brigson hated Montagu, because he read on his features the unvaryingglance of withering contempt. He dared not come across him openly, sinceMontagu was so high in the school; and besides, though much the biggerof the two, Brigson was decidedly afraid of him. But he chose slymethods of perpetual annoyance. He nick-named him "Rosebud;" he talked_at_ him whenever he had an opportunity; he poisoned the minds of thegang of youngsters against him; he spread malicious reports about him;he diminished his popularity, and embittered his feelings, by everysecret and underhand means which, lay in his power. 

One method of torment was most successful. As a study-boy, Montagu didnot come to bed till an hour later than _the_ lower part of the school, and Brigson taught some of the little fellows to play all kinds oftricks to his bed and room, so that, when he came down, it was with thecertainty of finding everything in confusion. Sometimes his bed would beturned right on end, and he would have to put it to the ground andremake it before he could lie down. Sometimes all the furniture in theroom would be thrown about in different corners, with no trace of theoffender. Sometimes he would find all sorts of things put inside the beditself. The intolerable part of the vexation was, to be certain thatthis was done by Brigson's instigation, or by his own hand, withouthaving the means of convicting or preventing him. Poor Monty grew verysad at heart, and this perpetual dastardly annoyance weighed the moreheavily on his spirits, from its being of a kind which peculiarly gratedon his refined taste, and his natural sense of what was gentlemanlyand fair. 

One night, coming down, as usual, in melancholy dread, he saw a lightunder the door of his room. It struck him that he was earlier thanusual, and he walked up quickly and noiselessly. There they were at it!The instant he entered, there was a rush through the opposite door, andhe felt convinced that one of the retreating figures was Brigson's. In asecond he had sprung across, so as to prevent the rest from running, andwith heaving breast and flaming eyes, glared at the intruders as theystood there, sheepish and afraid. 

"What!" he said angrily, "so _you_ are the fellows who have had thecowardice to annoy me thus, night after night, for weeks; you miserable, degraded young animals!" And he looked at the four or five who had notmade their escape. "What! and _you_ among them, " he said with a start, as he caught the eye of Vernon Williams--"Oh, this is too bad. " His toneshowed the deepest sorrow and vexation, and for a moment he said nomore. Instantly Vernon was by him. 

"_Do_ forgive me, _do_ forgive me, Montagu, " he said; "I really didn'tknow it teased you so much. "

But Montagu shook him off, and at once recovered himself. "Wretchedboys! let me see what you have been doing to-night. Oh, as usual, " hesaid, glancing at the complete disorder which they had been effecting. "Ha! but what is this? So Brigson has introduced another vile secretamong you. Well, he shall rue it!" and he pointed to some small, almostinvisible flakes of a whitish substance scattered here and there overhis pillow. It was a kind of powder, which if once it touched the skin, caused the most violent and painful irritation. 

"By heavens, this is _too_ bad!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot withanger. "What have I ever done to you young blackguards, that you shouldtreat me thus? Have I ever been a bully? Have I ever harmed one of you?And _you_, too, Vernon Williams!"

The little boy trembled and looked ashamed under his noble glance ofsorrow and scorn. 

"Well, I _know_ who has put you up to this; but you shall not escape so. I shall thrash you every one. "

Very quietly he suited the action to the word, sparing none. They tookit patiently enough, conscious of richly deserving it; and when it wasover, Vernon said, "Forgive me, Montagu. I am very sorry, and will neverdo so again. " Montagu, without deigning a reply, motioned them to go, and then sat down, full of grief, on his bed. But the outrage was notover for that night, and no sooner had he put out the light than hebecame painfully aware that several boys were stealing into the room, and the next moment he felt a bolster fall on his head. He was out ofbed in an instant, and with a few fierce and indignant blows, hadscattered the crowd of his cowardly assailants, and driven them away. Anumber of fellows had set on him in the dark--on _him_, of all others. Oh, what a change must have happened in the school that this should bepossible! He felt that the contagion of Brigson's baseness had spreadfar indeed. 

He fought like a lion, and several of the conspirators had reason torepent their miscalculation in assaulting so spirited an antagonist. Butthis did not content him; his blood was up, and he determined to attackthe evil at its source. He strode through his discomfited enemiesstraight into Brigson's room, struck a match, and said, "Brigson, getout of bed this instant. "

"Hullo!" grunted Brigson, pretending to be only just awake. 

"None of that, you blackguard! Will you take a thrashing?"

"No!" roared Brigson, "I should think not. "

"Well, then, take _that_!" he shouted, striking him in the face. 

The fight that followed was very short. In a single round Montagu hadutterly thrashed, and stricken to the earth, and forced to beg formercy, his cumbrous and brutal opponent. He seemed to tower above himwith a magnificent superiority, and there was a self-controlled passionabout him which gave tremendous energy to every blow. Brigson wasutterly dashed, confounded, and cowed, and took without a word theparting kick of ineffable contempt which Montagu bestowed on him. 

"There, " he said to the fellows, who had thronged in from all thedormitories at the first hint of a fight, "I, a sixth-form fellow, havecondescended to thrash that base coward there, whom all you miserablelower boys have been making an idol and hero of, and from whom you havebeen so readily learning every sort of blackguardly and debasing trick. But let me tell you and your hero, that if any of you dare to annoy orlift a finger at me again, you shall do it at your peril. I despise youall; there is hardly one gentlemanly or honorable fellow left among yousince that fellow Brigson has come here; yes, I despise you, and youknow that you deserve it. " And every one of them _did_ shrink before hisjust and fiery rebuke. 

The scene was not over when the door suddenly opened, and Mr. Roseappeared. He stood amazed to see Montagu there in his night-shirt, theboys all round, and Brigson washing his nose, which was bleedingprofusely, at his basin. 

Montagu instantly stepped up to him. "You can trust me, sir; may I askyou kindly to say nothing of this? I have been thrashing some one thatdeserved it, and teaching these fellows a lesson. "

Mr. Rose saw and allowed for his excited manner. "I can trust you, " hesaid, "Montagu, and shall take no farther notice of this irregularity. And now get instantly to your beds. "

But Montagu, slipping on his clothes, went straight up to the studies, and called the upper boys together. He briefly told them what hadoccurred, and they rejoiced greatly, binding themselves for the futureto check, if they could, by all fair means, Brigson's perniciousinfluence and abominable example. 

But it was too late now; the mischief was done. 

"O Eric, " said Montagu, "why did you not make a stand against all thisbefore? Your own brother was one of them. "

"Little wretch. I'll kick him well for it, " said Eric. 

"No, no!" said Montagu, "that'll do no good. Try rather to look afterhim a little more. "

"I hope _you_ will forgive him, and try and rescue him. "

"I will do what I can, " said Montagu, coldly. 

Eric sighed, and they parted. 

Montagu had hoped that after this Eric would at least break off all openconnection with Brigson; and, indeed, Eric had meant to do so. But thatpersonage kept carefully out of his way until the first burst ofindignation against him had subsided, and after a time began to addressEric as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile he had completely regainedhis ascendancy over the lower part of the school, which was notdifficult, because they were wincing under Montagu's contempt, andmingled no little dislike with it; a dislike which all are too apt tofeel towards those whose very presence and moral superiority are a tacitrebuke of their own failings. But while Montagu was hated, Eric was atthe zenith of popular favor, a favor which Brigson ostentatiouslyencouraged. He was openly flattered and caressed, and if ever he got alarge score at cricket, it was chalked triumphantly over the walls. Allthis he was weak enough to enjoy immensely, and it was one of thereasons why he did not wish to risk his popularity by breaking withBrigson. So, after a little constraint and coldness, he began to standin much the same relation to him as before. 

The best-disposed of the upper boys disliked all this very much, and thesixth and fifth forms began to be split up into two main parties--theone, headed by Eric, and, to a much less degree, by Duncan, who devotedthemselves to the games and diversions of the school, and troubledthemselves comparatively little about anything else; the other, headedby Montagu, who took the lead in intellectual pursuits, and endeavored, by every means in their power, to counteract the pernicious effects ofthe spreading immorality. 

And so at Roslyn, owing mainly to the wickedness of one depraved boy, and the weak fear of man which actuated others, all was disunion, misery, and deterioration. The community which had once been peaceful, happy, and united, was filled with violent jealousy and heart-burnings;every boy's hand seemed to be against his neighbor; lying, bad language, dishonesty, grew fearfully rife, and the few who, like Owen and Montagu, remained uncontaminated by the general mischief, walked alone anddespondent amid their uncongenial and degraded schoolfellow. 

CHAPTER II

WILDNEY

 "That punishment's the best to bear That follows soonest on the sin, And guilt's a game where losers fare Better than those who seem to win. "

 COV. PATMORE. 

At the beginning of this quarter Eric and Duncan had succeeded to one ofthe studies, and Owen shared with Montagu the one which adjoined it. 

Latterly the small boys, in the universal spirit of disobedience, hadfrequented the studies a good deal, but it was generally understood thatno study-boy might ask any one to be a regular visitor to his roomwithout the leave of its other occupant. 

So one evening Duncan said to Eric, "Do you know little Wildney?"

"You mean that jolly fearless-looking little fellow, with, the greatblack eyes, who came at the beginning of the quarter? No, I don'tknow him. "

"Well, he's a very nice little fellow; a regular devil"

"Humph!" said Eric, laughing; "I shall bring out a newDuncan-dictionary, in which. [Greek: chezchochezons chos] = very nicelittle fellow. "

"Pooh!" said Duncan; "you know well enough what I mean; I mean he's notone of your white-faced, lily-hearted new boys, but has lots of funin him. "

"Well, what of him?"

"Have you any objection to my asking him to sit in the study when helikes?"

"Not the least in the world. "

"Very well, I'll go and fetch him now. But wouldn't you like to ask yourbrother Vernon to come in too whenever he's inclined?"

"No, " said Eric, "I don't care. He does come every now and then. "

Duncan went to fetch Wildney, and while he was gone, Brie was thinking_why_ he didn't give Vernon the free run of his study. He would notadmit to himself the true reason, which was, that he had too much groundto fear that his example would do his brother no good. 

Eric soon learned to like Wildney, who was a very bright, engaging, spirited boy, with a dash of pleasant impudence about him which tookEric's fancy. He had been one of the most mischievous of the lowerfellows, but, although clever, did little or nothing in school, and wasin the worst repute with the masters. Until he was "taken up" by Eric, he had been a regular little hero among his compeers, because he wasgame for any kind of mischief, and, in the new tone of popular morality, his fearless disregard of rules made him the object of generaladmiration. From this time, however, he was much in the studies, andunhappily carried with him to those upper regions the temptation to adeeper and more injurious class of transgressions than had yetpenetrated there. 

It was an ill day for General Wildney when he sent his idolised littleson to Roslyn; it was an ill day for Eric when Duncan first asked thechild to frequent their study. 

It was past nine at night, and the lower school had gone to bed, butthere was Wildney quietly sitting on Eric's knee by the study fire, while Duncan was doing some Arnold's verses for him to be shown upnext day. 

"Bother these verses, " said Duncan, "I shall have a whiff. Do you mind, Eric?"

"No; not at all. "

"Give me a weed, too, " said Wildney. 

"What! young un--you don't mean to say you smoke?" asked Eric insurprise. 

"Don't I, though? let me show you. Why, a whole lot of us went andsmoked two or three pipes by Riverbend only yesterday. "

"Phew!" said Eric, "then I suppose I must smoke too to keep you incountenance;" and he took a cigar. It was the first time he had touchedone since the day at the Stack. The remembrance made him gloomy andsilent. "Tempora mutantur, " thought he, "nos et mutamur in illis. "

"Why, how glum you are, " said Wildney, patting him on the head. 

"O no!" said Eric, shaking off unpleasant memories. "Look, " hecontinued, pointing out of the window to change the subject, "what aglorious night it is! Nothing but stars, stars, stars. "

"Yes, " said Duncan, yawning; "this smoking makes one very thirsty. Iwish I'd some beer. "

"Well, why shouldn't we get some?" said Wildney "it would he veryjolly. "

"Get some! What! at this time of night?"

"Yes; I'll go now, if you like, to Ellan, and be back before ten. "

"Nonsense, " said Eric; "it aint worth while. "

"I believe you think I'm afraid, " said Wildney, laughing, and looking atEric with his dark eyes; "and what's more, I believe _you're_ afraid. "

"Little whippersnapper!" said Eric, coloring, "as if I was afraid to doanything _you_ dare do. I'll go with you at once, if you like. "

"What are you thinking of?" asked Duncan. "I don't care twopence aboutthe beer, and I hope you won't go. "

"But I will, though, " said Eric, a little nettled that Wildney, of allpeople, should think him wanting in pluck. 

"But how will you get out?"

"Oh, _I'll_ show you a dodge there, " said Wildney. "Come along. Have youa dark lantern?"

"No, but I'll get Llewellyn's. "

"Come along then. "

So the little boy of twelve took the initiative, and, carrying the darklantern, instructed the two study-boys of sixteen in a secret which hadlong been known to the lower part of the school. 

"Ibant obscuri dubiâ sub luce. " He led them quietly down stairs, stolewith them noiselessly past the library door, and took them to a windowin the passage, where a pane was broken. 

"Could you get through that?" he whispered to Eric, "if we broke awaythe rest of the glass?"

"I don't know. But, then, there's the bar outside. "

"Oh, I'll manage that. But will you go and peep through the key-hole ofthe library, and see who's there, Duncan?"

"No, " said Duncan, bluntly, "no key-holes for me. "

"Hush! then _I_ will, " and he glided away, while Eric, as quietly as hecould, broke away the glass until it was all removed. 

"There's only old Stupid, " whispered he, irreverently designating anunder-master named Harley, "and he's asleep before the fire. Now, then, just lift me up, Eric, will you?"

Eric lifted him, and he removed the nails which fastened the end of thebar. They looked secure enough, and were nails an inch long driven intothe mortar; but they had been successfully loosened, and only wanted alittle pull to bring them out. In one minute Wildney had unfastened andpushed down one end of the bar. He then got through the broken pane, anddropped down outside. Eric followed with some little difficulty, for theaperture would only just admit his passage; and Duncan, going back tothe study, anxiously awaited their return. 

It was a bright moonlight night, and the autumn air was pleasant andcool. But Eric's first thought, as he dropped on to the ground, was oneof shame that he should suffer his new friend, a mere child, so easilyto tempt him into disobedience and sin. He had hardly thought till thenof what their errand was to be, but now his couldn't help so stronglydisapproving of it, that he was half-inclined to turn back. He did not, however, dare to suggest this, lest Wildney should charge him withcowardice, and betray it to the rest. Besides, the adventure had its ownexcitement, the stars looked splendid, and the stolen waters were sweet. 

"I hope we shan't be seen crossing the play-ground, " said Wildney. "Myeye, shouldn't we catch it!"

He was obviously beginning to be afraid, so Eric assumed an air ofnonchalance, and played the part of protector. 

"Here, take my arm, " he said; and as Wildney grasped it tight, insteadof feeling angry and ashamed at having been misled by one so much hisjunior, Eric felt strongly drawn towards him by community of danger andinterest. Beaching Ellan, it suddenly struck him that he didn't knowwhere they were going to buy the beer. He asked Wildney. 

"Oh, I see you're not half up to snuff, " said Wildney, whose courage hadrisen; "I'll show you. "

He led to a little low public-house, whence tipsy songs were booming, and tapped at a side door three times. As they looked in they saw somesailors boozing in a dirty tap-room, and enveloped in tobacco-smoke. 

The side-door was opened, and a cunning wicked-looking man held up alight to see who they were. 

"Hollo, Billy, " said Wildney, confidentially, "all serene; give us twobottles of beer--on tick, you know. "

"Yessir--d'reckly, " said the man, with a hateful twinkle of the eyes. "So you're out for a spree, " he continued, winking in a knowing way. "Won't you walk into the back-parlor while I get them?" And he showedthem into a dingy horrid room behind the house, stale with smoke, andbegrimed with dust. 

Eric was silent and disgusted, but Wildney seemed quite at home. Theman soon returned with the beer. "Wouldn't you like a glass of summatnow, young gen'lmen?" he asked, in an insinuating way. 

"No, Billy! don't jabber--we must be off. Here open the door. "

"Stop, I'll pay, " said Eric. "What's the damage?"

"Three shilling, sir, " said the man. "Glad to see a new customer, sir. "He pocketed the money, and showed them, out, standing to look after themwith a malicious leer as they disappeared, and jerking his left thumbover his shoulder. 

"Faugh!" said Eric, taking a long breath as they got out again into themoonlight, "what a poisonous place! Good gracious, Charlie, whointroduced you there?"

"Oh, I don't think much of going _there_" said Wildney, carelessly; "wego every-week almost. "

"We! who?"

"Oh, Brigson and a lot of us. We have a club there which we call the'Anti-muffs, ' and that's our smoking-room. "

"And is that horrid beast the landlord?"

"Yes; he was an old school-servant, and there's no harm in him that Iknow of. "

But Eric only "phewed" again two or three times, and thought of Montagu. 

Suddenly Wildney clutched him by the arm, and pulled him into the deepshadow of a porch, whispering, in a low tone, "Look!"

Under a lamp-post, directly opposite them, stood Mr. Rose! He had heardvoices and footsteps a moment before, and, puzzled at their suddencessation in the noiseless street, he was looking round. 

"We must run for it, " whispered Wildney hastily, as Mr. Rose approachedthe porch; and the two boys took to their heels, and scampered away ashard as they could, Eric helping on Wildney by taking his hand, andneither of them looking behind. They heard Mr. Rose following them atfirst, but soon distanced him, and reached a place where two roads met, either of which would lead to the school. 

"We won't go by the road; I know a short cut by the fields. What fun!"said Wildney, laughing. 

"What an audacious little monkey you are; you know all sorts of dodges, "said Eric. 

They had no time to talk, but with, a speed winged by fear got to theschool, sprang on the buttress beneath the window, effected theirentrance, and vanished after replacing the bar--Eric to his study, andWildney to his dormitory. 

"Here's a go!" said the latter, as they ran up stairs; "I've smashed oneof the beer-bottles in getting through the window, and my trousers aredeluged with the stuff. "

They had hardly separated when Mr. Rose's step was heard on the stairs. He was just returning from a dinner-party, when the sight of two boysand the sound of their voices startled Mm in the street, and theirsudden disappearance made him sure that they were Roslyn boys, particularly when they began to run. He strongly suspected that herecognised Wildney as one of them, and therefore made straight for hisdormitory, which he entered, just as that worthy had thrust thebeer-stained trousers under his bed. Mr. Rose, walked up quietly to hisbedside, and observed that he was not asleep, and that he still had halfhas clothes on. He was going away when he saw a little bit of thetrousers protruding under the mattress, and giving a pull, out theycame, wringing wet with the streams of beer. He could not tell at firstwhat this imported, but a fragment of the bottle fell out of the pocketwith, a crash on the floor, and he then discovered. Taking no notice ofWildney's pretended sleep, he said, quietly, "Come to me beforebreakfast tomorrow, Wildney, " and went down stairs. 

Eric came in soon after, and found the little fellow vainly attemptingto appear indifferent, as he related to his admiring auditors thenight's adventure; being evidently rather prouder of the "Erie and I, "which he introduced every now and then into his story. 

"Has he twigged you?"

"Yes. "

"And me?"

"I don't know; we shall see to-morrow. "

"I hope not, " said Eric; "I'm sorry for you, Charlie. "

"Can't be cured, must be endured, " said Wildney. 

"Well, good night! and don't lose heart. "

Eric went back to Duncan in the study, and they finished the otherbottle of beer between them, though without much enjoyment, because theywere full of surmises as to the extent of the discovery, and the natureof the punishment. 

Eric went in to tell Montagu of their escapade. 

He listened very coldly, and said, "Well, Eric, it would serve you rightto be caught. What business have you to be going out at night, at theinvitation of contemptible small fry, like this little Wildney?"

"I beg you won't speak of any friend of mine in those terms, " said Eric, drawing up haughtily. 

"I hope you don't call a bad little boy like Wildney, who'd be nocredit to any one, _your_ friend, Eric?"

"Yes I do, though. He's one of the pluckiest, finest, most promisingfellows in the lower school. "

"How I begin to hate that word plucky, " said Montagu; "it's made theexcuse here for everything that's wrong, base, and unmanly. It seems tome it's infinitely more 'plucky' just now to do your duty and not beashamed of it. "

"You've certainly required _that_ kind of pluck to bear you up lately, Monty, " said Owen, looking up from his books. 

"Pluck!" said Montagu, scornfully; "you seem to me to think it consistsin lowering yourself down to the level of that odious Brigson, andjoining hand and glove with the dregs of the school. "

"Dregs of the school! Upon my word, you're cool, to speak of any of myassociates in that way, " said Eric, now thoroughly angry. 

"Associates!" retorted Montagu, hotly; "pretty associates! How do youexpect anything good to go on, when fellows high in the school like youhave such dealings with the refined honorable Brigson, and the exemplaryintellectual Wildney?"

"You're a couple of confounded muffs, " shouted Eric, banging the door, and flinging into his own study again without farther reply. 

"Hav'n't you been a little hard on him, considering the row he's in?"asked Owen. 

Montagu's head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table. "Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the presentstate of things? Yes, you're right, " he said, after a pause; "_this_wasn't the time to speak. I'll go and talk to him again. But how utterlychanged he is!"

He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation ofnoise and gaiety. He ran after him, and said--

"Forgive me my passion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt toexpress myself strongly. " He could not trust himself to say more, butheld out his hand. 

Eric got red, and hesitated for a moment. 

"Come, Eric, it isn't _wholly_ my fault, is it, that we are not so warmto each other as we were when . . . "

"Oh, Monty, Monty!" said Eric, softened by the allusion; and warmlygrasped his friend's proffered hand. 

"Oh, Eric!"

The two shook hands in silence, and as they left each other they feltthat while things continued thus their friendship could not last. It wasa sad thought for both. 

Next morning Wildney received a severe flogging, but gained greatreputation by not betraying his companion, and refusing to drop theleast hint as to their means of getting out, or their purpose invisiting Ellan. So the secret of the bar remained undiscovered, and whenany boy wanted to get out at night--(unhappily the trick now becamecommon enough)--he had only to break a pane of glass in that particularwindow, which, as it was in the passage, often remained unmended andundiscovered for weeks. 

After the flogging, Mr. Rose said shortly to Eric, "I want to speak toyou. "

The boy's heart misgave him as they entered the familiar library. 

"I think I suspect who was Wildney's companion. "

Eric was silent. 

"I have no proof, and shall not therefore act on vague suspicion; butthe boy whom I _do_ suspect is one whose course lately has given me thedeepest pain; one who has violated all the early promise he gave; onewho seems to be going farther and farther astray, and sacrificing allmoral principle to the ghost of a fleeting and most despicablepopularity--to the approval of those whom he cannot himself approve. "

Eric still silent. 

"Whatever you do _yourself_, Williams"--(it was the first time for twoyears that Mr. Rose had called him "Williams, " and he winced alittle)--"whatever you do _yourself_, Williams, rests with _you_; butremember it is a ten-thousandfold heavier and more accursed crime to setstumbling-blocks in the way of others, and abuse your influence to causeany of Christ's little ones to perish. "

"I wasn't the tempter, however, " thought Eric, still silent. 

"Well, you seem hardened, and give no sign. Believe me, Williams, Igrieve for you, and that bitterly. My interest in you is no less warm, though my affection for you cannot be the same. You may go. "

"Another friend alienated, and oh, how true a one! He has not asked meto see him once this term, " thought Eric, sadly; but a shout of pleasuregreeted him directly he joined the football in the play-ground, and, half consoled, he hoped Mr. Rose had heard it, and understood that wasmeant for the boy whom he had just been rebuking. "Well, after all, " hethought, "I have _some_ friends still. "

Yes, friends, such as they were! Except Duncan, hardly one boy whom hereally respected ever walked with him now. Even little Wright, one ofthe very few lower boys who had risen superior to Brigson's temptations, seemed to keep clear of him as much as he could; and, in absolutevacuity, he was obliged to associate with fellows like Attlay, andGraham, and Llewellyn, and Bull. 

Even with Bull! All Eric's repugnance for this boy seemed to haveevaporated; they were often together, and, to all appearance, were swornfriends. Eric did not shrink now from such conversation as was pursuedunchecked in his presence by nearly every one; nay, worse, it had lostits horror, and he was neither afraid nor ashamed to join in it himself. This plague-spot had fretted more deeply than any other into the heartof the school morality, and the least boys seemed the greatestproficients in unbaring without a blush, its hideous ugliness. 

CHAPTER III

"THE JOLLY HERRING"

"Velut unda supervenit undam. "--VIRGIL. 

The Anti-muffs request the honor of Williams' company to a spread theyare going to have to-morrow evening at half-past four, in theirsmoking-room--

A note to this effect was put into Eric's hands by Wildney afterprayers. He read it when he got into his study, and hardly knew whetherto be pleased or disgusted at it. 

He tossed it to Duncan, and said, "What shall I do?"

Duncan turned up his nose, and chucked the note into the fire. 

"I'd give them that answer, and no other. "

"Why?"

"Because, Eric, " said Duncan, with more seriousness than was usual withhim, "I can't help thinking things have gone too far lately. "

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm no saint myself, Heaven knows; but I do think that thefellows are worse now than I have ever known them--far worse. Yourfriend Brigson reigns supreme out of the studies; he has laid down a lawthat _no work_ is to be done down stairs ever under any pretence, andit's only by getting into one of the studies that good little chapslike Wright can get on at all. Even in the class-rooms there's so muchrow and confusion that the mere thought of work is ridiculous. "

"Well, there's no great harm in a little noise, if that's all. "

"But it isn't all. The talk of nearly the whole school is getting mostblackguardly; shamelessly so. Only yesterday Wildney was chatting withVernon up here (you were out, or Vernon would not have been here) whileI was reading; they didn't seem to mind me, and I'm sure you'd have beenvexed to the heart if you'd heard how they talked to each other. At lastI couldn't stand it any longer, and bouncing up, I boxed both their earssmartly, and kicked them down stairs. "

As Eric said nothing, Duncan continued, "And I wish it ended in talk, but----"

"But I believe you're turning Owenite. Why, bless me, we're onlyschoolboys; it'll be lots of time to turn saint some other day. "

Eric was talking at random, and in the spirit of opposition. "You don'twant to make the whole school such a muffish set as the rosebuds, do you?"

There was something of assumed bravado in Eric's whole manner whichjarred on Duncan exceedingly. "Do as you like, " he said, curtly, andwent into another study. 

Immediately after came a rap at the door, and in walked Wildney, as heoften did after the rest were gone to bed, merely slipping his trousersover his nightshirt, and running up to the studies. 

"Well, you'll come to the Anti-muffs, won't you?" he said. 

"To that pestilential place again?--not I. "

Wildney looked offended. "Not after we've all asked you? The fellowswon't half like your refusing. "

He had touched Eric's weak point. 

"Do come, " he said, looking up in Eric's face. 

"Confound it all, " answered Eric, hastily. "Yes, I've no friends, I'llcome, Charlie. Anything to please you, boy. "

"That's a brick. Then I shall cut down and tell the fellows. They'll beno end glad. No friends! why all the school like you. " And he scamperedoff, leaving Eric ill at ease. 

Duncan didn't re-enter the study that evening. 

The next day, about half-past four, Eric found himself on the way toEllan. As he was starting, Bull caught him up, and said--

"Are you going to the Anti-muffs?"

"Yes; why? are you going too?"

"Yes; do you mind our going together?"

"Not at all. "

In fact, Eric was very glad of some one--no matter who--to keep him incountenance, for he felt consider ably more than half ashamedof himself. 

They went to "The Jolly Herring, " as the pot-house was called, andpassed through the dingy beery tap-room into the back parlor, to whichEric had already been introduced by Wildney. About a dozen boys wereassembled, and there was a great clapping on the table as the twonew-comers entered. A long table was laid down the room, which wasregularly spread for dinner. 

"Now then, Billy; make haste with the goose, " called Brigson. "I vote, boys, that Eric Williams takes the chair. "

"Hear! hear!" said half a dozen; and Eric, rather against his will, found himself ensconced at the end of the table, with Brigson and Bullon either hand. The villainous-low-foreheaded man, whom they calledBilly, soon brought in a tough goose at one end of the table, and somefowls at the other; and they fell to, doing ample justice to the [Greek:daiz heisae] while Billy waited on them. There was immense uproar duringthe dinner, every one eating as fast, and talking as loud, as he could. 

The birds soon vanished, and were succeeded by long rolly-pollypuddings, which the boys called Goliahs; and they, too, rapidlydisappeared. Meanwhile beer was circling only too plentifully. 

"Now for the dessert, Billy, " called several voices; and that worthyproceeded to put on the table some figs, cakes, oranges, and four blackbottles of wine. There was a general grab for these dainties, and oneboy shouted, "I say, I've had no wine. "

"Well, it's all gone. We must get some brandy--it's cheaper, " saidBrigson; and accordingly some brandy was brought in, which the boysdiluted with hot water, and soon despatched. 

"Here! before you're all done swilling, " said Brigson, "I've got ahealth; 'Confound muffs and masters, and success to the anti's. '"

"And their chairman, ' suggested Wildney. 

"And their chairman, the best fellow in the school, " added Brigson. 

The health was drunk with due clamor, and Eric got up to thank them. 

"I'm not going to spout, " he said; "but boys must be boys, and there'sno harm in a bit of fun. I for one have enjoyed it, and am much obligedto you for asking me; and now I call for a song. "

"Wildney! Wildney's song, " called several. 

Wildney had a good voice, and struck up, without the least bashfulness--

 "Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl, Until it does run overt Come, landlord, fill, " &c

"Now, " he said, "join in the chorus!" The boys, all more or lessexcited, joined in heartily and uproariously--

 "For to-night we'll merry merry be! For to-night we'll merry merry be! For to-night we'll merry merry be! To-morrow we'll be sober!"

While Wildney sang, Eric had time to think. As he glanced round theroom, at the flushed faces of the boys, some of whom he could notrecognise in the dusky atmosphere, a qualm of disgust and shame passedover him. Several of them were smoking, and, with Bull and Brigsonheading the line on each, side of the table, he could not help observingwhat a bad set they looked. The remembrance of Russell came back to him. Oh, if Edwin could have known that he was in such company at such aplace! And by the door stood Billy, watching them all like an evilspirit, with a leer of saturnine malice on his evil face. 

But the bright little Wildney, unconscious of Eric's bitter thoughts, sang on with overflowing mirth. As Eric looked at him, shining out likea sunbeam among the rest, he felt something like blood-guiltiness on hissoul, when, he felt that he was sanctioning the young boy's presence inthat degraded assemblage. 

Wildney meanwhile was just beginning the next verse, when he wasinterrupted by a general cry of "cavé, cavé. " In an instant the room wasin confusion; some one dashed the candles upon the floor, the table wasoverturned with a mighty crash, and plates, glasses, and bottles rushedon to the ground in shivers. Nearly every one bolted for the door, whichled through the passage into the street; and in their headlong flightand selfishness, they stumbled over each other, and prevented allegress, several being knocked down and bruised in the crush. Others madefor the tap-room; but, as they opened the door leading into it, therestood Mr. Ready and Mr. Gordon! and as it was impossible to pass withoutbeing seen, they made no further attempt at escape. All this was thework of a minute. Entering the back parlor, the two masters quickly tookdown the names of full half the boys who, in the suddenness of thesurprise, had been unable to make their exit. 

And Eric?

The instant that the candles were knocked over, he felt Wildney seizehis hand, and whisper, "This way all serene;" following, he groped hisway in the dark to the end of the room, where Wildney, shoving aside agreen baize curtain, noiselessly opened a door, which at once let theminto a little garden. There they both crouched down, under a lilac treebeside the house, and listened intently. 

There was no need for this precaution; their door remained unsuspected, and in five minutes the coast was clear. Creeping into the house again, they whistled, and Billy coming in, told them that the masters had gone, and all was safe. 

"Glad ye're not twigged, gen'lmen, " he said; "but there'll be a prettysight of damage for all this glass and plates. "

"Shut up with your glass and plates, " said Wildney. "Here, Eric, we mustcut for it again. "

It was the dusk of a winter evening when they got out from the closeroom into the open air, and they had to consider which way they wouldchoose to avoid discovery. They happened to choose the wrong, butescaped by dint of hard running, and Wildney's old short cut. As theyran they passed several boys (who having been caught, were walking homeleisurely), and managed to get back undiscovered, when they bothanswered their names quite innocently at the roll-call, immediatelyafter lock up. 

"What lucky dogs you are to get off, " said many boys to them. 

"Yes, it's precious lucky for me, " said Wildney. "If I'd been caught atthis kind of thing a second time, I should have got something worse thana swishing. "

"Well, it's all through you I escaped, " said Eric, "you knowing littlescamp. "

"I'm glad of it, Eric, " said Wildney in his fascinating way, "since itis all through me you went. It's rather too hazardous though; we mustmanage better another time. "

During tea-time Eric was silent, as he felt pretty sure that none of thesixth form or other study boys would particularly sympathise with hislate associates. Since the previous evening he had been cool withDuncan, and the rest had long rather despised him as a boy who'd doanything to be popular; so he sat there silent, looking as disdainful ashe could, and not touching the tea, for which he felt disinclined afterthe recent potations. But the contemptuous exterior hid a self-reprovingheart, and he felt how far more noble Owen and Montagu were than he. Howgladly would he have changed places with them! how much he would havegiven to recover some of their forfeited esteem!

The master on duty was Mr. Rose, and after tea he left the room for afew minutes while the tables were cleared for "preparation, " and theboys were getting out their books and exercises. All the study andclass-room boys were expected to go away during this interval; but Eric, not noticing Mr. Rose's entrance, sat gossipping with Wildney about thedinner and its possible consequences to the school. 

He was sitting on the desk carelessly, with one leg over the other, andbending down towards Wildney. He had just told him that he looked like aregular little sunbeam in the smoking-room of the Jolly Herring, andWildney was pretending to be immensely offended by the simile. 

"Hush! no more talking, " said Mr. Rose, who did everything very gentlyand quietly. Eric heard him, but he was inclined to linger, and hadalways received such mild treatment from Mr. Rose, that he didn't thinkhe would take much notice of the delay. For the moment he did not, soWildney began to chatter again. 

"All study boys to leave the room, " said Mr. Rose. 

Eric just glanced round and moved slightly; he might have gone away, but that he caught a satirical look in Wildney's eye, and besides wantedto show off a little indifference to his old master, with whom he hadhad no intercourse since their last-mentioned conversation. 

"Williams, go away instantly; what do you mean by staying after I havedismissed you?" said Mr. Rose sternly. 

Every one knew what a favorite Eric had once been, so this speechcreated a slight titter. The boy heard it just as he was going out ofthe room, and it annoyed him, and called to arms all his proud anddogged obstinacy. Pretending to have forgotten something, he walkedconceitedly back to Wildney, and whispered to him, "I shan't go if hechooses to speak like that. "

A red flush passed over Mr. Rose's cheek; he took two strides to Eric, and laid the cane sharply once across his back. 

Eric was not quite himself, or he would not have acted as he had done. His potations, though not deep, had, with the exciting events of theevening, made his head giddy, and the stroke of the cane, which he hadnot felt now for two years, roused him to madness. He bounded up, sprangtowards Mr. Rose, and almost before he knew what he was about, hadwrenched the cane out of his hands, twisted it violently in the middleuntil it broke, and flung one of the pieces furiously into the fire. 

For one instant, boy and master--Eric Williams and Mr. Rose--stoodfacing each other amid breathless silence, the boy panting andpassionate, with his brain swimming, and his heart on fire; the masterpale, grieved, amazed beyond measure, but perfectly self-collected. 

"After that exhibition, " said Mr. Rose, with cold and quiet dignity, "you had better leave the room. "

"Yes, I had, " answered Eric bitterly; "there's your cane. " And, flingingthe other fragment at Mr. Rose's head, he strode blindly out of theroom, sweeping books from the table, and overturning several boys in hisway. He then banged the door with all his force, and rushed up intohis study. 

Duncan was there, and remarking his wild look and demeanor, asked, aftera moment's awkward silence, "Is anything the matter, Williams?"

"Williams!" echoed Eric with a scornful laugh; "yes, that's always theway with a fellow when he's in trouble. I always know what's coming whenyou begin to leave off calling me by my Christian name. "

"Very well, then, " said Duncan, good-humoredly, "what's the matter, Eric?"

"Matter?" answered Brie, pacing up and down the little room with anangry to-and-fro like a caged wild beast, and kicking everything whichcame in his way. "Matter? hang you all, you are all turning against me, because you are a set of muffs, and----"

"Take care!" said Duncan; but suddenly he caught Eric's look, andstopped. 

"And I've been breaking Rose's cane over his head, because he had theimpudence to touch, me with it, and----"

"Eric, you're not yourself to-night, " said Duncan, interrupting, butspeaking in the kindest tone; and taking Eric's hand, he looked himsteadily in the face. 

Their eyes met; the boy's false self once more slipped off. By a strongeffort he repressed the rising passion which the fumes of drink hadcaused, and flinging him self on his chair, refused to speak again, oreven to go down stairs when the prayer-bell rang. 

Seeing that in his present mood there was nothing to be done with him, Duncan, instead of returning to the study, went after prayers intoMontagu's, and talked with him over the recent events, of which theboys' minds were all full. 

But Eric sat lonely, sulky, and miserable, in his study, doing nothing, and when Montagu came in to visit him, felt inclined to resenthis presence. 

"So!" he said, looking up at the ceiling, "another saint come to cast astone at me! Well! I suppose I must be resigned, " he continued, droppinghis cheek on his hand again; "only don't let the sermon be long. "

But Montagu took no notice of his sardonic harshness, and seated himselfby his side, though Eric pettishly pushed him away. 

"Come, Eric, " said Montagu, taking the hand which was repelling him; "Iwon't be repulsed in this way. Look at me. What? won't you even look? OhEric, one wouldn't have fancied this in past days, when we were so muchtogether with one who is dead. It's a long long time since we've eyenalluded to him, but _I_ shall never forget those happy days. "

Eric heaved a deep sigh. 

"I'm not come to reproach you. You don't give me a friend's right toreprove. But still, Eric, for your own sake, dear fellow, I can't helpbeing sorry for all this. I did hope you'd have broken with Brigsonafter the thrashing I gave him, for the way in which he treated me. Idon't think you _can_ know the mischief he is doing. "

The large tears began to soften the fire of Eric's eye, "Ah!" he said, "it's all of no use; you're all giving me the cold shoulder, and I'mgoing to the bad, that's the long and short of it. "

"Oh, Eric! for your own sake, for your parents' sake, for the school'ssake, for all your real friends' sake, don't talk in that bitterhopeless way. You are too noble a fellow to be made the tool or thepatron of the boys who lead, while they seem to follow you. I _do_ hopeyou'll join us even yet in resisting them. "

Eric had laid his head on the table, which shook with his emotion. "Ican't talk, Monty, " he said, in an altered tone; "but leave me now; andif you like, we will have a walk to-morrow. "

"Most willingly, Eric. " And again, warmly pressing his hand, Montagureturned to his own study. 

Soon after, there came a timid knock at Eric's door. He expected Wildneyas usual; a little before, he had been looking out for him, and hopinghe would come, but he didn't want to see him now, so he answered ratherpeevishly, "Come in; but I don't want to be bothered to-night. "

Not Wildney, but Vernon appeared at the door. "May I come in? not if itbothers you, Eric, " he said, gently. 

"Oh, Verny, I didn't know it was you; I thought it would be Wildney. You_never_ come now. "

The little boy came in, and his pleading look seemed to say, "Whosefault is that?"

"Come here, Verny;" and Eric drew him towards him, and put him on hisknee, while the tears trembled large and luminous in the child's eyes. 

It was the first time for many a long day that the brothers had beenalone together, the first time for many a long day that any acts ofkindness had passed between them. Both seemed to remember this, and, atthe same time, to remember home, and their absent parents, and theirmother's prayers, and all the quiet half-forgotten vista of innocentpleasures, and sacred relationships, and holy affections. And why didthey see each other so little at school? Their consciences told themboth, that either wished to conceal from the other his wickedness andforgetfulness of God. 

They wept together; and once more, as they had not done since they werechildren, each brother put his arm round the other's neck, andremorseful Eric could not help being amazed, how, in his cruel heartlessselfishness, he had let that fair child go so far astray; left him as aprey to such boys as were his companions in the lower school. 

"Eric, did you know I was caught to-night at the dinner?"

"You!" said Brie, with a start and a deep blush. "Good heavens! I didn'tnotice you, and should not have dreamt of coming, if I'd known you werethere. Oh, Vernon, forgive me for setting you such, a bad example. "

"Yes, I was there, and I was caught. "

"Poor boy! but never mind; there are such a lot that you can't get muchdone to you. "

"It isn't _that_ I care for; I've been flogged before, you know. But--may I say something?"

"Yes, Vernon, anything you like. "

"Well, then, --oh, Eric! I am so, so sorry that you did that to Mr. Roseto-night. All the fellows are praising you up, of course; but I couldhave cried to see it, and I did. I wouldn't have minded if it had beenanybody but Rose. "

"But why?"

"Because, Eric, he's been so good, so kind to both of us. You've oftentold me about him, you know, at Fairholm, and he's done such, lots ofkind things to me. And only to-night, when he heard I was caught, hesent for me to the library, and spoke so firmly, yet so gently, aboutthe wickedness of going to such low places, and about so young a boy asI am learning to drink, and the ruin of it and--and"--His voice waschoked by sobs for a time, --"and then he knelt down and prayed for me, so as I have never heard any one pray but mother;--and do you know, Eric, it was strange, but I thought I _did_ hear our mother's voicepraying for me too, while he prayed, and"--He tried in vain to go on;but Eric's conscience continued for him; "and just as he had ceaseddoing this for one brother, the other brother, for whom he has oftendone the same, treated him with coarseness, violence, and insolence. "

"Oh, I am utterly wretched, Verny. I hate myself And to think that whileI am like this, they are yet loving and praising me at home. And, oh, Verny, I was so sorry to hear from Duncan, how you were talking theother day. "

Vernon hid his face on Eric's shoulder; and as his brother stooped overhim, and folded him to his heart, they cried in silence, until weariedwith sorrow, the younger fell asleep; and then Eric carried him tenderlydown stairs, and laid him, still half-sleeping, upon his bed. 

He laid him down, and looked at him as he slumbered. The other boys hadnot been disturbed by their noiseless entrance, and he sat down on hisbrother's bed to think, shading off the light of the candle with hishand. It was rarely now that Eric's thoughts were so rich with thememories of childhood, and sombre with the consciousness of sin, as theywere that night, while he gazed on his brother Vernon's face. He did notknow what made him look so long and earnestly; an indistinct sorrow, anunconjectured foreboding, passed over his mind, like the shadow of asummer cloud. Vernon was now slumbering deeply; his soft childish curlsfell off his forehead, and his head nestled in the pillow; but there wasan expression of uneasiness on his sleeping features, and the longeyelashes were still wet with tears. 

"Poor child, " thought Eric; "dear little Vernon; and he is to beflogged, perhaps birched, to-morrow. "

He went off sadly to bed, and hardly once remembered, that _he_ toowould come in for certain punishment the next day. 

CHAPTER IV

MR. ROSE AND BRIGSON

 "Raro antecedentem scelestum Deseruit pede Poena claudo. "--HOR. 

After prayers the next morning Dr. Rowlands spoke to his boarders on theprevious day's discovery, and in a few forcible vivid words set beforethem, the enormity of the offence. He ended by announcing that the boyswho were caught would be birched, --"except the elder ones, Bull andBrigson, who will bring me one hundred lines every hour of thehalf-holidays till further notice. There are some, " he said, "I am wellaware, who, though present yesterday, were not detected. I am sorry forit, for _their_ sakes; they will be more likely to sin again. In caseslike this, punishment is a blessing, and impunity a burden. " On leavingthe room he bade Eric follow him into his study. Eric obeyed, and stoodbefore the head-master with downcast eyes. 

"Williams, " he said, "I have had a great regard for you, and felt a deepinterest in you from the day I first saw you, and knew your excellentparents. At one time I had conceived great hopes of your future course, and your abilities seemed likely to blossom into noble fruit. But youfell off greatly, and grew idle and careless. At last an event happened, in which for a time you acted worthily of yourself, and which seemed toarouse you from your negligence and indifference. All my hopes in yourevived; but as I continued to watch your course (more closely, perhaps, than you supposed), I observed with pain that those hopes must be againdisappointed. It needs but a glance at your countenance to be sure thatyou are not so upright or right-minded a boy as you were two years ago. I can judge only from your outward course; but I deeply fear, Williams, I deeply fear, that in _other_ respects also you are going the down-hillroad. And what am I to think now, when on the _same_ morning, you andyour little brother _both_ come before me for such serious and heavyfaults? I cannot free you from blame even for _his_ misdoings, for youare his natural guardian here; I am only glad that you were not involvedwith him in that charge. "

"Let _me_ bear the punishment, sir, instead of him, " said Eric, by asudden impulse; "for I misled him, and was there myself. "

Dr. Rowlands paced the room in deep sorrow. "You, Williams! on the vergeof the sixth form. Alas! I fear, from this, that the state of thingsamong you is even worse than I had supposed. "

Eric again hung his head. 

"No; you have confessed the sin voluntarily, and therefore at present Ishall not notice it; only, let me entreat you to beware. But I must turnto the other matter. What excuse have you for your intolerable conductto Mr. Rose, who, as I know, has shown you from the first the mostunusual and disinterested kindness?"

"I cannot defend myself, sir. I was excited, and could not control mypassion. "

"Then you must sit down here, and write an apology, which I shall makeyou read aloud before the whole school at twelve to-day. "

Eric, with trembling hand, wrote his apology, and Dr Rowlands glanced atit. "Come to me again at twelve, " he said. 

At twelve all the school were assembled, and Eric, pale and miserable, followed the Doctor into the great school-room. The masters stood at oneend of the room, and among them Mr. Rose, who, however, appeared anindifferent and uninterested spectator of the transaction. Every eye wasfixed on Eric, and every one pitied him. 

"We are assembled, " said Dr. Rowlands, "for an act of justice. One ofyour number has insulted a master publicly, and is ashamed of hisconduct, and has himself written the apology which he will read. I hadintended to add a still severer punishment, but Mr. Rose has earnestlybegged me not to do so, and I have succumbed to his wishes. Williams, read your apology. "

There was a dead hush, and Eric tried once or twice in vain to utter aword. At last, by a spasmodic effort, he regained his voice, and read, but in so low and nervous a tone, that not even those nearest him heardwhat he was saying. 

Dr. Rowlands took the paper from him. "Owing, " he said, "to a verynatural and pardonable emotion, the apology has been read in such a waythat you could not have understood it. I will therefore read it myself. It is to this effect--

"'I, Eric Williams, beg humbly and sincerely to apologise for mypassionate and ungrateful insult to Mr. Rose. '

"You will understand that he was left quite free to choose his ownexpressions; and as he has acknowledged his shame and compunction forthe act, I trust that none of you will be tempted to elevate him into ahero, for a folly which he himself so much regrets. This affair, --as Ishould wish all bad deeds to be after they have once beenpunished, --will now be forgiven, and I hope forgotten. "

They left the room and dispersed, and Eric fancied that all shunned andlooked coldly on his degradation But not so: Montagu came, and takinghis arm in the old friendly way, went a walk with him. It was aconstrained and silent walk, and they were both glad when it was over, although Montagu did all he could to show that he loved Eric no lessthan before. Still it was weeks since they had been much together, andthey had far fewer things in common now than they used to have. 

"I'm so wretched, Monty, " said Eric at last; "do you think Rose despisesme?"

"I am _sure_ of the contrary. Won't you go to him, Eric, and say all youfeel?"

"Heigh ho! I shall never get right again. Oh, to recover the last twoyears!"

"You can redeem them, Eric, by a nobler present. Let the same wordscomfort you that have often brought hope to me--'I will restore theyears which the locust hath eaten. '"

They reached the school-door, and Eric went straight to the library. Mr. Rose was there alone. He received him kindly, as usual, and Eric went upto the fire-place where he was standing. They had often stood by thatlibrary fire on far different terms. 

"Forgive me, sir, " was all Eric could say, as the tears rushed to hiseyes. 

"Freely, my boy, " said Mr. Rose, sadly. "I wish you could feel how fullyI forgive you; but, " he added, laying his hand for the last time onEric's head, "you have far more, Eric, to forgive yourself. I will nottalk to you, Eric; it would be little good, I fear; but you little knowhow much I pity and tremble for you. "

While these scenes were being enacted with Eric, a large group wascollected round the fire-place in the boarders' room, and many tongueswere loudly discussing the recent events. 

Alas for gratitude! there was not a boy in that group to whom Mr. Rosehad not done many an act of kindness; and to most of them far more thanthey ever knew. Many a weary hour had he toiled for them in private, when his weak frame was harassed by suffering; many a sleepless nighthad he wrestled for them in prayer, when, for their sakes, his own manytroubles were laid aside. Work on, Walter Rose, and He who seeth insecret will reward you openly! but expect no gratitude from those forwhose salvation you, like the great tenderhearted apostle, would almostbe ready to wish yourself accursed. 

Nearly every one in that noisy group was abusing Mr. Rose. It had longbeen Brigson's cue to do so; he derided him on every opportunity, anddelighted to represent him as hypocritical and insincere. Even his weakhealth was the subject of Brigson's coarse ridicule, and the bad boypaid, in deep hatred, the natural tribute which vice must ever accord toexcellence. 

"You see how he turns on his pets if they offend him, " said Brigson;"why, even that old beast Gordon isn't as bad. "

"Yes; while poor Eric was reading, Rose reminded me of Milton'sserpent, " drawled Bull;

 "Hope elevates and joy brightens his crest. "

"He-e-ar! He-e-ar!" said Pietrie; "_vide_ the last fifth form Rep. "

"I expect Eric won't see everything so much _couleur de Rose_ now, asthe French frog hath it, " remarked Graham. 

"It was too bad to stand by and triumph, certainly, " observed Wildney. 

"I say, you fellows, " remonstrated Wright, who, with Vernon, was sittingreading a book at one of the desks, "all that isn't fair. I'm sure youall saw how really sorry Rose looked about it; and he said, you know, that it was merely for the sake of school discipline that he put thematter in Rowlands' hands. "

"Discipline be hanged, " shouted Brigson; "we'll have our revenge on himyet, discipline or no. "

"I hope you won't, though, " said Vernon; "I know Eric will be sorry ifyou do. "

"The more muff he. We shall do as we like. "

"Well, I shall tell him; and I'm sure he'll ask you not. You know how hetries to stick up for Rose. "

"If you say a word more, " said Brigson, unaccustomed to being opposedamong his knot of courtiers, "I'll kick you out of the room; you andthat wretched little fool there with you. "

"You may do as you like, " answered Wright, quietly, "but you won't goon like this long, I can tell you. "

Brigson tried to seize him, but failing, contented himself with flinginga big coal at him as he ran out of the room, which narrowly missedhis head. 

"I have it!" said Brigson; "that little donkey's given me an idea. We'll_crust_ Rose to-night. "

"To crust, " gentle reader, means to pelt an obnoxious person withcrusts. 

"Capital!" said some of the worst boys present; "we will. "

"Well, who'll take part?"

No one offered. "What! are we all turning sneaks and cowards? Here, Wildney, won't you? you were abusing Rose just now. "

"Yes, I will, " said Wildney, but with no great alacrity. "You'll nothave done till you've got us all expelled, I believe. "

"Fiddle-stick end! and what if we are? besides, he can't expel half theschool. "

First two or three more offered, and then a whole lot, gaining courageby numbers. So the plot was regularly laid. Pietrie and Graham were toput out the lights at each end of one table immediately after tea, andWildney and Brooking at the other, when the study fellows had gone out. There would then be only Mr. Rose's candle burning, and the two middlecandles, which, in so large a room, would just give enough light fortheir purpose. Then all the conspirators were to throng around the door, and from it aim their crusts at Mr. Rose's head, Not nearly so manywould have volunteered to join, but that they fancied Mr. Rose was toogentle to take up the matter with vigor, and they were encouraged byhis quiet leniency towards Eric the night before. It was agreed that nostudy-boy should be told of the intention, lest any of them shouldinterfere. 

Many hearts beat fast at tea that night as they observed that numbers ofboys, instead of eating all their bread, were cutting off the crusts, and breaking them into good-sized bits. 

Tea finished, Mr. Rose said grace, and then sat down quietly reading inhis desk. The signal agreed on was the (accidental) dropping of a plateby Brigson. The study-boys left the room. 

Crash!--down fell a plate on the floor, breaking to pieces in the fall. 

Instantly the four candles went out, and there was a hurried movementtowards the door, and a murmur of voices. 

"Now then, " said Brigson, in a loud whisper, "what a funky set you are!Here goes?"

The master, surprised at the sudden gloom and confusion, had just lookedup, unable to conjecture what was the matter. Brigson's crust caught hima sharp rap on the forehead as he moved. 

In an instant he started up, and ten or twelve more crusts flew by orhit him on the head, as he strode out of the desk towards the door. Directly he stirred, there was a rush of boys into the passage, and ifhe had once lost his judgment or temper, worse harm might have followed. But he did not. Going to the door, he said, "Preparation will be in fiveminutes; every boy not then in his place will be punished. "

During that five minutes the servants had cleared away the tea, full ofwonder; but Mr. Rose paced up and down the room, taking no notice of anyone. Immediately after, all the boys were in their places, with theirbooks open before them, and in the thrilling silence you might haveheard a pin drop. Every one felt that Mr. Rose was master of theoccasion, and awaited his next step in terrified suspense. 

They all perceived how thoroughly they had mistaken their subject. Theringleaders would have given all they had to be well out of the scrape. Mr. Rose ruled by kindness, but he never suffered his will to bedisputed for an instant. He governed with such consummate tact, thatthey hardly felt it to be government at all, and hence arose theirstupid miscalculation. But he felt that the time was now come to asserthis paramount authority, and determined to do so at once and for ever. 

"Some of you have mistaken me, " he said, in a voice so strong and sternthat it almost startled them. "The silly display of passion in one boyyesterday has led you to presume that you may trifle with me. You arewrong. For Williams' sake, as a boy who has, or at least once _had_, something noble in him, I left that matter in the Doctor's hands. Ishall _not_ do so to-night. Which of you put out the candles?"

Dead silence. A pause. 

"Which of you had the audacity to throw pieces of bread at me?"

Still silence. 

"I warn you that I _will_ know, and it will be far worse for the guiltyif I do not know at once. " There was unmistakeable decision in the tone. 

"Very well. I know many boys who were _not_ guilty because I saw themin parts of the room where to throw was impossible. I shall now _ask_all the rest, one by one, if they took any part in this. And beware oftelling me a lie. "

There was an uneasy sensation in the room, and several boys began towhisper aloud, "Brigson! Brigson!" The whisper grew louder, and Mr. Roseheard it. He turned on Brigson like a lion, and said--

"They call your name; stand out!"

The awkward, big, ungainly boy, with his repulsive countenance, shambledout of his place into the middle of the room. Mr. Rose swept him withone flashing glance. "_That_ is the boy, " thought he to himself, "whohas been like an ulcer to this school. These boys shall have a good lookat their hero. " It was but recently that Mr. Rose knew all the harmwhich Brigson had been doing, though he had discovered, almost from thefirst, what _sort_ of character he had. 

So Brigson stood out in the room, and as they looked at him, many a boycursed him in their hearts for evil taught them, such as a lifetime'sstruggle could not unteach. And it was _that_ fellow, that stupid, clumsy, base compound of meanness and malice, that had ruled like a kingamong them. Faugh!

"They call your name! Do you know anything of this?"

"No!" said Brigson; "I'll swear I'd nothing to do with it. "

"Oh-h-h-h!" the long, intense, deep-drawn expression of disgust andcontempt ran round the room. 

"You have told me a lie!" said Mr. Rose, slowly, and with ineffablecontempt. "No words can express my loathing for your false anddishonorable conduct. Nor shall your lie save you, as you shall findimmediately. Still, you shall escape if you can or dare to deny itagain. I repeat my question--Were you engaged in this?"

He fixed his full, piercing eye on the culprit, whom it seemed to scorchand wither. Brigson winced back, and said nothing. "As I thought, "said Mr. Rose. 

"Not _one_ boy only, but many, were engaged. I shall call you up one byone to answer me. Wildney, come here. "

The boy walked in front of the desk. 

"Were you one of those who threw?"

Wildney, full as he was of dangerous and deadly faults, was no coward, and not a liar. He knew, or at least feared, that this new scrape mightbe fatal to him, but, raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr. Rose, he said penitently--

"I didn't throw, sir, but I _did_ put out one of the candles that itmight be done. "

The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a littleless darkly on Mr. Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmurof applause. 

"Good! stand back. Pietrie, come up. "

Pietrie, too, confessed, and indeed all the rest of the plotters exceptBrooking. Mr. Rose's lip curled with scorn as he heard the exclamationwhich his denial caused; but he suffered him to sit down. 

When Wright's turn came to be asked, Mr. Rose said--"No! I shall noteven ask you, Wright. I know well that your character is too good to beinvolved in such an attempt. "

The boy bowed humbly, and sat down. Among the last questioned wasVernon Williams, and Mr. Rose seemed anxious for his answer. 

"No, " he said at once, --and seemed to wish to add something. 

"Go on, " said Mr. Rose, encouragingly. 

"Oh, sir! I only wanted to say that I hope you won't think Eric knew ofthis. He would have hated it, sir, more even than I do. "

"Good, " said Mr. Rose; "I am sure of it. And now, " turning to theoffenders, "I shall teach you never to dare again to be guilty of suchpresumption and wickedness as to-night. I shall punish you according tomy notion of your degrees of guilt. Brigson, bring me a cane fromthat desk. "

He brought it. 

"Hold out your hand. "

The cane fell, and instantly split up from top to bottom. Mr. Roselooked at it, for it was new that morning. 

"Hah! I see; more mischief; there is a hair in it. "

The boys were too much frightened to smile at the complete success ofthe trick. 

"Who did this? I must be told at once. "

"I did, sir, " said Wildney, stepping forward. 

"Ha! very well, " said Mr. Rose, while, in spite of his anger, a smilehovered at the corner of his lips. "Go and borrow me a cane fromMr. Harley. "

While he went there was unbroken silence. 

"Now, sir, " said he to Brigson, "I shall flog you. "

Corporal punishment was avoided with the bigger boys, and Brigson hadnever undergone it before. At the first stroke he writhed and yelled;at the second he retreated, twisting like a serpent, and blubbering likea baby; at the third he flung himself on his knees, and, as the strokesfell fast, clasped Mr. Rose's arm, and implored and besought for mercy. 

"_Miserable_ coward, " said Mr. Rose, throwing into the word such ringingscorn that no one who heard it ever forgot it. He indignantly shook theboy off, and caned him till he rolled on the floor, losing everyparticle of self-control, and calling out, "The devil--the devil--thedevil!" ("invoking his patron saint, " as Wildney maliciously observed). 

"There! cease to blaspheme, and get up, " said the master, blowing out acloud of fiery indignation. "There, sir. Retribution comes at last, leaden-footed but iron-handed. A long catalogue of sins is visited onyou to-day, and not only on your shrinking body, but on your consciencetoo, if you have one left. Let those red marks betoken that your reignis ended. Liar and tempter, you have led boys into the sins which youthen meanly deny! And now, you boys, _there_ in that coward, who cannoteven endure his richly-merited punishment, see the boy whom you havesuffered to be your _leader_ for well-nigh six months!"

"Now, sir"--again he turned upon Brigson--"that flogging shall berepeated with interest on your next offence. At present you will takeeach boy on your back while I cane him. It is fit that they should seewhere _you_ lead them to. "

Trembling violently, and cowed beyond description, he did as he was bid. No other boy cried, or even winced; a few sharp cuts was all which Mr. Rose gave them, and even they grew fewer each time, for he was tired, and displeased to be an executioner. 

"And now, " he said, "since that disgusting but necessary scene is over, _never_ let me have to repeat it again. "

But his authority was established like a rock from that night forward. No one ever ventured to dispute it again, or forgot that evening. Mr. Rose's noble moral influence gained tenfold strength from the respectand wholesome fear that he then inspired. 

But, as he had said, Brigson's reign was over. Looks of the mostunmitigated disgust and contempt were darted at him, as he sat alone andshunned at the end of the table; and the boys seemed now to loathe andnauseate the golden calf they had been worshipping. He had not doneblubbering even yet, when the prayer-bell rang. No sooner had Mr. Roseleft the room than Wildney, his dark eyes sparkling with rage, leaped onthe table, and shouted--

"Three groans, hoots, and hisses, for a liar and a coward, " a sign ofexecration which he was the first to lead off, and which the boys echoedlike a storm. 

Astonished at the tumult, Mr. Rose re-appeared at the door. "Oh, we'renot hissing you, sir, " said Wildney excitedly; "we're all hissing atlying and cowardice. "

Mr. Rose thought the revulsion of feeling might do good, and he wasstriding out again, without a word, when--

"Three times three for Mr. Rose, " sang out Wildney. 

Never did a more hearty or spontaneous cheer burst from the lips andlungs of fifty boys than that. The news had spread like wildfire to thestudies, and the other boys came flocking in during the uproar, to joinin it heartily. Cheer after cheer rang out like a sound of silverclarions from the clear boy-voices; and in the midst of the excitedthrong stood Eric and Montagu, side by side, hurrahing more lustily thanall the rest. 

But Mr. Rose, in the library, was on his knees, with moving lips andlifted hands. He coveted the popular applause as little as he haddreaded the popular opposition; and the evening's painful experienceshad taught him anew the bitter lesson to expect no gratitude, and hopefor no reward, but simply, and contentedly, and unmurmuringly, to workon in God's vineyard so long as life and health should last. 

Brigson's brazen forehead bore him through the disgrace which would havecrushed another. But still he felt that his position at Roslyn couldnever be what it had been before, and he therefore determined to leaveat once. By grossly calumniating the school, he got his father to removehim, and announced, to every one's great delight, that he was going in afortnight. On his last day, by way of bravado, he smashed and damaged asmuch of the school property as he could, a proceeding which failed togain him any admiration, and merely put his father to ruinous expense. 

The day after his exposure Eric had cut him dead, without the leastpretence of concealment; an example pretty generally followed throughoutthe school. 

In the evening Brigson went up to Eric and hissed in his ear, "You cutme, curse you; but, _never fear, I'll be revenged on you yet_. "

"Do your worst, " answered Eric, contemptuously, "and never speak to meagain. "

CHAPTER V

RIPPLES

 "Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And live for ever and for ever. "--TENNYSON. 

Owen and Montagu were walking by Silverburn, and talking over theaffairs of the school. During their walk they saw Wright and VernonWilliams in front of them. 

"I am so glad to see those two together, " said Montagu; "I really thinkWright is one of the best little fellows in the school, and he'll be thesaving of Vernon. He's already persuaded him to leave off smoking andother bad things, and has got him to work a little harder, and turn overa new leaf altogether. "

"Yes, " answered Owen; "I've seen a marvellous improvement in littleWilliams lately. I think that Duncan gave him a rough lesson the othernight which did him good, and dear old Rose too has been leading him bythe hand; but the best thing is that, through Wright, he sees less ofEric's _friend_, that young scapegrace Wildney. "

"Yes; that little wretch has a good deal to answer for. What a pity thatEric spoils him so, or rather suffers himself to be spoilt by him. I'mglad Vernon's escaped his influence now; he's too fine a boy to be madeas bad as the general run of them. What a brilliant little fellow he is;just like his brother. "

"Just like what his brother _was_, " said Owen; "his face, like hismind, has suffered lately. "

"Too true, " answered Montagu, with a sigh; "and yet, cool as we now arein our outward intercourse, he little knows how I love him, and yearnfor the Eric I once knew. Would to God poor Russell had lived, and thenI believe that Williams wouldn't have gone so for wrong. "

"Well, I think there's another chance for him now that--that--what nameis bad enough, for that Brigson?--is gone. "

"I hope so. But"--he added after a pause--"his works do follow him. Lookthere!" He took a large stone and threw it into the Silverburn stream;there was a great splash, and then ever-widening circles of blue ripplebroke the surface of the water, dying away one by one in the sedges onthe bank. "There, " he said, "see how long those ripples last, and hownumerous they are. "

Owen understood him. "Poor Williams! What a gleam of new hope there wasin him after Russell's death!"

"Yes, for a time, " said Montagu; "heigh ho! I fear we shall never bewarm friends again. We can't be while he goes on as he is doing. And yetI love him. "

A sudden turn of the stream brought them to the place called Riverbend. 

"If you want a practical comment on what we've been talking about, you'll see it there, " said Montagu. 

He pointed to a party of boys, four or five, all lying on a pleasantgrass bank, smoking pipes. Prominent among them was Eric, stretched atease, and looking up at the clouds, towards which curled the puffedfumes of his meerschaum--a gift of Wildney's. That worthy was beside himsimilarly employed. 

The two sixth-form boys hoped to pass by unobserved, as they did notwish for a rencontre with our hero under such circumstances. But theysaw Wildney pointing to them, and, from the fits of laughter whichfollowed his remarks, they had little doubt that they were the subjectof the young gentleman's wit. This is never a pleasant sensation; butthey observed that Eric made a point of not looking their way, and wenton in silence. 

"How very sad!" said Montagu. 

"How very contemptible!" said Owen. 

"Did you observe what they were doing?"

"Smoking?"

"Worse than that a good deal. They were doing something which, if Ericdoesn't take care, will one day be his ruin. "

"What?"

"I saw them drinking. I have little doubt it was brandy. "

"Good heavens!"

"It is getting a common practice with some fellows. One of the ripples, you see, of Brigson's influence. "

Before they got home they caught up Wright and Vernon, and walked intogether. 

"We've been talking, " said Wright, "about a bad matter. Vernon here saysthat there's no good working for a prize in his form, because thecribbing's so atrocious. Indeed, it's very nearly as bad in my form. Italways is under Gordon; he _can't_ understand fellows doingdishonorable things. "

"It's a great bore in the weekly examinations, " said Vernon; "every nowand then Gordon will even leave the room for a few minutes, and then outcome dozens of books. "

"Well, Wright, " said Montagu, "if that happens again next examination, I'd speak out about it. "

"How?"

"Why, I'd get every fellow who disapproves of it to give me his name, and get up and read the list, and say that you at least have pledgedyourselves not to do it. "

"Humph! I don't know how that would answer. They'd half kill me for onething. "

"Never mind; do your duty. I wish I'd such an opportunity, if only toshow how sorry I am for my own past unfairness. "

And so talking, the four went in, and the two elder went to their study. 

It was too true that drinking had become a common vice at Roslyn school. Accordingly, when Eric came in with Wildney about half an hour after, Owen and Montagu heard them talk about ordering some brandy, and thenarrange to have a "jollification, " that evening. 

They got the brandy through "Billy. " One of Brigson's most cursedlegacies to the school was the introduction of this man to a nefariousintercourse with the boys. His character was so well known that it hadlong been forbidden, under the strictest penalty, for any boy ever tospeak to him; yet, strange to say, they seemed to take a pleasure indoing so, and just now particularly it was thought a fine thing, a signof "pluck" and "anti-muffishness, " to be on familiar and intimate termswith that degraded and villainous scoundrel. 

Duncan had made friends again with Eric; but he did not join him in hisescapades and excesses, and sat much in other studies. He had not beenaltogether a good boy, but yet there was a sort of rough honesty andgood sense about him, which preserved him from the worst and mostdangerous failings, and his character had been gradually improving as hemounted higher in the school. He was getting steadier, more diligent, more thoughtful, more manly; he was passing through that change sofrequent in boys as they grow older, to which Eric was so sad anexception. Accordingly Duncan, though sincerely fond of Eric, hadlatterly disapproved vehemently of his proceedings, and had thereforetaken to snubbing his old friend Wildney, in whose favor Eric seemed tohave an infatuation, and who was the means of involving him in everykind of impropriety and mischief. So that night Duncan, hearing of whatwas intended, sat in the next study, and Eric, with Bull, Wildney, Graham, and Pietrie, had the room to themselves. Several of them werelower boys still, but they came to the studies after bed-time, accordingto Wildney's almost nightly custom. 

A little pebble struck the study window. 

"Hurrah!" said Wildney, clapping his hands, "here's the grub. "

They opened the window and looked out. Billy was there, and they letdown to him a long piece of cord, to which he attached a basket, and, after bidding them "Good night, and a merry drink, " retired. No soonerhad they shut the window, than he grimaced as usual towards them, andshook his fist in a sort of demoniacal exultation, muttering, "Oh, I'llhave you all under my thumb yet, you fine young fools!"

Meanwhile the unconscious boys had opened the basket, and spread itscontents on the table. They were, bread, a large dish of sausages, atart, beer, and, alas! a bottle of brandy. 

They soon got very noisy, and at last uproarious. The snatches of songs, peals of laughter, and rattle of plates, at last grew so loud that theother study-boys were afraid lest one of the masters should come up andcatch the revellers. All of them heard every word that was spoken byEric and his party as the walls between the rooms were very thin; andvery objectionable much of the conversation was. 

"This _won't_ do, " said Duncan emphatically, after a louder burst ofmerriment than usual; "those fellows are getting drunk; I can tell it toa certainty from the confused and random way in which some of themare talking. "

"We'd better go in and speak to them, " said Montagu; "at any rate, they've no right to disturb us all night. Will you come?"

"I'll join you, " said Owen; "though I'm afraid my presence won't do youmuch good. "

The three boys went to the door of Eric's study, and their knock couldnot at first be heard for the noise. When they went in they found ascene of reckless disorder; books were scattered about, plates andglasses lay broken on the floor, beer was spilt on all sides, and therewas an intolerable smell of brandy. 

"If you fellows don't care, " said Duncan, sharply, "Rose or somebody'llbe coming up and catching you. It's ten now. "

"What's that to you?" answered Graham, with an insolent look. 

"It's something to me that you nice young men have been making such arow that none of the rest of us can hear our own voices, and that, between you, you've made this study in such a mess that I can'tendure it. "

"Pooh!" said Pietrie; "we're all getting such saints, that one can'thave the least bit of spree now-a-days. "

"Spree!" burst in Montagu indignantly; "fine spree, to make sots ofyourselves with spirits; fine spree, to----"

"Amen!" said Wildney, who was perched on the back of a chair; and heturned up his eyes and clasped his hands with a mock-heroic air. 

"There, Williams, " continued Montagu, pointing to themischievous-looking little boy; "see that spectacle, and be ashamed ofyourself, if you can. That's what you lead boys to! Are you anxious tobecome the teacher of drunkenness?"

In truth, there was good ground for his sorrowful apostrophe, for thescene was very painful to a high-minded witness. 

They hardly understood the look on Eric's countenance; he had beentaking far more than was good for him; his eyes sparkled fiercely, andthough as yet he said nothing, he seemed to be resenting the intrusionin furious silence. 

"How much longer is this interesting lecture to last?" asked Bull, withhis usual insufferable drawl; "for I want to finish my brandy. "

Montagu rather looked as if he intended to give the speaker a box on theear; but he was just deciding that Bull wasn't worth the trouble, whenWildney, who had been grimacing all the time, burst into a fitof laughter. 

"Let's turn out these impudent lower-school fellows, " said Montagu, speaking to Duncan. "Here! you go first, " he said, seizing Wildney bythe arm, and giving him a swing, which, as he was by no means steady onhis legs, brought him sprawling to the ground. 

"By Jove, I won't stand this any longer, " shouted Eric, springing upferociously. "What on earth do you mean by daring to come in like this?Do you hear?"

Montagu took no sort of notice of his threatening gesture, for he waslooking to see if Wildney was hurt, and finding he was not, proceeded todrag him out, struggling and kicking frantically. 

"Drop me, you fellow, drop me, I say. I won't go for you, " criedWildney, shaking with passion. "Eric, why do you let him bully me?"

"You let him go this minute, " repeated Eric, hoarsely. 

"I shall do no such thing. You don't know what you're about. "

"Don't I? Well, then, take _that_, to show whether I do or no!" andsuddenly leaning forward, he struck Montagu a violent back-handed blowon the mouth. 

Everybody saw it, everybody heard it; and it instantly astounded theminto silence. That Montagu should have been struck in public, and thatby Eric--by a boy who had loved him, and whom he had loved--by a boy whohad been his schoolfellow for three years now, and whose whole lifeseemed bound to him by so many associations; it was strange, andsad indeed. 

Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stridetowards his striker with lifted hand and lightning eyes, while the bloodstarted to his lips in consequence of the blow. But he stopped suddenlyand his hand fell to his side; by a strong effort of self-control hecontrived to master himself, and sitting down quite quietly on a chair, he put his white handkerchief to his wounded mouth, and took it awaystained with blood. 

No one spoke; and rising with quiet dignity, he went back into his studywithout a word. 

"Very well, " said Duncan; "you may all do as you like; only I heartilyhope now you will be caught. Come, Owen. "

"Oh, Williams, " said Owen, "you are changed indeed, to treat your bestfriend so. "

But Eric was excited with drink, and the slave of every evil passion atthat moment. "Serve him right, " he said; "what business has he tointerfere with what I choose to do?"

There was no more noise that night. Wildney and the rest slunk offashamed and frightened, and Eric, leaving his candle flaring on thetable, went down to his bed-room, where he was very sick. He had neitherstrength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as was. When they heard that he was gone, Owen and Duncan (for Montagu wassilent and melancholy) went into his study, put out the candle, and hadonly just cleared away, to the best of their power, the traces of thecarouse, when Dr. Rowlands came up stairs on his usual nightly rounds. They had been lighting brown paper to take away the fames of the brandy, and the Doctor asked them casually the cause of the smell of burning. Neither of them answered, and seeing Owen there, in whom he placedimplicit trust, the Doctor thought no more about it. 

Eric awoke with a bad headache, and a sense of shame and sickness. Whenhe got up he felt most wretched, and while washing he thought tohimself, "Ah! that I could thus wash away the memory of last night!" Ofcourse, after what had occurred, Eric and Montagu were no longer onspeaking terms, and miserable as poor Eric felt when he saw how his blowhad bruised and disfigured his friend's face, he made no advances. Helonged, indeed, from his inmost heart, to be reconciled to him; butfeeling that he had done grievous wrong, he dreaded a repulse, and hispride would not suffer him to run the risk. So he pretended to feel noregret, and, supported by his late boon-companions, represented thematter as occurring in the defence of Wildney, whom Montaguwas bullying. 

Montagu, too, was very miserable; but he felt that, although ready toforgive Eric, he could not, in common self-respect, take the first stepto a reconciliation: indeed, he rightly thought that it was not forEric's good that he should do so. 

"You and Williams appear never to speak to each other now, " said Mr. Rose. "I am sorry for it, Monty; I think you are the only boy who hasany influence over him. "

"I fear you are mistaken, sir, in that. Little Wildney has much more. "

"Wildney?" asked Mr. Rose, in sorrowful surprise. "Wildney moreinfluence than _you_?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Ah, that our poor Edwin had lived!"

So, with a sigh, Walter Rose and Harry Montagu buried their friendshipfor Eric until happier days. 

CHAPTER VI

ERIC AND MONTAGU

 "And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain. 

 * * * * *

 Each spoke words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother. "

 COLERIDGE'S _Christabel_. 

Wright had not forgotten Montagu's advice, and had endeavored to get thenames of boys who wern't afraid to scout publicly the disgrace ofcheating in form. But he could only get one name promised him--the nameof Vernon Williams; and feeling how little could be gained by using it, he determined to spare Vernon the trial, and speak, if he spoke at all, on his own responsibility. 

As usual, the cribbing at the next weekly examination was well-nighuniversal, and when Mr. Gordon went out to fetch something he hadforgotten, merely saying, "I trust to your honor not to abuse myabsence, " books and papers were immediately pulled out with the coolestand most unblushing indifference. 

This was the time for Wright to deliver his conscience; he had countedthe cost, and, rightly or wrongly considering it to be his duty, he haddecided that speak he would. He well knew that his interference wouldbe attributed to jealousy, meanness, sneaking, and every kind of wrongmotive, since he was himself one of the greatest sufferers from theprevalent dishonesty; but still he had come to the conclusion that he_ought_ not to draw back, and therefore he bravely determined that hewould make his protest, whatever happened. 

So, very nervously, he rose and said, "I want to tell you all that Ithink this cheating very wrong and blackguardly. I don't mind losing byit myself, but if Vernon Williams loses the prize in the lower fourth, and any one gets it by copying, I've made up my mind to tell Gordon. "

His voice trembled a little at first, but he spoke fast, and acquiredfirmness as he went on. Absolute astonishment and curiosity had held theboys silent with amazement, but by the end of this sentence they hadrecovered themselves, and a perfect burst of derision andindignation followed. 

"Let's see if _that'll_ cut short his oration, " said Wildney, throwing abook at his head, which was instantly followed by others fromall quarters. 

"My word! we've had nothing but lectures lately, " said Brooking. "Horridlittle Owenite saint. "

"Saint!--sneak, you mean. I'll teach him, " growled Pietrie, and jumpingup, he belabored Wright's head with the Latin grammar out of which hehad just been cribbing. 

The whole room was in confusion and hubbub, during which Wright satstock still, quietly enduring without bowing to the storm. 

Only one boy sympathised with him, but he did so deeply--poor littlepenitent Vernon. He felt his position hard because Wright had alluded soprominently to him, and he knew how much he must be misconstrued, but hehad his brother's spirit, and would not shrink. Amid the tumult he gotup in his seat, and they heard his pleasant, childish voice sayingboldly, "I hope Wright won't tell; but he's the best fellow in the room, and cribbing _is_ a shame, as he says. "

What notice would have been taken of this speech is doubtful, for at thecritical moment Mr. Gordon reappeared, and the whispered cavè causedinstantaneous quiet. 

Poor Wright awaited with some dread the end of school; and many an angrykick and blow he got, though he disarmed malice by the spirit andheroism with which he endured them. The news of his impudence spreadlike wildfire, and not five boys in the school approved of what he haddone, while most of them were furious at his ill-judged threat ofinforming Mr. Gordon. There was a general agreement to thrash him afterroll-call that afternoon. 

Eric had lately taken a violent dislike to Wright, though he had beenfond of him in better days. He used to denounce him as a disagreeableand pragmatical little muff, and was as loud as any of them incondemning his announced determination to "sneak. " Had he known thatWright had acted under Montagu's well-meant, though rather mistakenadvice, he might have abstained from having anything more to do with thematter, but now he promised to kick Wright himself after the fouro'clock bell. 

Four o'clock came; the names were called; the master left the room. Wright, who perfectly knew what was threatened, stood there pale butfearless. His indifferent look was an additional annoyance to Eric, whowalked up to him carelessly, and boxing his ears, though without hurtinghim, said contemptuously, "Conceited little sneak. "

Montagu had been told of the intended kicking, and had determined evensingle-handed to prevent it. He did _not_, however, expect that Ericwould have taken part in it, and was therefore unprepared. The colorrushed into his cheeks; he went up, took Wright quietly by the hand, andsaid with firm determination, "No one in the school shall touchWright again. "

"What? no one! just hark to that, " said Graham; "I suppose he thinkshimself cock of the school. "

Eric quite misunderstood Montagu's proceedings; he took it for a publicchallenge. All the Rowlandites were round, and to yield would havelooked like cowardice. Above all, his evil genius Wildney was by, andsaid, "How very nice! another dictation lesson!"

A threatening circle had formed round Montagu, but his closed lips, andflushing brow, and dilated nostrils, betrayed a spirit which made themwaver, and he quietly repeated, "No one shall touch you, Wright. "

"They _will_, though, " said Eric instantly; "_I_ will, for one, and Ishould like to see you prevent me. " And so saying he gave Wright anotherslight blow. 

Montagu dropped Wright's hand and said slowly, "Eric Williams, I havetaken one unexpected blow from you without a word, and bear the marks ofit yet. It is time to show that it was _not_ through cowardice that Idid not return it. Will you fight?"

The answer was not prompt by any means, though every one in the schoolknew that Eric was not afraid. So sure was he of this, that, for thesake of "auld lang syne, " he would probably have declined to fight withMontagu had he been left to his own impulses. 

"I have been in the wrong, Montagu, more than once, " he answered, falteringly, "and we have been friends--"

But it was the object of many of the worst boys that the two shouldfight--not only that they might see the fun, but that Montagu'sauthority, which stood in their way, might be flung aside. So Brookingwhispered in an audible voice--

"Faith! he's showing the white feather. "

"You're a liar!" flung in Eric; and turning to Montagu, he said--"There!I'll fight you this moment. "

Instantly they had stripped off their coats and prepared for action. Aring of excited boys crowded round them. Fellows of sixteen, likeMontagu and Eric, rarely fight, because their battles have usually beendecided in their earlier school-days; and it was also but seldom thattwo boys so strong, active, and prominent, took this method of settlingtheir differences. 

The fight began, and at first the popular favor was entirely on the sideof Eric, while Montagu found few or none to back him. But he fought witha fire and courage which soon won applause; and as Eric, on the otherhand, was random and spiritless, the cry was soon pretty fairly dividedbetween them. 

After a sharp round they paused for breath, and Owen, who had been asilent and disgusted spectator of such a combat between boys of suchhigh standing, said with much, feeling--

"This is not a very creditable affair, Montagu. "

"It is necessary, " was Montagu's laconic reply. 

Among other boys who had left the room before the fracas had takenplace, was Vernon Williams, who shrank away to avoid the pain of seeinghis new friend Wright bullied and tormented. But curiosity soon took himback, and he came in just as the second round began. At first he onlysaw a crowd of boys in the middle of the room, but jumping on a desk hehad a full view of what was going on. 

There was a tremendous hubbub of voices, and Eric, now thoroughly rousedby the remarks he overheard, and especially by Wildney's whisper that"he was letting himself be licked, " was exerting himself with more vigorand effect. It was anything but a noble sight; the faces of thecombatants were streaked with blood and sweat, and as the miserable gangof lower school-boys backed them on with eager shouts of--"Now Eric, nowEric, " "Now Montagu, go it, sixth, form, " etc. , both of them foughtunder a sense of deep disgrace, increased by the recollections whichthey shared in common. 

All this Vernon marked in a moment, and, filled with pain and vexation, his said in a voice which, though low, could be heard amid all theuproar, "Oh Eric, Eric, fighting with Montagu!" There was reproach andsorrow in the tone, which touched more than one boy there, for Vernon, spite of the recent change in him, could not but continue a favorite. 

"Shut up there, you little donkey, " shouted one or two, looking back athim for a moment. 

But Eric heard the words, and knew that it was his brother's voice. Thethought rushed on him how degraded his whole position was, and howdifferent it might have been. He felt that he was utterly in the wrong, and Montagu altogether in the right; and from that moment his blows oncemore grew feeble and ill-directed. When they again stopped to take rest, the general shout for Montagu showed that he was considered to have thebest of it. 

"I'm getting so tired of this, " muttered Eric, during the pause. 

"Why, you're fighting like a regular muff, " said Graham; "you'll have toacknowledge yourself thrashed in a minute. "

"That I'll _never_ do, " he said, once more firing up. 

Just as the third round began, Duncan came striding in, for Owen, whohad left the room, told him what was going on. He had always been aleading fellow, and quite recently his influence had several times beenexerted in the right direction, and he was very much looked up to by allthe boys alike, good or bad. He determined, for the credit of the sixth, that the fight should not go on, and bursting into the ring, with hisstrong shoulders he hurled on each side the boys who stood in his way, and struck down the lifted arms of the fighters. 

"You _shan't_ fight, " he said, doggedly, thrusting himself between them;"so there's an end of it. If you do, you'll both have to fightme first. "

"Shame!" said several of the boys, and the cry was caught up by Bull andothers. 

"Shame, is it?" said Duncan, and his lip curled with scorn. "There'sonly one way to argue with, you fellows. Bull, if you, or any other boy, repeat that word, I'll thrash him. Here, Monty, come away from thisdisgraceful scene. "

"I'm sick enough of it, " said Montagu, "and am ready to stop if Williamsis, --provided no one touches Wright. "

"I'm sick of it too, " said Eric sullenly. 

"Then you two shall shake hands, " said Duncan. 

For one instant--an instant which he regretted till the end of hislife--Montagu drew himself up and hesitated. He had been deeply wronged, deeply provoked, and no one could blame him for the momentary feeling:but Eric had observed the gesture, and his passionate pride took thealarm. "It's come to this, then, " he thought; "Montagu doesn't think megood enough to be shaken hands with. "

"Pish!" he said aloud, in a tone of sarcasm; "it may be an awful honorto shake hands with such an immaculate person as Montagu, but I'm notproud on the subject;" and he turned away. 

Montagu's hesitation was but momentary, and without a particle of angeror indignation he sorrowfully held out his hand. It was too late; thatmoment had done the mischief, and it was now Eric's turn coldlyto withdraw. 

"You don't think me worthy of your friendship, and what's the good ofgrasping hands if we don't do it with cordial hearts?"

Montagu's lip trembled, but he said nothing, and quietly putting on hiscoat, waved back the throng of boys with a proud sweep of his arm, andleft the room with Duncan. 

"Come along, Wright, " he said. 

"Nay, leave him, " said Eric with a touch of remorse. "Much as you thinkme beneath you, I have honor enough to see that no one hurts him. "

The group of boys gradually dispersed, but one or two remained withEric, although he was excessively wearied by their observations. 

"You didn't fight half like yourself, " said Wildney. 

"Can't you tell why? I had the wrong side to fight for. " And getting upabruptly, he left the room, to be alone in his study, and bathe hisswollen and aching face. 

In a few minutes Vernon joined him, and at the mere sight of him Ericburst into tears of shame. That evening with Vernon in the study, afterthe dinner at the Jolly Herring, had revived all his really warmaffection for his little brother; and as he could no longer conceal theline he took in the school, they had been often together since then; andEric's moral obliquity was not so great as to prevent him from feelingdeep joy at the change for the better in Vernon's character. 

"Verny, Verny, " he said, as the boy came up and affectionately took hishand, "it was you who lost me that fight. "

"Oh, but, Eric, you were fighting with Montagu. "

"Don't you remember the days, Eric, " he continued, "when we werehome-boarders, and how kind Monty used to be to me even then, and howmother liked him, and thought him quite your truest friend, exceptpoor Russell?"

"I do, indeed. I didn't think then that it would come to this. "

"I've always been _so_ sorry, " said Vernon, "that I joined the fellowsin playing him tricks. I can't think how I came to do it, except thatI've done such lots of bad things here. But he's forgiven and forgottenthat long ago, and is very kind to me now. "

It was true; but Eric didn't know that half the kindness which Montagushowed to his brother was shown solely for _his_ sake. 

"Do you know, I've thought of a plan for making you two friends again?I've written to Aunt Trevor to ask him to Fairholm with us nextholidays. "

"Oh, have you? Good Verny! Yes; _there_ we might be friends. Perhapsthere, " he added, half to himself, "I might be more like what I was inbetter days. "

"But it's a long time to look forward to. Easter hasn't come yet, " saidVernon. 

So the two young boys proposed; but God had disposed it otherwise. 

CHAPTER VII

THE PIGEONS

 "Et motae ad Lunam trepidabis arundinis umbram. "

 Juv. X. 21. 

"How awfully dull it is, Charlie, " said Eric, a few weeks before Easter, as he sat with Wildney in his study one holiday afternoon. 

"Yes; too late for football, too early for cricket. " And Wildneystretched himself and yawned. 

"I suppose this is what they call ennui, " said Eric again, after apause. "What is to be done, Sunbeam?"

"You _shan't_ call me that, so there's an end of it, " said Wildney, hitting him on the arm. 

"By the bye, Eric, you remind me to-morrow's my birth-day, and I've gota parcel coming this afternoon full of grub from home. Let's go and seeif it's come. "

"Capital! We will. "

So Eric and Wildney started off to the coach-office, where they foundthe hamper, and ordered it to be brought at once to the school, andcarried up to Eric's study. 

On opening it they found it rich in dainties, among which were a pair offowls and a large plum-cake. 

"Hurrah!" said Wildney, "you were talking of nothing to do; I vote wehave a carouse to-morrow. "

"Very well; only let's have it _before_ prayers, because we were sonearly caught last time. "

"Ay, and let it be in one of the class-rooms, Eric; not up here, lestwe have another incursion of the 'Rosebuds. ' I shall have to cutpreparation, but that don't matter, It's Harley's night, and old Stupidwill never twig. "

"Well, whom shall we ask?" said Eric. 

"Old Llewellyn for one, " said Wildney. "We havn't seen him for an age, and he's getting too lazy even for a bit of fun. "

"Good; and Graham, " suggested Eric. He and Wildney regarded theirpossessions so much as common property, that he hadn't the leastdelicacy in mentioning the boys whom he wanted to invite. 

"Yes; Graham's a jolly bird; and Bull?"

"I've no objection; and Pietrie?"

"Well; and your brother Vernon?"

"No!" said Eric, emphatically. "At any rate I won't lead _him_ intomischief any more. "

"Attlay, then; and what do you say to Brooking?"

"No, again, " said Eric; "he's a blackguard. "

"I wonder you haven't mentioned Duncan, " said Wildney. 

"Duncan! why, my dear child, you might as well ask Owen, or even oldRose, at once. Bless you, Charlie, he's a great deal too correct tocome now. "

"Well; we've got six already, that's quite enough. "

"Yes; but two fowls isn't enough for six hungry boys. "

"No, it isn't, " said Wildney. He thought a little, and then, clappinghis hands, danced about and said, "Are you game for a _regular_lark, Eric?"

"Yes; anything to make it less dull. I declare I've very nearly beentaking to work again to fill up the time. "

Eric often talked now of work in this slighting way partly as an excusefor the low places in form to which he was gradually sinking. Everybodyknew that had he properly exerted his abilities he was capable ofbeating almost any boy; so, to quiet his conscience, he professed toridicule diligence as an unboyish piece of muffishness, and was neverslow to sneer at the "grinders, " as he contemptuously called all thosewho laid themselves out to win school distinctions. 

"Ha, ha!" said Wildney, "that's rather good! No, Eric, it's too late foryou to turn 'grinder' now. I might as well think of doing it myself, andI've never been higher than five from lag in my form yet. "

"Haven't you? But what's the regular lark you hinted at?"

"Why, we'll go and seize the Gordonites' _pigeons_, and make anotherdish of them. "

"Seize the Gordonites' pigeons! Why, when do you mean?"

"To-night. "

Eric gave a long whistle. "But wouldn't it be st--t--?"

"Stealing?" said Wildney, with a loud laugh. "Pooh! '_convey_ the wisecall it. '"

But Eric still looked serious. "Why, my dear old boy, " continuedWildney, "the Gordonites'll be the first to laugh at the trick when wetell them of it next morning, as of course we will do. There, now, don'tlook grumpy. I shall cut away and arrange it with. Graham, and tell youthe whole dodge ready prepared to-night at bed-time. "

After lights were put out, Wildney came up to the study according topromise, and threw out hints about the proposed plan. He didn't tell itplainly, because Duncan was there, but Duncan caught enough to guesswhat was intended, and said, when Wildney had gone--

"Take my advice, and have nothing to do with this, Eric. "

Eric had grown very touchy lately about advice, particularly from anyfellow of his own standing; and after the checks he had recentlyreceived, a coolness had sprung up between him and nearly all thestudy-boys, which made him more than ever inclined to assert hisindependence, and defy and thwart them in every way. 

"Keep your advice to yourself, Duncan, till it's asked for, " heanswered, roughly. "You've done nothing but _advise_ lately, and I'mrather sick of it. "

"Comme vous voulez, " replied Duncan, with a shrug. "Gang your own gait;I'll have nothing more to do with trying to stop you, since you _will_ruin yourself. "

Nothing more was said in the study that evening, and when Eric went downhe didn't even bid Duncan goodnight. 

"Charlie, " he said, as he stole on tiptoe into Wildney's dormitory. 

"Hush!" whispered Wildney, "the other fellows are asleep. Come and sitby my bedside, and I'll tell you what we're going to do. "

Eric went and sat by him, and he sat up in his bed "First of all, _you're_ to keep awake till twelve to-night, " he whispered; "oldRowley'll have gone round by that time, and it'll be all safe. Then comeand awake me again, and I'll watch till one, Pietrie till two, andGraham till three. Then Graham'll awake us all, and we'll dress. "

"Very well. But how will you get the key of the lavatory?"

"Oh, I'll manage that, " said Wildney, chuckling. "But come again andawake me at twelve, will you?"

Eric went to his room and lay down, but he didn't take off his clothes, for fear he should go to sleep. Dr. Rowlands came round as usual ateleven, and then Eric closed his eyes for a few minutes, till thehead-master had disappeared. After that he lay awake thinking for anhour, but his thoughts weren't very pleasant. 

At twelve he went and awoke Wildney. 

"I don't feel very sleepy. Shall I sit with you for your hour, Charlie?"

"Oh, do! I should like it of all things. But douse the glim there; weshan't want it, and it might give the alarm. "

"All right. "

So Eric went and sat by his dangerous little friend, and they talked inlow voices until they heard the great school clock strike one. They thenwoke Pietrie, and Eric went off to bed again. 

At three Graham awoke him, and dressing hastily, he joined the others inthe lavatory. 

"Now, I'm going to get the key, " said Wildney, "and mean to have astomach-ache for the purpose. "

Laughing quietly he went up to the door of Mr. Harley's bed-room, whichopened out of the lavatory, and knocked. 

No answer. He knocked a little louder. Still no answer. Louder still. 

"Bother the fellow, " said Wildney; "he sleeps like a grampus. Won't oneof you try to wake him?"

"No, " said Graham; "'taint dignified for fifth-form boys to havestomach-aches. "

"Well, I must try again. " But it seemed no use knocking, and Wildney atlast, in a fit of impatience, thumped a regular tattoo on thebed-room door. 

"Who's there?" said the startled voice of Mr. Harley. 

"Only me, sir!" answered Wildney, in a mild and innocent way. 

"What do you want?"

"Please, sir, I want the key of the lavatory. I'm indisposed, " saidWildney again, in a tone of such disciplined suavity, that the othersshook with laughing. 

Mr. Harley opened the door about an inch, and peered about suspiciously. 

"Oh, well, you must go and awake Mr. Rose. I don't happen to have thekey to-night. " And so saying, he shut the door. 

"Phew! Here's a go!" said Wildney, recovering immediately. "It'll neverdo to awake old Rose. He'd smell a rat in no time. "

"I have it, " said Pietrie. "I've got an old nail, with which I believe Ican open the lock quite simply. Let's try. "

"Quietly and quick, then, " said Eric. 

In ten minutes he had silently shot back the lock with the old nail, andthe boys were on the landing. They carried their shoes in their hands, ran noiselessly down stairs, and went to the same window at which Ericand Wildney had got out before. Wildney had taken care beforehand tobreak the pane and move away the glass, so they had only to loosen thebar and slip through one by one. 

It was cold and very dark, and as on the March morning they stood outin the playground, all four would rather have been safe and harmlesslyin bed. But the novelty and the excitement of the enterprise bore themup, and they started off quickly for the house at which Mr. Gordon andhis pupils lived, which was about half a mile from the school. They wentarm in arm to assure each other a little, for at first in their frightthey were inclined to take every post and tree for a man in ambush, andto hear a recalling voice in every sound of wind and wave. 

Not far from Mr. Gordon's was a carpenter's shop, and outside of thisthere was generally a ladder standing. They had arranged to carry thisladder with them (as it was only a short one), climb the low garden wallwith it, and then place it against the house, immediately under thedovecot which hung by the first story-windows. Wildney, as the lightestof the four, was to take the birds, while the others held the ladder. 

Slanting it so that it should be as far from the side of the window aspossible, Wildney ascended and thrust both hands into the cot. Hesucceeded in seizing a pigeon with each hand, but in doing so threw theother birds into a state of such alarm that they fluttered about in thewildest manner, and the moment his hands were withdrawn, flew out with agreat flapping of hurried wings. 

The noise they made alarmed the plunderer, and he hurried down theladder as fast as he could. He handed the pigeons to the others, whoinstantly wrung their necks. 

"I'm nearly sure I heard somebody stir, " said Wildney; "we haven't beenhalf quiet enough. Here! let's crouch down in this corner. "

All four shrank up as close to the wall as they could, and held theirbreath. Some one was certainly stirring, and at last they heard thewindow open. A head was thrust out, and Mr. Gordon's voice askedsternly--"Who's there?"

He seemed at once to have caught sight of the ladder, and made anendeavor to reach it; but though he stretched out his arm at fulllength, he could not do so. 

"We must cut for it, " said Eric; "it's quite too dark for him to see us, or even to notice that we are boys. "

They moved the ladder to the wall, and sprang over, one after the other, as fast as they could. Eric was last, and just as he got to the top ofthe wall he heard the back door open, and some one run out intothe yard. 

"Run for your lives, " said Eric hurriedly; "it's Gordon, and he'sraising the alarm. "

They heard footsteps following them, and an occasional shout of"thieves! thieves!"

"We must separate and run different ways, or we've no chance of escape. We'd better turn towards the town to put them off the right scent, " saidEric again. 

"Don't leave me, " pleaded Wildney; "you know I can't run very fast. "

"No, Charlie, I won't;" and grasping his hand, Eric hurried him over thestyle and through the fields, while Pietrie and Graham took the oppositedirection. 

Some one (they did not know who it was, but suspected it to be Mr. Gordon's servant-man) was running after them, and they could distinctlyhear his footsteps, which seemed to be half a field distant. He carrieda light, and they heard him panting. They were themselves tired, and inthe utmost trepidation; the usually courageous Wildney was trembling allover, and his fear communicated itself to Eric. Horrible visions of atrial for burglary, imprisonment in the castle jail, and perhapstransportation, presented themselves to their excited imaginations, asthe sound of the footsteps came nearer. 

"I can't run any further, Eric, " said Wildney. "What shall we do? don'tleave me, for heaven's sake. "

"Not I, Charlie. We must hide the minute we get t'other side of thishedge. "

They scrambled over the gate, and plunged into the thickest part of aplantation close by, lying down on the ground behind some bushes, andkeeping as still as they could, taking care to cover over theirwhite collars. 

The pursuer reached the gate, and no longer hearing footsteps in frontof him, he paused. He went a little distance up the hedge on both sidesand held up his light, but did not detect the cowering boys, and at lastgiving up the search in despair, went slowly home. They heard himplodding back over the field, and it was not until the sound of hisfootsteps had died away, that Eric cautiously broke cover, and lookedover the hedge. He saw the man's light gradually getting more distant, and said, "All right now, Charlie. We must make the best of ourway home. "

"Are you sure he's gone?" said Wildney, who had not yet recovered fromhis fright. 

"Quite; come along. I only hope Pietrie and Graham ain't caught. "

They got back about half-past four, and climbed in unheard andundetected through the window pane. They then stole up stairs withbeating hearts, and sat in Eric's room to wait for the other two. Totheir great relief they heard them enter the lavatory about tenminutes after. 

"Were you twigged?" asked Wildney eagerly. 

"No, " said Graham; "precious near it though. Old Gordon and some menwere after us, but at last we doubled rather neatly, and escaped them. It's all serene, and we shan't be caught. "

"Well, we'd best to bed now, " said Eric; "and, to my thinking, we shouldbe wise to keep a quiet tongue in our heads about this affair. "

"Yes, we had better tell _no one_. " They agreed, and went off to bedagain. So, next morning, they all four got up quite as if nothing hadhappened, and made no allusion to the preceding night, although, theycould not help chuckling inwardly a little when the Gordonites came tomorning school, brimful of a story about their house having beenattacked in the night by thieves, who, after bagging some pigeons, hadbeen chevied by Gordon and the servants. Wildney professed immenseinterest in the incident, and asked many questions, which showed thatthere was not a shadow of suspicion in any one's mind as to thereal culprits. 

Carter, the school servant, didn't seem to have noticed that thelavatory door was unlocked, and Mr. Harley never alluded again to hisdisturbance in the night. So the theft of the pigeons remainedundiscovered, and remains so till this day. If any old Roslyn boy readsthis veracious history, he will doubtless be astounded to hear that theburglars on that memorable night were Brio, Pietrie, Graham, and Wildney. 

CHAPTER VIII

SOWING THE WIND

 "Praepediuntur Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens, Nant oculi. "

 LUCR. Iii. 417. 

Next evening, when preparation began, Pietrie and Graham got everythingready for a carouse in their class-room. Wildney, relying on the chanceof names not being called over (which, was only done in case any one'sabsence was observed), had absented himself altogether from theboarders' room, and helped busily to spread the table for the banquet. The cook had roasted for them the fowls and pigeons, and Billy hadbrought an ample supply of beer and some brandy for the occasion. Alittle before eight o'clock everything was ready, and Eric, Attlay, andLlewellyn were summoned to join the rest. 

The fowls, pigeons, and beer had soon vanished, and the boys were in thehighest spirits. Eric's reckless gaiety was kindled by Wildney'sfrolicsome vivacity, and Graham's sparkling wit; they were all six in aroar of perpetual laughter at some fresh sally of fun elicited by themore phlegmatic natures of Attlay or Llewellyn, and the dainties ofWildney's parcel were accompanied by draughts of brandy and water, whichwere sometimes exchanged for potations of the raw liquor. It was not thefirst time, be it remembered, that the members of that young party hadbeen present at similar scenes, and even the scoundrel Billy wasastonished, and alarmed occasionally at the quantities of spirits andother inebriating drinks that of late had found their way to thestudies. The disgraceful and deadly habit of tippling had already toldphysically on both Eric and Wildney. The former felt painfully that hewas losing his clear-headedness, and that his intellectual tastes weregetting not only blunted but destroyed; and while he perceived inhimself the terrible effects of his sinful indulgence, he saw them stillmore indisputably in the gradual coarseness which seemed to bespreading, like a grey lichen, over the countenance, the mind, and themanners of his younger companion. Sometimes the vision of a Nemesisbreaking in fire out of his darkened future, terrified his guiltyconscience in the watches of the night; and the conviction of somefearful Erynnis, some discovery dawning out of the night of hisundetected sins, made his heart beat fast with agony and fear. But hefancied it too late to repent. He strangled the half-formed resolutionsas they rose, and trusted to the time when, by leaving school, he shouldescape, as he idly supposed, the temptations to which he had yielded. Meanwhile, the friends who would have rescued him had been alienated byhis follies, and the principles which might have preserved him had beeneradicated by his guilt. He had long flung away the shield of prayer, and the helmet of holiness, and the sword of the Spirit, which is theword of God; and now, unarmed and helpless, Eric stood alone, a mark forthe fiery arrows of his enemies, while, through the weakened inlet ofevery corrupted sense, temptation rushed in upon him perpetuallyand unawares. 

As the class-room they had selected was in a remote part of thebuilding, there was little immediate chance of detection. So thelaughter of the party grew louder and sillier; the talk more foolish andrandom; the merriment more noisy and meaningless. But still most of themmingled some sense of caution with their enjoyment, and warned Eric andWildney more than once that they must look out, and not take too muchthat night for fear of being caught. But it was Wildney's birth-day, andEric's boyish mirth, suppressed by his recent troubles, was blazing outunrestrained. In the riot of their feasting, the caution had beenutterly neglected, and the boys were far from being sober when the soundof the prayer-bell ringing through the great hall, startled them intomomentary consciousness. 

"Good heavens!" shouted Graham, springing up; "there's the prayer-bell;I'd no notion it was so late. Here, let's shove these brandy bottles andthings into the cupboards and drawers, and then we must run down. "

There was no time to lose. The least muddled of the party had clearedthe room in a moment, and then addressed themselves to the moredifficult task of trying to quiet Eric and Wildney, and conduct themsteadily into the prayer-room. 

Wildney's seat was near the door, so there was little difficulty ingetting him to his place comparatively unobserved. Llewellyn took him bythe arm, and after a little stumbling, helped him safely to his seat, where he assumed a look of preternatural gravity. But Eric sat near thehead of the first table, not far from Dr. Rowlands' desk, and none ofthe others had to go to that part of the room. Graham grasped his armtight, led him carefully down stairs, and, as they were reaching thedoor, said to him, in a most earnest and imploring tone--"Do try andwalk sensibly to your place, Eric, or we shall all be caught. "

It was rather late when they got down. Everybody was quietly seated, andmost of the Bibles were already open, although the Doctor had not yetcome in. Consequently, the room was still, and the entrance of Grahamand Eric after the rest attracted general notice. Eric had just senseenough to try and assume his ordinary manner; but he was too giddy withthe fumes of drink to walk straight, or act naturally. 

Vernon was sitting next to Wright, and stared at his brother with greateyes and open lips. He was not the only observer. 

"Wright, " whispered he, in a timid voice; "just see how Eric walks. Whatcan be the matter with him? Good gracious, he must be ill!" he said, starting up, as Eric suddenly made a great stagger to one side, andnearly fell in the attempt to recover himself. 

Wright pulled the little boy down with a firm hand. 

"Hush!" he whispered; "take no notice; he's been drinking, Verny, and Ifear he'll be caught. "

Vernon instantly sat down, and turned deadly pale. He thought, and hehad hoped, that since the day at the "Jolly Herring, " his brother hadabandoned all such practices, for Eric had been most careful to concealfrom him the worst of his failings. And now he trembled violently withfear for his discovery, and horror at his disgraceful condition. 

The sound of Eric's unsteady footsteps had made Mr. Rose quickly raisehis head; but at the same moment Duncan hastily made room for the boyon the seat beside him, and held out his hand to assist him. It was notEric's proper place; but Mr. Rose, after one long look of astonishment, looked down at his book again, and said nothing. 

It made other hearts besides Vernon's ache to see the unhappy boy rollto his place in that helpless way. 

Dr. Rowlands came in, and prayers commenced. When they were finished, the names were called, and Eric, instead of quietly answering his"adsum, " as he should have done, stood up, with a foolish look, andsaid, "Yes, Sir. " The head master looked at him for a minute; the boy'sglassy eyes, and jocosely stupid appearance, told an unmistakable tale;but Dr. Rowlands only remarked, "Williams, you don't look well. You hadbetter go at once to bed. "

It was hopeless for Eric to attempt getting along without help, soDuncan at once got up, took him by the arm, and with much difficulty(for Eric staggered at every step) conducted him to his bed-room. 

Wildney's condition was also too evident; and Mr. Rose, while walking upand down the dormitories, had no doubt left on his mind that both Ericand Wildney had been drinking. But he made no remarks to them, andmerely went to the Doctor to talk over the steps which were to be taken. 

"I shall summon the school, " said Dr. Rowlands, "on Monday, and by thattime we will decide on the punishment. Expulsion, I fear, is the onlycourse open to us. "

"Is not that a _very_ severe line to take?"

"Perhaps; but the offence is of the worst character I must consider thematter. "

"Poor Williams!" sighed Mr. Rose, as he left the room. 

The whole of the miserable Sunday that followed was spent by Eric andhis companions in vain inquiries and futile restlessness. It seemedclear that two of them at least were detected, and they wereinexpressibly wretched with anxiety and suspense. Wildney, who had tostay in bed, was even more depressed; his head ached violently, and hewas alone with his own terrified thoughts. He longed for the morrow, that at least he might have the poor consolation of knowing his fate. Noone came near him all day. Eric wished to do so, but as he could nothave visited the room without express leave, the rest dissuaded him fromasking, lest he should excite further suspicion. His apparent neglectmade poor Wildney even more unhappy, for Wildney loved Eric as much asit was possible for his volatile mind to love any one; and it seemedhard to be deserted in the moment of disgrace and sorrow by so closea friend. 

At school the next morning the various masters read out to their forms anotice from Dr. Rowlands, that the whole school were to meet at ten inthe great schoolroom. The object of the summons was pretty clearlyunderstood; and few boys had any doubt that it had reference to thedrinking on Saturday night. Still nothing had been _said_ on the subjectas yet; and every guilty heart among those 250 boys beat fast lest _his_sin too should have been discovered, and he should be called out forsome public and heavy punishment. 

The hour arrived. The boys thronging into the great school-room, tooktheir places according to their respective forms. The masters in theircaps and gowns were all seated on a small semicircular bench at theupper end of the room, and in the centre of them, before a small table, sate Dr. Rowlands. 

The sound of whispering voices sank to a dead and painful hush. Theblood was tingling consciously in many cheeks, and not even a breathcould be heard in the deep expectation of that anxious andsolemn moment. 

Dr. Rowlands spread before him the list of the school, and said, "Ishall first read out the names of the boys in the first-fifth, andupper-fourth forms. "

This was done to ascertain formally whether the boys were present onwhose account the meeting was convened; and it at once told Eric andWildney that _they_ were the boys to be punished, and that the othershad escaped. 

The names were called over, and an attentive observer might have told, from the sound of the boys' voices as they answered, which of them wereafflicted with a troubled conscience. 

Another slight pause, and breathless hush. 

"Eric Williams and Charles Wildney, stand forward. "

The boys obeyed. From his place in the fifth, where he was sitting withhis head propped on his hand, Eric rose and advanced; and Wildney, fromthe other end of the room, where the younger boys sat, getting up, cameand stood by his side. 

Both of them fixed their eyes on the ground, whence they never onceraised them; and in the deadly pallor of their haggard faces, you couldscarcely have recognized the joyous high-spirited friends, whose laughand shout had often rung so merrily through the play-ground, and wokethe echoes of the rocks along the shore. Every eye was on them, andthey were conscious of it, though they could not see it--painfullyconscious of it, so that they wished the very ground to yawn beneaththeir feet for the moment, and swallow up their shame. Companionship indisgrace increased the suffering; had either of them been alone, hewould have been less acutely sensible to the trying nature of hisposition; but that they, so different in their ages and position in theschool, should thus have their friendship and the results of itblazoned, or rather branded, before their friends and enemies addedkeenly to the misery they felt. So, with eyes bent on the floor, Ericand Charlie awaited their sentence. 

"Williams and Wildney, " said Dr. Rowlands in a solemn voice, of whichevery articulation thrilled to the heart of every hearer, "you have beendetected in a sin most disgraceful and most dangerous. On Saturday nightyou were both drinking, and you were guilty of such gross excess, thatyou were neither of you in a fit state to appear among yourcompanions--least of all to appear among them at the hour of prayer. Ishall not waste many words on an occasion like this; only I trust thatthose of your schoolfellows who saw you staggering and rolling into theroom on Saturday evening in a manner so unspeakably shameful anddegrading, will learn from that melancholy sight the lesson which theSpartans taught their children by exhibiting a drunkard before them--thelesson of the brutalising and fearful character of this most ruinousvice. Eric Williams and Charles Wildney, your punishment will be publicexpulsion, for which you will prepare this very evening. I am unwillingthat for a single day either of you--especially the elder ofyou--should linger, so as possibly to contaminate others with the dangerof so pernicious an example. "

Such a sentence was wholly unexpected; it took boys and masters equallyby surprise. The announcement of it caused an uneasy sensation, whichwas evident to all present, though no one spoke a word; but Dr. Rowlandstook no notice of it, and only said to the culprits--

"You may return to your seats. "

The two boys found their way back instinctively, they hardly knew how. They seemed confounded and thunderstruck by their sentence, and thepainful accessories of its publicity. Eric leaned over the desk with hishead resting on a book, too stunned even to think; and Wildney lookedstraight before him with his eyes fixed in a stupid andunobserved stare. 

Form by form the school dispersed, and the moment he was liberated Ericsprang away from the boys, who would have spoken to him, and rushedwildly to his study, where he locked the door. In a moment, however, here-opened it, for he heard Wildney's step, and, after admitting him, locked it once more. 

Without a word Wildney, who looked very pale, flung his arms roundEric's neck, and, unable to bear up any longer, burst into a flood oftears. Both of them felt relief in giving the reins to their sorrow. 

"O my father! my father!" sobbed Wildney at length. "What will he say?He will disown me, I know; he is so stern always with me when he thinksI bring disgrace on him. "

Eric thought of Fairholm, and of his own far-distant parents, and of thepang which _his_ disgrace would cause their loving hearts; but he couldsay nothing, and only stroked Wildney's dark hair again and again witha soothing hand. 

They sat there long, hardly knowing how the time passed; Eric could nothelp thinking how very, very different their relative positions mighthave been; how, while he might have been aiding and ennobling the youngboy beside him, he had alternately led and followed him into wickednessand disgrace. His heart was full of misery and bitterness, and he feltalmost indifferent to all the future, and weary of his life. 

A loud knocking at the door disturbed them. It was Carter, the schoolservant. 

"You must pack up to go this evening, young gentlemen. "

"O no! no! no!" exclaimed Wildney; "_cannot_ be sent away like this. Itwould break my father's heart. Eric, _do_ come and entreat Dr. Rowlandsto forgive us only this once. "

"Yes, " said Eric, starting up with sudden energy; "he _shall_ forgiveus--_you_ at any rate. I will not leave him till he does. Cheer up, Charlie, cheer up, and come along. "

Filled with an irresistible impulse, he pushed Carter aside, and sprangdown stairs three steps at a time, with Wildney following him. They wentstraight for the Doctor's study, and without waiting for the answer totheir knock at the door, Eric walked up to Dr. Rowlands, who satethinking in his arm-chair by the fire, and burst out passionately, "Osir, forgive us this once. "

The Doctor was completely taken by surprise, so sudden was theintrusion, and so intense was the boy's manner. He remained silent amoment from astonishment, and then said with asperity--

"Your offence is one of the most dangerous possible. There could be nomore perilous example for the school, than the one you have beensetting, Williams. Leave the room, " he added, with an authoritativegesture, "my mind is made up. "

But Eric was too excited to be overawed by the master's manner; animperious passion blinded him to all ordinary considerations, and, heedless of the command, he broke out again--

"O sir, try me but once, _only_ try me. I promise you most faithfullythat I will never again commit the sin. O sir, do, do trust me, and Iwill be responsible for Wildney too. "

Dr. Rowlands, seeing that in Eric's present mood he must and would beheard, unless he were ejected by actual force, began to pace silently upand down the room in perplexed and anxious thought; at last he stoppedand turned over the pages of a thick school register, and foundEric's name. 

"It is not your first offence, Williams, even of this very kind. Thatmost seriously aggravates your fault. "

"O sir! give us one more chance to mend. O, I feel that I _could_ dosuch great things, if you will be but merciful, and give me time tochange. O, I entreat you, sir, to forgive us only this once, and I willnever ask again. Let us bear _any_ other punishment but this. O sir, " hesaid, approaching the doctor in an imploring attitude, "spare us thisone time for the sake of our friends. "

The head-master made no reply for a time, but again paced the room insilence. He was touched, and seemed hardly able to restrain his emotion. 

"It was my deliberate conclusion to expel you, Williams. I must notweakly yield to entreaty. You must go. "

Eric wrung his hands in agony. "O, sir, then, if you must do so, expelme only, and not Charlie, _I_ can bear it, but do not let me ruin himalso. O I implore you, sir, for the love of God do, do forgive him. Itis I who have misled him;" and he flung himself on his knees, and liftedhis hands entreatingly towards the Doctor. 

Dr. Rowlands looked at him--at his blue eyes drowned with tears, hisagitated gesture, his pale, expressive face, full of passionatesupplication. He looked at Wildney, too, who stood trembling with a lookof painful and miserable suspense, and occasionally added his wild wordof entreaty, or uttered sobs more powerful still, that seemed to comefrom the depth of his heart. He was shaken in his resolve, wavered for amoment, and then once more looked at the register. 

"Yes, " he said, after a long pause, "here is an entry which shall saveyou this time. I find written here against your name, 'April 3. Riskedhis life in the endeavor to save Edwin Russell at the Stack. ' That onegood and noble deed shall be the proof that you are capable of betterthings. It may be weak perhaps--I know that it will be called weak--andI do not feel certain that I am doing right; but if I err it shall be onthe side of mercy. I shall change expulsion into some other punishment. You may go. "

Wildney's face lighted up as suddenly and joyously as when a ray ofsun-light gleams for an instant out of a dark cloud. 

"O thank you, thank you, sir, " he exclaimed, drying his eyes, andpouring into the words a world of expression, which it was no lightpleasure to have heard. But Eric spoke less impulsively, and while thetwo boys were stammering out their deep gratitude, a timid hand knockedat the door, and Vernon entered. 

"I have come, sir, to speak for poor Eric, " he said in a low voice, andtrembling with emotion, as, with downcast eyes, he modestly approachedtowards Dr. Rowlands, not even observing the presence of the others inthe complete absorption of his feelings. He stood in a sorrowfulattitude, not venturing to look up, and his hand played nervously withthe ribbon of his straw hat. 

"I have just forgiven him, my little boy, " said the Doctor kindly, patting his stooping head; "there he is, and he has been speakingfor himself. "

"O, Eric, I am so, so glad, I don't know what to say for joy. O Eric, thank God that you are not to be expelled;" and Vernon went to hisbrother, and embraced him with the deepest affection. 

Dr. Rowlands watched the scene with moist eyes. He was generally a manof prompt decision, and he well knew that he would incur by this act thecharge of vacillation. It was a noble self-denial in him to be willingto do so, but it would have required an iron heart to resist suchearnest supplications, and he was more than repaid when he saw how muchanguish he had removed by yielding to their entreaties. 

Once more humbly expressing their gratitude, the boys retired. 

They did not know that other influences had been also exerted in theirfavor, which, although ineffectual at the time, had tended to alter theDoctor's intention. Immediately after school Mr. Rose had been stronglyendeavoring to change the Doctor's mind, and had dwelt forcibly on allthe good points in Eric's character, and the promise of his earliercareer. And Montagu had gone with Owen and Duncan to beg that theexpulsion might be commuted into some other punishment. They had failedto convince him; but, perhaps, had they not thus exerted themselves, Dr. Rowlands might have been unshaken, though he could not be unmoved byVernon's gentle intercession and Eric's passionate prayers. 

Wildney, full of joy, and excited by the sudden revulsion of feeling, only shook Eric's hand with all his might, and then darted out into theplayground to announce the happy news. The boys all flocked round him, and received the intelligence with unmitigated pleasure. Among them allthere was not one who did not rejoice that Eric and Wildney were yet tocontinue of their number. 

But the two brothers returned to the study, and there, sorrowful in hispenitence, with his heart still aching with remorse, Eric sat down on achair facing the window, and drew Vernon to his side. The sun wassetting behind the purple hills, flooding the green fields and silversea with the crimson of his parting rays. The air was fall of peace andcoolness, and the merry sounds of the cricket field blended joyouslywith the whisper of the evening breeze. Eric was fond of beauty in everyshape, and his father had early taught him a keen appreciation of theglories of nature. He had often gazed before on that splendid scene, ashe was new gazing on it thoughtfully with his brother by his side. Helooked long and wistfully at the gorgeous pageantry of quiet clouds, and passed his arm more fondly round Vernon's shoulder. 

"What are you thinking of, Eric? Why, I declare you are crying still, "said Vernon playfully, as he wiped a tear which had overflowed on hisbrother's cheek, "aren't you glad that the Doctor has forgiven you?"

"Gladder, far gladder than I can say, Verny. O Verny, Verny, I hope yourschool-life may be happier than mine has been. I would give up all Ihave, Verny, to have kept free from the sins I have learnt. God grantthat I may yet have time and space to do better. "

"Let us pray together, Eric, " whispered his brother reverently, and theyknelt down and prayed; they prayed for their distant parents andfriends; they prayed for their schoolfellows and for each other, and forWildney, and they thanked God for all his goodness to them; and thenEric poured out his heart in a fervent prayer that a holier and happierfuture might atone for his desecrated past, and that his sins might beforgiven for his Saviour's sake. 

The brothers rose from their knees calmer and more light-hearted, andgave each other a solemn affectionate kiss, before they went down againto the play-ground. But they avoided the rest of the boys, and took astroll together along the sands, talking quietly, and happily, andhoping bright hopes for future days. 

CHAPTER IX

WHOM THE GODS LOVE DIE YOUNG

 "Oh is it weed, or fish, or floating hair? A tress of maiden's hair, Of drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea?"--KINGSLEY. 

Eric and Wildney were flogged and confined to gates for a time insteadof being expelled, and they both bore the punishment in a manly andpenitent way, and set themselves with all their might to repair theinjury which their characters had received. Eric, especially, seemed tobe devoting himself with every energy to regain, if possible, his longlost position, and by the altered complexion of his remainingschool-life, to atone in some poor measure for its earlier sins. And hecarried Wildney with him, influencing others also of his late companionsin a greater or less degree. It was not Eric's nature to do things byhalves, and it became obvious to all that his exertions to resist andabandon his old temptations were strenuous and unwavering. He could nolonger hope for the school distinctions, which would have once lain soeasily within his reach, for the ground lost during weeks of idlenesscannot be recovered by a wish; but he succeeded sufficiently, by dint ofdesperately hard work, to acquit himself with considerable credit, andin the Easter examination came out sufficiently high, to secure hisremove into the sixth form after the holidays. 

He felt far happier in the endeavor to fulfill his duty, than he hadever done during the last years of recklessness and neglect, and thechange for the better in his character tended to restore unanimity andgood will to the school. Eric no longer headed the party which made apoint of ridiculing and preventing industry; and, sharing as he did thesympathy of nearly all the boys, he was able quietly and unobtrusivelyto calm down the jealousies and allay the heartburnings which had for solong a time brought discord and disunion into the school society. Cheerfulness and unanimity began to prevail once more at Roslyn, andEric had the intense happiness of seeing how much good lay still withinhis power. 

So the Easter holidays commenced with promise, and the few first daysglided away in innocent enjoyments. Eric was now reconciled again toOwen and Duncan, and, therefore, had a wider choice of companions moretruly congenial to his high nature than the narrow circle of his lateassociates. 

"What do you say to a boat excursion to-morrow?" asked Duncan, as theychatted together one evening. 

"I won't go without leave, " said Eric; "I should only get caught, andget into another mess. Besides, I feel myself pledged now to strictobedience. "

"Ay, you're quite right. We'll get leave easily enough though, providedwe agree to take Jim the boatman with us; so I vote we make up a party. "

"By the bye, I forgot; I'm engaged to Wildney to-morrow. "

"Never mind. Bring him with you, and Graham too, if you like. "

"Most gladly, " said Eric, really pleased; for he saw by this that Duncanobserved the improvement in his old friends, and was falling in with theendeavor to make all the boys really cordial to each other, and destroyall traces of the late factions. 

"Do you mind my bringing Montagu?"

"Not at all. Why should I?" answered Eric, with a slight blush. Montaguand he had never been formally reconciled, nor had they, as yet, spokento each other. Indeed Duncan had purposely planned the excursion to givethem an opportunity of becoming friends once more, by being throwntogether. He knew well that they both earnestly wished it, although, with the natural shyness of boys, they hardly knew how to set abouteffecting it. Montagu hung back lest he should seem to be patronising afallen enemy, and Eric lest he should have sinned too deeply tobe forgiven. 

The next morning dawned gloriously, and it was agreed that they shouldmeet at Starhaven, the point where they were to get the boat, at teno'clock. As they had supposed, Dr. Rowlands gave a ready consent to therow, on condition of their being accompanied by the experienced sailorwhom the boys called Jim. The precaution was by no means unnecessary, for the various currents which ran round the island were violent atcertain stages of the tide, and extremely dangerous for any who were notaware of their general course. 

Feeling that the day would pass off very unpleasantly if any feeling ofrestraint remained between him and Montagu, Eric, by a strong effort, determined to "make up with him" before starting, and went into hisstudy for that purpose after breakfast. Directly he came in, Montagujumped up and welcomed him cordially, and when, without any allusion tothe past, the two shook hands with all warmth, and looked the old proudlook into each other's faces, they felt once more that their formeraffection was unimpaired, and that in heart they were real and lovingfriends. Most keenly did they both enjoy the renewed intercourse, andthey found endless subjects to talk about on their way to Starhaven, where the others were already assembled when they came. 

With Jim's assistance they shoved a boat into the water, and sprang intoit in the highest spirits. Just as they were pushing off they saw Wrightand Vernon running down to the shore towards them, and they waited tosee what they wanted. "Couldn't you take us with you?" asked Vernon, breathless with his run. 

"I'm afraid not, Verny, " said Montagu; "the boat won't hold more thansix, will it, Jim?"

"No, sir, not safely. "

"Never mind, you shall have my place, Verny, " said Eric, as he saw hisbrother's disappointed look. 

"Then Wright shall take mine, " said Wildney. 

"O dear no, " said Wright, "we wouldn't turn you out for the world. Vernon and I will take an immense walk down the coast instead, and willmeet you here as we come back. "

"Well, good bye, then; off we go;" and with light hearts the boaters andthe pedestrians parted. 

Eric, Graham, Duncan, and Montagu took the first turn at the oars, whileWildney steered. Graham's "crabs, " and Wildney's rather crookedsteering, gave plenty of opportunity for chaff, and they were full offun as the oar-blades splashed and sparkled in the waves. Then they madeJim sing them some of his old sailor songs as they rowed, and joinedvigorously in the choruses. They had arranged to make straight for St. Catherine's Head, and land somewhere near it to choose a place for theirpic-nic. It took them nearly two hours to get there, as they rowedleisurely, and enjoyed the luxury of the vernal air. It was one of thesunniest days of early spring; the air was pure and delicious, and thecalm sea breeze, just strong enough to make the sea flame and glister inthe warm sunlight, was exhilarating as new wine. Underneath them thewater was transparent as crystal, and far below they could see the greenand purple sea-weeds rising like a many-colored wood, through whichoccasionally they saw a fish, startled by their oars, dart like anarrow. The sky overhead was a cloudless blue, and as they kept not farfrom shore, the clearly cut outline of the coast, with its rocks andhills standing out in the vivid atmosphere, made a glowing picture, towhich the golden green of the spring herbage, bathed in its morningsunlight, lent the magic of enchantment. Who could have been otherwisethan happy in such a scene and at such a time? but these were boys withthe long bright holiday before them, and happiness is almost too quiet aword to express the bounding exultation of heart, the royal and tinglingsense of vigorous life, which made them shout and sing, as their boatrustled through the ripples, from a mere instinct of inexpressibleenjoyment. 

They had each contributed some luxury to the pic-nic, and it made a verytempting display as they spread it out, under a sunny pebbled cave, bySt. Catherine's Head; although, instead of anything more objectionable, they had thought it best to content themselves with a very moderatequantity of beer. When they had done eating, they amused themselves onthe shore; and had magnificent games among the rocks, and in everyfantastic nook of the romantic promontory. And then Eric suggested abathe to wind up with, as it was the first day when it had been quitewarm enough to make bathing pleasant. 

"But we've got no towels. "

"Oh! chance the towels. We can run about till we're dry. " So theybathed, and then getting in the boat to row back again, they all agreedthat it was the very jolliest day they'd ever had at Roslyn, and votedto renew the experiment before the holidays were over, and take Wrightand Vernon with them in a larger boat. 

It was afternoon, --and afternoon still warm and beautiful, --when theybegan to row home; so they took it quietly, and kept near the land forvariety's sake, laughing, joking, and talking as merrily as ever. 

"I declare I think this is the prettiest or anyhow the grandest bit ofthe whole coast, " said Eric, as they neared a glen through whose narrowgorge a green and garrulous little river gambolled down with noisyturbulence into the sea. He might well admire that glen; its steep andrugged sides were veiled with lichens, moss, and wild-flowers, and thesea-birds found safe refuge in its lonely windings, which were coloredwith topaz and emerald by the pencillings of nature and the richstains of time. 

"Yes, " answered Montagu, "_I_ always stick up for Avon Glen as thefinest scene we've got about here. But, I say, who's that gesticulatingon the rock there to the right of it? I verily believe it's Wright, apostrophising the ocean for Vernon's benefit. I only see one ofthem though. "

"I bet you he's spouting

 'Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean--roll! Ten thousand fleets, etc. '"

said Graham laughing. 

"What do you say to putting in to shore there?" said Duncan; "it's onlytwo miles to Starhaven, and I dare say we could make shift to take themin for that distance. If Jim says anything we'll chuck him overboard. "

They rowed towards Avon Glen, and to their surprise Wright, who stoodthere alone (for with a pocket telescope they clearly made out that it_was_ Wright), still continued to wave his arms and beckon them in amanner which they at first thought ridiculous, but which soon make themfeel rather uneasy. Jim took an oar, and they soon got within twohundred yards of the beach. Wright had ceased to make signals, butappeared to be shouting to them, and pointing towards one corner of theglen; but though they caught the sound of his voice they could not hearwhat he said. 

"I wonder why Vernon isn't with him, " said Eric anxiously; "I hope--why, what _are_ you looking at, Charlie?"

"What's that in the water there?" said Wildney, pointing in thedirection to which Wright was also looking. 

Montagu snatched the telescope out of his hand and looked. "Good God!"he exclaimed, turning pale; "what can be the matter?"

"O _do_ let me look, " said Eric. 

"No! stop, stop, Eric, you'd better not, I think; pray don't, it may beall a mistake. You'd better not--but it looked--nay, you really_mustn't, _ Eric, " he said, and, as if accidentally, he let the telescopefall into the water, and they saw it sink down among the seaweeds atthe bottom. 

Eric looked at him reproachfully. "What's the fun of that, Monty? youlet it drop on purpose. "

"O never mind; I'll get Wildney another. I really daren't let you look, for fear you should _fancy_ the same as I did, for it must be fancy. O_don't_ let us put in there--at least not all of us. "

What _was_ that thing in the water?--When Wright and Vernon left theothers, they walked along the coast, following the direction of theboat, and agreed to amuse themselves in collecting eggs. They were verysuccessful, and, to their great delight, managed to secure some ratherrare specimens. When they had tired themselves with this pursuit, theylay on the summit of one of the cliffs which formed the sides of AvonGlen, and Wright, who was very fond of poetry, read Vernon a canto ofMarmion with great enthusiasm. 

So they whiled away the morning, and when the canto was over, Vernontook a great stone and rolled it for amusement over the cliff's edge. Itthundered over the side, bounding down till it reached the strand, and alarge black cormorant, startled by the reverberating echoes, rose upsuddenly, and flapped its way with protruded neck to a rock on thefurther side of the little bay. 

"I bet you that animal's got a nest somewhere near here, " said Vernoneagerly. "Come, let's have a look for it; a cormorant's egg would be ajolly addition to our collection. "

They got up, and looking down the face of the cliff, saw, some eightfeet below them, a projection half hidden by the branch of a tree, onwhich the scattered pieces of stick clearly showed the existence of arude nest. They could not, however, see whether it contained eggs or no. 

"I must bag that nest; it's pretty sure to have eggs in it, " saidVernon, "and I can get at it easy enough. " He immediately began todescend towards the place where the nest was built, but he found itharder than he expected. 

"Hallo, " he said, "this is a failure. I must climb up again toreconnoitre if there isn't a better dodge for getting at it. " He reachedthe top, and, looking down, saw a plan of reaching the ledge whichpromised more hope of success. 

"You'd better give it up, Verny, " said Wright. "I'm sure it's harderthan we fancied, _I_ couldn't manage it, I know. "

"O no, Wright, never say die. Look; if I get down more towards the rightthe way's plain enough, and I shall have reached the nest in no time. "Again his descended in a different direction, but again he failed. Thenest could only be seen from the top, and he had lost the right route. 

"You must keep more to the right. "

"I know, " answered Vernon; "but, bother take it, I can't manage it, nowI'm so far down. I must climb up _again_. "

"_Do_ give it up, Verny, there's a good fellow. You _can't_ reach it, and really it's dangerous. "

"O no, not a bit of it. My head's very steady, and I feel as cool aspossible. We mustn't give up; I've only to get at the tree, and then Ishall be able to reach the nest from it quite easily. "

"Well, do take care, that's a dear fellow. "

"Never fear, " said Vernon, who was already commencing his third attempt. This time he got to the tree, and placed his foot on a part of the root, while with his hands he clung on to a clump of heather. "Hurrah!" hecried, "it's got two eggs in it, Wright;" and he stretched downwards totake them. Just as he was doing so, he heard the root on which his footrested give a great crack, and with a violent start he made a spring forone of the lower branches. The motion caused his whole weight to restfor an instant on his arms;--unable to sustain the wrench, the heathergave way, and with a wild shriek he fell headlong down the surface ofthe cliff. 

With, a wild shriek!--but silence followed it. 

"Vernon! Vernon!" shouted the terrified Wright, creeping close up to theedge of the precipice. "O Vernon! for heaven's sake speak!"

There was no answer, and leaning over, Wright saw the young boyoutstretched on the stones three hundred feet below. For some minutes hewas horrorstruck beyond expression, and made wild attempts to descendthe cuff and reach him. But he soon gave up the attempt in despair. There was a tradition in the school that the feat had once beenaccomplished by an adventurous and active boy, but Wright at any ratefound it hopeless for himself. The only other way to reach the glen wasby a circuitous route which led to the entrance of the narrow gorge, along the sides of which it was possible to make way with difficultydown the bank of the river to the place where it met the sea. But thiswould have taken him an hour and a half, and was far from easy when theriver was swollen with high tide. Nor was there any house within somedistance at which assistance could be procured, and Wright, in a tumultof conflicting emotions, determined to wait where he was, on the chanceof seeing the boat as it returned from St. Catherine's Head. It wasalready three o'clock, and he knew that they could not now be longerthan an hour at most; so with eager eyes he sat watching the headland, round which he knew they would first come in sight. He watched with wildeager eyes, absorbed in the one longing desire to catch sight of them;but the leaden-footed moments crawled on like hours, and he could nothelp shivering with agony and fear. At last he caught a glimpse of them, and springing up, began to shout at the top of his voice, and wave hishandkerchief and his arms in the hope of attracting their attention. Little thought those blithe merry-hearted boys in the midst of the happylaughter which they sent ringing over the waters, little they thoughthow terrible a tragedy awaited them. 

At last Wright saw that they had perceived him, and were putting inland, and now, in his fright, he hardly knew what to do; but feeling sure thatthey could not fail to see Vernon, he ran off as fast as he could toStarhaven, where he rapidly told the people at a farm-house what hadhappened, and asked them to get a cart ready to convey the wounded boyto Roslyn school. 

Meanwhile the tide rolled in calmly and quietly in the rosy evening, radiant with the diamond and gold of reflected sunlight and transparentwave. Gradually gently it crept up to the place where Vernon lay; andthe little ripples fell over him wonderingly, with the low murmur oftheir musical laughter, and blurred and dimmed the vivid splashes andcrimson streaks upon the white stone on which his head had fallen, andwashed away some of the purple bells and green sprigs of heather roundwhich his fingers were closed in the grasp of death, and played softlywith his fair hair as it rose, and fell, and floated on theirundulations like a leaf of golden-colored weed, until they themselveswere faintly discolored by his blood. And then, tired with their newplaything, they passed on, until the swelling of the water was juststrong enough to move rudely the boy's light weight, and in a fewmoments more would have tossed it up and down with every careless waveamong the boulders of the glen. And then it was that Montagu'shorror-stricken gaze had identified the object at which they had beengazing. In strange foreboding silence they urged on the boat, while Ericat the prow seemed wild with the one intense impulse to verify hishorrible suspicion. The suspicion grew and grew:--it _was_ a boy lyingin the water;--it was Vernon;--he was motionless;--he must have fallenthere from the cliff. 

Eric could endure the suspense no longer. The instant that the boatgrated on the shingle, he sprang into the water, and rushed to the spotwhere his brother's body lay. With a burst of passionate affection, heflung himself on his knees beside it, and took the cold hand in hisown--the little rigid hand in which the green blades of grass, and fern, and heath, so tightly clutched, were unconscious of the tale they told. 

"Oh Verny, Verny, darling Verny, speak to me!" he cried in anguish, ashe tenderly lifted up the body, and marked how little blood had flowed. But the child's head fell back heavily, and his arms hung motionlessbeside him, and with a shriek, Eric suddenly caught the look of deadfixity in his blue open eyes. 

The others had come up. "O God, save my brother, save him, save him fromdeath, " cried Eric, "I cannot live without him. Oh God! Oh God! Look!look!" he continued, "he has fallen from the cliff with his head on thiscursed stone, " pointing to the block of quartz, still red withblood-stained hair; "but we must get a doctor. He is not dead! no, no, no, he _cannot_ be dead. Take him quickly, and let us row home. Oh God!why did I ever leave him?"

The boys drew round in a frightened circle, and lifted Vernon's corpseinto the boat; and then, while Eric still supported the body, andmoaned, and called to him in anguish, and chafed his cold pale brow andwhite hands, and kept saying that he had fainted and was not dead, theothers rowed home with all speed, while a feeling of terrified anxietylay like frost upon their hearts. 

They reached Starhaven, and got into the cart with the lifeless boy, andheard from Wright how the accident had taken place. Few boys were aboutthe play-ground, so they got unnoticed to Roslyn, and Dr. Underhay, whohad been summoned, was instantly in attendance. He looked at Vernon fora moment, and then shook his head in a way that could not be mistaken. Eric saw it, and flung himself with uncontrollable agony on hisbrother's corpse. "O Vernon, Vernon, my own dear brother! oh God, thenhe is dead. " And, unable to endure the blow, he fainted away. 

I cannot dwell on the miserable days that followed, when the very sunin heaven seemed dark to poor Eric's wounded and crushed spirit. Hehardly knew how they went by. And when they buried Vernon in the littlegreen churchyard by Russell's side, and the patter of the earth upon thecoffin--that most terrible of all sounds--struck his ear, the ironentered into his soul, and he had but one wish as he turned away fromthe open grave, and that was, soon to lie beside his beloved littlebrother and to be at rest. 

CHAPTER X

THE LAST TEMPTATION

 [Greek: 'Ae d' Atae sthenazae te chai 'aztipos sunecha pasas Pollou 'upechpzotheei, phthaneei d' de te pasan ep' aiach Blaptous' anthxopous. ] Hom Il. Ix. 505. 

Time, the great good angel, Time, the merciful healer, assuaged theviolence of Eric's grief, which seemed likely to settle down into asober sadness. At first his letters to his parents and to Fairholm werealmost unintelligible in their fierce abandonment of sorrow; but theygrew calmer in time, --and while none of his school-fellows ever venturedin his presence to allude to Vernon, because of the emotion which theslightest mention of him excited, yet he rarely wrote any letters to hisrelations in which he did not refer to his brother's death, in languagewhich grew at length both manly and resigned. 

A month after, in the summer term, he was sitting alone in his study inthe afternoon (for he could not summon up spirit enough to playregularly at cricket), writing a long letter to his aunt. He spokefreely and unreservedly of his past errors, --more freely than he hadever done before, --and expressed not only deep penitence, but evenstrong hatred of his previous unworthy courses. "I can hardly even yetrealize, " he added, "that I am alone here, and that I am writing to myaunt Trevor about the death of my brother, my noble, only brother, Vernon. Oh how my whole soul yearns towards him. I _must_ be a betterboy, I _will_ be better than I have been, in the hopes of meeting himagain. Indeed, indeed, dear aunt, though I have been so guilty, I amlaying aside, with all my might, idleness and all bad habits, and doingmy very best to redeem the lost years. I do hope that the rest of mytime at Roslyn will be more worthily spent than any of it has beenas yet. "

He finished the sentence, and laid his pen down to think, gazing quietlyon the blue hills and sunlit sea. A feeling of hope and repose stoleover him;--when suddenly he saw at the door, which was ajar, the leeringeyes and villainously cunning countenance of Billy. 

"What do you want?" he said angrily, casting at the intruder a look ofintense disgust. 

"Beg pardon, sir, " said the man, pulling his hair. "Anything in my line, sir, to-day?"

"No!" answered Eric, rising up in a gust of indignation. "What businesshave you here? Get away instantly. "

"Not had much custom from you lately, sir, " said the man. 

"What do you mean by having the insolence to begin talking to me? If youdon't make yourself scarce at once, I'll--"

"O well, " said the man; "if it comes to that, I've business enough. Perhaps you'll just pay me this debt, " he continued, changing hisfawning manner into a bullying swagger. "I've waited long enough. "

Eric, greatly discomfited, took the dirty bit of paper. It purported tobe a bill for various items of drink, all of which Eric _knew_ to havebeen paid for, and among other things, a charge of £6 for the dinner atthe "Jolly Herring. "

"Why, you villain, these have all been paid. What! six pounds for thedinner! Why Brigson collected the subscriptions to pay for it before ittook place. "

"That's now't to me, sir. He never paid me; and as you was the younggen'lman in the cheer, I comes to you. "

_Now_ Eric knew for the first time what Brigson had meant by histhreatened revenge. He saw at once that the man had been put up to actin this way by some one, and had little doubt that Brigson was theinstigator. Perhaps it might be even true, as the man said, that he hadnever received the money. Brigson was quite wicked enough to haveembezzled it for his own purposes. 

"Go, " he said to the man; "you shall have the money in a week. "

"And mind it bean't more nor a week. I don't chuse to wait for my moneyno more, " said Billy, impudently, as he retired with an undisguisedchuckle, which very nearly made Eric kick him down stairs. 

What was to be done? To mention the subject to Owen or Montagu, who werebest capable of advising him, would have been to renew the memory ofunpleasant incidents, which he was most anxious to obliterate from thememory of all. He had not the moral courage to face the naturalconsequences of his past misconduct, and was now ashamed to speak ofwhat he had not then been ashamed to do. He told Graham and Wildney, whowere the best of his old associates, and they at once agreed that _they_ought to be responsible for at least a share of the debt. Still, betweenthem they could only muster three pounds out of the six which wererequired, and the week had half elapsed before there seemed any prospectof extrication from the difficulty; so Eric daily grew more miserableand dejected. 

A happy thought struck him. He would go and explain the source of histrouble to Mr. Rose, his oldest, his kindest, his wisest friend. To himhe could speak without scruple and without reserve, and from him he knewthat he would receive nothing but the noblest advice and thewarmest sympathy. 

He went to him after prayers that night, and told his story. 

"Ah, Eric, Eric!" said Mr. Rose; "you see, my boy, that sin andpunishment are twins. "

"O but, sir, I was just striving so hard to amend, and it seems cruelthat I should receive at once so sad a check. "

"There is only one way that I see, Eric. You must write home for themoney, and confess the truth to them honestly, as you have to me. "

It was a hard course for Eric's proud and loving heart to write and tellhis aunt the full extent of his guilt. But he did it faithfully, extenuating nothing, and entreating her, as she loved him, to send themoney by return of post. 

It came, and with it a letter full of deep and gentle affection. Mrs. Trevor knew her nephew's character, and did not add by reproaches to thebitterness which she perceived he had endured; she simply sent him themoney, and told him, that in spite of his many failures, "she still hadperfect confidence in the true heart of her dear boy. "

Touched by the affection which all seemed to be showing him, it becamemore and more the passionate craving of Eric's soul to be worthy of thatlove. But it is far, far harder to recover a lost path than to keep inthe right one all along; and by one more terrible fall, the poor erringboy was to be taught for the last time the fearful strength oftemptation, and the only source in earth and heaven from whichdeliverance can come. Theoretically he knew it, but as yet notpractically. Great as his trials had been, and deeply as he hadsuffered, it was God's will that he should pass through a yet fiercerflame ere he could be purified from pride and passion andself-confidence, and led to the cross of a suffering Saviour, there tofling himself down in heart-rending humility, and cast his great load ofcares and sins upon Him who cared for him through all his wanderings, and was leading him back through thorny places to the green pastures andstill waters, where at last he might have rest. 

The money came, and walking off straight to the Jolly Herring, he dashedit down on the table before Billy, and imperiously bade him write areceipt. The man did so, but with so unmistakable an air of cunning andtriumph that Eric was both astonished and dismayed. Could the miscreanthave any further plot against him? At first he fancied that Billy mightattempt to extort money by a threat of telling Dr. Rowlands; but thissupposition he banished as unlikely since it might expose Billy himselfto very unpleasant consequences. Eric snatched the receipt, and saidcontemptuously, "Never come near me again; next time you come up to thestudies I'll tell Carter to turn you out. "

"Ho, ho, ho!" sneered Billy. "How mighty we young gents are all of asudden. Unless you buy of me sometimes, you shall hear of me again;never fear, young gen'lman. " He shouted out the latter words, for Erichad turned scornfully on his heel, and was already in the street. Obviously more danger was to be apprehended from this quarter. At firstthe thought of it was disquieting, but three weeks glided away, andEric, now absorbed heart and soul in school work, began to remember itas a mere vague and idle threat. But one afternoon, to his horror, heagain heard Billy's step on the stairs, and again saw the hatefuliniquitous face at the door. 

"Not much custom from you lately, sir, " said Billy, mockingly. "Anythingin my line to-day. "

"Didn't I tell you never to come near me again, you foul villain? Gothis instant, or I'll call Carter;" and, opening the window, he preparedto put his threat into execution. 

"Ho, ho, ho! Better look at summat I've got first. " It was a printednotice to the following effect--

"FIVE POUNDS REWARD. 

"WHEREAS some evil-disposed persons stole some pigeons on the evening ofApril 6th from the Rev. H. Gordon's premises; the above reward will begiven for any such information as may lead to the apprehension of theoffenders. "

Soon after the seizure of the pigeons there had been a rumor that Gordonhad offered a reward of this kind, but the matter had been forgotten, and the boys had long fancied their secret secure, though at first theyhad been terribly alarmed. 

"What do you show me that for?" he asked, reddening and then growingpale again. 

Billy's only answer was to pass his finger slowly along the words "Fivepounds reward!"

"Well?"

"I thinks I knows who took them pigeons. "

"What's that to me?"

"Ho, ho, ho! that's a good un, " was Billy's reply; and he continued tocackle as though enjoying a great joke. 

"Unless you gives me five pound, anyhow, I knows where to get 'em. Iknow who them evil-disposed persons be! So I'll give ye another weekto decide. "

Billy shambled off in high spirits; but Eric sank back into his chair. Five pounds! The idea haunted him. How could he ever get them? To writehome again was out of the question. The Trevors, though liberal, werenot rich, and after just sending him so large a sum, it was impossible, he thought, that they should send him five pounds more at his mererequest. Besides, how could he be sure that Billy would not play uponhis fears to extort further sums? And to explain the matter to themfully was more than he could endure. He remembered now how easily hiswant of caution might have put Billy in possession of the secret, andhe knew enough of the fellow's character to feel quite sure of the usehe would be inclined to make of it. Oh how he cursed that hour of folly!

Five pounds! He began to think of what money he could procure. Hethought again and again, but it was no use; only one thing was clear--he_had_, not the money, and could not get it. Miserable boy! It was toolate then! for him repentance was to be made impossible; every time heattempted it he was to be thwarted by some fresh discovery. And, leaninghis head on his open palms, poor Eric sobbed like a child. 

Five pounds! And all this misery was to come upon him for the want offive pounds! Expulsion was _certain_, was _inevitable_ now, and perhapsfor Wildney too as well as for himself. After all his fine promises inhis letters home, --yes, that reminded him of Vernon. The grave had notclosed for a month over one brother, and the other would be _expelled_. Oh misery, misery! He was sure it would break his mother's heart. Oh howcruel everything was to him!

Five pounds--he wondered whether Montagu would lend it him, or any otherboy? But then it was late in the quarter, and all the boys would havespent the money they brought with them from home. There was no chance ofany one having five pounds, and to a master he _dare_ not apply, noteven to Mr. Rose. The offence was too serious to be overlooked, and ifnoticed at all, he fancied that, after his other delinquencies, it_must_, as a matter of notoriety, be visited with expulsion. He couldnot face that bitter thought; he could not thus bring open disgrace uponhis father's and his brother's name; this was the fear which keptrecurring to him with dreadful iteration. 

By the bye, he remembered that if he had continued captain of theschool eleven, he would have had easy command of the money by beingtreasurer of the cricket subscriptions. But at Vernon's death he lostall interest in cricket for a time, and had thrown up his office, towhich Montagu had been elected by the general suffrage. 

He wondered whether there was as much as five pounds of thecricketing-money left? He knew that the box which contained it was inMontagu's study, and he also knew where the key was kept. It was merelya feeling of curiosity--he would go and look. 

All this passed through Eric's mind as he sat in his study after Billyhad gone. It was a sultry summer day; all the study-doors were open, andall their occupants were absent in the cricket-field, or bathing. Hestole into Montagu's study, hastily got the key, and took down the box. 

"O put it down, put it down, Eric, " said Conscience; "what business haveyou with it?"

"Pooh! it is merely curiosity; as if I couldn't trust myself!"

"Put it down, " repeated Conscience authoritatively, deigning no longerto argue or entreat. 

Eric hesitated, and did put down the box; but he did not instantly leavethe room. He began to look at Montagu's books, and then out of thewindow. The gravel play-ground was deserted, he noticed, for thecricket-field. Nobody was near, therefore. Well, what of that? he wasdoing no harm. 

"Nonsense! I _will_ just look and see if there's five pounds in thecricket-box. " Slowly at first he put out his hand, and then, hastilyturning the key, opened the box. It contained three pounds in gold, anda quantity of silver. He began to count the silver, putting it on thetable, and found that it made up three pounds ten more. "So that, altogether, there's six pounds ten; that's thirty shillings more than. . . And it won't be wanted till next summer term, because all the batsand balls are bought now. I daresay Montagu won't even open the boxagain. I know he keeps it stowed away in a corner, and hardly ever looksat it, and I can put back the five pounds the very first day of nextterm, and it will save me from expulsion. "

Very slowly Eric took the three sovereigns and put them in his pocket, and then he took up one of the heaps of shillings and sixpences which hehad counted, and dropped them also into his trousers; they fell into thepocket with a great jingle. . . . 

"Eric, you are a thief!" He thought he heard his brother Vernon's voiceutter the words thrillingly distinct; but it was conscience who hadborrowed the voice, and, sick with horror, he began to shake the moneyout of his pockets again into the box. He was only just in time; he hadbarely locked the box, and put it in its place, when he heard the soundof voices and footsteps on the stairs. He had no time to take out thekey and put it back where he found it, and had hardly time to slip intohis own study again, when the boys had reached the landing. 

They were Duncan and Montagu, and as they passed the door, Ericpretended to be plunged in books. 

"Hallo, Eric! grinding as usual, " said Duncan, good-humoredly; but heonly got a sickly smile in reply. 

"What! are you the only fellow in the studies?" asked Montagu. "I wasnearly sure I heard some one moving about as we came up stairs. "

"I don't think there's any one here but me, " said Eric, "and I'm going awalk now. "

He closed his books with, a bang, flew down stairs, and away through theplay-ground towards the shore But he could not so escape his thoughts. "Eric, you are a thief! Eric, you are a thief!" rang in his ear. "Yes, "he thought; "I am even a thief. Oh, good God, yes, _even_ a _thief_, forI _had_ actually stolen the money, until I changed my mind. What if theyshould discover the key in the box, knowing that I was the only fellowup stairs? Oh, mercy, mercy, mercy!"

It was a lonely place, and he flung himself, with his face hid in thecoarse grass, trying to cool the wild burning of his brow. And as helay, he thrust his hand into the guilty pocket. Good heavens! there wassomething still there. He pulled it out; it was a sovereign! Then he WASa thief, even actually. Oh, everything was against him; and, starting tohis feet, he flung the accursed gold over the rocks far into the sea. 

When he got home he felt so inconceivably wretched that, unable to work, he begged leave to go to bed at once. It was long before he fell asleep;but when he did, the sleep was more terrible than the hauntedwakefulness. For he had no rest from tormenting and horrid dreams. Brigson and Billy, their bodies grown to gigantic proportions, and theirfaces fierce with demoniacal wickedness, seemed to be standing over him, and demanding five pounds on pain of death. Flights of pigeons darkeningthe air, settled on him, and flapped about him. He fled from them madlythrough the dark midnight, but many steps pursued him. He saw Mr. Rose, and running up, seized him by the hand, and implored protection. But inhis dream Mr. Rose turned from him with a cold look of sorrowfulreproach. And then he saw Wildney, and cried out to him, "O Charlie, save me;" but Charlie ran away, saying, "Williams, you are a thief!" andthen a chorus of voices took up that awful cry, voices of expostulation, voices of contempt, voices of indignation, voices of menace; they tookup the cry, and repeated and re-echoed it; but, most unendurable of all, there were voices of wailing and voices of gentleness among them, andhis soul died within him as he caught, amid the confusion of condemningsounds, the voices of Russell and Vernon, and they, too, were saying tohim, in tender pity and agonized astonishment, "Eric, Eric, you area thief!"

CHAPTER XI

REAPING THE WHIRLWIND

 "For alas! alas! with me The light of life is o'er; No more--no more--no more (Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar!"

 EDGAR A. POE. 

The landlord of the Jolly Herring had observed during his visits toEric, that at mid-day the studies were usually deserted, and the doorsfor the most part left unlocked. He very soon determined to make use ofthis knowledge for his own purposes, and as he was well acquainted withthe building (in which for a short time he had been a servant), he laidhis plans without the least dread of discovery. 

There was a back entrance into Roslyn school behind the chapel, and itcould be reached by a path through the fields without any chance ofbeing seen, if a person set warily to work and watched his opportunity. By this path Billy came, two days after his last visit, and walkedstraight up the great staircase, armed with the excuse of business withEric in case any one met or questioned him. But no one was about, sincebetween twelve and one the boys were pretty sure to be amusingthemselves out of doors; and after glancing into each of the studies, Billy finally settled on searching Montagu's (which was the neatest andbest furnished), to see what he could get. 

The very first thing which caught his experienced eye was thecricket-fund box, with the key temptingly in the lock, just where Erichad left it when the sounds of some one coming had startled him. In amoment Billy had made a descent on the promising-looking booty, andopening his treasure, saw, with lively feelings of gratification, theunexpected store of silver and gold. This he instantly transferred tohis own pocket, and then replacing the box where he had found it, decamped with the spoil unseen, leaving the study in all other respectsexactly as he had found it. 

Meanwhile the unhappy Eric was tossed and agitated with apprehension andsuspense. Unable to endure his misery in loneliness, he had made severalboys to a greater or less degree participators in the knowledge of hisdifficult position, and in the sympathy which his danger excited, thegeneral nature of his dilemma with Billy (though not its specialcircumstances) was soon known through the school. 

At the very time when the money was being stolen, Eric was sitting withWildney and Graham under the ruin by the shore, and the sorrow which layat his heart was sadly visible in the anxious expression of his face, and the deep dejection of his attitude and manner. 

The other two were trying to console him. They suggested every possibletopic of hope; but it was too plain that there was nothing to be said, and that Eric had real cause to fear the worst. Yet though theirarguments were futile, he keenly felt the genuineness of theiraffection, and it brought a little alleviation to his heavy mood. 

"Well, well; at least _do_ hope the best, Eric, " said Graham. 

"Yes!" urged Wildney; "only think, dear old fellow, what lots of worsescrapes we've been in before, and how we've always managed to get out ofthem somehow. "

"No, my boy; not worse scrapes, " answered Eric. "Depend upon it this isthe last for me; I shall not have the chance of getting into another at_Roslyn_, anyhow. "

"Poor Eric! what shall I do if you leave?" said Wildney, putting his armround Eric's neck. "Besides it's all my fault, hang it, that you gotinto this cursed row. "

 "'The curse is come upon, me, cried The Lady of Shallott, '

"those words keep ringing in my ears, " murmured Eric. 

"Well, Eric, if _you_ are sent away, I know I shall get my father totake me too, and then we'll join each other somewhere. Come, cheer up, old boy--being sent isn't such a very frightful thing after all. "

"No" said Graham; "and besides, the bagging of the pigeons was only alark, when one comes to think of it. It wasn't like stealing, you know;_that_'d be quite a different thing. "

Eric winced visibly at this remark, but his companions did not noticeit. "Ah, " thought he, "there's _one_ passage of my life which I nevershall be able to reveal to any human soul. "

"Come now, Eric, " said Wildney, "I've got something to propose. Youshall play cricket to-day; you haven't played for an age, and it's hightime you should. If you don't you'll go mooning about the shore all day, and that'll never do, for you'll come back glummer than ever. "

"No!" said Eric, with a heavy sigh, as the image of Vernon instantlypassed through his mind; "no more cricket for me. "

"Nay, but you _must_ play to-day. Come, you shan't say no. You won't sayno to me, will you, dear old fellow?" And Wildney looked up to him withthat pleasant smile, and the merry light in his dark eyes, which hadalways been so charming to Eric's fancy. 

"There's no refusing you, " said Eric with the ghost of a laugh, as heboxed Wildney's ears. "O you dear little rogue, Charlie, I wish Iwere you. "

"Pooh! pooh! now you shan't get sentimental again. As if you wern'tfifty times better than me every way. I'm sure I don't know how I shallever love you enough, Eric, " he added more seriously, "for all yourkindness to me. "

"I'm so glad you're going to play, though, " said Graham; "and so willeverybody be; and I'm certain it'll be good for you. The game willdivert your thoughts. "

So that afternoon Eric, for the first time since Verny's death, playedwith the first eleven, of which he had been captain. The school cheeredhim vigorously as he appeared again on the field, and the sound lightedup his countenance with some gleam of its old joyousness. When onelooked at him that day with his straw hat on and its neat light-blueribbon, and the cricket dress (a pink jersey and leather belt, with asilver clasp in front), showing off his well-built and graceful figure, one little thought what an agony was gnawing like a serpent at hisheart. But that day, poor boy, in the excitement of the game he halfforgot it himself, and more and more as the game went on. 

The other side, headed by Montagu, went in first, and Eric caught outtwo, and bowled several. Montagu was the only one who stayed in long, and when at last Eric sent his middle wicket flying with a magnificentball, the shouts of "well bowled! well bowled _indeed_, " were universal. 

"Just listen to that, Eric, " said Montagu; "why, you're out-doing everybody to-day, yourself included, and taking us by storm. "

"Wait till you see me come out for a duck, " said Eric laughing. 

"Not you. You're too much in luck to come out with a duck, " answeredMontagu. "You see I've already become the Homer of your triumphs, andvaticinate in rhyme. "

And now it was Eric's turn to go in. It was long since he had stoodbefore the wicket, but now he was there, looking like a beautifulpicture as the sunlight streamed over him, and made his fair hair shinelike gold. In the triumph of success his sorrows were flung to thewinds, and his blue eyes sparkled with interest and joy. 

He contented himself with blocking Duncan's balls until his eye was in;but then, acquiring confidence, he sent them flying right and left. Hisscore rapidly mounted, and there seemed no chance of getting him out, sothat there was every probability of his carrying out his bat. 

"Oh, _well_ hit! _well_ hit! A three'r for Eric, " cried Wildney to thescorer; and he began to clap his hands and dance about with excitementat his friend's success. 

"Oh, well hit! well hit in--deed!" shouted all the lookers on, as Ericcaught the next ball half-volley, and sent it whizzing over the hedge, getting a sixer by the hit. 

At the next ball they heard a great crack, and he got no run, for thehandle of his bat broke right off. 

"How unlucky!" he said, flinging down the handle with vexation. "Ibelieve this was our best bat. "

"Oh, never mind, " said Montagu; "we can soon get another; we've got lotsof money in the box. "

What had come over Eric? if there had been a sudden breath of poison inthe atmosphere he could hardly have been more affected than he was byMontagu's simple remark. Montagu could not help noticing it, but at thetime merely attributed it to some unknown gust of feeling, and made nocomment. But Eric, hastily borrowing another bat, took his place againquite tamely; he was trembling, and at the very next ball, he spooned amiserable catch into Graham's hand, and the shout of triumph from theother side proclaimed that his innings was over. 

He walked dejectedly to the pavilion for his coat, and the boys, whowere seated in crowds about it, received him, of course, after hisbrilliant score, with loud and continued plaudits. But the light haddied away from his face and figure, and he never raised his eyes fromthe ground. 

"Modest Eric!" said Wildney chaffingly, "you don't acknowledge yourhonors. "

Eric dropped his bat in the corner, put his coat across his arm, andwalked away. As he passed Wildney, he stooped down and whispered againin a low voice--

 "'The curse has come upon me, cried The Lady of Shallott. '"

"Hush, Eric, nonsense, " whispered Wildney; "you're not going away, " hecontinued aloud, as Eric turned towards the school. "Why, there are onlytwo more to go in!"

"Yes, thank you, I must go. "

"Oh, then, I'll come too. "

Wildney at once joined his friend. "There's nothing more the matter, isthere?" he asked anxiously, when they were out of hearing of the rest. 

"God only knows. "

"Well, let's change the subject. You've being playing brilliantly, oldfellow. "

"Have I?"

"I should just think so, only you got out in rather a stupid way. "

"Ah well! it matters very little. "

Just at this moment one of the servants handed Eric a kind note fromMrs. Rowlands, with whom he was a very great favorite, asking him to teathat night. He was not very surprised, for he had been several timeslately, and the sweet womanly kindness which she always showed himcaused him the greatest pleasure. Besides, she had known his mother. 

"Upon my word, honors _are_ being showered on you!" said Wildney. "Firstto get _the_ score of the season at cricket, and bowl out about half theother side, and then go to tea with the head-master. Upon my word! Whyany of us poor wretches would give our two ears for such distinctions. Talk of curse indeed! Fiddlestick end!"

But Eric's sorrow lay too deep for chaff, and only answering with asigh, he went to dress for tea. 

Just before tea-time Duncan, and Montagu strolled in together. "Howsplendidly Eric played, " said Duncan. 

"Yes, indeed. I'm so glad. By the bye, I must see about getting a newbat. I don't know exactly how much money we've got, but I know there'splenty. Let's come and see. "

They entered his study, and he looked about everywhere for the key. "Hallo, " he said, "I'm nearly sure I left it in the corner of thisdrawer, under some other things; but it isn't there now. What can havebecome of it?"

"Where's the box?" said Duncan; "let's see if any of my keys will fitit. Hallo! why _you're_ a nice treasurer, Monty! here's the key _in_the box!"

"No, is it though?" asked Montagu, looking serious. "Here, give it me; Ihope nobody's been meddling with it. "

He opened it quickly, and stood in dumb and blank amazement to see itempty. 

"Phew-w-w-w!" Montagu gave a long whistle. 

"By Jove!" was Duncan's only comment. 

The boys looked at each other, but neither dared to express what was inhis thoughts. 

"A bad, bad business! what's to be done, Monty?"

"I'll rush straight down to tea, and ask the fellows about it. Would youmind requesting Rose not to come in for five minutes? Tell him there'sa row. "

He ran down stairs hastily and entered the tea-room, where the boys weretalking in high spirits about the match, and liberally praisingEric's play. 

"I've got something unpleasant to say, " he announced, raising his voice. 

"Hush! hush! hush! what's the row?" asked half a dozen at once. 

"The whole of the cricket money, some six pounds at least, has vanishedfrom the box in my study!"

For an instant the whole room was silent; Wildney and Grahaminterchanged anxious glances. 

"Does any fellow know anything about this?"

All, or most, had a vague suspicion, but no one spoke. 

"Where is Williams?" asked one of the sixth form casually. 

"He's taking tea with the Doctor, " said Wildney. 

Mr. Rose came in, and there was no opportunity for more to be said, except in confidential whispers. 

Duncan went up with Owen and Montagu to their study. "What's to bedone?" was the general question. 

"I think we've all had a lesson once before not to suspect too hastily. Still, in a matter like this, " said Montagu, "one _must_ take notice ofapparent cues. "

"I know what you're thinking of, Monty, " said Duncan. 

"Well, then, did you hear anything when you and I surprised Ericsuddenly two days ago?"

"I heard some one moving about in your study, as I thought. "

"I heard more--though at the time it didn't strike me particularly. Idistinctly heard the jingle of money. "

"Well, it's no good counting up suspicious circumstances; we must _ask_him about it, and act accordingly. '

"Will he come up to the studies again to-night?"

"I think not, " said Owen; "I notice he generally goes straight to bedafter he has been out to tea; that's to say, directly after prayers. "

The three sat there till prayer-time taciturn and thoughtful. Theirbooks were open, but they did little work, and it was evident thatMontagu was filled with the most touching grief. During the evening hedrew out a little likeness which Eric had given him, and looked at itlong and earnestly. "Is it possible?" he thought. "Oh Eric! can thatface be the face of a thief?"

The prayer-bell dispelled his reverie. Eric entered with the Rowlands, and sat in his accustomed place. He had spent a pleasant, quiet evening, and, little knowing what had happened, felt far more cheerful andhopeful than he had done before, although he was still ignorant how toescape the difficulty which threatened him. 

He couldn't help observing that as he entered he was the object ofgeneral attention; but he attributed it either to his playing that day, or to the circumstances in which he was placed by Billy's treachery, ofwhich he knew that many boys were now aware. But when prayers were over, and he saw that every one shunned him, or looked and spoke in thecoldest manner, his most terrible fears revived. 

He went off to his dormitory, and began to undress. As he sat halfabstracted on his bed doing nothing Montagu and Duncan entered, and hestarted to see them, for they were evidently the bearers of some seriousintelligence. 

"Eric, " said Duncan, "do you know that some one has stolen all thecricket money?"

"Stolen--what--_all_?" he cried, leaping up as if he had been shot. "Oh, what new retribution is this?" and he hid his face, which had turnedashy pale, in his hands. 

"To cut matters short, Eric, do you know anything about it?"

"If it is all gone, it is not I who stole it, " he said, not lifting hishead. 

"Do you know anything about it?"

"No!" he sobbed convulsively. "No, no, no! Yet stop; don't let me add alie. . . . Let me think. No, Duncan!" he said, looking up, "I do _not_ knowwho stole it. "

They stood silent, and the tears were stealing down Montagu's avertedface. 

"O Duncan, Monty, be merciful, be merciful, " said Eric. "Don't _yet_condemn me. _I_ am guilty, not of _this_, but of something as bad. Iadmit I was tempted; but if the money really is all gone, it is _not_ Iwho am the thief. "

"You must know, Eric, that the suspicion against you is very strong, andrests on some definite facts. "

"Yes, I know it must. Yet, oh, do be merciful, and don't yet condemn me. I have denied it. Am I a liar Monty? Oh Monty, Monty, believe mein this"

But the boys still stood silent. 

"Well, then, " he said, "I will tell you all. But I can only tell it toyou, Monty. Duncan, indeed you mustn't be angry; you are my friend, butnot so much as Monty. I can tell him, and him only. "

Duncan left the room, and Montagu sat down beside Eric on the bed, andput his arm round him to support him, for he shook violently. There, with deep and wild emotion, and many interruptions of passionatesilence, Eric told to Montagu his miserable tale. "I am the mostwretched fellow living, " he said; "there must be some fiend that hatesme, and drives me to ruin. But let it all come; I care nothing, nothing, what happens to me now. Only, dear, dear Monty, forgive me, and loveme still. "

"O Eric, it is not for one like me to talk of forgiveness; you weresorely tempted. Yet God will forgive you if you ask him. Won't you prayto him to-night? I love you, Eric, still, with all my heart, and do youthink God can be less kind than man? And _I_, too, will pray for you, Eric. Good night, and God bless you" He gently disengaged himself--forEric clung to him, and seemed unwilling to lose sight of him--and amoment after he was gone. 

Eric felt terribly alone. He knelt down and tried to pray, but somehowit didn't seem as if the prayer came from his heart, and his thoughtsbegan instantly to wander far away. Still he knelt--knelt even until hiscandle had gone out, and he had nearly fallen asleep, thought-wearied, on his knees. And then he got into bed still dressed. He had been makingup his mind that he could bear it no longer, and would run away to seathat night. 

He waited till eleven, when Dr. Rowlands took his rounds. The Doctorhad been told all the circumstances of suspicion, and they amounted inhis mind to certainty. It made him very sad, and he stopped to look atthe boy from whom he had parted on such friendly terms so short a timebefore. Eric did not pretend to be asleep, but opened his eyes, andlooked at the head-master. Very sorrowfully Dr. Rowlands shook his head, and went away. Eric never saw him again. 

The moment he was gone Eric got up. He meant to go to his study, collectthe few presents, which were his dearest mementos of Russell, Wildney, and his other friends--above all, Vernon's likeness--and then make hisescape from the building, using for the last time the broken pane andloosened bar in the corridor, with which past temptations had made himso familiar. 

He turned the handle of the door and pushed, but it did not yield. Halfcontemplating 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. Imust give up my treasures--yes, even poor Verny's picture; perhaps it isbest I should, for I'm only disgracing his noble memory. But they shan'tprevent me from running away. "

Once more he deliberated. Yes, there could be no doubt about thedecision. He _could_, not endure another public expulsion, or evenanother birching; he _could_ not endure the cold faces of even his bestfriends. 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 inloosening 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 theremaining bar, and let the other fall down the side of the building. Hetook one more glance round his little room, and then let himself down bythe sheet, hand under hand, until he could drop to the ground. Oncesafe, he ran towards Starhaven as fast as he could, and felt as if hewere flying for his life. But when he got to the end of the playgroundhe could not help stopping to take one more longing, lingering look atthe scenes he was leaving for ever. It was a chilly and overcloudednight, and by the gleams of struggling moonlight, he saw the wholebuildings standing out black in the night air. The past lay behind himlike a painting. Many and many unhappy or guilty hours had he spent inthat home, and yet those last four years had not gone by without theirown wealth of life and joy. He remembered how he had first walked acrossthat playground, hand in hand with his father, a little boy of twelve. He remembered his first troubles with Barker, and how his father had atlast delivered him from the annoyances of his old enemy. He rememberedhow often he and Russell had sat there, looking at the sea, in pleasanttalk, especially the evening when he had got his first prize and headremove in the lower fourth; and how, in the night of Russell's death, hehad gazed over that playground from the sick-room window. He rememberedhow often he had got cheered there for his feats at cricket andfootball, and how often he and Upton in old days, and he and Wildneyafterwards, had walked there on Sundays, arm in arm. Then the stroll toPort Island, and Barker's plot against him, and the evening at the Stackpassed through his mind; and the dinner at the Jolly Herring, and, aboveall, Vernon's death. Oh! how awful it seemed to him now, as he lookedthrough the darkness at the very road along which they had broughtVerny's dead body. Then his thoughts turned to the theft of the pigeons, his own drunkenness, and then his last cruel, cruel experiences, andthis dreadful end of the day which, for an hour or two, had seemed _so_bright on that very spot where he stood. Could it be that this (oh, howlittle he had ever dreamed of it)--that this was to be the conclusion ofhis school days?

Yes, in those rooms, of which the windows fronted him, there they lay, all his schoolfellows--Montagu, and Wildney, and Duncan, and all whom hecared for best. And there was Mr. Rose's light still burning in thelibrary window; and he was leaving the school and those who had beenwith him there so long, in the dark night, by stealth, penniless andbroken-hearted, with the shameful character of a thief. 

Suddenly Mr. Rose's light moved, and, fearing discovery or interception, he roused himself from the bitter reverie and fled to Starhaven throughthe darkness. There was still a light in the little sailors' tavern;and, entering, he asked the woman who kept it, "if she knew of any shipwhich was going to sail next morning?"

"Why, your'n is, bean't it, Maister Davey!" she asked, turning to arough-looking sailor, who sat smoking in the bar. 

"Ees, " grunted the man. 

"Will you take me on board?" said Eric. 

"You be a runaway, I'm thinking?"

"Never mind. I'll come as cabin-boy--anything. "

The sailor glanced at his striking appearance and neat dress. "Hardly inthe cabun-buoy line I should say. "

"Will you take me?" said Eric. "You'll find me strong and willingenough. "

"Well--if the skipper don't say no. Come along. "

They went down to a boat, and "Maister Davey" rowed to a schooner in theharbor, and took Eric on board. 

"There, " he said, "you may sleep there for to-night, " and he pointed toa great heap of sailcloth beside the mast. 

Weary to death, Eric flung himself down, and slept deep and sound tillthe morning, on board the "Stormy Petrel. "

CHAPTER XII

THE STORMY PETREL

 "They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league, but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind grew high, And gurly grew the sea. "

SIR PATRICK SPENS. 

"Hilloa!" exclaimed the skipper with a sudden start, next morning, as hesaw Eric's recumbent figure on the ratlin-stuff, "Who be thisyoung varmint!"

"Oh, I brought him aboord last night, " said Davey; "he wanted to becabun-buoy. "

"Precious like un _he_ looks. Never mind, we've got him and we'll usehim. "

The vessel was under way when Eric woke, and collected his scatteredthoughts to a remembrance of his new position. At first, as the StormyPetrel dashed its way gallantly through the blue sea, he felt oneabsorbing sense of joy to have escaped from Roslyn. But before he hadbeen three hours on board, his eyes were opened to the trying nature ofhis circumstances, which were, indeed, _so_ trying that _anything_ inthe world seemed preferable to enduring them. He had not been threehours on board when he would have given everything in his power to beback again; but such regrets were useless, for the vessel was nowfairly on her way for Corunna, where she was to lake in a cargoof cattle. 

There were eight men belonging to the crew; and as the ship was only alittle trading schooner, these were sailors of the lowest and meanestgrade. They all seemed to take their cue from the captain, who was adrunken, blaspheming, and cruel vagabond. 

This man from the first took a savage hatred to Eric, partly because hewas annoyed with Davey for bringing him on board. The first words headdressed to him were--

"I say, you young lubber, you must pay your footing. "

"I've got nothing to pay with. I brought no money with me. "

"Well, then, you shall give us your gran' clothes. Them things isn't fitfor a cabin-boy. "

Eric saw no remedy, and making a virtue of necessity, exchanged his goodcloth suit for a rough sailor's shirt and trowsers, not over clean, which the captain gave him. His own clothes were at once appropriated bythat functionary, who carried them into his cabin. But it was lucky forEric that, seeing how matters were likely to go, he had succeeded insecreting his watch. 

The day grew misty and comfortless, and towards evening the wind rose toa storm. Eric soon began to feel very sick, and, to make his case worse, could not endure either the taste, smell, or sight of such coarse foodas was contemptuously flung to him. 

"Where am I to sleep?" he asked, "I feel very sick. "

"Babby, " said one of the sailors, "what's your name?"

"Williams. "

"Well, Bill, you'll have to get over your sickness pretty soon, _I_ cantell ye. Here, " he added, relenting a little, "Davey's slung ye ahammock in the forecastle. "

He showed the way, but poor Eric in the dark, and amid the lurches ofthe vessel, could hardly steady himself down the companion-ladder, muchless get into his hammock. The man saw his condition, and, sulkilyenough, hove him into his place. 

And there, in that swinging bed, where sleep seemed impossible, and outof which, he was often thrown, when the ship rolled and pitched throughthe dark, heaving, discolored waves, and with dirty men sleeping roundhim at night, until the atmosphere of the forecastle became like poison, hopelessly and helplessly sick, and half-starved, the boy lay for twodays. The crew neglected him shamefully. It was nobody's business towait on him, and he could procure neither sufficient food, nor anywater; they only brought him some grog to drink, which in his weaknessand sickness was nauseous to him as medicine. 

"I say, you young cub down there, " shouted the skipper to him from thehatchway, "come up and swab this deck. "

He got up, and after bruising himself severely, as he stumbled about tofind the ladder, made an effort to obey the command. But he staggeredfrom feebleness when he reached the deck, and had to grasp for somefresh support at every step. 

"None of that 'ere slobbering and shamming, Bill. Why, d---- you, whatd'ye think you're here for, eh? You swab the deck, and in five minutes, or I'll teach you, and be d----d. "

Sick as death, Eric slowly obeyed, but did not get through his taskwithout many blows and curses. He felt very ill--he had no means ofwashing or cleaning himself; no brush, or comb, or soap, or clean linen;and even his sleep seemed unrefreshful when the waking brought no changein his condition. And then the whole life of the ship was odious to him. His sense of refinement was exquisitely keen, and now to be called Bill, and kicked and cuffed about by these gross-minded men, and to hear theirrough, coarse, drunken talk, and sometimes endure their still, moreintolerable familiarities, filled him with deeply-seated loathing. 

His whole soul rebelled and revolted from them all, and, seeing hisfastidious pride, not one of them showed him the least glimpse of openkindness, though he observed that one of them did seem to pity himin heart. 

Things grew worse and worse. The perils which he had to endure at first, when ordered about the rigging, were what affected him least; he longedfor death, and often contemplated flinging himself into those cold deepwaves which he gazed on daily over the vessel's side. Hope was the onlything which supported him. He had heard from one of the crew that thevessel would be back in not more than six weeks, and he made a deeplyseated resolve to escape the very first day that they again anchored inan English harbor. 

The homeward voyage was even more intolerable, for the cattle on boardgreatly increased the amount of necessary menial and disgusting workwhich fell to his snare, as well as made the atmosphere of the closelittle schooner twice as poisonous as before. And to add to hismiseries, his relations with the crew got more and more unfavorable, andbegan to reach their climax. 

One night the sailor who occupied the hammock next to his heard himwinding up his watch. This he always did in the dark, as secretly andsilently as he could, and never looked at it, except when no one couldobserve him; while, during the day, he kept both watch and chainconcealed in his trousers. 

Next morning the man made proposals to him to sell the watch, and triedby every species of threat and promise to extort it from him. But thewatch had been his mother's gift, and he was resolute never to part withit into such hands. 

"Very well, you young shaver, I shall tell the skipper and he'll soonget it out of you as your footing, depend on it. "

The fellow was as good as his word, and the skipper demanded the watchas pay for Eric's feed, for he maintained that he'd done no work, andwas perfectly useless. Eric, grown desperate, still refused, and the manstruck him brutally on the face, and at the same time aimed a kick athim, which he vainly tried to avoid. It caught him on the knee-cap, andput it out, causing him the most excruciating agony. 

He now could do no work whatever, not even swab the deck. It was onlywith difficulty that he could limp along, and every move caused himviolent pain. He grew listless and dejected, and sat all day on thevessel's side, eagerly straining his eyes to catch any sight of land, orgazing vacantly into the weary sameness of sea and sky. 

Once, when it was rather gusty weather, all hands were wanted, and theskipper ordered him to furl a sail. 

"I can't, " said Eric, in an accent of despair, barely stirring, and notlifting his eyes to the man's unfeeling face. 

"Can't, d---- you. Can't. We'll soon see whether you can or no! You doit, or _I_ shall have to mend your leg for you;" and he showered down astorm of oaths. 

Eric rose, and resolutely tried to mount the rigging, determined atleast to give no ground he could help to their wilful cruelty. But theeffort was vain, and with a sharp cry of suffering he dropped oncemore on deck. 

"Cursed young brat! I suppose you think we're going to bother ourselveswith you, and yer impudence, and get victuals for nothing. It's allsham. Here, Jim, tie him up. "

A stout sailor seized the unresisting boy, tied his hands together, andthen drew them up above his head, and strung them to the rigging. 

"Why didn't ye strip him first, d---- you?" roared the skipper. 

"He's only got that blue shirt on, and that's soon mended, " said theman, taking hold of the collar of the shirt on both sides, and tearingit open with a great rip. 

Eric's white back was bare, his hands tied up, his head hanging, and hisinjured leg slightly lifted from the ground. "And now for some rope-piefor the stubborn young lubber, " said the skipper, lifting a bit of ropeas he spoke. 

Eric, with a shudder, heard it whistle through the air, and the nextinstant it had descended on his back with a dull thump, rasping away ared line of flesh. Now Eric knew for the first time the awful reality ofintense pain; he had determined to utter no sound, to give no sign; butwhen the horrible rope fell on him, griding across his back, and makinghis body literally creak under the blow, he quivered like an aspen-leafin every limb, and could not suppress the harrowing murmur, "Oh God, help me, help me. "

Again the rope whistled in the air, again it grided across the boy'snaked back, and once more the crimson furrow bore witness to the violentlaceration. A sharp shriek of inexpressible agony rang from his lips, soshrill, so heart-rending, that it sounded long in the memory of all whoheard it. But the brute who administered the torture was untouched. Oncemore, and again, the rope rose and fell, and under its marks the bloodfirst dribbled, and then streamed from the white and tender skin. 

But Eric felt no more; that scream had been the last effort of nature;his head had dropped on his bosom, and though his limbs still seemed tocreep at the unnatural infliction, he had fainted away. 

"Stop, master, stop, if you don't want to kill the boy outright, " saidRoberts, one of the crew, stepping forward, while the hot flush ofindignation burned through his tanned and weather-beaten cheek. Thesailors called him "Softy Bob, " from that half-gentleness of dispositionwhich had made him, alone of all the men, speak one kind or consolingword for the proud and lonely cabin-boy. 

"Undo him then, and be--, " growled the skipper and rolled off to drinkhimself drunk. 

"I doubt he's well-nigh done for him already, " said Roberts, quicklyuntying Eric's hands, round which the cords had been pulled so tight asto leave two blue rings round his wrists. "Poor fellow, poor fellow!it's all over now, " he murmured soothingly, as the boy's body fellmotionless into his arms, which he hastily stretched to prevent him fromtumbling on the deck. 

But Eric heard not; and the man, touched with the deepest pity, carriedhim down tenderly into his hammock, and wrapped him up in a cleanblanket, and sat by him till the swoon should be over. 

It lasted very long, and the sailor began to fear that his words hadbeen prophetic. 

"How is the young varmint?" shouted the skipper, looking into theforecastle. 

"You've killed him, I think. "

The only answer was a volley of oaths; but the fellow was sufficientlyfrightened to order Roberts to do all he could for his patient. 

At last Eric woke with a moan. To think was too painful, but the rawstate of his back, ulcerated with the cruelty he had undergone, remindedhim too bitterly of his situation. Roberts did for him all that could bedone, but for a week Eric lay in that dark and fetid place, in thelanguishing of absolute despair. Often and often the unbidden tearsflowed from very weakness from his eyes, and in the sickness of hisheart, and the torment of his wounded body, he thought that heshould die. 

But youth is very strong, and it wrestled with despair, and agony, anddeath, and, after a time, Eric could rise from his comfortless hammock. The news that land was in sight first roused him, and with the help ofRoberts, he was carried on deck, thankful, with childlike gratitude, that God suffered him to breathe once more the pure air of heaven, andsit under the canopy of its gold-pervaded blue. The breeze and thesunlight refreshed him, as they might a broken flower; and, with eyesupraised, he poured from his heart a prayer of deep unspeakablethankfulness to a Father in Heaven. 

Yes! at last he had remembered his Father's home. There, in the darkberth, where every move caused irritation, and the unclean atmospherebrooded over his senses like lead; when his forehead burned, and hisheart melted within him, and he had felt almost inclined to curse hislife, or even to end it by crawling up and committing himself to thedeep cold water which, he heard rippling on the vessel's side; then, even then, in that valley of the shadow of death, a Voice had come tohim--a still small Voice--at whose holy and healing utterance Eric hadbowed his head, and listened to the messages of God, and learnt hiswill; and now, in humble resignation, in touching penitence with solemnself-devotion, he had cast himself at the feet of Jesus, and prayed tobe helped, and guided, and forgiven. One little star of hope rose in thedarkness of his solitude, and its rays grew brighter and brighter, tillthey were glorious now. Yes, for Jesus' sake he was washed, he wascleansed, he was sanctified, he was justified; he would fear no evil, for God was with him and underneath were the everlasting arms. 

And while he sat there, undisturbed at last, and unmolested by harshword or savage blow, recovering health with every breath of the seawind, the skipper came up to him, and muttered something half-likean apology. 

The sight of him, and the sound of his voice, made Eric shudder again, but he listened meekly, and, with no flash of scorn or horror, put outhis hand to the man to shake. There was something touching and noble inthe gesture, and, thoroughly ashamed of himself for once, the fellowshook the proffered hand, and slunk away. 

They entered the broad river at Southpool. 

"I must leave the ship when we get to port, Roberts, " said Eric. 

"I doubt whether you'll let you, " answered Roberts, jerking his fingertowards the skipper's cabin. 

"Why?"

"He'll be afeard you might take the law on him. "

"He needn't fear. "

Roberts only shook his head. 

"Then I must run away somehow. Will you help me?"

"Yes, that I will. "

That very evening Eric escaped from the Stormy Petrel, unknown to allbut Roberts. They were in the dock, and he dropped into the water in theevening, and swam to the pier, which was only a yard or two distant; butthe effort almost exhausted his strength, for his knee was stillpainful, and he was very weak. 

Wet and penniless, he knew not where to go, but spent the sleeplessnight under an arch. Early the next morning he went to a pawnbroker's, and raised £2:10s. On his watch, with which money he walked straight tothe railway station. 

It was July, and the Roslyn summer holidays had commenced. As Ericdragged his slow way to the station, he suddenly saw Wildney on theother side of the street. His first impulse was to spring to meet him, as he would have done in old times. His whole heart yearned towards him. It was six weeks now since Eric had seen one loving face, and during allthat time he had hardly heard one kindly word. And now he saw before himthe boy whom he loved so fondly, with whom he had spent so many happyhours of school-boy friendship, with whom he had gone through so manyschoolboy adventures, and who, he believed, loved him fondly still. 

Forgetful for the moment of his condition, Eric moved across the street. Wildney was walking with his cousin, a beautiful girl, some four yearsolder than himself, whom he was evidently patronising immensely. Theywere talking very merrily, and Eric overheard the word Roslyn. Like alightning-flash the memory of the theft, the memory of his ruin cameupon him; he looked down at his dress--it was a coarse blue shirt, whichRoberts had given him in place of his old one, and the back of it wasstained and saturated with blood from his unhealed wounds; his trouserswere dirty, tarred, and ragged, and his shoes, full of holes, barelycovered his feet. He remembered too that for weeks he had not been ableto wash, and that very morning, as he saw himself in a looking-glass ata shop-window, he had been deeply shocked at his own appearance. Hisface was white as a sheet, the fair hair matted and tangled, the eyessunken and surrounded with a dark color, and dead and lustreless. No! hecould not meet Wildney as a sick and ragged sailor-boy; perhaps even hemight not be recognised if he did. He drew back, and hid himself tillthe merry-hearted pair had passed, and it was almost with a pang ofjealousy that he saw how happy Wildney could be, while _he_ was thus;but he cast aside the unworthy thought at once. "After all, how is poorCharlie to know what has happened to me?"

CHAPTER XIII

HOME AT LAST

 "I will arise and go to my father. "

 "Ach! ein Schicksal droht, Und es droht nicht lange! Auf der holden Wange Brennt ein böses Roth!"--TIEDGE. 

Eric Williams pursued his disconsolate way to the station, and foundthat his money only just sufficed to get him something to eat during theday, and carry him third class by the parliamentary train toCharlesbury, the little station where he had to take the branch lineto Ayrton. 

He got into the carriage, and sat in the far corner, hiding himself fromnotice as well as he could. The weary train--(it carried poor people forthe most part, so, of course it could matter but little how tedious orslow it was!)--the weary train, stopping at every station, and oftenwaiting on the rail until it had been passed by trains that started fouror five hours after it, --dragged its slow course through the faircounties of England. Many people got in and out of the carriage, whichwas generally full, and some of them tried occasionally to enter intoconversation with him. But poor Eric was too sick and tired, and hisheart was too full to talk much, and he contented himself with civilanswers to the questions put to him, dropping the conversation as soonas he could. 

At six in the evening the train stopped at Charlesbury, and he got down. 

"Ticket, " said the station-man. 

Eric gave it, turning his head away, for the man knew him well fromhaving often seen him there. It was no use; the man looked hard at him, and then, opening his eyes wide, exclaimed, "Well, I never! what, Master Williams of Fairholm, can that be you?"

"Hush, John, hush! yes, I am Eric Williams. But don't say a word, that'sa good fellow; I'm going on to Ayrton this evening. "

"Well, sir, I _am_, hurt like to see you looking so ragged and poorly. Let me give you a bed to-night, and send you on by first trainto-morrow. "

"O no, thank you, John. I've got no money, and--"

"Tut, tut, sir; I thought you'd know me better nor that. Proud I'd beany day to do anything for Mrs. Trevor's nephew, let alone a younggentleman like you. Well, then, let me drive yon, sir, in my little cartthis evening. "

"No, thank you, John, never mind; you are very, very good, but, " hesaid, and the tears were in his eyes, "I want to walk in aloneto-night. "

"Well, God keep and bless you, sir, " said the man, "for you look to needit;" and touching his cap, he watched the boy's painful walk across somefields to the main road. 

"Who'd ha' thought it, Jenny?" he said to his wife. "There's that youngMaster Williams, whom we've always thought so noble like, just beenhere as ragged as ragged, and with a face the color o' my whitesignal flag. "

"Lawks!" said the woman; "well, well! poor young gentleman, I'm afeardhe's been doing something bad. "

Balmily and beautiful the evening fell, as Eric, not without toil, madehis way along the road towards Ayrton, which was ten miles off. The roadwound through the valley, across the low hills that encircled it, sometimes spanning or running parallel to the bright stream that hadbeen the delight of Eric's innocent childhood. There was somethingenjoyable at first to the poor boy's eyes, so long accustomed to thebarren sea, in resting once more on the soft undulating green of thesummer fields, which were intertissued with white and yellow flowers, like a broidery of pearls and gold. The whole scene was bathed in theexquisite light, and rich with the delicate perfumes of a gloriousevening, which filled the sky over his head with every perfect gradationof rose and amber and amethyst, and breathed over the quiet landscape asensation of unbroken peace. But peace did not remain long in Eric'sheart; each well-remembered landmark filled his soul with recollectionsof the days when he had returned from school, oh! how differently; andof the last time when he had come home with Vernon by his side. "OhVerny, Verny, noble little Verny, would to God that I were with you now. But you are resting, Verny, in the green grave by Russell's side, andI--oh God, be merciful to me now!"

It was evening, and the stars came out and shone by hundreds, and Ericwalked on by the moonlight. But the exertion had brought on the pain inhis knee, and he had to sit down a long time by the road-side to rest. He reached Ayrton at ten o'clock, but even then he could not summon upcourage to pass through the town where he was so well known, lest anystraggler should recognise him, --and he took a detour in order to get toFairholm. He did not arrive there till eleven o'clock; and then he couldnot venture into the grounds, for he saw through the trees of theshrubbery that there was no light in any of the windows, and it wasclear that they were all gone to bed. 

What was he to do? He durst not disturb them so late at night. Heremembered that they would not have heard a syllable of or from himsince he had run away from Roslyn, and he feared the effect of so suddenan emotion as his appearance at that hour might excite. 

So under the star-light he lay down to sleep on a cold bank beside thegate, determining to enter early in the morning. It was long before heslept, but at last weary nature demanded her privilege with importunity, and gentle sleep floated over him like a dark dewy cloud, and the sunwas high in heaven before he woke. 

It was about half-past nine in the morning, and Mrs. Trevor, with Fanny, was starting to visit some of her poor neighbors, an occupation full ofholy pleasure to her kind heart, and in which she had found more thanusual consolation during the heavy trials which she had recentlysuffered; for she had loved Eric and Vernon as a mother does her ownchildren, and now Vernon, the little cherished jewel of her heart, wasdead--Vernon was dead, and Eric, she feared, not dead but worse thandead, guilty, stained, dishonored. Often had she thought to herself, indeep anguish of heart, "Our darling little Vernon dead--and Eric fallenand ruined!"

"Look at that poor fellow asleep on the grass, " said Fanny, pointing toa sailor boy, who lay coiled up on the bank beside the gate. "He has hada rough bed, mother, if he has spent the night there, as I fear. "

Mrs. Trevor had grasped her arm. "What is Flo' doing?" she said, stopping, as the pretty little spaniel trotted up to the boy's recliningfigure, and began snuffing about it, and then broke into a quick shortbark of pleasure, and fawned and frisked about him, and leapt upon him, joyously wagging his tail. 

The boy rose with the dew wet from the flowers upon his hair; he saw thedog, and at once began playfully to fondle it, and hold its littlesilken head between his hands; but as yet he had not caught sight ofthe Trevors. 

"It is--oh, good heavens! it is Eric, " cried Mrs. Trevor, as she flewtowards him. Another moment and he was in her arms, silent, speechless, with long arrears of pent-up emotion. 

"O my Eric, our poor, lost, wandering Eric--come home; you are forgiven, more than forgiven, my own darling boy. Yes, I knew that my prayerswould be answered; this is as though we received you from the dead. " Andthe noble lady wept upon his neck, and Eric, his heart shaken withaccumulated feelings, clung to her and wept. 

Deeply did that loving household rejoice to receive back their lostchild. At once they procured him a proper dress, and a warm bath, andtended him with every gentle office of female ministering hands. And inthe evening, when he told them his story in a broken voice of penitenceand remorse, their love came to him like a sweet balsam, and he restedby them, "seated, and clothed, and in his right mind. "

The pretty little room, fragrant with sweet flowers from the greenhouse, was decorated with all the refinement of womanly taste, and its glassdoors opened on the pleasant garden. It was long, long since Eric hadever seen anything like it, and he had never hoped to see it again. "Ohdearest aunty, " he murmured, as he rested his weary head upon her lap, while he sat on a low stool at her feet, "Oh aunty, you will never knowhow different this is from the foul, horrible hold of the 'StormyPetrel, ' and its detestable inmates. "

When Eric was dressed once more as a gentleman, and once more fed onnourishing and wholesome food, and was able to move once more about thegarden by Fanny's side, he began to recover his old appearance, and thesoft bloom came back to his cheek again, and the light to his blue eye. But still his health gave most serious cause for apprehension; weeks ofsemi-starvation, bad air, sickness, and neglect, followed by two nightsof exposure and wet, had at last undermined the remarkable strength ofhis constitution, and the Trevors soon became aware of the painful factthat he was sinking to the grave, and had come home only to die. 

Above all, there seemed to be some great load at his heart which hecould not remove; a sense of shame, the memory of his disgrace atRoslyn, and of the dark suspicion that rested on his name. He avoidedthe subject, and they were too kind to force it on him, especially as hehad taken away the bitterest part of their trial in remembering it, byexplaining to them that he was far from being so wicked in the matter ofthe theft as they had at first been (how slowly and reluctantly!) almostforced to believe. 

"Have you ever heard--oh, how shall I put it?--have you ever heard, aunty, how things went on at Roslyn after I ran away?" he asked, oneevening, with evident effort. 

"No, love, I have not. After they had sent home your things, I heard nomore; only two most kind and excellent letters--one from Dr. Rowlands, and one from your friend, Mr. Rose--informed me of what had happenedabout you. "

"O, have they sent home my things?" he asked, eagerly. "There are veryfew among them that I care about, but there is just one----"

"I guessed it, my Eric, and, but that I feared to agitate you, shouldhave given it you before;" and she drew out of a drawer the littlelikeness of Vernon's sweet childish face. 

Eric gazed at it till the sobs shook him, and tears blinded his eyes. 

"Do not weep, my boy, " said Mrs. Trevor, kissing his forehead. "Dearlittle Verny, remember, is in a land where God himself wipes away alltears from off all eyes. "

"Is there anything else you would like?" asked Fanny, to divert hispainful thoughts. "I will get you anything in a moment. "

"Yes, Fanny, dear, there is the medal I got for saving Russell's life, and one or two things which he gave me;--ah, poor Edwin, you neverknew him!"

He told her what to fetch, and when she brought them it seemed to givehim great pleasure to recall his friends to mind by name, and speak ofthem--especially of Montagu and Wildney. 

"I have a plan to please you, Eric, " said Mrs. Tremor. "Shall I askMontagu and Wildney here? we have plenty of room for them. "

"O, thank you, " he said, with the utmost eagerness. "Thank you, dearestaunt. " Then suddenly his countenance fell. "Stop--shall we?--yes, yes, Iam going to die soon, I know; let me see them before I die. "

The Trevors did not know that he was aware of the precarious tenure ofhis life, but they listened to him in silence, and did not contradicthim; and Mrs. Trevor wrote to both the boys (whose directions Ericknew), telling them what had happened, and begging them, simply for hissake, to come and stay with her for a time. She hinted clearly that itmight be the last opportunity they would ever have of seeing him. 

Wildney and Montagu accepted the invitation; and they arrived togetherat Fairholm on one of the early autumn evenings. They both greeted Ericwith the utmost affection; and he seemed never tired of pressing theirhands, and looking at them again. Yet every now and then a memory ofsadness would pass over his face, like a dark ripple on the clearsurface of a lake. 

"Tell me, Monty, " he said one evening, "all about what happened after Ileft Roslyn. "

"Gladly, Eric; now that your name is cleared, there is--"

"My name cleared!" said Eric, leaning forward eagerly. "Did you saythat?"

"Yes, Eric. Didn't you know, then, that the thief had been discovered?"

"No, " he murmured faintly, leaning back; "O thank God, thank God! Dotell me all about it, Monty. "

"Well, Eric, I will tell you all from the beginning. You may guess howutterly astonished we were in the morning, when we heard that you hadrun away. Wildney here was the first to discover it, for he went earlyto your bed-room----"

"Dear little Sunbeam, " interrupted Eric, resting his hand againstWildney's cheek; but Wildney shook his fist at him when he heard theforbidden name. 

"He found the door locked, " continued Montagu, "and called to you, butthere came no answer; this made us suspect the truth, and we werecertain, of it when some one caught sight of the pendent sheet. Themasters soon heard the report, and sent Carter to make inquiries, butthey did not succeed in discovering anything definite about you. Then, of course, everybody assumed as a certainty that you were guilty, and Ifear that my bare assertion on the other side had little weight. "

Eric's eyes glistened as he drank in his friend's story. 

"But, about a fortnight after, _more_ money and several other articlesdisappeared from the studies, and all suspicion as to the perpetratorwas baffled; only now the boys began to admit that, after all, they hadbeen premature in condemning you. It was a miserable time; for every onewas full of distrust, and the more nervous boys were always afraid lestany one should on some slight grounds suspect _them. Still_, things keptdisappearing. 

"We found out at length that the time when the robberies were effectedmust be between twelve and one, and it was secretly agreed that some oneshould be concealed in the studies for a day or two during those hours. Carter undertook the office, and was ensconced in one of the bigcupboards in a study which had not yet been touched. On the third day heheard some one stealthily mount the stairs. The fellows were morecareful now, and used to keep their doors shut, but the person wasprovided with keys, and opened the study in which Carter was. He movedabout for a little time--Carter watching him through the key-hole, andprepared to spring on him before he could make his escape. Not gettingmuch, the man at last opened the cup-board door, where Carter had justtime to conceal himself behind a great-coat. The great-coat took theplunderer's fancy; he took it down off the peg, and there stood Carterbefore him! Billy--for it was he--stood absolutely confounded, as thougha ghost had suddenly appeared; and Carter, after enjoying hisunconcealed terror, collared him, and hauled him off to the policestation. He was tried soon after, and finally confessed that it was hewho had taken the cricket-money too; for which offences he was sentencedto transportation. So Eric, dear Eric, at last your name was cleared. "

"As I always knew it would be, dear old boy, " said Wildney. 

Montagu and Wildney found plenty to make them happy at Fairholm, andwere never tired of Eric's society, and of his stories about all thatbefell him on board the "Stormy Petrel. " They perceived a marvellouschange in him. Every trace of recklessness and arrogance had passedaway; every stain of passion had been removed; every particle ofhardness had been calcined in the flame of trial. All was gentleness, love, and dependence, in the once bright, impetuous, self-willed boy; itseemed as though the lightning of God's anger had shattered and sweptaway all that was evil in his heart and life, and left all his trueexcellence, all the royal prerogatives of his character, pure andunscathed Eric, even in his worst days, was, as I well remember, alovable and noble boy; but at this period there must have been somethingabout him for which to thank God, something unspeakably winning, andirresistibly attractive. During the day, as Eric was too weak to walkwith them, Montagu and Wildney used to take boating and fishingexcursions by themselves, but in the evening the whole party would sitout reading and talking in the garden till twilight fell. The twovisitors began to hope that Mrs. Trevor had been mistaken, and thatEric's health would still recover; but Mrs. Trevor would not deceiveherself with a vain hope, and the boy himself shook his head when theycalled him convalescent. 

Their hopes were never higher than one evening about a week after theirarrival, when they were all seated, as usual, in the open air, under alime-tree on the lawn. The sun was beginning to set, and the rain ofgolden sunlight fell over them through the green ambrosial foliage ofthe tree whose pale blossoms were still murmurous with bees. Eric wasleaning back in an easy chair, with Wildney sitting on the grass, cross-legged at his feet, while Montagu, resting on one of the mossyroots, read to them the "Midsummer Night's Dream, " and the ladies werebusy with their work. 

"There--stop now, " said Eric, "and let's sit out and talk until we seesome of 'the fiery a'es and o'es of light' which he talks of. "

"I'd no idea Shakspeare was such immensely jolly reading, " remarkedWildney naïvely. "I shall take to reading him through when I get home. "

"Do you remember, Eric, " said Montagu, "how Rose used to chaff us in olddays for our ignorance of literature, and how indignant we used to bewhen he asked if we'd ever heard of an obscure person called WilliamShakspeare?"

"Yes, very well, " answered Eric, laughing heartily. And in this strainthey continued to chat merrily, while the ladies enjoyed listening totheir school-boy mirth. 

"What a perfectly delicious evening. It's almost enough to make me wishto live, " said Eric. 

He did not often speak thus; and it made them sad. But Eric half sang, half murmured to himself, a hymn with which his mother's sweet voice hadmade him familiar in their cottage-home at Ellan:--

 "There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found; They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground. 

 "The storm that wrecks the winter sky, No more disturbs their deep repose, Than summer evening's latest sigh That shuts the rose. "

The two last lines lingered pleasantly in his fancy and he murmured tohimself again, in low tones--

 "Than summer evening's latest sigh That shuts the rose. "

"Oh hush, hush, Eric!" said Wildney, laying his hand upon his friend'slips; "don't let's spoil to-night by forebodings. "

It seemed, indeed, a shame to do so, for it was almost an awful thing tobe breathing the splendor of the transparent air, as the sun broadenedand fell, and a faint violet glow floated over soft meadow and silverstream. One might have fancied that the last rays of sunshine loved tolinger over Eric's face, now flushed with a hectic tinge of pleasure, and to light up sudden glories in his bright hair, which the wind justfanned off his forehead as he leaned back and inhaled the luxury ofevening perfume, which the flowers of the garden poured on the gentlebreeze. Ah, how sad that such scenes should be so rare and soshort-lived!

"Hark--tirra-la-lirra-lirra!" said Wildney; "there goes the postman'shorn! Shall I run and get the letter-bag as he passes the gate?"

"Yes, do, " they all cried; and the boy bounded off full of fun, greetingthe postman with such a burst of merry apostrophe, that the man shookwith laughing at him. 

"Here it is at last, " said Wildney. "Now, then, for the key. Here's aletter for me, hurrah!--two for you, Miss Trevor--_what_ people youyoung ladies are for writing to each other! None for you, Monty--Oh, yes! I'm wrong, here's one; but none for Eric. "

"I expected none, " said Eric sighing; but his eye was fixed earnestlyon one of Mrs. Trevor's letters. He saw that it was from India, anddirected in his father's hand. 

Mrs. Trevor caught his look. "Shall I read it aloud to you, dear I Doyou think you can stand it? Remember it will be in answer to ours, telling them of--"

"Oh, yes, yes, " he said, eagerly, "do let me hear it. "

With instinctive delicacy Montagu and Wildney rose, but Eric pressedthem to stay. "It will help me to bear what mother says, if I see you byme, " he pleaded. 

God forbid that I should transcribe that letter. It was written from thedepths of such sorrow as He only can fully sympathise with, who forthirty years pitched his tent in the valley of human misery. By theformer mail Mrs. Williams had heard of Verny's melancholy death; by thenext she had been told that her only other child, Eric, was not deadindeed, but a wandering outcast, marked with the brand of terriblesuspicion. Let her agony be sacred; it was God who sent it, and he onlyenabled her to endure it. With bent head, and streaming eyes, and abreast that heaved involuntarily with fitful sobs, Eric listened asthough to his mother's voice, and only now and then he murmured low tohimself, "O mother, mother, mother--but I am forgiven now. O mother, Godand man have forgiven me, and we shall be at peace again once more. "

Mrs. Trevor's eyes grew too dim with weeping, to read it all, and Fannyfinished it. "Here is a little note from your father, Eric, whichdropped out when we opened dear aunt's letter. Shall I read it, too?"

"Perhaps not now, love, " said Mrs. Trevor. "Poor Eric is too tired andexcited already. "

"Well, then, let me glance it myself, aunty, " he said. He opened it, read a line or two, and then, with a scream, fell back swooning, whileit dropped out of his hands. 

Terrified, they picked up the fallen paper; it told briefly, in a fewheartrending words, that, after writing the letter, Mrs. Williams hadbeen taken ill; that her life was absolutely despaired of, and that, before the letter reached England, she would, in all human probability, be dead. It conveyed the impression of a soul resigned indeed, andhumble, but crushed down to the very earth with the load of mysteriousbereavement, and irretrievable sorrow. 

"Oh, I have killed her, I have killed my mother!" said Eric, in a hollowvoice, when he came to himself. "O God, forgive me, forgive me!"

They gathered round him; they soothed, and comforted, and prayed forhim; but his soul refused comfort, and all his strength appeared to havebeen broken down at once like a feeble reed. At last a momentary energyreturned; his eyes were lifted to the gloaming heaven where a few starshad already begun to shine, and a bright look illuminated hiscountenance. They listened deeply--"Yes, mother, " he murmured, in brokentones, "forgiven now, for Christ's dear sake. O thou merciful God! Yes, there they are, and we shall meet again. Verny--oh, happy, happy atlast--too happy!"

The sounds died away, and his head fell back; for a transient momentmore the smile and the brightness played over his fair features like alambent flame. It passed away, and Eric was with those he dearliestloved, in the land where there is no more curse. 

"Yes, dearest Eric, forgiven and happy now, " sobbed Mrs. Trevor; and hertears fell fast upon the dead boy's face, as she pressed upon it a long, last kiss. 

CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION

 "And hath that early hope been blessed with truth? Hath he fulfilled the promise of his youth? And borne unscathed through danger's stormy field Honor's white wreath and virtue's stainless shield?"

 HARROW. A Prize Poem. 

The other day I was staying with Montagu. He has succeeded to hisfather's estate, and is the best-loved landlord for miles around. Heintends to stand for the county at the next general election, and Ihaven't the shadow of a doubt that he will succeed. If he does, Parliament will have gained a worthy addition. Montagu has the very soulof honor, and he can set off the conclusions of his vigorous judgment, and the treasures of his cultivated taste, with an eloquence that risesto extraordinary grandeur when he is fulminating his scorn at anyspecies of tyranny or meanness. 

It was very pleasant to talk with him about our old school days in hischarming home. We sate by the open window (which looks over his grounds, and then across one of the richest plains in England) one long summerevening, recalling all the vanished scenes and figures of the past, until we almost felt ourselves boys again. 

"I have just been staying at Trinity, " said I, "and Owen, as I supposeyou know, is doing brilliantly. He has taken a high first class, andthey have already elected him fellow and assistant tutor. "

"Is he liked?"

"Yes, very much. He always used to strike me at school as one of thosefellows who are much more likely to be happy and successful as men, thanthey had ever any chance of being as boys. I hope the _greatest_ thingsof him; but have you heard anything of Duncan lately?"

"Yes, he's just been gazetted as lieutenant. I had a letter from him theother day. He's met two old Roslyn fellows, Wildney and Upton, thelatter of whom is now Captain Upton; he says that there are not twofiner or manlier officers in the whole service, and Wildney, as you mayeasily guess, is the favorite of the mess-room. You know, I suppose, that Graham is making a great start at the bar. "

"Is he? I'm delighted to hear it. "

"Yes. He had a 'mauvais sujet' to defend the other day, in the person ofour old enemy, Brigson, who, having been at last disowned by hisrelations, is at present a policeman in London. "

"On the principle, I suppose, of 'Set a thief to catch a thief, '" saidMontagu, with a smile. 

"Yes; but he exemplifies the truth 'chassez le naturel, il revient augalop' for he was charged with abetting a street fight between two boys, which very nearly ended fatally. However, he was penitent, and Grahamgot him off with wonderful cleverness. "

"Ah!" said Montagu, sighing, "there was _one_ who would have been thepride of Roslyn had he lived Poor, poor Eric!"

We talked long of our loved friend; his bright face, his winning words, his merry smile, came back to us with the memory of his melancholy fate, and a deep sadness fell over us. 

"Poor boy, he is at peace now, " said Montagu; and he told me once morethe sorrowful particulars of his death. "Shall I read you some verses?"he asked, "which he must have composed, poor fellow, on board the'Stormy Petrel, ' though he probably wrote them at Fairholm afterwards. "

"Yes, do. "

And Montagu, in his pleasant musical voice, read me, with much feeling, these lines, written in Eric's boyish hand, and signed with his name. 

ALONE, YET NOT ALONE. 

 Alone, alone! ah, weary soul, In all the world alone I stand, With none to wed their hearts to mine, Or link in mine a loving hand. 

 Ah! I tell me not that I have those Who owe the ties of blood and name, Or pitying friends who love me well, And dear returns of friendship claim. 

 I have, I have! but none can heal, And none shall see my inward woe, And the deep thoughts within me veiled No other heart but mine shall know. 

 And yet amid my sins and shames The shield of God is o'er me thrown And, 'neath its awful shade I feel Alone, --yet, ah, not all alone!

 Not all alone! and though my life Be dragged along the stained earth, O God! I feel thee near me still, And thank thee for my birth!

 E. W. 

Montagu gave me the paper, and I cherish it as my dearest memorial of myerring but noble schoolboy friend. 

Knowing how strong an interest Mr. Rose always took in Eric, I gave hima copy of these verses when last I visited him at his pleasant vicarageof Seaford, to which he was presented a year or two ago by Dr. Rowlands, now Bishop of Roslyn, who has also appointed him examining chaplain. Isat and watched Mr. Rose while he read them. A mournful interest wasdepicted on his face, his hand trembled a little, and I fancied that hebent his grey hair over the paper to hide a tear. We always knew atschool that Eric was one of his greatest favorites, as indeed he andVernon were with all of us; and when the unhappy boy had run awaywithout even having the opportunity for bidding any one farewell, Mr. Rose displayed such real grief, that for weeks he was like a man whowent mourning for a son. After those summer holidays, when we returnedto school, Montagu and Wildney brought back with them the intelligenceof Eric's return to Fairholm, and of his death. The news plunged many ofus in sorrow, and when, on the first Sunday in chapel, Mr. Rose alludedto this sad tale, there were few dry eyes among those who listened tohim. I shall never forget that Sunday afternoon. A deep hush broodedover us, and before the sermon was over, many a face was hidden toconceal the emotion which could not be suppressed. 

"I speak, " said Mr. Rose, "to a congregation of mourners, for one whobut a few weeks back was sitting among you as one of yourselves. But, for myself, I do _not_ mourn over his death. Many a time have I mournedfor him in past days, when I marked how widely he went astray, --but I donot mourn now; for after his fiery trials he died penitent and happy, and at last his sorrows are over for ever, and the dreams of ambitionhave vanished, and the fires of passion have been quenched, and for alleternity the young soul is in the presence of its God. Let none of youthink that his life has been wasted. Possibly, had it pleased heaven tospare him, he might have found great works to do among his fellow-men, and he would have done them as few else could. But do not let us fancythat our work must cease of necessity with our lives. Not so; far rathermust we believe that it will continue for ever; seeing that we are allpartakers of God's unspeakable blessing, the common mystery ofimmortality. Perhaps it may be the glorious destiny of very many here torecognise that truth, more fully when we meet and converse with our deardeparted brother in a holier and happier world. "

I have preserved some faint echo of the words he used, but I can give noconception of the dignity and earnestness of his manner, or the intensepathos of his tones. 

The scene passed before me again as I looked at him, while he lingeredover Eric's verses, and seemed lost in a reverie of thought. 

At last he looked up and sighed. "Poor Eric!--But no, I will not callhim poor; after all he is happier now than we. You loved him well, " hecontinued; "why do you not try and preserve some records of his life?"

The suggestion took me by surprise, but I thought over it, and at oncebegan to accomplish it. My own reminiscences of Eric were numerous andvivid, and several of my old schoolfellows and friends gladly suppliedme with other particulars, especially the Bishop of Roslyn, Mr. Rose, Montagu, and Wildney. So the story of Eric's ruin has been told, andtold as he would have wished it done, with simple truth. Noble Eric! Ido not fear that I have wronged your memory, and you I know wouldrejoice to think how sorrowful hours have lost something of theirsorrow, as I wrote the scenes in so many of which we were engagedtogether in our school-boy days. 

I visited Roslyn a short time ago, and walked for hours along the sands, picturing in my memory the pleasant faces, and recalling the joyoustones of the many whom I had known and loved. Other boys were playing bythe sea-side, who were strangers to me and I to them; and as I markedhow wave after wave rolled up the shore, with its murmur and its foam, each sweeping farther than the other, each effacing the traces of thelast, I saw an emblem of the passing generations, and was content tofind that my place knew me no more. 

 Ah me the golden time!-- But its hours have passed away, With the pure and bracing clime, And the bright and merry day. 

And the sea still laughs to the rosy shells ashore, And the shore still shines in the lustre of the wave; But the joyaunce and the beauty of the boyish days is o'er, And many of the beautiful lie quiet in the grave;-- And he who comes again Wears a brow of toil and pain, And wanders sad and silent by the melancholy main.