Part 25 (1/2)

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 present state 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 utterly changed he is!”

He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation of noise and gaiety. He ran after him, and said--

”Forgive me my pa.s.sion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt to express myself strongly.” He could not trust himself to say more, but held 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 warm to each other as we were when--”

”O Monty, Monty!” said Eric, softened by the allusion; and he warmly grasped his friend's proffered hand.

”O Eric!”

The two shook hands in silence, and as they left each other they felt that while things continued thus their friends.h.i.+p could not last. It was a sad thought for both.

Next morning Wildney received a severe flogging, but gained great reputation by not betraying his companion, and refusing to drop the least hint as to their means of getting out, or their purpose in visiting Ellan. So the secret of the bar remained undiscovered, and when any boy wanted to get out at night--(unhappily the trick now became common enough)--he had only to break a pane of gla.s.s in that particular window, which, as it was in the pa.s.sage, often remained unmended and undiscovered for weeks.

After the flogging, Mr Rose said shortly to Eric, ”I want to speak to you.”

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; but the boy whom I _do_ suspect is one whose course lately has given me the deepest pain; one who has violated all the early promise he gave; one who seems to be going farther and farther astray, and sacrificing all moral principle to the ghost of a fleeting and most despicable popularity--to the approval of those whom he cannot himself approve.”

Eric still silent.

”Whatever you do _yourself_ Williams,”--(it was the first time for two years that Mr Rose had called him ”Williams,” and he winced a little)--”whatever you do _yourself_ Williams, rests with _you_; but remember it is a ten-thousandfold heavier and more accursed crime to set stumbling-blocks in the way of others, and abuse your influence to cause any of Christ's little ones to perish.”

”I wasn't the tempter, however,” thought Eric, still silent;--it was the silence of pride and unwilling conviction.

”Well, you seem hardened, and give no sign. Believe me, Williams, I grieve 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 me to see him once this term,” thought Eric sadly; but a shout of pleasure greeted him directly he joined the football in the playground, and half consoled, he hoped Mr Rose had heard it, and understood that it was meant for the boy whom he had just been rebuking. ”Well, after all,” he thought, ”I have _some_ friends still.”

Yes, friends, such as they were! Except Duncan, hardly one boy whom he really respected ever walked with him now. Even little Wright, one of the 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 absolute vacuity, he was obliged to a.s.sociate with fellows like Attlay, and Graham, and Llewellyn, and Ball.

Even with Ball! All Eric's repugnance for this boy seemed to have evaporated; they were often together, and, to all appearance, were sworn friends.

Eric did not shrink now from such conversation as was pursued unchecked in his presence by nearly every one; nay, worse, it had lost its 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 heart of the school morality, and the least boys seemed the greatest proficients in unbaring, without a blush, its hideous ugliness.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

”THE JOLLY HERRING.”

Velut unda supervenit undam.--_Horace_.