Part 31 (2/2)

”There, Williams,” continued Montagu, pointing to the mischievous-looking little boy; ”see that spectacle, and be ashamed of yourself, if you can. That's what you lead boys to! Are you anxious to become the teacher of drunkenness?”

In truth, there was good ground for his sorrowful apostrophe, for the scene was very painful to a high-minded witness.

They hardly understood the look on Eric's countenance; he had been taking far more than was good for him; his eyes sparkled fiercely, and though as yet he said nothing, he seemed to be resenting the intrusion in furious silence.

”How much longer is this interesting lecture to last?” asked Ball, with his usual insufferable tone; ”for I want to finish my brandy.”

Montagu rather looked as if he intended to give the speaker a box on the ear; but he was just deciding that he wasn't worth the trouble, when Wildney, who had been grimacing all the time, burst into a fit of satirical laughter.

”Here, Wildney,” said Graham; ”just hand me _The Whole Duty of Man_, or something of that sort, from the shelf, will you? That's a brick.”

”Certainly. Let's see; Watts's Hymns; _I_ bag those for myself,” said Wildney; ”they'll just suit--”

”How doth the little--”

”Let's turn out these impudent lower-school fellows,” said Montagu, speaking to Duncan. ”Here! you go first,” he said, seizing Wildney by the arm, and giving him a swing, which, as he was by no means steady on his legs, brought him sprawling to the ground, and sent Watts's Hymns flying open-leaved under the table.

”By Jove, I won't stand this any longer,” shouted Eric, springing up ferociously. ”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 was looking to see if Wildney was hurt, and finding he was not, proceeded to drag him out, struggling and kicking frantically.

”Drop me, you fellow, drop me, I say. I won't go for you,” cried Wildney, clinging tight to a chair. ”Eric, why do you let him bully me?”

”You let him go this minute,” repeated Eric hoa.r.s.ely.

”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!” And suddenly leaning forward, he struck Montagu a violent back-handed blow on the mouth.

Everybody saw it, everybody heard it; and it instantly astounded them into silence. That Montagu should have been so struck in public, and that by Eric--by a boy who had been his schoolfellow for three years now, and whose whole life seemed bound to him by so many a.s.sociations; it was strange and sad indeed.

Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stride towards his striker with lifted hand and lightening eyes, while the blood started to his lips in consequence of the blow. But he stopped suddenly, and his hand fell to his side; by a strong effort of self-control he contrived to master himself; and sitting down quite quietly on a chair, he put his white handkerchief to his wounded mouth, and took it away stained with blood.

No one spoke; and rising with quiet dignity, he went back into his study without a word.

”Very well,” said Duncan; ”you may all do as you like; only I heartily hope now you will be caught. Come, Owen.”

”O Williams,” said Owen, ”you are changed indeed, to treat your best friend so.”

But Eric was excited with drink, and the slave of every evil pa.s.sion at that moment. ”Serve him right,” he said; ”what business has he to interfere with what I choose to do?”

There was no more noise that night. Wildney and the rest slunk off ashamed and frightened, and Eric, leaving his candle flaring on the table, went down to his bedroom, where he was very sick. He had neither strength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as he was. When they heard that he was gone, Owen and Duncan (for Montagu was silent and melancholy) went into his study, put out the candle, and only just cleared away, to the best of their power, the traces of the carouse, when Dr Rowlands came up stairs on his usual nightly rounds.

They had been lighting brown paper to take away the fumes 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 placed implicit trust, the Doctor thought no more about it.

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