"Raro antecedentem scelestumDeseruit pede Poena claudo."--HOR.
After prayers the next morning Dr. Rowlands spoke to his boarders on the previous day's discovery, and in a few forcible vivid words set before them, the enormity of the offence. He ended by announcing that the boys who were caught would be birched,--"except the elder ones, Bull and Brigson, who will bring me one hundred lines every hour of the half-holidays till further notice. There are some," he said, "I am well aware, who, though present yesterday, were not detected. I am sorry for it, fortheirsakes; they will be more likely to sin again. In cases like this, punishment is a blessing, and impunity a burden." On leaving the room he bade Eric follow him into his study. Eric obeyed, and stood before the head-master with downcast eyes.
"Williams," he said, "I have had a great regard for you, and felt a deep interest in you from the day I first saw you, and knew your excellent parents. At one time I had conceived great hopes of your future course, and your abilities seemed likely to blossom into noble fruit. But you fell 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 to arouse you from your negligence and indifference. All my hopes in you revived; but as I continued to watch your course (more closely, perhaps, than you supposed), I observed with pain that those hopes must be again disappointed. It needs but a glance at your countenance to be sure that you 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 inotherrespects also you are going the down-hill road. And what am I to think now, when on thesamemorning, you and your little brotherbothcome before me for such serious and heavy faults? I cannot free you from blame even forhismisdoings, for you are his natural guardian here; I am only glad that you were not involved with him in that charge."
"Letmebear the punishment, sir, instead of him," said Eric, by a sudden impulse; "for I misled him, and was there myself."
Dr. Rowlands paced the room in deep sorrow. "You, Williams! on the verge of the sixth form. Alas! I fear, from this, that the state of things among you is even worse than I had supposed."
Eric again hung his head.
"No; you have confessed the sin voluntarily, and therefore at present I shall not notice it; only, let me entreat you to beware. But I must turn to the other matter. What excuse have you for your intolerable conduct to Mr. Rose, who, as I know, has shown you from the first the most unusual and disinterested kindness?"
"I cannot defend myself, sir. I was excited, and could not control my passion."
"Then you must sit down here, and write an apology, which I shall make you read aloud before the whole school at twelve to-day."
Eric, with trembling hand, wrote his apology, and Dr Rowlands glanced at it. "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 one end of the room, and among them Mr. Rose, who, however, appeared an indifferent and uninterested spectator of the transaction. Every eye was fixed on Eric, and every one pitied him.
"We are assembled," said Dr. Rowlands, "for an act of justice. One of your number has insulted a master publicly, and is ashamed of his conduct, and has himself written the apology which he will read. I had intended to add a still severer punishment, but Mr. Rose has earnestly begged 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 a word. 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 heard what he was saying.
Dr. Rowlands took the paper from him. "Owing," he said, "to a very natural and pardonable emotion, the apology has been read in such a way that 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 my passionate and ungrateful insult to Mr. Rose.'
"You will understand that he was left quite free to choose his own expressions; and as he has acknowledged his shame and compunction for the act, I trust that none of you will be tempted to elevate him into a hero, for a folly which he himself so much regrets. This affair,--as I should wish all bad deeds to be after they have once been punished,--will now be forgiven, and I hope forgotten."
They left the room and dispersed, and Eric fancied that all shunned and looked coldly on his degradation But not so: Montagu came, and taking his arm in the old friendly way, went a walk with him. It was a constrained 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 less than before. Still it was weeks since they had been much together, and they 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 despises me?"
"I amsureof the contrary. Won't you go to him, Eric, and say all you feel?"
"Heigh ho! I shall never get right again. Oh, to recover the last two years!"
"You can redeem them, Eric, by a nobler present. Let the same words comfort you that have often brought hope to me--'I will restore the years 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 up to the fire-place where he was standing. They had often stood by that library fire on far different terms.
"Forgive me, sir," was all Eric could say, as the tears rushed to his eyes.
"Freely, my boy," said Mr. Rose, sadly. "I wish you could feel how fully I forgive you; but," he added, laying his hand for the last time on Eric's head, "you have far more, Eric, to forgive yourself. I will not talk to you, Eric; it would be little good, I fear; but you little know how much I pity and tremble for you."
While these scenes were being enacted with Eric, a large group was collected round the fire-place in the boarders' room, and many tongues were loudly discussing the recent events.
Alas for gratitude! there was not a boy in that group to whom Mr. Rose had not done many an act of kindness; and to most of them far more than they ever knew. Many a weary hour had he toiled for them in private, when his weak frame was harassed by suffering; many a sleepless night had he wrestled for them in prayer, when, for their sakes, his own many troubles were laid aside. Work on, Walter Rose, and He who seeth in secret will reward you openly! but expect no gratitude from those for whose salvation you, like the great tenderhearted apostle, would almost be ready to wish yourself accursed.
Nearly every one in that noisy group was abusing Mr. Rose. It had long been Brigson's cue to do so; he derided him on every opportunity, and delighted to represent him as hypocritical and insincere. Even his weak health was the subject of Brigson's coarse ridicule, and the bad boy paid, in deep hatred, the natural tribute which vice must ever accord to excellence.
"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's serpent," drawled Bull;
"Hope elevates and joy brightens his crest."
"He-e-ar! He-e-ar!" said Pietrie; "videthe last fifth form Rep."
"I expect Eric won't see everything so muchcouleur de Rosenow, as the 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 sitting reading a book at one of the desks, "all that isn't fair. I'm sure you all 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 the matter in Rowlands' hands."
"Discipline be hanged," shouted Brigson; "we'll have our revenge on him yet, discipline or no."
"I hope you won't, though," said Vernon; "I know Eric will be sorry if you 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 he tries to stick up for Rose."
"If you say a word more," said Brigson, unaccustomed to being opposed among his knot of courtiers, "I'll kick you out of the room; you and that wretched little fool there with you."
"You may do as you like," answered Wright, quietly, "but you won't go on like this long, I can tell you."
Brigson tried to seize him, but failing, contented himself with flinging a big coal at him as he ran out of the room, which narrowly missed his head.
"I have it!" said Brigson; "that little donkey's given me an idea. We'llcrustRose to-night."
"To crust," gentle reader, means to pelt an obnoxious person with crusts.
"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 not have done till you've got us all expelled, I believe."
"Fiddle-stick end! and what if we are? besides, he can't expel half the school."
First two or three more offered, and then a whole lot, gaining courage by numbers. So the plot was regularly laid. Pietrie and Graham were to put out the lights at each end of one table immediately after tea, and Wildney 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 middle candles, which, in so large a room, would just give enough light for their 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 many would have volunteered to join, but that they fancied Mr. Rose was too gentle to take up the matter with vigor, and they were encouraged by his quiet leniency towards Eric the night before. It was agreed that no study-boy should be told of the intention, lest any of them should interfere.
Many hearts beat fast at tea that night as they observed that numbers of boys, 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 in his desk. The signal agreed on was the (accidental) dropping of a plate by 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 movement towards 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 looked up, unable to conjecture what was the matter. Brigson's crust caught him a sharp rap on the forehead as he moved.
In an instant he started up, and ten or twelve more crusts flew by or hit 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 if he 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 five minutes; every boy not then in his place will be punished."
During that five minutes the servants had cleared away the tea, full of wonder; but Mr. Rose paced up and down the room, taking no notice of any one. Immediately after, all the boys were in their places, with their books open before them, and in the thrilling silence you might have heard a pin drop. Every one felt that Mr. Rose was master of the occasion, and awaited his next step in terrified suspense.
They all perceived how thoroughly they had mistaken their subject. The ringleaders 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 be disputed for an instant. He governed with such consummate tact, that they hardly felt it to be government at all, and hence arose their stupid miscalculation. But he felt that the time was now come to assert his 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 stern that it almost startled them. "The silly display of passion in one boy yesterday has led you to presume that you may trifle with me. You are wrong. For Williams' sake, as a boy who has, or at least oncehad, something noble in him, I left that matter in the Doctor's hands. I shallnotdo 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 Iwillknow, and it will be far worse for the guilty if I do not know at once." There was unmistakeable decision in the tone.
"Very well. I know many boys who werenotguilty because I saw them in parts of the room where to throw was impossible. I shall nowaskall the rest, one by one, if they took any part in this. And beware of telling me a lie."
There was an uneasy sensation in the room, and several boys began to whisper aloud, "Brigson! Brigson!" The whisper grew louder, and Mr. Rose heard 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, shambled out of his place into the middle of the room. Mr. Rose swept him with one flashing glance. "Thatis the boy," thought he to himself, "who has been like an ulcer to this school. These boys shall have a good look at their hero." It was but recently that Mr. Rose knew all the harm which Brigson had been doing, though he had discovered, almost from the first, whatsortof character he had.
So Brigson stood out in the room, and as they looked at him, many a boy cursed him in their hearts for evil taught them, such as a lifetime's struggle could not unteach. And it wasthatfellow, that stupid, clumsy, base compound of meanness and malice, that had ruled like a king among 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 and contempt ran round the room.
"You have told me a lie!" said Mr. Rose, slowly, and with ineffable contempt. "No words can express my loathing for your false and dishonorable conduct. Nor shall your lie save you, as you shall find immediately. Still, you shall escape if you can or dare to deny it again. I repeat my question--Were you engaged in this?"
He fixed his full, piercing eye on the culprit, whom it seemed to scorch and wither. Brigson winced back, and said nothing. "As I thought," said Mr. Rose.
"Notoneboy only, but many, were engaged. I shall call you up one by one 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 might be fatal to him, but, raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr. Rose, he said penitently--
"I didn't throw, sir, but Ididput out one of the candles that it might be done."
The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a little less darkly on Mr. Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmur of applause.
"Good! stand back. Pietrie, come up."
Pietrie, too, confessed, and indeed all the rest of the plotters except Brooking. Mr. Rose's lip curled with scorn as he heard the exclamation which his denial caused; but he suffered him to sit down.
When Wright's turn came to be asked, Mr. Rose said--"No! I shall not even ask you, Wright. I know well that your character is too good to be involved in such an attempt."
The boy bowed humbly, and sat down. Among the last questioned was Vernon 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 of this. He would have hated it, sir, more even than I do."
"Good," said Mr. Rose; "I am sure of it. And now," turning to the offenders, "I shall teach you never to dare again to be guilty of such presumption and wickedness as to-night. I shall punish you according to my notion of your degrees of guilt. Brigson, bring me a cane from that desk."
He brought it.
"Hold out your hand."
The cane fell, and instantly split up from top to bottom. Mr. Rose looked 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 of the 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 smile hovered at the corner of his lips. "Go and borrow me a cane from Mr. 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 had never undergone it before. At the first stroke he writhed and yelled; at the second he retreated, twisting like a serpent, and blubbering like a baby; at the third he flung himself on his knees, and, as the strokes fell fast, clasped Mr. Rose's arm, and implored and besought for mercy.
"Miserablecoward," said Mr. Rose, throwing into the word such ringing scorn that no one who heard it ever forgot it. He indignantly shook the boy off, and caned him till he rolled on the floor, losing every particle of self-control, and calling out, "The devil--the devil--the devil!" ("invoking his patron saint," as Wildney maliciously observed).
"There! cease to blaspheme, and get up," said the master, blowing out a cloud of fiery indignation. "There, sir. Retribution comes at last, leaden-footed but iron-handed. A long catalogue of sins is visited on you to-day, and not only on your shrinking body, but on your conscience too, if you have one left. Let those red marks betoken that your reign is ended. Liar and tempter, you have led boys into the sins which you then meanly deny! And now, you boys,therein that coward, who cannot even endure his richly-merited punishment, see the boy whom you have suffered to be yourleaderfor well-nigh six months!"
"Now, sir"--again he turned upon Brigson--"that flogging shall be repeated with interest on your next offence. At present you will take each boy on your back while I cane him. It is fit that they should see whereyoulead 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,neverlet 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 respect and wholesome fear that he then inspired.
But, as he had said, Brigson's reign was over. Looks of the most unmitigated disgust and contempt were darted at him, as he sat alone and shunned at the end of the table; and the boys seemed now to loathe and nauseate the golden calf they had been worshipping. He had not done blubbering even yet, when the prayer-bell rang. No sooner had Mr. Rose left the room than Wildney, his dark eyes sparkling with rage, leaped on the table, and shouted--
"Three groans, hoots, and hisses, for a liar and a coward," a sign of execration which he was the first to lead off, and which the boys echoed like a storm.
Astonished at the tumult, Mr. Rose re-appeared at the door. "Oh, we're not hissing you, sir," said Wildney excitedly; "we're all hissing at lying and cowardice."
Mr. Rose thought the revulsion of feeling might do good, and he was striding 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 and lungs of fifty boys than that. The news had spread like wildfire to the studies, and the other boys came flocking in during the uproar, to join in it heartily. Cheer after cheer rang out like a sound of silver clarions from the clear boy-voices; and in the midst of the excited throng stood Eric and Montagu, side by side, hurrahing more lustily than all the rest.
But Mr. Rose, in the library, was on his knees, with moving lips and lifted hands. He coveted the popular applause as little as he had dreaded the popular opposition; and the evening's painful experiences had taught him anew the bitter lesson to expect no gratitude, and hope for no reward, but simply, and contentedly, and unmurmuringly, to work on in God's vineyard so long as life and health should last.
Brigson's brazen forehead bore him through the disgrace which would have crushed another. But still he felt that his position at Roslyn could never be what it had been before, and he therefore determined to leave at once. By grossly calumniating the school, he got his father to remove him, and announced, to every one's great delight, that he was going in a fortnight. On his last day, by way of bravado, he smashed and damaged as much of the school property as he could, a proceeding which failed to gain him any admiration, and merely put his father to ruinous expense.
The day after his exposure Eric had cut him dead, without the least pretence of concealment; an example pretty generally followed throughout the school.
In the evening Brigson went up to Eric and hissed in his ear, "You cut me, curse you; but,never fear, I'll be revenged on you yet."
"Do your worst," answered Eric, contemptuously, "and never speak to me again."
"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 the affairs of the school. During their walk they saw Wright and Vernon Williams in front of them.
"I am so glad to see those two together," said Montagu; "I really think Wright is one of the best little fellows in the school, and he'll be the saving of Vernon. He's already persuaded him to leave off smoking and other bad things, and has got him to work a little harder, and turn over a new leaf altogether."
"Yes," answered Owen; "I've seen a marvellous improvement in little Williams lately. I think that Duncan gave him a rough lesson the other night which did him good, and dear old Rose too has been leading him by the hand; but the best thing is that, through Wright, he sees less of Eric'sfriend, that young scapegrace Wildney."
"Yes; that little wretch has a good deal to answer for. What a pity that Eric spoils him so, or rather suffers himself to be spoilt by him. I'm glad Vernon's escaped his influence now; he's too fine a boy to be made as bad as the general run of them. What a brilliant little fellow he is; just like his brother."
"Just like what his brotherwas," said Owen; "his face, like his mind, has suffered lately."
"Too true," answered Montagu, with a sigh; "and yet, cool as we now are in our outward intercourse, he little knows how I love him, and yearn for the Eric I once knew. Would to God poor Russell had lived, and then I believe that Williams wouldn't have gone so for wrong."
"Well, I think there's another chance for him now that--that--what name is bad enough, for that Brigson?--is gone."
"I hope so. But"--he added after a pause--"his works do follow him. Look there!" He took a large stone and threw it into the Silverburn stream; there was a great splash, and then ever-widening circles of blue ripple broke the surface of the water, dying away one by one in the sedges on the bank. "There," he said, "see how long those ripples last, and how numerous they are."
Owen understood him. "Poor Williams! What a gleam of new hope there was in him after Russell's death!"
"Yes, for a time," said Montagu; "heigh ho! I fear we shall never be warm friends again. We can't be while he goes on as he is doing. And yet I 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 pleasant grass bank, smoking pipes. Prominent among them was Eric, stretched at ease, and looking up at the clouds, towards which curled the puffed fumes of his meerschaum--a gift of Wildney's. That worthy was beside him similarly employed.
The two sixth-form boys hoped to pass by unobserved, as they did not wish for a rencontre with our hero under such circumstances. But they saw Wildney pointing to them, and, from the fits of laughter which followed his remarks, they had little doubt that they were the subject of the young gentleman's wit. This is never a pleasant sensation; but they observed that Eric made a point of not looking their way, and went on 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 Eric doesn'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 in together.
"We've been talking," said Wright, "about a bad matter. Vernon here says that there's no good working for a prize in his form, because the cribbing's so atrocious. Indeed, it's very nearly as bad in my form. It always is under Gordon; hecan'tunderstand fellows doing dishonorable things."
"It's a great bore in the weekly examinations," said Vernon; "every now and then Gordon will even leave the room for a few minutes, and then out come 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 pledged yourselves not to do it."
"Humph! I don't know how that would answer. They'd half kill me for one thing."
"Never mind; do your duty. I wish I'd such an opportunity, if only to show 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 then arrange to have a "jollification," that evening.
They got the brandy through "Billy." One of Brigson's most cursed legacies to the school was the introduction of this man to a nefarious intercourse with the boys. His character was so well known that it had long been forbidden, under the strictest penalty, for any boy ever to speak to him; yet, strange to say, they seemed to take a pleasure in doing so, and just now particularly it was thought a fine thing, a sign of "pluck" and "anti-muffishness," to be on familiar and intimate terms with that degraded and villainous scoundrel.
Duncan had made friends again with Eric; but he did not join him in his escapades and excesses, and sat much in other studies. He had not been altogether a good boy, but yet there was a sort of rough honesty and good sense about him, which preserved him from the worst and most dangerous failings, and his character had been gradually improving as he mounted higher in the school. He was getting steadier, more diligent, more thoughtful, more manly; he was passing through that change so frequent in boys as they grow older, to which Eric was so sad an exception. Accordingly Duncan, though sincerely fond of Eric, had latterly disapproved vehemently of his proceedings, and had therefore taken to snubbing his old friend Wildney, in whose favor Eric seemed to have an infatuation, and who was the means of involving him in every kind of impropriety and mischief. So that night Duncan, hearing of what was intended, sat in the next study, and Eric, with Bull, Wildney, Graham, and Pietrie, had the room to themselves. Several of them were lower boys still, but they came to the studies after bed-time, according to 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 let down 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 sooner had they shut the window, than he grimaced as usual towards them, and shook his fist in a sort of demoniacal exultation, muttering, "Oh, I'll have you all under my thumb yet, you fine young fools!"
Meanwhile the unconscious boys had opened the basket, and spread its contents on the table. They were, bread, a large dish of sausages, a tart, 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 the other study-boys were afraid lest one of the masters should come up and catch the revellers. All of them heard every word that was spoken by Eric and his party as the walls between the rooms were very thin; and very objectionable much of the conversation was.
"Thiswon'tdo," said Duncan emphatically, after a louder burst of merriment than usual; "those fellows are getting drunk; I can tell it to a certainty from the confused and random way in which some of them are 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 you much good."
The three boys went to the door of Eric's study, and their knock could not at first be heard for the noise. When they went in they found a scene of reckless disorder; books were scattered about, plates and glasses lay broken on the floor, beer was spilt on all sides, and there was an intolerable smell of brandy.
"If you fellows don't care," said Duncan, sharply, "Rose or somebody'll be 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 a row 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't endure it."
"Pooh!" said Pietrie; "we're all getting such saints, that one can't have the least bit of spree now-a-days."
"Spree!" burst in Montagu indignantly; "fine spree, to make sots of yourselves with spirits; fine spree, to----"
"Amen!" said Wildney, who was perched on the back of a chair; and he turned up his eyes and clasped his hands with a mock-heroic air.
"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 Bull, with his usual insufferable drawl; "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 Bull wasn't worth the trouble, when Wildney, who had been grimacing all the time, burst into a fit of laughter.
"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.
"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, 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, takethat, 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 struck in public, and that by Eric--by a boy who had loved him, and whom he had loved--by a boy who had been his schoolfellow for three years now, and whose whole life seemed bound to him by so many associations; it was strange, and sad indeed.
Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stride towards his striker with lifted hand and lightning 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."
"Oh, 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 passion 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 bed-room, where he was very sick. He had neither strength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as 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 had 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.
Eric awoke with a bad headache, and a sense of shame and sickness. When he got up he felt most wretched, and while washing he thought to himself, "Ah! that I could thus wash away the memory of last night!" Of course, after what had occurred, Eric and Montagu were no longer on speaking terms, and miserable as poor Eric felt when he saw how his blow had bruised and disfigured his friend's face, he made no advances. He longed, indeed, from his inmost heart, to be reconciled to him; but feeling that he had done grievous wrong, he dreaded a repulse, and his pride would not suffer him to run the risk. So he pretended to feel no regret, and, supported by his late boon-companions, represented the matter as occurring in the defence of Wildney, whom Montagu was bullying.
Montagu, too, was very miserable; but he felt that, although ready to forgive Eric, he could not, in common self-respect, take the first step to a reconciliation: indeed, he rightly thought that it was not for Eric'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 has any influence over him."
"I fear you are mistaken, sir, in that. Little Wildney has much more."
"Wildney?" asked Mr. Rose, in sorrowful surprise. "Wildney more influence thanyou?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, that our poor Edwin had lived!"
So, with a sigh, Walter Rose and Harry Montagu buried their friendship for Eric until happier days.
"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 disdainAnd insult to his heart's best brother."COLERIDGE'SChristabel.
Wright had not forgotten Montagu's advice, and had endeavored to get the names of boys who wern't afraid to scout publicly the disgrace of cheating in form. But he could only get one name promised him--the name of 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-nigh universal, and when Mr. Gordon went out to fetch something he had forgotten, merely saying, "I trust to your honor not to abuse my absence," books and papers were immediately pulled out with the coolest and most unblushing indifference.
This was the time for Wright to deliver his conscience; he had counted the cost, and, rightly or wrongly considering it to be his duty, he had decided that speak he would. He well knew that his interference would be attributed to jealousy, meanness, sneaking, and every kind of wrong motive, since he was himself one of the greatest sufferers from the prevalent dishonesty; but still he had come to the conclusion that heoughtnot to draw back, and therefore he bravely determined that he would make his protest, whatever happened.
So, very nervously, he rose and said, "I want to tell you all that I think this cheating very wrong and blackguardly. I don't mind losing by it 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 acquired firmness as he went on. Absolute astonishment and curiosity had held the boys silent with amazement, but by the end of this sentence they had recovered themselves, and a perfect burst of derision and indignation followed.
"Let's see ifthat'llcut short his oration," said Wildney, throwing a book at his head, which was instantly followed by others from all quarters.
"My word! we've had nothing but lectures lately," said Brooking. "Horrid little Owenite saint."
"Saint!--sneak, you mean. I'll teach him," growled Pietrie, and jumping up, he belabored Wright's head with the Latin grammar out of which he had just been cribbing.
The whole room was in confusion and hubbub, during which Wright sat stock still, quietly enduring without bowing to the storm.
Only one boy sympathised with him, but he did so deeply--poor little penitent Vernon. He felt his position hard because Wright had alluded so prominently to him, and he knew how much he must be misconstrued, but he had his brother's spirit, and would not shrink. Amid the tumult he got up in his seat, and they heard his pleasant, childish voice saying boldly, "I hope Wright won't tell; but he's the best fellow in the room, and cribbingisa shame, as he says."
What notice would have been taken of this speech is doubtful, for at the critical moment Mr. Gordon reappeared, and the whispered cavè caused instantaneous quiet.
Poor Wright awaited with some dread the end of school; and many an angry kick and blow he got, though he disarmed malice by the spirit and heroism with which he endured them. The news of his impudence spread like wildfire, and not five boys in the school approved of what he had done, while most of them were furious at his ill-judged threat of informing Mr. Gordon. There was a general agreement to thrash him after roll-call that afternoon.
Eric had lately taken a violent dislike to Wright, though he had been fond of him in better days. He used to denounce him as a disagreeable and pragmatical little muff, and was as loud as any of them in condemning his announced determination to "sneak." Had he known that Wright had acted under Montagu's well-meant, though rather mistaken advice, he might have abstained from having anything more to do with the matter, but now he promised to kick Wright himself after the four o'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 but fearless. His indifferent look was an additional annoyance to Eric, who walked up to him carelessly, and boxing his ears, though without hurting him, said contemptuously, "Conceited little sneak."
Montagu had been told of the intended kicking, and had determined even single-handed to prevent it. He didnot, however, expect that Eric would have taken part in it, and was therefore unprepared. The color rushed into his cheeks; he went up, took Wright quietly by the hand, and said with firm determination, "No one in the school shall touch Wright again."
"What? no one! just hark to that," said Graham; "I suppose he thinks himself cock of the school."
Eric quite misunderstood Montagu's proceedings; he took it for a public challenge. All the Rowlandites were round, and to yield would have looked like cowardice. Above all, his evil genius Wildney was by, and said, "How very nice! another dictation lesson!"
A threatening circle had formed round Montagu, but his closed lips, and flushing brow, and dilated nostrils, betrayed a spirit which made them waver, and he quietly repeated, "No one shall touch you, Wright."
"Theywill, though," said Eric instantly; "Iwill, for one, and I should like to see you prevent me." And so saying he gave Wright another slight blow.
Montagu dropped Wright's hand and said slowly, "Eric Williams, I have taken one unexpected blow from you without a word, and bear the marks of it yet. It is time to show that it wasnotthrough cowardice that I did not return it. Will you fight?"
The answer was not prompt by any means, though every one in the school knew that Eric was not afraid. So sure was he of this, that, for the sake of "auld lang syne," he would probably have declined to fight with Montagu 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 should fight--not only that they might see the fun, but that Montagu's authority, which stood in their way, might be flung aside. So Brooking whispered 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. A ring of excited boys crowded round them. Fellows of sixteen, like Montagu and Eric, rarely fight, because their battles have usually been decided in their earlier school-days; and it was also but seldom that two boys so strong, active, and prominent, took this method of settling their differences.
The fight began, and at first the popular favor was entirely on the side of Eric, while Montagu found few or none to back him. But he fought with a fire and courage which soon won applause; and as Eric, on the other hand, was random and spiritless, the cry was soon pretty fairly divided between them.
After a sharp round they paused for breath, and Owen, who had been a silent and disgusted spectator of such a combat between boys of such high 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 taken place, was Vernon Williams, who shrank away to avoid the pain of seeing his new friend Wright bullied and tormented. But curiosity soon took him back, and he came in just as the second round began. At first he only saw a crowd of boys in the middle of the room, but jumping on a desk he had a full view of what was going on.
There was a tremendous hubbub of voices, and Eric, now thoroughly roused by the remarks he overheard, and especially by Wildney's whisper that "he was letting himself be licked," was exerting himself with more vigor and effect. It was anything but a noble sight; the faces of the combatants were streaked with blood and sweat, and as the miserable gang of lower school-boys backed them on with eager shouts of--"Now Eric, now Eric," "Now Montagu, go it, sixth, form," etc., both of them fought under a sense of deep disgrace, increased by the recollections which they 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 the uproar, "Oh Eric, Eric, fighting with Montagu!" There was reproach and sorrow 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 at him for a moment.
But Eric heard the words, and knew that it was his brother's voice. The thought rushed on him how degraded his whole position was, and how different 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 once more grew feeble and ill-directed. When they again stopped to take rest, the general shout for Montagu showed that he was considered to have the best 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 to acknowledge yourself thrashed in a minute."
"That I'llneverdo," he said, once more firing up.
Just as the third round began, Duncan came striding in, for Owen, who had left the room, told him what was going on. He had always been a leading fellow, and quite recently his influence had several times been exerted in the right direction, and he was very much looked up to by all the 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 his strong shoulders he hurled on each side the boys who stood in his way, and struck down the lifted arms of the fighters.
"Youshan'tfight," he said, doggedly, thrusting himself between them; "so there's an end of it. If you do, you'll both have to fight me first."
"Shame!" said several of the boys, and the cry was caught up by Bull and others.
"Shame, is it?" said Duncan, and his lip curled with scorn. "There's only 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 this disgraceful scene."
"I'm sick enough of it," said Montagu, "and am ready to stop if Williams is,--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 his life--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 the alarm. "It's come to this, then," he thought; "Montagu doesn't think me good enough to be shaken hands with."
"Pish!" he said aloud, in a tone of sarcasm; "it may be an awful honor to shake hands with such an immaculate person as Montagu, but I'm not proud on the subject;" and he turned away.
Montagu's hesitation was but momentary, and without a particle of anger or indignation he sorrowfully held out his hand. It was too late; that moment had done the mischief, and it was now Eric's turn coldly to withdraw.
"You don't think me worthy of your friendship, and what's the good of grasping hands if we don't do it with cordial hearts?"
Montagu's lip trembled, but he said nothing, and quietly putting on his coat, waved back the throng of boys with a proud sweep of his arm, and left the room with Duncan.
"Come along, Wright," he said.
"Nay, leave him," said Eric with a touch of remorse. "Much as you think me beneath you, I have honor enough to see that no one hurts him."
The group of boys gradually dispersed, but one or two remained with Eric, 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 up abruptly, he left the room, to be alone in his study, and bathe his swollen and aching face.
In a few minutes Vernon joined him, and at the mere sight of him Eric burst into tears of shame. That evening with Vernon in the study, after the dinner at the Jolly Herring, had revived all his really warm affection for his little brother; and as he could no longer conceal the line he took in the school, they had been often together since then; and Eric's moral obliquity was not so great as to prevent him from feeling deep joy at the change for the better in Vernon's character.
"Verny, Verny," he said, as the boy came up and affectionately took his hand, "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 were home-boarders, and how kind Monty used to be to me even then, and how mother liked him, and thought him quite your truest friend, except poor Russell?"
"I do, indeed. I didn't think then that it would come to this."
"I've always beensosorry," said Vernon, "that I joined the fellows in playing him tricks. I can't think how I came to do it, except that I've done such lots of bad things here. But he's forgiven and forgotten that long ago, and is very kind to me now."
It was true; but Eric didn't know that half the kindness which Montagu showed to his brother was shown solely forhissake.
"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 next holidays."
"Oh, have you? Good Verny! Yes;therewe might be friends. Perhaps there," he added, half to himself, "I might be more like what I was in better days."
"But it's a long time to look forward to. Easter hasn't come yet," said Vernon.
So the two young boys proposed; but God had disposed it otherwise.