"And either greet him notOr else disdainfully, which shall shake him moreThan if not looked on."--TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, iii. 3.
Upton, expatriated from his study, was allowed to use one of the smaller class-rooms which were occupied during play-hours by those boys who were too high in the school for "the boarders' room," and who were waiting to succeed to the studies as they fell vacant. There were three or four others with him in this class-room, and although it was less pleasant than his old quarters, it was yet far more comfortable than the Pandemonium of the shell and fourth-form boys.
As a general rule, no boys were allowed to sit in any of the class-rooms except their legitimate occupants. The rule, however, was very generally overlooked, and hence Eric, always glad of an opportunity to escape from the company of Barker and his associates, became a constant frequenter of his friend's new abode. Here they used to make themselves very comfortable. Joining the rest, they would drink coffee or chocolate, and amuse themselves over the fire with Punch, or some warlike novel in a green 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; but if ever Mr. Gordon happened to come in and notice him, he invariably turned him out, and after the first offence or two, had several times set him an imposition. This treatment gave fresh intensity to his now deeply-seated disgust at his late master, and his expressions of indignation at "Gordon's spite" were loud and frequent.
One day Mr. Gordon had accidentally come in, and found no one there but Upton and Eric; they were standing very harmlessly by the window, with Upton's arm resting kindly on Eric's shoulder as they watched with admiration the net-work of rippled sunbeams that flashed over the sea. Upton had just been telling Eric the splendid phrase [Greek: anêrithmon gelasma pontiôn], which he had stumbled upon in an Aeschylus lesson that morning, and they were trying which would hit on the best rendering of it. Eric stuck up for the literal sublimity of "the innumerable laughter of the sea," while Upton was trying to win him over to "the many-twinkling smile of ocean." They were enjoying the discussion, and each stoutly maintaining his own rendering, when Mr. Gordon entered.
On this occasion he was particularly angry; he had an especial dislike of seeing the two boys together, because he fancied that the younger had grown more than usually conceited and neglectful, since he had been under the fifth-form patronage; and he saw in Eric's presence there, a new case of wilful disobedience.
"Williams, hereagain!" he exclaimed sharply. "Why, sir, you seem to suppose that you may defy rules with impunity! How often have I told you that 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 me the fourth Georgic, written out by Saturday morning, for your repeated disobedience. Upton, I have a great mind to punish you also, for tempting him to come here."
This was a mistake on Mr. Gordon's part, of which Upton took immediate advantage.
"I have no power to prevent it, sir, if he wishes it. Besides," he continued, 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 room instantly."
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 and impertinence are getting intolerable."
Eric only answered with a fiery glance; the next minute Upton joined him on the stairs, and Mr. Gordon heard them laughing a little ostentatiously, as they ran out into the playground together. He went away full of strong contempt, and from that moment began to look on the friends as two of the worst boys in the school.
This incident had happened on Thursday, which was a half-holiday, and instead of being able to join in any of the games, Eric had to spend that weary afternoon in writing away at the fourth Georgic; Upton staying in a part of the time to help him a little, by dictating the lines to him--an occupation not unfrequently interrupted by storms of furious denunciation against Mr. Gordon's injustice and tyranny; Eric vowing "that he would pay him out somehow yet."
The imposition was not finished that evening, and it again consumed some of the next day's leisure, part of it being written between schools in the forbidden class-room. Still it was not quite finished on Friday afternoon at six, when school ended, and Eric stayed a few minutes behind the rest to scribble off the last ten lines; which done, he banged down the lid of his desk, not locking it, and ran out.
The next morning an incident happened which involved considerable consequences to some of the actors in my story.
Mr. Rose and several other masters had not a room to themselves, like Mr. Gordon, but heard their forms in the great hall. At one end of this hall was a board used for the various school notices, to which there were always affixed two or three pieces of paper containing announcements about examinations and other matters of general interest.
On Saturday morning (when Eric was to give up his Georgic), the boys, as they dropped into the hall for morning school, observed a new notice on the 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 all very much by surprise, and they wondered who had been so audacious as to play this trick. But their wonder was cut short by the entrance of the masters, and they all took their seats, without any one tearing down the dangerous paper.
After a few minutes the eye of the second master, Mr. Ready, fell on the paper, and, going up, he read it, stood for a moment transfixed with astonishment, and then called Mr. Rose.
Pointing to the inscription, he said: "I think we had better leave that there, Rose, exactly as it is, till Dr. Rowlands has seen it. Would you mind asking him to step in here?"
Just at this juncture Eric came in, having been delayed by Mr. Gordon while 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 very favorable."
"And serve him right, too, brute!" said Eric, smarting with the memory of 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 read the paper, frowned, pondered a moment, and then said to Mr. Rose--"Would you kindly summon the lower school into the hall? As it would be painful to Mr. Gordon to be present, you had better explain to him how matters stand."
"Halloa! here's a rumpus!" whispered Montagu; "he never has the lower school down for nothing."
A noise was heard on the stairs, and in flocked the lower school. When they had ranged themselves on the vacant forms, there was a dead silence and hush of expectation.
"I have summoned you all together," said the Doctor, "on a most serious occasion. This morning, on coming into the school-room, the masters found that the notice-board had been abused for the purpose of writing up 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 to inform you of its purport; the words are these--'Gordon is a surly devil.'"--Averyslight titter followed this statement, which was instantly succeeded by a sort of thrilling excitement; but Eric, when he heard the words, started perceptibly, and colored as he caught Montagu's eye fixed on him.
Dr. Rowlands continued--"I suppose this dastardly impertinence has been perpetrated by some boy out of a spirit of revenge. I am perfectly amazed at the unparalleled audacity and meanness of the attempt, and it may be very difficult to discover the author of it. But, depend upon it, discover himwe will, at whatever cost. Whoever the offender may be, and he must be listening to me at this moment, let him be assured that he shallnotbe unpunished. His guilty secret shall be torn from him. His punishment can only be mitigated by his instantly yielding himself up."
No one stirred, but during the latter part of this address Eric was so uneasy, and his cheek burned with such hot crimson, that several eyes were upon him, and the suspicions of more than one boy were awakened.
"Very well," said the head master, "the guilty boy is not inclined to confess. Mark, then; if his name has not been given up to me by to-day week, every indulgence to the school will be forfeited, the next whole holiday stopped, and the coming cricket-match prohibited."
"The handwriting may be some clue," suggested Mr. Ready. "Would you have any objection to my examining the note-books of the Shell?"
"None at all. The Shell-boys are to show their books to Mr. Ready immediately."
The head-boy of the Shell collected the books, and took them to the desk; the three masters glanced casually at about a dozen, and suddenly stopped at one. Eric's heart beat loud, as his saw Mr. Rose point towards him.
"We have discovered a handwriting which remarkably resembles that on the board. I give the offender one more chance of substituting confession for detection."
No one stirred; but Montagu felt that his friend was trembling violently.
"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 anything of 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 burn into his heart. He did not meet it, but hung his head. The Doctor felt certain from his manner that he was guilty. He chained him to the spot with his glance for a minute or two, and then said slowly, and with a deep sigh--
"Very well; Ihopeyou have spoken the truth; but whether you have or no, we shall soon discover. The school, and especially the upper boys, will remember what I have said. I shall now tear down the insulting notice, and put it into your hands, Avonley, as head of the school, that you may make further inquiries." He left the room, and the boys resumed their usual avocation till twelve o'clock. But poor Eric could hardly get through his ordinary pursuits; he felt sick and giddy, until everybody noticed his strange embarrassed manner, and random answers.
No sooner had twelve o'clock struck, than the whole school broke up into knots 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 to him, 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 has been swearing at him ever since."
"I noticed that he stayed in after all the rest last night," said Barker.
"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 as Lucifer, and is furious if you mention it to him. He says we ought to know him better than to think him capable of such a thing."
"And quite right, too," said Duncan. "If he did it, he's done something totally unlike what one would have believed possible of him."
The various items of evidence were put together, and certainly they seemed to prove a strong case against Eric. In addition to the probabilities already mentioned, it was found that the ink used was of a violet color, and a peculiar kind, which Eric was known to patronise; and not only so, but the wafers with which the paper had been attached to the board were yellow, and exactly of the same size with some which Eric was said to possess. How the latter facts had been discovered, nobody exactly knew, but they began to be very generally whispered throughout the school.
In short, the almost universal conviction among the boys proclaimed that he was guilty, and many urged him to confess it at once, and save the school from the threatened punishment. But he listened to such suggestions with the most passionate indignation.
"What!" he said, angrily, "tell a wilful lie to blacken my own innocent character? Never!"
The consequence was, they all began to shun him. Eric was put into Coventry. Very few boys in the school still clung to him, and maintained his innocence in spite of appearances, but they were the boys whom he had 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 a very serious tone, "This is a bad business, Williams. I cannot forget how you have been abusing Gordon lately, and though I won't believe you guilty, yet you ought to explain."
"What? evenyou, then suspect me?" said Eric, bursting into proud tears. "Very well. I shan't condescend todenyit. I won't speak to you again till you have repented of mistrusting me;" and he resolutely rejected all further overtures on Upton's part.
He was alone in his misery. Some one, he perceived, had plotted to destroy his character, and he saw too clearly how many causes of suspicion told against him. But it was very bitter to think that the whole school could so readily suppose that he would do a thing which from his soul he abhorred. "No," he thought, "bad I may be, but Icouldnot have done such a base and cowardly trick."
Never in his life had he been so wretched. He wandered alone to the rocks, and watched the waves dashing against them with the rising tide. The tumult of the weather seemed to relieve and console the tumult of his heart. He drank in strength and defiance from the roar of the waters, and climbed to their very edge along the rocks, where every fresh, 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 of his thoughts.
At last, with a deep sigh, he turned away to go back, and meet the crowd of suspicious and unkindly companions, and brood alone over his sorrow in the midst of them. He had not gone many steps, when he caught sight of Russell in the distance. His first impulse was to run away and escape; but Russell determined to stop him, and when he came up, said, "Dear Eric, I have sought you out on purpose to tell you thatIdon't suspect you, and have never done so for a moment. I know you too well, my boy, and be sure thatIwill always stick to you, even if the whole school cut you."
"Oh, Edwin, I amsowretched. I needn't tell you that I am quite innocent of this. What have I done to be so suspected? Why, even your cousin Upton won't believe me."
"But he does, Eric," said Russell; "he told me so just now, and several others 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 no friend."
"Don't say so, Eric. This cloud will soon blow over. Depend upon it, as the Doctor said, we shall discover the offender yet, and the fellows will soon make you reparation for their false suspicions. And youhaveone friend, Eric," he continued, pointing reverently upwards.
Eric was overcome; he sat down on the grass and hid his face till the tears flowed through his closed fingers. Russell sat silent and pitying beside him, and let Eric's head rest upon his shoulder.
When they got home, Eric found three notes in his drawer. One was from Mr. 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 I promise, by every means in my power, to befriend and save you."
This note he read, and then, stamping on the floor, tore it up furiously into twenty pieces, which he scattered about the room.
Another was from Mr. Rose;
"Dear Eric--Icannot, willnot, believe you guilty, although appearances look very black. You have many faults, but I feel sure that I cannot be mistaken in supposing you too noble-minded for a revenge so petty and so mean. Come to me, dear boy, if I can help you in any way. Itrust you, Eric, and will use every endeavor to right you in the general estimation. You are innocent; pray to God for help under this cruel trial, and be sure that your character will yet be cleared.--Affectionately yours, WALTER ROSE."
"P.S.--I can easily understand that just now you will like quiet; come and sit with me in the library as much as you like."
He read this note two or three times with grateful emotion, and at that moment would have died for Mr. Rose. The third note was from Owen, as follows:--
"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 be told, 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.--Yours truly, D. OWEN."
This note, too, brought much comfort to the poor boy's lonely and passionate heart. He put it into his pocket, and determined at once to accept Mr. Rose's kind offer of allowing him to sit for the present in the library.
There were several boys in the room while he was reading his notes, but none of them spoke to him, and he was too proud to notice them, or interrupt the constrained silence. As he went out he met Duncan and Montagu, 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 Monty for another, will maintain your innocence before the whole school."
Montagusaidnothing, but Eric understood full well the trustful kindness of his soft pressure of the hand. His heart was too full to speak, and he went on towards the library.
"I wonder at your speaking to that fellow," said Bull, as the two new comers 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 unkind to condemn him before you are certain."
"I wish you joy of yourfriend, Duncan," sneered Barker.
"Friend?" said Duncan, firing up; "yes! he is my friend, and I'm not ashamed of him. It would be well for the school ifallthe fellows were as honorable as Williams."
Barker took the hint, and although he was too brazen to blush, thought it better to say no more.
"A plot, a plot, a plot, to ruin all." TENNYSON,The Princess.
On the Monday evening, the head boy reported to Dr. Rowlands that the perpetrator of the offence had not been discovered, but that one boy was very generally suspected, and on grounds that seemed plausible. "I admit," he added, "that from the little I know of him he seems to me a very unlikely sort of boy to do it."
"I think," suggested the Doctor, "that the best way would be for you to have a regular trial on the subject, and hear the evidence. Do you think that you can be trusted to carry on the investigation publicly, with good order and fairness?"
"I think so, sir," said Avonley.
"Very well. Put up a notice, asking all the school to meet by themselves in the boarders' room tomorrow afternoon at three, and see what you can do 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 rather disorderly; but Avonley briefly begged them, if they determined to have a trial, to see that it was conducted sensibly; and by general consent he was himself voted into the desk as president. He then got up and said--
"There must be no sham or nonsense about this affair. Let all the boys take 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 the library to fetch him, and told him what was going on. He took Eric's arm kindly as they entered, to show the whole school that he was not ashamed of him, and Eric deeply felt the delicacy of his goodwill.
"Are you willing to be tried, Williams," asked Avonley, "on the charge of having written the insulting paper about Mr. Gordon? Of course we know very little how these kind of things ought to be conducted, but we will see that everything done is open and above ground, and try to manage it properly."
"There is nothing I should like better," said Eric.
He had quite recovered his firm, manly bearing. A quiet conversation with his dearly loved friend and master had assured him in the confidence of innocence, and though the color on his cheek had through excitement sunk into two bright red spots, he looked wonderfully noble and winning as he stood before the boys in the centre of the room. His appearance caused a little reaction in his favor, and a murmur of applause 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 the top of the fifth form. He was a clever fellow, and Eric liked the little he had seen of him.
"Have you any objection, Williams, to the jury being composed of the sixth form? or are there any names among them which you wish to challenge?"
"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, and I will only be defended by somebody who never doubted my innocence."
Another pause followed, and then, blushing crimson, Russell got up. "I am only a Shell-boy," he said, "but if Eric doesn't mind trusting his cause to me, I will defend him, since no other fifth-form fellow stirs."
"Thank you, Russell,I wantedyou to offer, I could wish no better defender."
"Will Owen, Duncan, and Montagu help me, if they can?" asked Russell.
"Very willingly," they all three said, and went to take their seats by him. They conversed eagerly for a few minutes, and then declared themselves ready.
"All I have got to do," said Gibson, rising, "is to bring before the school the grounds for suspecting Williams, and all the evidence which makes it probable that he is the offender. Now, first of all, the thing must have been done between Friday evening and Saturday morning; and since the school-room door is generally locked soon after school, it was probably done in the short interval between six and a quarter past. I shall now examine some witnesses."
The first boy called upon was Pietrie, who deposed, that on Friday evening, when he left the room, having been detained a few minutes, the only boy remaining in it was Williams.
Carter, the school-servant, was then sent for, and deposed, that he had met Master Williams hastily running out of the room, when he went at a quarter past six to lock the door.
Examined by Gibson.--"Was any boy in the room when you did lock the door?"
"No one."
"Did you meet any one else in the passage?"
"No."
Cross-examined by Russell.--"Do boys ever get into the room after the door 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 a significant nod.
Barker was next brought forward, and questioned by Gibson.
"Do you know that Williams is in the habit of using a particular kind of ink?"
"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.--"Howdo you know that Williams has wafers like 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 he does. 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 in the school will witness to having seen Williams use these wafers?"
No one spoke, and Barker, whose malice seemed to have been changed into uneasiness, sat down.
Upton was the next witness. Gibson began--"You have seen a good deal of Williams?"
"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 injure him?"
"The other day Mr. Gordon gave him a Georgic as an imposition, and I heard 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, being simply desirous that the truth should come out, he concealed nothing that he knew. He brightened up a little when Russell rose to cross-examine him.
"Have you ever known Williams to do any mean act?"
"Never."
"Do you consider him a boylikelyto have been guilty on this occasion?"
"Distinctly the reverse. I am convinced of his innocence."
The answer was given with vehement emphasis, and Eric felt greatly relieved by it.
One or two other boys were then called on as witnesses to the great agitation which Eric had shown during the investigation in the school-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 a grudge against Mr. Gordon at the time of the occurrence, and had threatened to be revenged on him; that he was the last boy in the room during the time when the offence must have been committed; that the handwriting is known to resemble his, and that the ink and wafers employed were such as he, and he only, was known to possess. In addition to all this, his behavior, when the matter was first publicly noticed, was exactly such as coincides with the supposition of his guilt. I think you will all agree in considering these grounds of suspicion very strong; and leaving them to carry their full weight with you, I close the case for the prosecution."
The school listened to Gibson's quiet formality with a kind of grim and gloomy satisfaction, and when he had concluded, there were probably few but Eric's own immediate friends who were not fully convinced of his guilt, however sorry they might be to admit so unfavorable an opinion of a companion whom they all admired.
After a minute or two, Russell rose for the defence, and asked, "Has Williams any objection to his desk being brought, and any of its contents put in as evidence?"
"Not the least; there is the key, and you will find it in my place in school."
The desk was brought, but it was found to be already unlocked, and Russell looked at some of the note-paper which it contained. He then began--"In spite of the evidence adduced, I think I can show that Williams 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 true that he used the expressions attributed to him, and that the ink and wafers are such as may be found in his desk, and that the handwriting is not unlike his. But is it probable that a boy intending to post up an insult such as this, would do so in a manner, and at a time so likely to involve him in immediate detection, and certain punishment? At any rate, he would surely disguise his usual handwriting. Now, I ask any one to look at this paper, and tell me whether it is not clear, on the contrary, that these letters were traced slowly and with care, as would be the case with an elaborate attempt to imitate?" Russell here handed the paper to the jury, who again narrowly examined it.
"Now the evidence of Pietrie and Carter is of no use, because Carter himself admitted that boys often enter the room by the window; a fact to which we shall have to allude again.
"We admit the evidence about the ink and wafers. But it is rather strange that Barker should know about the wafers, since neither I, nor any other friend of Williams, often as we have sat by him when writing letters, have ever observed that he possessed any like them."
Several boys began to look at Barker, who was sitting very ill at ease on 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 words on that paper; and, confident of his innocence, I am indifferent to its appearing to tell against him. I myself once heard Williams use the very words written on that paper, and not only heard them, but expostulated with him strongly for the use of them. I need hardly say how very unlikely it is, that remembering this, he should thus publicly draw my suspicions on him, if he meant to insult Mr. Gordon, undiscovered. But, besides myself, there was another boy who accidentally overheard that expression. That boy was Barker.
"I have to bring forward a new piece of evidence which at least ought to go for something. Looking at this half-sheet of note-paper, I see that the printer's name on the stamp in the corner is 'Graves, York.' Now, I have 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' general character 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 now demand another. It is our painful duty to prove Williams' innocence by proving another's guilt. That other is a known enemy of mine, and of Montagu's, and of Owen's. We therefore leave the charge of stating the case against him to Duncan, with whom he has never quarrelled."
Russell sat down amid general applause; he had performed his task with a wonderful modesty and self-possession, which filled every one with admiration, and Eric warmly pressed his hand.
The interest of the school was intensely excited, and Duncan, after a minute's pause, starting up, said--"Williams has allowed his desk to be brought in and examined. Will Barker do the same?"
The real culprit now saw at once that his plot to ruin Eric was recoiling on himself. He got up, swore and blustered at Russell, Duncan, and Williams, and at first flatly refused to allow his desk to be brought. He was, however, forced to yield, and when opened, it was immediately seen that the note-paper it contained was identical with that on which the words had been written. At this he affected to be perfectly unconcerned, and merely protested against what he called the meanness of trying to fix the charge on him.
"And what have you been doing the whole of the last day or two," asked Gibson, quietly, "but endeavoring to fix the charge on another?"
"We have stronger evidence against you," said Duncan, confronting him with 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 the sick-room, when I suddenly saw Barker clamber in to the school-room by the window, which he left open. I was looking on simply from curiosity, and saw him search Williams' desk, from which he took out something, I could not make out what. He then went to his own place, and wrote for about ten minutes, after which I observed him go up and stand by the notice 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 the sick-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 it worth while to make it generally known."
Duncan turned an enquiring eye to Barker (who sat black and silent), and then pulled some bits of torn paper from his pocket, put them together, and called Owen to stand up. Showing him the fragments of paper, he asked, "Have you ever seen these before?"
"Yes. On Saturday, when the boys left the schoolroom, I stayed behind to think a little over what had occurred, feeling convinced that Williams wasnotguilty, spite of appearances. I was standing by the empty fire-place, when these bits of paper caught my eye. I picked them up, and, after a great deal of trouble, fitted them together. They are covered apparently with failures in an attempt at forgery, viz., first, 'Gordon is a sur--' and then a stop, as though the writer were dissatisfied, 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!youdid it, and caused all this misery, you ineffable blackguard!" shouted Upton, grasping him with one hand, while he struck him with the other.
"Stop!" said Avonley; "just see that he doesn't escape, while we decide on his punishment."
It was very soon decided by the sixth form that he should run the gauntlet of the school. The boys instantly took out their handkerchiefs, and knotted them tight. They then made a double line down each side of the corridor, and turned Barker loose. He stood stock-still at one end, while the fellows nearest him thrashed him unmercifully with the heavy knots. At last the pain was getting severe, and he moved on, finally beginning to run. Five times he was forced up and down the line, and five times did every boy in the line give him a blow, which, if it did not hurt much, at least spoke of no slight anger and contempt. He was dogged and unmoved to the last, and then Avonley hauled him into the presence of Dr. Rowlands. He was put in a secure room by himself, and the 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 in this retributive act. They sat together in the boarders' room till it was over, engaged in exciting discussion of the recent event. Most warmly did Eric thank them for their trustfulness. "Thank you," he said, "with all my heart, for proving my innocence; but thank you, even more a great deal, for first believing it."
Upton was the first to join them, and since he had but wavered for a moment, he was soon warmly reconciled with Eric. They had hardly shaken hands when the rest came flocking in. "We have all been unjust," said Avonley; "let's make up for it as well as we can. Three cheers for Eric Williams!"
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 for the false suspicion, and doing all they could to show their regret for his recent troubles. His genial, boyish heart readily forgave them, and his eyes were long wet with tears of joy. The delicious sensation of returning esteem made him almost think it worth while to have under gone his trial.
Most happily did he spend the remainder of that afternoon, and it was no small relief to all the Rowlandites in the evening to find themselves finally rid of Barker, whose fate no one pitied, and whose name no one mentioned without disgust. He had done more than any other boy to introduce meanness, quarrelling, and vice, and the very atmosphere of the rooms seemed healthier in his absence. One boy only forgave him, one boy only prayed for him, one boy only endeavored to see him for one last kind 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 all that could be done by an honorable man to repair the injury of an unjust doubt. Eric felt his generous humility, and from thenceforth, though they were never friends, he and Mr. Gordon ceased to be enemies.
That night Mr. Rose crowned his happiness by asking him and his defenders to supper in the library. A most bright and joyous evening they passed, for they were in the highest spirits; and when the master bade them "good night," he kindly detained Eric, and said to him, "Keep an innocent heart, my boy, and you need never fear trouble. Only think if you had been guilty, and were now in Barker's place!"
"O, Icouldn'tbe guilty, sir," said Eric, gaily.
"Not of such a fault, perhaps. But," he added solemnly, "there are many kinds 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, and you will win the victory. God bless you."
And as the boy's graceful figure disappeared through the door, Mr. Rose drew his arm-chair to the fire, and sat and meditated long. He was imagining for Eric a sunny future--a future of splendid usefulness, of reciprocated love, of brilliant fame.
"Ten cables from where green meadowsAnd quiet homes could be seen,No greater spaceFrom peril to peace,But the savage sea between!"--EDWIN ARNOLD.
The Easter holidays at Roslyn lasted about ten days, and as most of the boys came from a distance, they usually spent them at school. Many of the usual rules were suspended during this time, and the boys were supplied every day with pocket-money; consequently the Easter holidays passed very pleasantly, and there was plenty of fun.
It was the great time for excursions all over the island, and the boys would often be out the whole day long among the hills, or about the coast. Eric enjoyed the time particularly, and was in great request among all the boys. He was now more gay and popular than ever, and felt as if nothing were wanting to his happiness. But this brilliant prosperity was not good for him, and he felt continually that he cared far less for the reproaches of conscience than he had done in the hours of his trial; sought far less for help from God than he had done when he was 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 have insensibly glided in conformation to the general looseness of the school morality. But Russell's influence worked on him powerfully, and tended to counteract a multitude of temptations.
Among other dangerous lessons, Upton had taught Eric to smoke; and he was now one of those who often spent a part of his holidays in lurking about with pipes in their mouths at places where they were unlikely to be disturbed, instead of joining in some hearty and healthy game. When he began to "learn" smoking, he found it anything but pleasant; but a little practice had made him an adept, and he found a certain amount of enjoyable excitement in finding out cozy places by the river, where he and 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 fine thing 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" in it, and it derived an additional zest from the stringency of the rules adopted to put it down. So a number of the boys smoked, and some few of them to such excess as to get them into great mischief, and form a habit which they could never afterwards abandon.
One morning of the Easter holidays, Eric, Montagu, and Russell started for an excursion down the coast to Rilby Head. As they passed through Ellan, 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 he caught 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 theonlythings 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 you have 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,Ishall, at any rate," said Eric, keeping off the wind with his cap, 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, and entirely unlike himself, as he did while strutting along with the weed in his mouth. The fact was, Eric didn't guess how much he was hurting Edwin's feelings, and he was smoking more to "make things look like the holidays," by a little bravado, than anything else. But suddenly he caught the expression of Russell's face, and instantly said--
"O, I forgot, Edwin; I know you don't like smoking;" and he instantly flung the cigar over the hedge, being really rather glad to get rid of it. With the cigar, he seemed to have flung away the affected manner he displayed just before, and the spirits of all three rose at once.
"It isn't that I don'tlikesmoking only, Eric, but I think it wrong--forusI mean."
"O, my dear fellow! surely there can't be any harm in it. Why everybody smokes."
"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 what harm it does in every way."
"O, it's a mere school rule against it. How can it be wrong? Why, I even know clergymen who smoke."
Montagu laughed. "Well, clergymen ain't immaculate," said he; "but I never met a man yet who didn't tell you that he wassorryhe'd acquired the habit."
"I'm sure you won't thank that rascally cousin of mine for having taught you," said Russell; "but seriously, isn't it a very moping way of spending the afternoon, to go and lie down behind some hay-stack, or in some frowsy tumble-down barn, as you smokers do, instead of playing racquets or football?"
"O, it's pleasant enough sometimes," said Eric, speaking rather against his own convictions.
"As for me, I've nearly left it off," said Montagu, "and I think Rose convinced me that it was a mistake. Not that he knows that I ever did smoke; I should be precious sorry if he did, for I know how he despises it in boys. Were you in school the other day when he caught Pietrie and Brooking?"
"No."
"Well, when Brooking went up to have his exercise corrected, Rose smelt that he had been smoking, and charged him with it. Brooking stoutly denied it, but after he had told the most robust lies, Rose made him empty his pockets, and there, sure enough, were a pipe and a cigar-case half full! Youshouldhave heard how Rose thundered and lightened at him for his lying, and then sent him to the Doctor. I never saw him so terrific before."
"You don't mean to say you were convinced it was wrong because Brooking was caught, and told lies--do you?Non sequitur."
"Stop--not so fast." Very soon after Rose twigged Pietrie, who at once confessed, and was caned. I happened to be in the library when Rose sent for 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 theharmof it! Do you 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 among some 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't talk nonsense; and remember next time you're caught I shall have you punished." So off went Pietrie, [Greek: achreian idon] as our friend Homer 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], since you're in a quoting humor."
Talking in this way they got to Rilby Head, where they found plenty to amuse them. It was a splendid headland, rising bluff four hundred feet out of the sea, and presenting magnificent reaches of rock scenery on all sides. The boys lay on the turf at the summit, and flung innocuous stones 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 the surface; or they watched the stately barks as they sailed by on the horizon, wondering at their cargo and destination; or chaffed the fishermen, whose boats heaved on the waves at the foot of the promontory. When they were rested, they visited a copper-mine by the side of the head, and filled their pockets with bits of bright quartz or red shining spar, which they found in plenty among the rocks.
In the afternoon they strolled towards home, determining to stop a little at the Stack on their way. The Stack formed one of the extremities of Ellan Bay, and was a huge mass of isolated schist, accessible at low water, but entirely surrounded at high tide. It was a very favorite resort of Eric's, as the coast all about it was bold and romantic; and he often went there with Russell on a Sunday evening to watch the long line of golden radiance slanting to them over the water from the setting sun--a sight which they often agreed to consider one of the most peaceful and mysteriously beautiful in nature.
They reached the Stack, and began to climb to its summit. The sun was just 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's too 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 be rather grand."
"Ay, we'll sit and watch them; and let's finish our grub; I've got several 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 fell back, hissing and discomfited. Suddenly they remembered that it was getting late, and that they ought to get home for tea at seven.
"Hallo!" said Russell, looking at his watch, "it's half-past six. We must cut back as hard as we can. By the bye, I hope the tide hasn't been coming 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 set off as hard as we can pelt."
Immediately they scrambled, by the aid of hands and knees, down the Stack, and made their way for the belt of rock which joined it to the mainland; but, to their horror, they at once saw that the tide had come in, 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 jump that; but we musn't wait till it gets worse. A good jump will take usnearlyto the other side--far enough, at any rate, to let us flounder across somehow."
As fast as they could they hurried along down to the place where the momentarily increasing zone of water seemed as yet to be narrowest; and where the rocks on the other side were lower than those on which they stood. Their situation was by no means pleasant. The wind had been rising more and more, and the waves dashed into this little channel with such violence, that to swim it would have been a most hazardous experiment, particularly as they could not dive in from the ledge on which they stood, from their ignorance of the depth of water.
Eric's courage supported the other two. "There's no goodthinkingabout it," said he, "jump wemust; the sooner the better. We can but be 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 a practised and agile jumper, and, to their great relief, he alighted near the water's edge, on the other side, where, after slipping once or twice on the wet and seaweed-covered rocks, he effected a safe landing, with no 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 better jumpers 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,youcan clear 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 down the whole length of the gulf by which they stood, roaring and surging along till the whole water seethed, and tearing the seaweeds from their roots in the rock.
"Now's your time," shouted Eric again. "Whatareyou waiting for? For God's sake, jump before another wave comes."
"Monty, youmustjump now," said Russell, "if only to help me when I try."
Montagu went back as far as he could, which was only a few steps, and leapt 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 slippery schist; but he stumbled forwards vigorously, and in half a minute, Eric leaning out as far as he could, caught his hand, and just pulled him to the other side in time to escape another rush of tumultuous and angry 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 prepared to spring, and stopped from fear at the critical instant. In truth, the leap was now most formidable; to clear it was hopeless; and the fury of the rock-tormented waves rendered the prospect of a swim on the other side 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, and hurled against the towering sweep of rocks which lay beyond it.
"Oh Edwin, Edwin--dear Edwin--dojump," cried Eric with passionate excitement. "We will rush in for you."
Russell now seemed to have determined on running the risk; he stepped back, 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 Montagu stood breathless,--but the next instant, they saw Russell's head emerge, and then another wave foaming madly by, made them run backwards for their lives, and hid him from their view. When it had passed, they saw him clinging with both hands, in the desperate instinct of self-preservation, to a projecting bit of rock, by the aid of which he gradually drew himself out of the water, and grasping at crevices or bits of seaweed, slowly and painfully reached the ledge on which they had stood before they took the leap. He presented a pitiable spectacle; his face, pale as death, was dabbled with blood; his head drooped on his breast; his clothes were torn, and streamed with the salt water; his cap was 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 their voices should startle him, and make him fall; but now, they both cried out, "Are you hurt, Edwin?"
He did not answer, but supported his pale face on one hand, while he put the other to his head, from which the blood was flowing fast.
"O Edwin, for the love of God, try once more," said Montagu; "you will die if you spend the night on that rock."
They could not catch the reply, and called again. The wind and waves were both rising fast, and it was only by listening intently, that they caught the faint words, "I can't, my leg is hurt." Besides, they both saw that a jump was no longer possible; the channel was more than double the width which it had been when Eric leaped, and from the rapid ascent of rocks on both sides, it was now far out of depth.
"O God, what can we do," said Montagu, bursting into tears. "We can never save him; and all but the very top of the Stack is covered at high tide."
Eric had not lost his presence of mind. "Cheer up, Edwin," he shouted; "Iwillget back to you somehow. If I fail, crawl up to the top again."
Again the wind carried away the reply, and Russell had sunk back on the rock.
"Monty," said Eric, "just watch for a minute or two. When I have got across, run to Ellan as hard as you can tear, and tell them that we are cut 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's death to attempt swimming that. Heavens!" And he drew Eric back hastily, as another vast swell of water came rolling along, shaking its white curled mane, like a sea-monster bent on destruction.
"Monty, it's no use," said Eric hastily, tearing off his jacket and waistcoat; "I'm not going to let Russell die on that ledge of rock. I shall try to reach him, whatever happens to me. Here; I want to keep these things dry. Be on the look out; if I get across, fling them over to me if you can, and then do as I told you."
He turned round; the wave had just spent its fury, and knowing that his only chance was to swim over before another came, he plunged in, and struck out like a man. He was a strong and expert swimmer, and as yet the channel was not more than a dozen yards across. He dashed over with the speed and strength of despair, and had just time to clutch the rocks on the other side before the next mighty swirl of the tide swept up in its white and tormented course. In another minute he was on the ledge by Russell's side.
He took him tenderly in his arms, and called to Montagu for the dry clothes. Montagu tied them skilfully with his neck-handkerchief round a fragment of rock, adding his own jacket to the bundle, and then flung it over. Eric wrapped up his friend in the clothes, and once more shouted to 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 back after a few minutes, he caught, through the gathering dusk, his last glimpse of the friends in their perilous situation. Eric was seated supporting Russell across his knees; when he saw Montagu turn he waved his cap over his head as a signal of encouragement, and then began to carry Edwin higher up the rock for safety. It soon grew too dark to distinguish them, and Montagu at full speed flew to Ellan, which was a mile off. When he got to the harbor he told some sailors of the danger in which his friends were, and then ran on to the school. It was now eight 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. "O sir!" 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 you raised 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. You had 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 ready for you down here, and we will start."
Montagu was off in an instant, and only stopped on his way to tell Duncan and the others of the danger which threatened their companions. The absence of the three boys from tea and lock-up had already excited general surmise, and Montagu's appearance, jacketless and wet, at the door of the boarders' room, at once attracted a group round him. He rapidly told them how things stood, and, hastening off, left them nearly as much agitated as himself. In a very short time he presented himself again before Dr. Rowlands, and when he had swallowed with difficulty the cup of tea, they sallied out.
It was pitch dark, and only one or two stars were seen at intervals struggling through the ragged masses of cloud. The wind howled in fitful gusts, and as their road led by the sea-side, Montagu shuddered to hear how rough and turbulent the sea was, even on the sands. He stumbled once or twice, and then the Doctor kindly drew his trembling arm through his own, and made him describe the whole occurrence, while the servant went on in front with the lantern. When Montagu told how Williams had braved the danger of reaching his friend at the risk of his life, Dr. Rowlands' admiration was unbounded. "Noble boy," he exclaimed, with enthusiasm; "I shall 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; "the life-boat went to a wreck at Port Vash two days ago, and she hasn't been brought round again yet."
"Indeed! but I do trust you have sent out another boat to try and save those poor boys."
"We've been trying, sir, and a boat has just managed to start; but in a sea like that it's very dangerous, and it's so dark and gusty that I doubt it's no use, so I expect they'll put back."
The Doctor sighed deeply. "Don't alarm any other people," he said; "it will merely raise a crowd to no purpose. Here, George," he continued to the 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 their way through the storm to the shore opposite the Stack. Here they raised the lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with such violence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout. Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the huge black outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, and enveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray. On the top of it Montagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure.
"Thank God, there is yet hope," said the Doctor, with difficulty making his young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; "if they can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue them before morning."
Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joined his clear ringing tones to the shout. This time they fancied that in one of the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned, was sound more welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals, and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and help were near.
Eric heard them. When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to the highest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothing words, made him as comfortable as he could. He wrapped him in every piece of dry clothing he could find, and held him in his arms, heedless of the blood which covered him. Very faintly Russell thanked him, and pressed his hand; but he moaned in pain continually, and at last fainted away.
Meanwhile the wind rose higher, and the tide gained on the rocks, and the sacred darkness came down. At first Eric could think of nothing but storm and sea. Cold, and cruel, and remorseless, the sea beat up, drenching them to the skin continually with, its clammy spray; and the storm shrieked round them pitilessly, and flung about the wet hair on Eric's bare head, and forced him to plant himself firmly, lest the rage of the gusts should hurl them from their narrow resting-place. The darkness made everything more fearful, for his eyes could distinguish nothing but the gulfs of black water glistening here and there with hissing foam, and he shuddered as his ears caught the unearthly noises that came to him in the mingled scream of weltering tempest and plangent wave. It was fearful to be isolated on the black rent rock, and see the waves gaining on them higher, higher, higher, every moment and he was in ceaseless terror lest they should be swept away by the violence of the breakers. "At least," thought he, as he looked down and saw that the ledge on which they had been standing had long been covered with deep and agitated waves, "at least I have saved Edwin's life." And he bravely made up his mind to keep up heart and hope, and weather the comfortless night with Russell in his arms.
And then his thoughts turned to Russell, who was still unconscious; and stooping down he kissed fondly the pale white forehead of his friend. He feltthen, how deeply he loved him, how much he owed him; and no mother could have nursed a child more tenderly than he did the fainting boy. Russell's head rested on his breast, and the soft hair, tangled with welling blood, stained his clothes. Eric feared that he would die, his fainting-fit continued so long, and from the helpless way in which one of his legs trailed on the ground he felt sure that he had received some dangerous hurt.
At last Russell stirred and groaned. "Where am I?" he said, and half opened his eyes; he started up frightened, and fell-back heavily. He saw only the darkness; felt only the fierce wind and salt mist; heard only the relentless yell of the blast. Memory had no time to wake, and he screamed and fainted once more.
Poor Eric knew not what to do but to shelter him to the best of his power, and when he showed any signs of consciousness again, he bent over him, and said, "Don't you remember, Edwin? We're quite safe. I'm with you, 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 hurts so." 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. Oh save him." And as he wandered on, he repeated a prayer for Eric, which evidently had been often on his lips.
Eric was touched to the heart's core, and in one rapid lightning-like glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its sorrowfulness. Andhe, too, prayed wildly for help both for soul and body. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them, growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow calmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had done in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn school.
A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, now disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound of voices. Thank God! help was near; they were coming in a boat to save them.
But the lights grew more distant; he saw then disappearing towards the harbor. Yes! it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the foot 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 his strength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grew too frightened even to pray.