Eric, or Little by Little Part 25

Montagu's head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table.

"Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the present state of things? Yes, you're right," he said, after a pause; "_this_ wasn't the time to speak. I'll go and talk to him again. But how utterly changed he is!"

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

"Forgive me my pa.s.sion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt to express myself strongly." He could not trust himself to say more, but held out his hand.

Eric got red, and hesitated for a moment.

"Come, Eric, it isn't _wholly_ my fault, is it, that we are not so warm to each other as we were when--"

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

"O Eric!"

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

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

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

The boy's heart misgave him as they entered the familiar library.

"I think I suspect who was Wildney's companion."

Eric was silent.

"I have no proof, and shall not therefore act on vague suspicion; but the boy whom I _do_ suspect is one whose course lately has given me the deepest pain; one who has violated all the early promise he gave; one who seems to be going farther and farther astray, and sacrificing all moral principle to the ghost of a fleeting and most despicable popularity--to the approval of those whom he cannot himself approve."

Eric still silent.

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

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

"Well, you seem hardened, and give no sign. Believe me, Williams, I grieve for you, and that bitterly. My interest in you is no less warm, though my affection for you cannot be the same. You may go."

"Another friend alienated, and oh, how true a one! He has not asked me to see him once this term," thought Eric sadly; but a shout of pleasure greeted him directly he joined the football in the playground, and half consoled, he hoped Mr Rose had heard it, and understood that it was meant for the boy whom he had just been rebuking. "Well, after all," he thought, "I have _some_ friends still."

Yes, friends, such as they were! Except Duncan, hardly one boy whom he really respected ever walked with him now. Even little Wright, one of the very few lower boys who had risen superior to Brigson's temptations, seemed to keep clear of him as much as he could: and in absolute vacuity, he was obliged to a.s.sociate with fellows like Attlay, and Graham, and Llewellyn, and Ball.

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

Eric did not shrink now from such conversation as was pursued unchecked in his presence by nearly every one; nay, worse, it had lost its horror, and he was neither afraid nor ashamed to join in it himself. This plague-spot had fretted more deeply than any other into the heart of the school morality, and the least boys seemed the greatest proficients in unbaring, without a blush, its hideous ugliness.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

"THE JOLLY HERRING."

Velut unda supervenit undam.--_Horace_.

"The Anti-m.u.f.fs request the honour of Eric Williams's company to a spread they are going to have to-morrow evening at half-past four, in their smoking-room."

A note to this effect was put into Eric's hands with much _empress.e.m.e.nt_ by after prayers. He read it when he got into his study, and hardly knew whether to be pleased or disgusted at it.

He tossed it to Duncan, and said, "What shall I do?"

Duncan turned up his nose, and chucked the note into the fire.

"I'd give them that answer, and no other."

"Why?"

"Because, Eric," said Duncan, with more seriousness than was usual with him, "I can't help thinking things have gone too far lately."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm no saint myself, Heaven knows; but I do think that the fellows are worse now than I have ever known them--far worse. Your friend Brigson reigns supreme out of the studies; he has laid down a law that _no work_ is to be done down stairs ever under any pretence, and it's only by getting into one of the studies that good little chaps like Wright can get on at all. Even in the cla.s.srooms there's so much row and confusion that the mere thought of work is ridiculous."

"Well, there's no great harm in a little noise, if that's all."

"But it isn't all. The talk of nearly the whole school is getting most blackguardly; shamelessly so. Only yesterday Wildney was chatting with Vernon up here (you were out, or Vernon would not have been here) while I was reading; they didn't seem to mind me, and I'm sure you'd have been vexed to the heart if you'd heard how they talked to each other. At last I couldn't stand it any longer, and bouncing up, I boxed both their ears smartly, and kicked them down stairs."

As Eric said nothing, Duncan continued, "And I wish it ended in talk, but--"

"But I believe you're turning Owenite. Why, bless me, we're only schoolboys; it'll be lots of time to turn saint some other day."

Eric was talking at random, and in the spirit of opposition. "You don't want to make the whole school such a m.u.f.fish set as the Rosebuds, do you?"

There was something of a.s.sumed bravado in Eric's whole manner which jarred on Duncan exceedingly. "Do as you like," he said curtly, and went into another study.

Immediately after came a rap at the door, and in walked Wildney, as he often did after the rest were gone to bed, merely slipping his trousers over his night-shirt, and running up to the studies.

"Well, you'll come to the Anti-m.u.f.fs, won't you?" he said.

"To that pestilential place again?--not I."

Wildney looked offended. "Not after we've all asked you? The fellows won't half like your refusing."

He had touched Eric's weak point.

"Do come," he said, looking up in Eric's face.

"Confound it all," answered Eric, hastily. "Yes, I've no friends, I'll come, Charlie. Anything to please you, boy."

"That's a brick. Then I shall cut down and tell the fellows. They'll be no end glad. No friends! what bosh! why, all the school like you."

And he scampered off, leaving Eric ill at ease.