Eric, or Little by Little Part 27

For one instant, boy and master--Eric Williams and Mr Rose--stood facing each other amid breathless silence, the boy panting and pa.s.sionate, with his brain swimming, and his heart on fire; the master pale, grieved, amazed beyond measure, but perfectly self-collected.

"After that exhibition," said Mr Rose, with cold and quiet dignity, "you had better leave the room."

"Yes, I had," answered Eric bitterly; "there's your cane." And, flinging the other fragment at Mr Rose's head, he strode blindly out of the room, sweeping books from the table, and overturning several boys in his way. He then banged the door with all his force, and rushed up into his study.

Duncan was there, and, remarking his wild look and demeanour, asked, after a moment's awkward silence, "Is anything the matter, Williams?"

"Williams!" echoed Eric with a scornful laugh; "yes, that's always the way with a fellow when he's in trouble. I always know what's coming when you begin to leave off calling me by my Christian name."

"Very well, then," said Duncan good-humouredly, "what's the matter, Eric?"

"Matter?" answered Eric, pacing up and down the little room with an angry to-and-fro like a caged wild beast, and kicking everything which came in his way; "matter? hang you all, you are all turning against me, because you are a set of m.u.f.fs, and--"

"Take care!" said Duncan; but suddenly he caught Eric's look, and stopped.

"And I've been breaking Rose's cane over his head, because he had the impudence to touch me with it, and--"

"Eric, you're not yourself to-night," said Duncan, interrupting, but speaking in the kindest tone; and taking Eric's hand, he looked him steadily in the face.

Their eyes met; the boy's false self once more slipped off. By a strong effort he repressed the rising pa.s.sion which the fumes of drink had caused, and flinging himself on his chair, refused to speak again, or even to go down stairs when the prayer-bell rang.

Seeing that in his present mood there was nothing to be done with him, Duncan, instead of returning to the study, went after prayers into Montagu's, and talked with him over the recent events, of which the boys' minds were all full.

But Eric sat lonely, sulky, and miserable, in his study, doing nothing, and when Montagu came in to visit him, felt inclined to resent his presence.

"So," he said, looking up at the ceiling, "another saint come to cast a stone at me! Well! I suppose I must be resigned," he continued, dropping his cheek on his hand again; "only don't let the sermon be long."

But Montagu took no notice of his sardonic harshness, and seated himself by his side, though Eric pettishly pushed him away.

"Come, Eric," said Montagu, taking the hand which was repelling him; "I won't be repulsed in this way. Look at me. What? won't you even look?

O Eric, one wouldn't have fancied this in past days, when we were so much together with one who is dead. It's a long long time since we've even alluded to him, but _I_ shall never forget those happy days."

Eric heaved a deep sigh.

"I'm not come to reproach you. You don't give me a friend's right to reprove. But still, Eric, for your own sake, dear fellow, I can't help being sorry for all this. I did hope you'd have broken with Brigson after the thrashing I gave him for the foul way, in which he treated me.

I don't think you _can_ know the mischief he is doing."

The large tears began to soften the fire of Eric's eye. "Ah!" he said, "it's all of no use; you're all giving me the cold shoulder, and I'm going to the bad, that's the long and short of it."

"O Eric! for your own sake, for your parents' sake, for the school's sake, for all your real friends' sake, don't talk in that bitter, hopeless way. You are too fine a fellow to be made the tool or the patron of the boys who lead, while they seem to follow you. I _do_ hope you'll join us even yet in resisting them."

Eric had laid his head on the table, which shook with his emotion. "I can't talk, Monty," he said, in an altered tone; "but leave me now; and if you like, we will have a walk to-morrow."

"Most willingly, Eric." And, again warmly pressing his hand, Montagu returned to his own study.

Soon after, there came a timid knock at Eric's door. He expected Wildney as usual; a little before, he had been looking out for him, and hoping he would come, but he didn't want to see him now, so he answered rather peevishly, "Come in; but I don't want to be bothered to-night."

Not Wildney, but Vernon appeared at the door. "May I come in? not if it bothers you, Eric," he said gently.

"Oh, Verny, I didn't know it was you; I thought it would be Wildney.

You _never_ come now."

The little boy came in, and his pleading look seemed to say, "Whose fault is that?"

"Come here, Verny," and Eric drew him towards him, and put him on his knee, while the tears trembled large and luminous in the child's eyes.

It was the first time for many a long day that the brothers had been alone together, the first time for many a long day that any acts of kindness had pa.s.sed between them. Both seemed to remember this, and, at the same time, to remember home, and their absent parents, and their mother's prayers, and all the quiet half-forgotten vista of innocent pleasures, and sacred relationships, and holy affections. And why did they see each other so little at school? Their consciences told them both that either wished to conceal from the other his wickedness and forgetfulness of G.o.d.

They wept together; and once more, as they had not done since they were children, each brother put his arm round the other's neck. And remorseful Eric could not help being amazed, how, in his cruel, heartless selfishness, he had let that fair child go so far far astray; left him as a prey to such boys as were his companions in the lower-school.

"Eric, did you know I was caught to-night at the dinner?"

"You!" said Eric, with a start and a deep blush. "Good heavens! I didn't notice you, and should not have dreamt of coming, if I'd known you were there. Oh, Vernon, forgive me for setting you such a bad example."

"Yes, I was there, and I was caught."

"Poor boy! but never mind; there are such a lot that you can't get much done to you."

"It isn't _that_ I care for; I've been flogged before, you know. But-- may I say something?"

"Yes, Vernon, anything you like."

"Well, then,--oh, Eric! I'm _so so_ sorry that you did that to Mr Rose to-night. All the fellows are praising you up, of course; but I could have cried to see it, and I did. I wouldn't have minded if it had been anybody but Rose."

"But why?"

"Because, Eric, he's been so good, so kind to both of us. You've often told me about him, you know, at Fairholm, and he's done such lots of kind things to me. And only to-night, when he heard I was caught, he sent for me to the library, and spoke so firmly, yet so gently, about the wickedness of going to such low places, and about so young a boy as I am learning to drink, and the ruin of it--and--and--" His voice was choked by sobs for a time,--"and then he knelt down and prayed for me, so as I have never heard any one pray but mother; and do you know, Eric, it was strange, but I thought, I _did_ hear our mother's voice praying for me too, while he prayed, and--" He tried in vain to go on; but Eric's conscience continued for him; "and just as he had ceased doing this for one brother, the other brother, for whom he has often done the same, treated him with coa.r.s.eness, violence, and insolence."

"Oh, I am utterly wretched, Verny. I hate myself. And to think that while I'm like this they are yet loving and praising me at home. And, O Verny, I was so sorry to hear from Duncan how you were talking the other day."

Vernon hid his face on Eric's shoulder; and as his brother stooped over him and folded him to his heart, they cried in silence, for there seemed no more to say, until, wearied with sorrow, the younger fell asleep and then Eric carried him tenderly down stairs, and laid him, still half sleeping, upon his bed.

He laid him down, and looked at him as he slumbered. The other boys had not been disturbed by their noiseless entrance, and he sat down on his brother's bed to think, shading off the light of the candle with his hand. It was rarely now that Eric's thoughts were so rich with the memories of childhood, and sombre with the consciousness of sin, as they were that night, while he gazed on his brother Vernon's face. He did not know what made him look so long and earnestly; an indistinct sorrow, an unconjectured foreboding, pa.s.sed over his mind, like the shadow of a summer cloud. Vernon was now slumbering deeply; his soft bright hair fell over his forehead, and his head nestled in the pillow; but there was an expression of uneasiness on his sleeping features, and the long eyelashes were still wet with tears.

"Poor child," thought Eric; "dear little Vernon: and he is to be flogged, perhaps birched, to-morrow."

He went off sadly to bed, and hardly once remembered that _he_ too would come in for very severe and certain punishment the next day.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

MR ROSE AND BRIGSON.

Raro antecedentem scelestum Deseruit pede Poena claudo.

_Horace_.

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, 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 for _their_ sakes; 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.