ARDIEL.

Phtheirousin ethe chresth' omiliai kakai.--_Menander_.

A year had passed since the events narrated in the last chapter, and had

brought with it many changes.

To Eric the changes were not for good.

The memories of Russell were getting dim; the resolutions made during

his friend's illness had vanished; the bad habits laid aside after his

death had been resumed. All this took place very gradually; there were

many inward struggles, much occasional remorse, but the struggles by

degrees grew weaker, and remorse lost its sting, and Eric Williams soon

learned again to follow the multitude to do evil.

He was now sixteen years old, and high in the fifth-form, and, besides

this, he was captain of the school eleven. In work he had fallen off,

and no one now expected the fulfilment of that promise of genius which

he had given them when he first came. But in all school sports he had

improved, and was the acknowledged leader and champion in matters

requiring boldness and courage; his popularity made him giddy; favour of

man led to forgetfulness of God; and even a glance at his countenance

showed a self-sufficiency and arrogance which ill became the refinement

of his features, and ill replaced the ingenuous modesty of former days.

And Vernon Williams was no longer a new boy. The worst had happened to

him, which Eric in his better moments could have feared. He had fallen

into thoroughly bad hands, and Eric, who should have been his natural

guardian and guide, began to treat him with indifference, and scarcely

ever had any affectionate intercourse with him. It is by no means

unfrequent that brothers at school see but little of each other, and

follow their several pursuits, and choose their various companions, with

small regard to the relationship between them.

Yet Eric could not overlook or be blind to the fact, that Vernon's chief

friend or leader was the most undesirable whom he could have chosen. It

was a new boy named Brigson. This boy had been expelled from one of the

most ill-managed schools in Ireland, although, of course, the fact had

been treacherously concealed from the authorities at Roslyn; and now he

was let loose, without warning or caution, among the Roslyn boys.

Better for them if their gates had been open to the pestilence! the

pestilence could but have killed the body, but this boy--this fore-front

fighter in the devil's battle--did much to ruin many an immortal soul.

He systematically, from the very first, called evil good, and good evil,

put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. He openly threw aside the

admission of any one moral obligation. Never did some of the Roslyn

boys, to their dying day, forget the deep, intolerable, unfathomable

flood of moral turpitude and iniquity which he bore with him; a flood,

which seemed so irresistible, that the influence of such boys as Montagu

and Owen to stay its onrush seemed as futile as the weight of a feather

to bar the fury of a mountain stream. Eric might have done much, Duncan

might have done much, to aid the better cause had they tried; but they

resisted at first but faintly, and then not at all, until they too were

swept away in the broadening tide of degeneracy and sin.

Big, burly, and strong, though much younger than he looked (if he stated

his age correctly, which I doubt), Brigson, being low in the school,

naturally became the bully and the leader of all the lower forms--the

bully if they opposed him, the leader if they accepted his guidance. A

little army of small boys attended him, and were ever ready for the

schemes of mischief to which he deliberately trained them, until they

grew almost as turbulent, as disobedient, and as wicked as himself. He

taught both by precept and example, that towards masters neither honour

was to be recognised, nor respect to be considered due. To cheat them,

to lie to them, to annoy them in every possible way--to misrepresent

their motives, mimic their defects, and calumniate their actions--was

the conduct which he inaugurated towards them; and for the time that he

continued at Roslyn the whole lower-school was a Pandemonium of evil

passions and despicable habits.

Every one of the little boys became more or less amenable to his

influence, and among them Vernon Williams. Had Eric done his duty, this

would never have been; but he was half ashamed to be often with his

brother, and disliked to find him so often creeping to his side. He

flattered himself that in this feeling he was only anxious that Vernon

should grow spirited and independent; but, had he examined himself, he

would have found selfishness at the bottom of it. Once or twice his

manner showed harshness to Vernon, and his young brother both observed

and resented it. Montagu and others noticed him for Eric's sake; but,

being in the same form with Brigson, Vernon was thrown much with him,

and feeling, as he did, deserted and lonely, he was easily caught by the

ascendency of his physical strength and reckless daring. Before three

months were over, he became, to Eric's intolerable disgust, a ringleader

in the band of troublesome scapegraces, whose increasing numbers were

the despair of all who had the interest of the school at heart.

Unfortunately, Owen was now head of the school, and from his

constitutional want of geniality, he was so little of a boy that he had

no sympathy with the others, and little authority over them. He simply

kept aloof, holding his own way, and retiring into his own tastes and

pursuits, and the society of one or two congenial spirits in the school,

so as in no way to come in contact with the spreading corruption.

Montagu, now Owen's chief friend, was also in the sixth, and fearlessly

expressed at once his contempt for Brigson, and his dread of the evil he

was effecting. Had the monitorial system existed, that contagion could

have been effectually checked; but, as it was, brute force had unlimited

authority. Ill indeed are those informed who raise a cry, and join in

the ignorant abuse of that noble safeguard of English schools. Any who

have had personal and intimate experience of how schools work _with_ it

and _without_ it, know what a Palladium it is of happiness and morality;

how it prevents bullying, upholds manliness, is the bulwark of

discipline, and makes boys more earnest and thoughtful, often at the

most critical periods of their lives, by enlisting all their sympathies

and interests on the side of the honourable and the just.

Brigson knew at a glance whom he had most to fear; Ball, Attlay,

Llewellyn, Graham, all tolerated or even approved of him. Owen did not

come in his way, so he left him unmolested. To Eric and Duncan he was

scrupulously civil, and by flattery and deference managed to keep

apparently on excellent terms with them. Eric pretended to be ignorant

of the harm he was bringing about, and in answer to the indignant and

measureless invectives of Montagu and others, professed to see in

Brigson a very good fellow.

Brigson hated Montagu, because he read on his features the unvarying

glance of undisguised contempt. He dared not come across him openly,

since Montagu was so high in the school; and besides, though much the

bigger of the two, Brigson was decidedly afraid of him. But he chose

sly methods of perpetual annoyance. He nicknamed him "Rosebud," he

talked at him whenever he had an opportunity; he poisoned the minds of

the gang of youngsters against him; he spread malicious reports about

him; he diminished his popularity, and embittered his feelings, by every

secret and underhand means which lay in his power.

One method of torment was most successful. As a study-boy, Montagu did

not come to bed till an hour later than the lower part of the school,

and Brigson taught some of the little fellows to play all kinds of

tricks to his bed and room, so that when he came down, it was with the

certainty of finding everything in confusion. Sometimes his bed would

be turned right on end, and he would have to put it to the ground and

remake it before he could lie down. Sometimes all the furniture in the

room would be thrown about in different corners, with no trace of the

offender. Sometimes he would find all sorts of things put inside the

bed itself. The intolerable part of the vexation was, to be certain

that this was done at Brigson's instigation, or by his own hand, without

having the means of convicting or preventing him. Poor Monty grew very

sad at heart, and this perpetual dastardly annoyance weighed the more

heavily on his spirits, from its being of a kind which peculiarly grated

on his refined taste, and his natural sense of what was gentlemanly and

fair.

One night, coming down, as usual, in melancholy dread, he saw a light

under the door of his room. It struck him that he was earlier than

usual, and he walked up quickly and noiselessly. There they were at it.

The instant he entered, there was a rush through the opposite door, and

he felt convinced that one of the retreating figures was Brigson's. In

a second he had sprung across the room, so as to prevent the rest from

running, and with heaving breast and flashing eyes, glared at the

intruders as they stood there, sheepish and afraid.

"What!" he said angrily; "so you are the fellows who have had the

cowardice to annoy me thus, night after night, for weeks; you miserable,

degraded young animals!" and he looked at the four or five who had not

made their escape. "What and _you_ among them," he said with a start,

as he caught the eye of Vernon Williams. "Oh, this is too bad." His

tone showed the deepest sorrow and vexation, and for a moment he said no

more. Instantly Vernon was by him.

"_Do_ forgive me, _do_ forgive me, Montagu," he said; "I really didn't

know it teased you so much."

But Montagu shook him off, and at once recovered himself. "Wretched

boys! let me see what you have been doing to-night. Oh, as usual," he

said, glancing at the complete disorder which they had been effecting.

"Ha! but what is this? So Brigson has introduced another vile secret

among you. Well, he shall rue it!" and he pointed to some small, almost

invisible flakes of a whitish substance, scattered here and there over

his pillow. It was a kind of powder which, if once it touched the skin,

caused the most violent and painful irritation.

"By heavens, this is _too_ bad!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot with

anger. "What have I ever done to you young blackguards, that you should

treat me thus? Have I ever been a bully? Have I ever harmed one of

you? And _you_, too, Vernon Williams!"

The little boy trembled and looked ashamed under his glance of sorrow

and scorn.

"Well, I _know_ who has put you up to this; but you shall not escape so.

I shall thrash you every one."

Very quietly he suited the action to the word, sparing none. They took

it patiently enough, conscious of richly deserving it; and when it was

over, Vernon said, "Forgive me, Montagu. I am very sorry, and will

never do so again." Montagu, without deigning a reply, motioned them to

go, and then sat down, full of grief, on his bed. But the outrage was

not over for that night, and no sooner had he put out the light than he

became painfully aware that several boys were stealing into the room,

and the next moment he felt a bolster fall on his head. He was out of

bed in an instant, and with a few fierce and indignant blows, had

scattered the crowd of his cowardly assailants, and driven them away. A

number of fellows had set on him in the dark--on _him_ of all others.

Oh, what a change must have happened in the school that this should be

possible! He felt that the contagion of Brigson's baseness had spread

far indeed.

He fought like a lion, and several of the conspirators had reason to

repent their miscalculation in assaulting so spirited an antagonist.

But this did not content him; his blood was up, and he determined to

attack the evil at its source. He strode through his discomfited

enemies straight into Brigson's room, struck a match, and said,

"Brigson, get out of bed this instant."

"Hullo!" grunted Brigson, pretending to be only just awake.

"None of that, you blackguard! Will you take a thrashing?"

"No!" roared Brigson, "I should think not."

"Well, then, take _that_!" he shouted, striking him in the face.

The fight that followed was very short. In a single round Montagu had

utterly thrashed, and stricken to the earth, and forced to beg for

mercy, his cumbrous and brutal opponent. He seemed to tower above him

with a magnificent superiority, and there was a self-controlled passion

about him which gave tremendous energy to every blow. Brigson was

utterly dashed, confounded, and cowed, and took without a word the

parting kick of contempt which Montagu bestowed on him.

"There," he said to the fellows, who had thronged in from all the

dormitories at the first hint of a fight, "I, a sixth-form fellow, have

condescended to thrash that base coward there, whom all you miserable

lower boys have been making an idol and hero of, and from whom you have

been so readily learning every sort of blackguardly and debasing trick.

But let me tell you and your hero, that if any of you dare to annoy or

lift a finger at me again, you shall do it at your peril. I despise you

all; there is hardly one gentlemanly or honourable fellow left among you

since that fellow Brigson has come here; yes, I despise you, and you

know that you deserve it." And every one of them _did_ shrink before

his just and fiery rebuke.

The scene was not over when the door suddenly opened, and Mr Rose

appeared. He stood amazed to see Montagu there in his night-shirt, the

boys all round, and Brigson standing over a basin, washing his nose,

which was bleeding profusely.

Montagu instantly stepped up to him. "You can trust me, sir; may I ask

you kindly to say nothing of this? I have been thrashing some one that

deserved it, and teaching these fellows a lesson."

Mr Rose saw and allowed for his excited manner. "I can trust you," he

said, "Montagu, and shall take no further notice of this irregularity.

And now get instantly to your beds."

But Montagu, slipping on his clothes, went straight up to the studies,

and called the upper boys together. He briefly told them what had

occurred, and they rejoiced greatly, binding themselves for the future

to check, if they could, by all fair means, Brigson's pernicious

influence and abominable example.

But it was too late now; the mischief was done.

"O Eric," said Montagu, "why did you not make a stand against all this

before? Your own brother was one of them."

"Little wretch. I'll kick him well for it," said Eric.

"No, no!" said Montagu, "that'll do no good. Try rather to look after

him a little more."

"I hope _you_ will forgive him, and try and rescue him."

"I will do what I can," said Montagu coldly.

Eric sighed, and they parted.

Montagu had hoped that after this, Eric would at least break off all

open connection with Brigson; and, indeed, Eric had meant to do so. But

that personage kept carefully out of his way until the first burst of

indignation against him had subsided, and after a time began to address

Eric as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile he had completely regained

his ascendency over the lower part of the school, which was not

difficult, because they were wincing under Montagu's contempt, and

mingled no little dislike with it; a dislike which all are too apt to

feel towards those whose very presence and moral superiority are a tacit

rebuke of their own failings. But while Montagu was hated, Eric was at

the zenith of popular favour, a favour which Brigson ostentatiously

encouraged. He was openly flattered and caressed, and if ever he got a

large score at cricket, it was chalked triumphantly over the walls. All

this he was weak enough to enjoy immensely, and it was one of the

reasons why he did not wish to risk his popularity by breaking with

Brigson. So, after a little constraint and coldness, he began to stand

in much the same relation to him as before.

The best disposed of the upper boys disliked all this very much, and the

sixth and fifth forms began to be split up into two main parties--the

one headed by Eric, and, to a much less degree, by Duncan, who devoted

themselves to the games and diversions of the school, and troubled

themselves comparatively little about anything else; the other headed by

Montagu, who took the lead in intellectual pursuits, and endeavoured, by

every means in their power, to counteract the pernicious effects of the

spreading immorality.

And so at Roslyn, owing mainly to the wickedness of one depraved boy,

and the weak fear of man which actuated others, all was disunion,

misery, and deterioration. The community which had once been peaceful,

happy, and united, was filled with violent jealousy and heart-burnings;

every boy's hand seemed to be against his neighbour; lying, bad

language, dishonesty, grew fearfully rife, and the few who, like Owen

and Montagu, remained uncontaminated by the general mischief, walked

alone and despondent amid their uncongenial and degraded school-fellows.