Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And live for ever and for ever.
_Tennyson_.
Owen and Montagu were walking by Silverburn, and talking over the
affairs of the school. During their walk they saw Wright and Vernon
Williams in front of them.
"I am so glad to see those two together," said Montagu; "I really think
Wright is one of the best little fellows in the school, and he'll be the
saving of Vernon. He's already persuaded him to leave off smoking and
other bad things, and has got him to work a little harder, and turn over
a new leaf altogether."
"Yes," answered Owen; "I've seen a marvellous improvement in little
Williams lately. I think that Duncan gave him a rough lesson the other
night which did him good, and dear old Rose too has been leading him by
the hand; but the best thing is that, through Wright, he sees less of
Eric's _friend_, that young scapegrace Wildney."
"Yes; that little wretch has a good deal to answer for. What a pity
that Eric spoils him so, or rather suffers himself to be spoilt by him.
I'm glad Vernon's escaped his influence now: he's too fine a nature to
be made as bad as the general run of them. What a brilliant little
fellow he is; just like his brother."
"Just like what his brother _was_," said Owen; "his face, like his mind,
has suffered lately."
"Too true," answered Montagu, with a sigh; "and yet, cool as we now are
in our outward intercourse, he little knows how I love him, and yearn
for the Eric I once knew--Eric the fair-haired, as Russell and I used
sometimes to call him in fun. Would to God poor Russell had lived, and
then I believe that he wouldn't have gone so far wrong."
"Well, I think there's another chance for him now that--that--what name
is bad enough for that Brigson?--is gone."
"I hope so. But,"--he added after a pause--"his works do follow him.
Look there!" He took a large stone and threw it into the Silverburn
stream; there was a great splash, and the ever-widening circles of blue
ripple broke the surface of the water, dying away one by one in the
sedges on the bank. "There," he said, "see how long those ripples last,
and how numerous they are."
Owen understood him. "Poor Eric! What a gleam of new hope there was in
him after Russell's death!"
"Yes, for a time," said Montagu; "heigh ho! I fear we shall never be
warm friends again. We can't be while he goes on as he is doing. And
yet I love him."
A sudden turn of the stream brought them to the place called Riverbend.
"If you want a practical comment on what we've been talking about,
you'll see it there," said Montagu.
He pointed to a party of boys, four or five, all lying on a pleasant
grass bank, smoking pipes. Prominent among them was Eric, stretched at
ease, and looking up at the clouds, towards which curled the puffed
fumes of his meerschaum, a gift of Wildney's. That worthy was beside
him similarly employed.
The two sixth-form boys hoped to pass by unobserved, as they did not
wish for a rencontre with our hero under such circumstances. But they
saw Wildney pointing to them, and, from the fits of laughter which
followed his remarks, they had little doubt that they were the subject
of the young gentleman's wit. This is never a pleasant sensation; but
they observed that Eric made a point of not looking their way, and went
on in silence.
"How very sad!" said Montagu.
"How very contemptible!" said Owen. "Harfagher among his subjects!"
"Did you observe what they were doing?"
"Smoking?"
"Worse than that a good deal. They were doing something which, if Eric
doesn't take care, will one day be his ruin."
"What?"
"I saw them drinking. I have little doubt it was brandy."
"Good heavens!"
"It is getting a common practice with some fellows. One of the ripples,
you see, of Brigson's influence."
Before they got home they caught up Wright and Vernon, and walked in
together.
"We've been talking," said Wright, "about a bad matter. Vernon here
says that there's no good working for a prize in his form, because the
cribbing's so atrocious. Indeed, it's very nearly as bad in my form.
It always is under Gordon; he _can't_ understand fellows doing
dishonourable things."
"It's a great bore in the weekly examinations," said Vernon; "every now
and then Gordon will even leave the room for a few minutes, and then out
come dozens of books."
"Well, Wright," said Montagu, "if that happens again next examination,
I'd speak out about it."
"How?"
"Why, I'd get every fellow who disapproves of it to give me his name,
and get up and read the list, and say that you at least have pledged
yourselves not to do it."
"Humph! I don't know how that would answer. They'd half kill me for
one thing."
"Never mind; do your duty. I wish I'd such an opportunity, if only to
show how sorry I am for my own past unfairness."
And so talking, the four went in, and the two elder went to their study.
It was too true that drinking had become a common vice at Roslyn School.
Accordingly, when Eric came in with Wildney about half an hour after,
Owen and Montagu heard them talk about ordering some brandy, and then
arrange to have a "jollification," as they called it, that evening.
They got the brandy through "Billy." One of Brigson's most cursed
legacies to the school was the introduction of this man to a nefarious
intercourse with the boys. His character was so well-known that it had
long been forbidden, under the strictest penalty, for any boy ever to
speak to him; yet, strange to say, they seemed to take a pleasure in
doing so, and just now particularly, it was thought a fine thing, a sign
of "pluck" and "anti-muffishness," to be on familiar and intimate terms
with that degraded and villainous scoundrel.
Duncan had made friends again with Eric; but he did not join him in his
escapades and excesses, and sat much in other studies. He had not been
altogether a good boy, but yet there was a sort of rough honesty and
good sense in him which preserved him from the worst and most dangerous
failings, and his character had been gradually improving as he mounted
higher in the school. He was getting steadier, more diligent, more
thoughtful, more manly; he was passing through that change so frequent
in boys as they grow older, to which Eric was so sad an exception.
Accordingly Duncan, though sincerely fond of Eric, had latterly
disapproved vehemently of his proceedings, and had therefore taken to
snubbing his old friend Wildney, in whose favour Eric seemed to have an
infatuation, and who was the means of involving him in every kind of
impropriety and mischief. So that night Duncan, hearing of what was
intended, sat in the next study, and Eric, with Ball, Wildney, Graham,
and Pietrie, had the room to themselves. Several of them were lower
boys still, but they came up to the studies after bed-time, according to
Wildney's almost nightly custom.
A little pebble struck the study window.
"Hurrah!" said Wildney, clapping his hands, "here's the grub."
They opened the window and looked out. Billy was there, and they let
down to him a long piece of cord, to which he attached a basket, and,
after bidding them "Good-night, and a merry drink," retired. No sooner
had they shut the window, than he grimaced as usual towards them, and
shook his fist in a sort of demoniacal exultation, muttering, "Oh, I'll
have you all under my thumb yet, you fine young fools!"
Meanwhile the unconscious boys had opened the basket, and spread its
contents on the table. They were bread, butter, a large dish of
sausages, a tart, beer, and, alas! a bottle of brandy.
They soon got very noisy, and at last uproarious. The snatches of
songs, peals of laughter, and rattle of plates at last grew so loud that
the other study-boys were afraid lest one of the masters should come up
and catch the revellers. All of them heard every word that was spoken
by Eric and his party, as the walls between the rooms were very thin;
and very objectionable much of the conversation was.
"This _won't_ do," said Duncan emphatically, after a louder burst of
merriment than usual; "those fellows are getting drunk; I can tell it to
a certainty from the confused and random way, in which some of them are
talking."
"We'd better go in and speak to them," said Montagu; "at any rate,
they've no right to disturb us all night. Will you come?"
"I'll join you," said Owen; "though I'm afraid my presence won't do you
much good."
The three boys went to the door of Eric's study and their knock could
not at first be heard for the noise. When they went in they found a
scene of reckless disorder; books were scattered about, plates and
glasses lay broken on the floor, beer was spilt on all sides, and there
was an intolerable smell of brandy.
"If you fellows don't take care," said Duncan sharply, "Rose or
somebody'll be coming up and catching you. It's ten now."
"What's that to you?" answered Graham, with an insolent look.
"It's something to me that you nice young men have been making such a
row that none of the rest of us can hear our own voices, and that
between you you've made this study in such a mess that I can't endure
it."
"Pooh!" said Pietrie; "we're all getting such saints, that one can't
have the least bit of spree nowadays."
"Spree!" burst in Montagu indignantly; "fine spree--to make sots of
yourselves with spirits; fine spree to--"
"Amen!" said Wildney, who was perched on the back of a chair; and he
turned up his eyes and clasped his hands with a mock-heroic air.
"There, Williams," continued Montagu, pointing to the
mischievous-looking little boy; "see that spectacle, and be ashamed of
yourself, if you can. That's what you lead boys to! Are you anxious to
become the teacher of drunkenness?"
In truth, there was good ground for his sorrowful apostrophe, for the
scene was very painful to a high-minded witness.
They hardly understood the look on Eric's countenance; he had been
taking far more than was good for him; his eyes sparkled fiercely, and
though as yet he said nothing, he seemed to be resenting the intrusion
in furious silence.
"How much longer is this interesting lecture to last?" asked Ball, with
his usual insufferable tone; "for I want to finish my brandy."
Montagu rather looked as if he intended to give the speaker a box on the
ear; but he was just deciding that he wasn't worth the trouble, when
Wildney, who had been grimacing all the time, burst into a fit of
satirical laughter.
"Here, Wildney," said Graham; "just hand me _The Whole Duty of Man_, or
something of that sort, from the shelf, will you? That's a brick."
"Certainly. Let's see; Watts's Hymns; _I_ bag those for myself," said
Wildney; "they'll just suit--"
"How doth the little--"
"Let's turn out these impudent lower-school fellows," said Montagu,
speaking to Duncan. "Here! you go first," he said, seizing Wildney by
the arm, and giving him a swing, which, as he was by no means steady on
his legs, brought him sprawling to the ground, and sent Watts's Hymns
flying open-leaved under the table.
"By Jove, I won't stand this any longer," shouted Eric, springing up
ferociously. "What on earth do you mean by daring to come in like this?
Do you hear?"
Montagu took no sort of notice of his threatening gesture, for he was
looking to see if Wildney was hurt, and finding he was not, proceeded to
drag him out, struggling and kicking frantically.
"Drop me, you fellow, drop me, I say. I won't go for you," cried
Wildney, clinging tight to a chair. "Eric, why do you let him bully
me?"
"You let him go this minute," repeated Eric hoarsely.
"I shall do no such thing. You don't know what you're about."
"Don't I? Well then, take _that_, to show whether I do or no!" And
suddenly leaning forward, he struck Montagu a violent back-handed blow
on the mouth.
Everybody saw it, everybody heard it; and it instantly astounded them
into silence. That Montagu should have been so struck in public, and
that by Eric--by a boy who had been his schoolfellow for three years
now, and whose whole life seemed bound to him by so many associations;
it was strange and sad indeed.
Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stride
towards his striker with lifted hand and lightening eyes, while the
blood started to his lips in consequence of the blow. But he stopped
suddenly, and his hand fell to his side; by a strong effort of
self-control he contrived to master himself; and sitting down quite
quietly on a chair, he put his white handkerchief to his wounded mouth,
and took it away stained with blood.
No one spoke; and rising with quiet dignity, he went back into his study
without a word.
"Very well," said Duncan; "you may all do as you like; only I heartily
hope now you will be caught. Come, Owen."
"O Williams," said Owen, "you are changed indeed, to treat your best
friend so."
But Eric was excited with drink, and the slave of every evil passion at
that moment. "Serve him right," he said; "what business has he to
interfere with what I choose to do?"
There was no more noise that night. Wildney and the rest slunk off
ashamed and frightened, and Eric, leaving his candle flaring on the
table, went down to his bedroom, where he was very sick. He had neither
strength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as he
was. When they heard that he was gone, Owen and Duncan (for Montagu was
silent and melancholy) went into his study, put out the candle, and only
just cleared away, to the best of their power, the traces of the
carouse, when Dr Rowlands came up stairs on his usual nightly rounds.
They had been lighting brown paper to take away the fumes of the brandy,
and the Doctor asked them casually the cause of the smell of burning.
Neither of them answered, and seeing Owen there, in whom he placed
implicit trust, the Doctor thought no more about it.
Eric awoke with a bad headache, and a sense of shame and sickness. When
he got up he felt most wretched; and while washing he thought to
himself, "Ah! that I could thus wash away the memory of last night!" Of
course, after what had occurred, Eric and Montagu were no longer on
speaking terms, and miserable as poor Eric felt when he saw how his blow
had bruised and disfigured his friend's face, he made no advances. He
longed, indeed, from his inmost heart, to be reconciled to him; but
feeling that he had done grievous wrong, he dreaded a repulse, and his
pride would not suffer him to run the risk. So he pretended to feel no
regret, and, supported by his late boon companions, represented the
matter as occurring in the defence of Wildney, whom Montagu was
bullying.
Montagu, too, was very miserable; but he felt that, although ready to
forgive Eric, he could not, in common self-respect, take the first step
to a reconciliation; indeed, he rightly thought that it was not for
Eric's good that he should do so.
"You and Williams appear never to speak to each other now," said Mr
Rose. "I am sorry for it, Monty; I think you are the only boy who has
any influence over him."
"I fear you are mistaken, sir, in that. Little Wildney has much more."
"Wildney?" asked Mr Rose, in sorrowful surprise. "Wildney more
influence than _you_?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, that our poor Edwin had lived!"
So, with a sigh, Walter Rose and Harry Montagu buried their friendship
for Eric until happier days.