Eric Part 29

Wildney, full as he was of dangerous and deadly faults, was no coward, and not a liar. He knew, or at least feared, that this new sc.r.a.pe might be fatal to him, but, raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr. Rose, he said penitently--

"I didn't throw, sir, but I _did_ put out one of the candles that it might be done."

The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a little less darkly on Mr. Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmur of applause.

"Good! stand back. Pietrie, come up."

Pietrie, too, confessed, and indeed all the rest of the plotters except Brooking. Mr. Rose's lip curled with scorn as he heard the exclamation which his denial caused; but he suffered him to sit down.

When Wright's turn came to be asked, Mr. Rose said--"No! I shall not even ask you, Wright. I know well that your character is too good to be involved in such an attempt."

The boy bowed humbly, and sat down. Among the last questioned was Vernon Williams, and Mr. Rose seemed anxious for his answer.

"No," he said at once,--and seemed to wish to add something.

"Go on," said Mr. Rose, encouragingly.

"Oh, sir! I only wanted to say that I hope you won't think Eric knew of this. He would have hated it, sir, more even than I do."

"Good," said Mr. Rose; "I am sure of it. And now," turning to the offenders, "I shall teach you never to dare again to be guilty of such presumption and wickedness as to-night. I shall punish you according to my notion of your degrees of guilt. Brigson, bring me a cane from that desk."

He brought it.

"Hold out your hand."

The cane fell, and instantly split up from top to bottom. Mr. Rose looked at it, for it was new that morning.

"Hah! I see; more mischief; there is a hair in it."

The boys were too much frightened to smile at the complete success of the trick.

"Who did this? I must be told at once."

"I did, sir," said Wildney, stepping forward.

"Ha! very well," said Mr. Rose, while, in spite of his anger, a smile hovered at the corner of his lips. "Go and borrow me a cane from Mr. Harley."

While he went there was unbroken silence.

"Now, sir," said he to Brigson, "I shall flog you."

Corporal punishment was avoided with the bigger boys, and Brigson had never undergone it before. At the first stroke he writhed and yelled; at the second he retreated, twisting like a serpent, and blubbering like a baby; at the third he flung himself on his knees, and, as the strokes fell fast, clasped Mr. Rose's arm, and implored and besought for mercy.

"_Miserable_ coward," said Mr. Rose, throwing into the word such ringing scorn that no one who heard it ever forgot it. He indignantly shook the boy off, and caned him till he rolled on the floor, losing every particle of self-control, and calling out, "The devil--the devil--the devil!" ("invoking his patron saint," as Wildney maliciously observed).

"There! cease to blaspheme, and get up," said the master, blowing out a cloud of fiery indignation. "There, sir. Retribution comes at last, leaden-footed but iron-handed. A long catalogue of sins is visited on you to-day, and not only on your shrinking body, but on your conscience too, if you have one left. Let those red marks betoken that your reign is ended. Liar and tempter, you have led boys into the sins which you then meanly deny! And now, you boys, _there_ in that coward, who cannot even endure his richly-merited punishment, see the boy whom you have suffered to be your _leader_ for well-nigh six months!"

"Now, sir"--again he turned upon Brigson--"that flogging shall be repeated with interest on your next offence. At present you will take each boy on your back while I cane him. It is fit that they should see where _you_ lead them to."

Trembling violently, and cowed beyond description, he did as he was bid.

No other boy cried, or even winced; a few sharp cuts was all which Mr.

Rose gave them, and even they grew fewer each time, for he was tired, and displeased to be an executioner.

"And now," he said, "since that disgusting but necessary scene is over, _never_ let me have to repeat it again."

But his authority was established like a rock from that night forward.

No one ever ventured to dispute it again, or forgot that evening. Mr.

Rose's n.o.ble moral influence gained tenfold strength from the respect and wholesome fear that he then inspired.

But, as he had said, Brigson's reign was over. Looks of the most unmitigated disgust and contempt were darted at him, as he sat alone and shunned at the end of the table; and the boys seemed now to loathe and nauseate the golden calf they had been wors.h.i.+pping. He had not done blubbering even yet, when the prayer-bell rang. No sooner had Mr. Rose left the room than Wildney, his dark eyes sparkling with rage, leaped on the table, and shouted--

"Three groans, hoots, and hisses, for a liar and a coward," a sign of execration which he was the first to lead off, and which the boys echoed like a storm.

Astonished at the tumult, Mr. Rose re-appeared at the door. "Oh, we're not hissing you, sir," said Wildney excitedly; "we're all hissing at lying and cowardice."

Mr. Rose thought the revulsion of feeling might do good, and he was striding out again, without a word, when--

"Three times three for Mr. Rose," sang out Wildney.

Never did a more hearty or spontaneous cheer burst from the lips and lungs of fifty boys than that. The news had spread like wildfire to the studies, and the other boys came flocking in during the uproar, to join in it heartily. Cheer after cheer rang out like a sound of silver clarions from the clear boy-voices; and in the midst of the excited throng stood Eric and Montagu, side by side, hurrahing more l.u.s.tily than all the rest.

But Mr. Rose, in the library, was on his knees, with moving lips and lifted hands. He coveted the popular applause as little as he had dreaded the popular opposition; and the evening's painful experiences had taught him anew the bitter lesson to expect no grat.i.tude, and hope for no reward, but simply, and contentedly, and unmurmuringly, to work on in G.o.d's vineyard so long as life and health should last.

Brigson's brazen forehead bore him through the disgrace which would have crushed another. But still he felt that his position at Roslyn could never be what it had been before, and he therefore determined to leave at once. By grossly calumniating the school, he got his father to remove him, and announced, to every one's great delight, that he was going in a fortnight. On his last day, by way of bravado, he smashed and damaged as much of the school property as he could, a proceeding which failed to gain him any admiration, and merely put his father to ruinous expense.

The day after his exposure Eric had cut him dead, without the least pretence of concealment; an example pretty generally followed throughout the school.

In the evening Brigson went up to Eric and hissed in his ear, "You cut me, curse you; but, _never fear, I'll be revenged on you yet_."

"Do your worst," answered Eric, contemptuously, "and never speak to me again."

CHAPTER V

RIPPLES

"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 boy 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."