Eric Part 31

Montagu rather looked as if he intended to give the speaker a box on the ear; but he was just deciding that Bull wasn't worth the trouble, when Wildney, who had been grimacing all the time, burst into a fit of laughter.

"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.

"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, shaking with pa.s.sion. "Eric, why do you let him bully me?"

"You let him go this minute," repeated Eric, hoa.r.s.ely.

"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 struck in public, and that by Eric--by a boy who had loved him, and whom he had loved--by a boy who had been his schoolfellow for three years now, and whose whole life seemed bound to him by so many a.s.sociations; it was strange, and sad indeed.

Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stride towards his striker with lifted hand and lightning 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."

"Oh, 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 pa.s.sion 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 bed-room, where he was very sick. He had neither strength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as 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 had 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 was.h.i.+ng 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 friends.h.i.+p for Eric until happier days.

CHAPTER VI

ERIC AND MONTAGU

"And constancy lives in realms above; And life is th.o.r.n.y; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.

Each spoke words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother."

COLERIDGE'S _Christabel_.

Wright had not forgotten Montagu's advice, and had endeavored to get the names of boys who wern't afraid to scout publicly the disgrace of cheating in form. But he could only get one name promised him--the name of Vernon Williams; and feeling how little could be gained by using it, he determined to spare Vernon the trial, and speak, if he spoke at all, on his own responsibility.

As usual, the cribbing at the next weekly examination was well-nigh universal, and when Mr. Gordon went out to fetch something he had forgotten, merely saying, "I trust to your honor not to abuse my absence," books and papers were immediately pulled out with the coolest and most unblus.h.i.+ng indifference.

This was the time for Wright to deliver his conscience; he had counted the cost, and, rightly or wrongly considering it to be his duty, he had decided that speak he would. He well knew that his interference would be attributed to jealousy, meanness, sneaking, and every kind of wrong motive, since he was himself one of the greatest sufferers from the prevalent dishonesty; but still he had come to the conclusion that he _ought_ not to draw back, and therefore he bravely determined that he would make his protest, whatever happened.

So, very nervously, he rose and said, "I want to tell you all that I think this cheating very wrong and blackguardly. I don't mind losing by it myself, but if Vernon Williams loses the prize in the lower fourth, and any one gets it by copying, I've made up my mind to tell Gordon."

His voice trembled a little at first, but he spoke fast, and acquired firmness as he went on. Absolute astonishment and curiosity had held the boys silent with amazement, but by the end of this sentence they had recovered themselves, and a perfect burst of derision and indignation followed.

"Let's see if _that'll_ cut short his oration," said Wildney, throwing a book at his head, which was instantly followed by others from all quarters.

"My word! we've had nothing but lectures lately," said Brooking. "Horrid little Owenite saint."

"Saint!--sneak, you mean. I'll teach him," growled Pietrie, and jumping up, he belabored Wright's head with the Latin grammar out of which he had just been cribbing.

The whole room was in confusion and hubbub, during which Wright sat stock still, quietly enduring without bowing to the storm.

Only one boy sympathised with him, but he did so deeply--poor little penitent Vernon. He felt his position hard because Wright had alluded so prominently to him, and he knew how much he must be misconstrued, but he had his brother's spirit, and would not shrink. Amid the tumult he got up in his seat, and they heard his pleasant, childish voice saying boldly, "I hope Wright won't tell; but he's the best fellow in the room, and cribbing _is_ a shame, as he says."

What notice would have been taken of this speech is doubtful, for at the critical moment Mr. Gordon reappeared, and the whispered cave caused instantaneous quiet.

Poor Wright awaited with some dread the end of school; and many an angry kick and blow he got, though he disarmed malice by the spirit and heroism with which he endured them. The news of his impudence spread like wildfire, and not five boys in the school approved of what he had done, while most of them were furious at his ill-judged threat of informing Mr. Gordon. There was a general agreement to thrash him after roll-call that afternoon.

Eric had lately taken a violent dislike to Wright, though he had been fond of him in better days. He used to denounce him as a disagreeable and pragmatical little m.u.f.f, and was as loud as any of them in condemning his announced determination to "sneak." Had he known that Wright had acted under Montagu's well-meant, though rather mistaken advice, he might have abstained from having anything more to do with the matter, but now he promised to kick Wright himself after the four o'clock bell.

Four o'clock came; the names were called; the master left the room.

Wright, who perfectly knew what was threatened, stood there pale but fearless. His indifferent look was an additional annoyance to Eric, who walked up to him carelessly, and boxing his ears, though without hurting him, said contemptuously, "Conceited little sneak."

Montagu had been told of the intended kicking, and had determined even single-handed to prevent it. He did _not_, however, expect that Eric would have taken part in it, and was therefore unprepared. The color rushed into his cheeks; he went up, took Wright quietly by the hand, and said with firm determination, "No one in the school shall touch Wright again."

"What? no one! just hark to that," said Graham; "I suppose he thinks himself c.o.c.k of the school."

Eric quite misunderstood Montagu's proceedings; he took it for a public challenge. All the Rowlandites were round, and to yield would have looked like cowardice. Above all, his evil genius Wildney was by, and said, "How very nice! another dictation lesson!"