Montagu's head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table. "Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the present state of things? Yes, you're right," he said, after a pause; "this wasn't the time to speak. I'll go and talk to him again. But how utterly changed he is!"
He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation of noise and gaiety. He ran after him, and said--
"Forgive me my passion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt to express myself strongly." He could not trust himself to say more, but held out his hand.
Eric got red, and hesitated for a moment.
"Come, Eric, it isn't wholly my fault, is it, that we are not so warm to each other as we were when ..."
"Oh, Monty, Monty!" said Eric, softened by the allusion; and warmly grasped his friend's proffered hand.
"Oh, Eric!"
The two shook hands in silence, and as they left each other they felt that while things continued thus their friendship could not last. It was a sad thought for both.
Next morning Wildney received a severe flogging, but gained great reputation by not betraying his companion, and refusing to drop the least hint as to their means of getting out, or their purpose in visiting Ellan. So the secret of the bar remained undiscovered, and when any boy wanted to get out at night--(unhappily the trick now became common enough)--he had only to break a pane of glass in that particular window, which, as it was in the passage, often remained unmended and undiscovered for weeks.
After the flogging, Mr. Rose said shortly to Eric, "I want to speak to you."