The boy's heart misgave him as they entered the familiar library.
"I think I suspect who was Wildney's companion."
Eric was silent.
"I have no proof, and shall not therefore act on vague suspicion; but the boy whom I do suspect is one whose course lately has given me the deepest pain; one who has violated all the early promise he gave; one who seems to be going farther and farther astray, and sacrificing all moral principle to the ghost of a fleeting and most despicable popularity--to the approval of those whom he cannot himself approve."
Eric still silent.
"Whatever you do yourself, Williams"--(it was the first time for two years that Mr. Rose had called him "Williams," and he winced a little)--"whatever you do yourself, Williams, rests with you; but remember it is a ten-thousandfold heavier and more accursed crime to set stumbling-blocks in the way of others, and abuse your influence to cause any of Christ's little ones to perish."
"I wasn't the tempter, however," thought Eric, still silent.
"Well, you seem hardened, and give no sign. Believe me, Williams, I grieve for you, and that bitterly. My interest in you is no less warm, though my affection for you cannot be the same. You may go."
"Another friend alienated, and oh, how true a one! He has not asked me to see him once this term," thought Eric, sadly; but a shout of pleasure greeted him directly he joined the football in the play-ground, and, half consoled, he hoped Mr. Rose had heard it, and understood that was meant for the boy whom he had just been rebuking. "Well, after all," he thought, "I have some friends still."
Yes, friends, such as they were! Except Duncan, hardly one boy whom he really respected ever walked with him now. Even little Wright, one of the very few lower boys who had risen superior to Brigson's temptations, seemed to keep clear of him as much as he could; and, in absolute vacuity, he was obliged to associate with fellows like Attlay, and Graham, and Llewellyn, and Bull.