Eric heaved a deep sigh.
"I'm not come to reproach you. You don't give me a friend's right to reprove. But still, Eric, for your own sake, dear fellow, I can't help being sorry for all this. I did hope you'd have broken with Brigson after the thrashing I gave him, for the way in which he treated me. I don't think you can know the mischief he is doing."
The large tears began to soften the fire of Eric's eye, "Ah!" he said, "it's all of no use; you're all giving me the cold shoulder, and I'm going to the bad, that's the long and short of it."
"Oh, Eric! for your own sake, for your parents' sake, for the school's sake, for all your real friends' sake, don't talk in that bitter hopeless way. You are too noble a fellow to be made the tool or the patron of the boys who lead, while they seem to follow you. I do hope you'll join us even yet in resisting them."
Eric had laid his head on the table, which shook with his emotion. "I can't talk, Monty," he said, in an altered tone; "but leave me now; and if you like, we will have a walk to-morrow."
"Most willingly, Eric." And again, warmly pressing his hand, Montagu returned to his own study.
Soon after, there came a timid knock at Eric's door. He expected Wildney as usual; a little before, he had been looking out for him, and hoping he would come, but he didn't want to see him now, so he answered rather peevishly, "Come in; but I don't want to be bothered to-night."
Not Wildney, but Vernon appeared at the door. "May I come in? not if it bothers you, Eric," he said, gently.
"Oh, Verny, I didn't know it was you; I thought it would be Wildney. You never come now."
The little boy came in, and his pleading look seemed to say, "Whose fault is that?"