"Come along, Wright," he said.
"Nay, leave him," said Eric with a touch of remorse. "Much as you think me beneath you, I have honor enough to see that no one hurts him."
The group of boys gradually dispersed, but one or two remained with Eric, although he was excessively wearied by their observations.
"You didn't fight half like yourself," said Wildney.
"Can't you tell why? I had the wrong side to fight for." And getting up abruptly, he left the room, to be alone in his study, and bathe his swollen and aching face.
In a few minutes Vernon joined him, and at the mere sight of him Eric burst into tears of shame. That evening with Vernon in the study, after the dinner at the Jolly Herring, had revived all his really warm affection for his little brother; and as he could no longer conceal the line he took in the school, they had been often together since then; and Eric's moral obliquity was not so great as to prevent him from feeling deep joy at the change for the better in Vernon's character.
"Verny, Verny," he said, as the boy came up and affectionately took his hand, "it was you who lost me that fight."
"Oh, but, Eric, you were fighting with Montagu."
"Don't you remember the days, Eric," he continued, "when we were home-boarders, and how kind Monty used to be to me even then, and how mother liked him, and thought him quite your truest friend, except poor Russell?"
"I do, indeed. I didn't think then that it would come to this."