It is a very unpleasant subject. I would rather not have had to describe Blackall and his misdeeds; but as his character is so odious, I hold him up as a warning to some not to imitate him, and to others to avoid, and on no account to trust to or to form any friendship with such a person when they meet him.

There was in the house a strong-room, in which occasionally very refractory boys were locked up. Confinement in it was looked upon with peculiar dislike, and considered a great disgrace. It was furnished with books and slates, and pens, ink, and paper, and the boy who was put in was always awarded a task, which he had to perform before he was let out. Any of the masters might put a boy in there, and incarceration in this place was the only punishment they were allowed to inflict on their own responsibility.

“There, go in there; translate and write out for me these five pages of English into French, and learn these fifty lines of Racine,” said Monsieur Malin, as he put Blackall in, and, locking the door, took away the key. “I will report your conduct to the Doctor, and hear what he has to say to it.”

Blackall was left in a great fright. He did not know what part of his conduct might be reported, and he felt conscious that he was guilty of many things which, if known, would cause him to be expelled. He knew also that Monsieur Malin would not excuse him his task, so he tried to get through with it; but all his efforts were in vain. He could do nothing, and his thoughts would turn to the act of which he had just been guilty. “I did not want to hurt him—I did not want to kill him,” he said to himself; but each time that he said so conscience replied, “You did; you know you did. Cowardly mean-spirited revenge induced you to commit the act, and it shall not go unpunished.”

The Doctor was not told of what had occurred till the medical man had arrived and examined Ernest’s wound. He had him at once put to bed, and washed and dressed the wound, and then he gave him some cooling medicine, but he said that he must see him again before he would pronounce on the matter. He might not materially suffer, but it might prove to be a very dangerous wound. This report got about the school. Buttar, Bouldon, and poor Ellis, and many other boys, were deeply grieved when they heard it. During the evening there was much anxiety and excitement in the school.

It was generally reported that Blackall had endeavoured to kill Ernest; then that the wound had assumed a very dangerous aspect, that the surgeon was very anxious about him, and that there was very little hope of his recovery.

When the Doctor appeared in school in the evening his countenance was very grave, and he seemed grieved and anxious. He spoke very little, and it was observed that while he was reading prayers his voice faltered.

There were many sorrowful young hearts in the school that night; for another sadder report than the first got about, and it was believed that Ernest Bracebridge—the clever, the brave, the spirited one, whom all then acknowledged to be without a rival in the school—was dead.

Naturally, the late attempt to introduce fagging was discussed, and the part Bracebridge had taken in suppressing it was openly spoken of. Thus, not only did all the boys in the school learn all about it, but it came to the ears of the masters, and, finally, to those of the Doctor himself. Monsieur Malin had heard of it before, but he had judged it best to let things take their course. The Doctor, having gathered all the information he thought necessary, collected several witnesses, among whom were Buttar, Bouldon, and Ellis, and summoned Blackall into his presence.

Blackall appeared, led in by two of the masters. He heard all that had to be said against him, and a full account of his barbarous treatment of Bouldon and Gregson, and the flogging which followed.