e knew that the only
chance of getting Mrs. Falconer's consent to Robert's receiving any
assistance from him, was to make some business arrangement of the sort.
He wrote to her the same night, and after mentioning the unexpected
pleasure of Robert's visit, not only explained the advantage to himself
of the arrangement he had proposed, but set forth the greater advantage
to Robert, inasmuch as he would thus be able in some measure to keep a
hold of him. He judged that although Mrs. Falconer had no great opinion
of his religion, she would yet consider his influence rather on the side
of good than otherwise in the case of a boy else abandoned to his own
resources.

The end of it all was that his grandmother yielded, and Robert was
straightway a Bejan, or Yellow-beak.

Three days had he been clothed in the red gown of the Aberdeen student,
and had attended the Humanity and Greek class-rooms. On the evening of
the third day he was seated at his table preparing his Virgil for the
next, when he found himself growing very weary, and no wonder, for,
except the walk of a few hundred yards to and from the college, he had
had no open air for those three days. It was raining in a persistent
November fashion, and he thought of the sea, away through the dark
and the rain, tossing uneasily. Should he pay it a visit? He sat for a
moment,

This way and that dividing the swift mind, [4]

when his eye fell on his violin. He had been so full of his new position
and its requirements, that he had not touched it since the session
opened. Now it was just what he wanted. He caught it up eagerly, and
began to play. The power of the music seized upon him, and he went on
playing, forgetful of everything else, till a string broke. It was
all too short for further use. Regardless of the rain or the depth of
darkness to be traversed before he could find a music-shop, he caught up
his cap, and went to rush from the house.

His door opened immediately on the top step of the stair, without any
landing. There was a door opposite, to which likewise a few steps led
immediately up. The stairs from the two doors united a little below. So
near were the doors that one might stride across the fork. The opposite
door was open, and in it stood Eric Ericson.

CHAPTER VII. ERIC ERICSON.

Robert sprang across the dividing chasm, clasped Ericson's hand in both
of his, looked up into his face, and stood speechless. Ericson returned
the salute with a