hout further reply.

"Haven't you been a little hard on him, considering the row he's in?"
asked Owen.

Montagu's head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table.
"Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the present
state of things? Yes, you're right," he said, after a pause; "_this_
wasn't the time to speak. I'll go and talk to him again. But how
utterly changed he is!"

He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation of
noise and gaiety. He ran after him, and said--

"Forgive me my passion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt to
express myself strongly." He could not trust himself to say more, but
held out his hand.

Eric got red, and hesitated for a moment.

"Come, Eric, it isn't _wholly_ my fault, is it, that we are not so warm
to each other as we were when--"

"O Monty, Monty!" said Eric, softened by the allusion; and he warmly
grasped his friend's proffered hand.

"O Eric!"

The two shook hands in silence, and as they left each other they felt
that while things continued thus their friendship could not last. It
was a sad thought for both.

Next morning Wildney received a severe flogging, but gained great
reputation by not betraying his companion, and refusing to drop the
least hint as to their means of getting out, or their purpose in
visiting Ellan. So the secret of the bar remained undiscovered, and
when any boy wanted to get out at night--(unhappily the trick now became
common enough)--he had only to break a pane of glass in that particular
window, which, as it was in the passage, often remained unmended and
undiscovered for weeks.

After the flogging, Mr Rose said shortly to Eric, "I want to speak to
you."

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_