ed
and damaged as much of the school property as he could, a proceeding
which failed to gain him any admiration, and merely put his father to
ruinous expense.

The day after his exposure Eric had cut him dead, without the least
pretence of concealment; an example pretty generally followed throughout
the school.

In the evening Brigson went up to Eric and hissed in his ear, "You cut
me, curse you; but, _never fear, I'll be revenged on you yet_."

"Do your worst," answered Eric contemptuously; "and never speak to me
again."

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FIVE.

RIPPLES.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And live for ever and for ever.
_Tennyson_.

Owen and Montagu were walking by Silverburn, and talking over the
affairs of the school. During their walk they saw Wright and Vernon
Williams in front of them.

"I am so glad to see those two together," said Montagu; "I really think
Wright is one of the best little fellows in the school, and he'll be the
saving of Vernon. He's already persuaded him to leave off smoking and
other bad things, and has got him to work a little harder, and turn over
a new leaf altogether."

"Yes," answered Owen; "I've seen a marvellous improvement in little
Williams lately. I think that Duncan gave him a rough lesson the other
night which did him good, and dear old Rose too has been leading him by
the hand; but the best thing is that, through Wright, he sees less of
Eric's _friend_, that young scapegrace Wildney."

"Yes; that little wretch has a good deal to answer for. What a pity
that Eric spoils him so, or rather suffers himself to be spoilt by him.
I'm glad Vernon's escaped his influence now: he's too fine a nature to
be made as bad as the general run of them. What a brilliant little
fellow he is; just like his brother."

"Just like what his brother _was_," said Owen; "his face, like his mind,
has suffered lately."

"Too true," answered Montagu, with a sigh; "and yet, cool as we now are
in our outward intercourse, he little knows how I love him, and yearn
for the Eric I once knew--Eric the fair-haired, as Russell and I used
sometimes to call him in fun. Would to God poor Russell had lived, and
then I believe that he wouldn't have gone so far wrong."

"Well, I think there's another chance for him now that--that--what name
is bad enough for that Brigson?--is gone."

"I hope so. But,"--he added after a pause--"his works do follow him.
Look there!" He took a large ston