untenance with some gleam of its old joyousness. When one
looked at him that day with his straw hat on and its neat light blue
ribbon, and the cricket dress (a pink jersey, and leather belt, with a
silver clasp in front), showing off his well-built and graceful figure,
one little thought what an agony was gnawing like a serpent at his
heart. But that day, poor boy, in the excitement of the game he half
forgot it himself, and more and more as the game went on.

The other side, headed by Montagu, went in first, and Eric caught out
two and bowled several. Montagu was the only one who stayed in long,
and when at last Eric sent his middle wicket flying with a magnificent
ball, the shouts of, "Well bowled! well bowled _indeed_!" were
universal.

"Just listen to that, Eric," said Montagu; "why, you're out-doing
everybody to-day, yourself included, and taking us by storm."

"Wait till you see me come out for a duck," said Eric, laughing.

"Not you. You're too much in luck to come out with a duck," answered
Montagu. "You see I've already become the poet of your triumphs, and
prophesy in rhyme."

And now it was Eric's turn to go in. It was long since he had stood
before the wicket, but now he was there, looking like a beautiful
picture as the sunlight streamed over him, and made his fair hair shine
like gold. In the triumph of success his sorrows were flung to the
winds, and his blue eyes sparkled with interest and joy.

He contented himself with blocking Duncan's balls until his eye was in;
but then, acquiring confidence, he sent them flying right and left. His
score rapidly mounted, and there seemed no chance of getting him out, so
that there was every probability of his carrying out his bat.

"Oh, _well_ hit! _well_ hit! A three-er for Eric," cried Wildney to the
scorer; and he began to clap his hands and dance about with excitement
at his friend's success.

"Oh, well hit! well hit in-deed!" shouted all the lookers on, as Eric
caught the next ball half-volley, and sent it whizzing over the hedge,
getting a sixer by the hit.

At the next ball they heard a great crack, and he got no run, for the
handle of his bat broke right off.

"How unlucky!" he said, flinging down the handle with vexation. "I
believe this was our best bat."

"Oh, never mind," said Montagu; "we can soon get another; we've got lots
of money in the box."

What had come over Eric? if there had been a sudden breath of poison in
the atmosp