indignation. He required the gentlest teaching,
and had received it, while his mind seemed cast in such a mould of
stainless honour, that he avoided most of the weaknesses to which
children are prone. But he was far from blameless. He was proud to a
fault; he well knew that few of his fellows had gifts like his, either
of mind or person, and his fair face often showed a clear impression of
his own superiority. His passion, too, was imperious, and though it
always met with prompt correction, his cousin had latterly found it
difficult to subdue. She felt, in a word, that he was outgrowing her
rule. Beyond a certain age no boy of spirit can be safely guided by a
woman's hand alone.

Eric Williams was now twelve years old. His father was a civilian in
India, and was returning on furlough to England, after a long absence.
Eric had been born in India, but had been sent to England by his parents
at an early age, in charge of a lady friend of his mother. The parting,
which had been agony to his father and mother, he was too young to feel;
indeed the moment itself passed by without his being conscious of it.
They took him on board the ship, and, after a time, gave him a hammer
and some nails to play with. These had always been to him a supreme
delight, and while he hammered away, Mr and Mrs Williams, denying
themselves, for the child's sake, even one more tearful embrace, went
ashore in the boat and left him. It was not till the ship sailed that
he was told he would not see them again for a long, long time. Poor
child, his tears and cries were piteous when he first understood it; but
the sorrows of four years old are very transient, and before a week was
over, little Eric felt almost reconciled to his position, and had become
the universal pet and plaything of every one on board, from Captain
Broadland down to the cabin-boy, with whom he very soon struck up an
acquaintance. Yet twice a day at least his mirth would be checked as he
lisped his little prayer, kneeling at Mrs Munro's knee, and asked God
"to bless his dear, dear father and mother, and make him a good boy."

When Eric arrived in England, he was entrusted to the care of a widowed
aunt, whose daughter, Fanny, had the main charge of his early teaching.
At first, the wayward little Indian seemed likely to form no accession
to the quiet household, but he soon became its brightest ornament and
pride. Everything was in his favour at the pleasant home of Mrs
Tre