f suspicion, and they amounted in
his mind to certainty. It made him very sad, and he stopped to look at
the boy from whom he had parted on such friendly terms so short a time
before. Eric did not pretend to be asleep, but opened his eyes, and
looked at the head-master. Very sorrowfully Dr. Rowlands shook his head,
and went away. Eric never saw him again.

The moment he was gone Eric got up. He meant to go to his study, collect
the few presents, which were his dearest mementos of Russell, Wildney,
and his other friends--above all, Vernon's likeness--and then make his
escape from the building, using for the last time the broken pane and
loosened bar in the corridor, with which past temptations had made him
so familiar.

He turned the handle of the door and pushed, but it did not yield. Half
contemplating the possibility of such an intention on Eric's part, Dr.
Rowlands had locked it behind him when he went out.

"Ha!" thought the boy, "then he, too, knows and suspects. Never mind. I
must give up my treasures--yes, even poor Verny's picture; perhaps it is
best I should, for I'm only disgracing his noble memory. But they shan't
prevent me from running away."

Once more he deliberated. Yes, there could be no doubt about the
decision. He _could_, not endure another public expulsion, or even
another birching; he _could_ not endure the cold faces of even his best
friends. No, no! he _could_ not face the horrible phantom of detection,
and exposure, and shame. Escape he must.

After using all his strength in long-continued efforts, he succeeded in
loosening the bar of his bed-room window. He then took his two sheets,
tied them together in a firm knot, wound one end tightly round the
remaining bar, and let the other fall down the side of the building. He
took one more glance round his little room, and then let himself down by
the sheet, hand under hand, until he could drop to the ground. Once
safe, he ran towards Starhaven as fast as he could, and felt as if he
were flying for his life. But when he got to the end of the playground
he could not help stopping to take one more longing, lingering look at
the scenes he was leaving for ever. It was a chilly and overclouded
night, and by the gleams of struggling moonlight, he saw the whole
buildings standing out black in the night air. The past lay behind him
like a painting. Many and many unhappy or guilty hours had he spent in
that home, and yet those last four years had not gone