mortified. But he had
full confidence in his own powers, and made the strongest resolutions to
work hard the next half-year, when he had got out of "that
Gordon's" clutches.

The Williams' spent the holidays at Fairholm, and now, indeed, in the
prospect of losing them, Eric's feelings to his parents came out in all
their strength. Most happily the days glided by, and the father and
mother used them wisely. All their gentle influence, all their deep
affection, were employed in leaving on the boy's heart lasting
impressions of godliness and truth. He learnt to feel that their love
would encircle him for ever with its heavenly tenderness, and their pure
prayers rise for him night and day to the throne of God.

The day of parting came, and most bitter and heartrending it was. In the
wildness of their passionate sorrow, Eric and Vernon seemed to hear the
sound of everlasting farewells. It is God's mercy that ordains how
seldom young hearts have to endure such misery.

At length it was over. The last sound of wheels had died away; and
during those hours the hearts of parents and children felt the
bitterness of death. Mrs. Trevor and Fanny, themselves filled with
grief, still used all their unselfish endeavors to comfort their dear
boys. Vernon, weary of crying, soon sank to sleep; but not so Eric. He
sat on a low stool, his face buried in his hands, breaking the stillness
every now and then with his convulsive sobs.

"O Aunty," he cried, "do you think I shall ever see them again? I have
been so wicked, and so little grateful for all their love. O, I wish I
had thought at Roslyn how soon I was to lose them."

"Yes, dearest," said Mrs. Trevor, "I have no doubt we shall all meet
again soon. Your father is only going for five years, you know, and that
will not seem very long. And then they will be writing continually to
us, and we to them. Think, Eric, how gladdened their hearts will be to
hear that you and Vernon are good boys, and getting on well."

"O, I _will_ be a better boy, I _will_ indeed," said Eric; "I mean to do
great things, and they shall have nothing but good reports of me."

"God helping you, dear," said his aunt, pushing back his hair from his
forehead, and kissing it softly; "without his help, Eric, we are all
weak indeed."

She sighed. But how far deeper her sigh would have been had she known
the future. Merciful is the darkness that shrouds it from human eyes!

CHAPTER VII

ERIC A BOARDER