Eric Part 22

He fought like a lion, and several of the conspirators had reason to repent their miscalculation in a.s.saulting so spirited an antagonist. But this did not content him; his blood was up, and he determined to attack the evil at its source. He strode through his discomfited enemies straight into Brigson's room, struck a match, and said, "Brigson, get out of bed this instant."

"Hullo!" grunted Brigson, pretending to be only just awake.

"None of that, you blackguard! Will you take a thras.h.i.+ng?"

"No!" roared Brigson, "I should think not."

"Well, then, take _that_!" he shouted, striking him in the face.

The fight that followed was very short. In a single round Montagu had utterly thrashed, and stricken to the earth, and forced to beg for mercy, his c.u.mbrous and brutal opponent. He seemed to tower above him with a magnificent superiority, and there was a self-controlled pa.s.sion about him which gave tremendous energy to every blow. Brigson was utterly dashed, confounded, and cowed, and took without a word the parting kick of ineffable contempt which Montagu bestowed on him.

"There," he said to the fellows, who had thronged in from all the dormitories at the first hint of a fight, "I, a sixth-form fellow, have condescended to thrash that base coward there, whom all you miserable lower boys have been making an idol and hero of, and from whom you have been so readily learning every sort of blackguardly and debasing trick.

But let me tell you and your hero, that if any of you dare to annoy or lift a finger at me again, you shall do it at your peril. I despise you all; there is hardly one gentlemanly or honorable fellow left among you since that fellow Brigson has come here; yes, I despise you, and you know that you deserve it." And every one of them _did_ shrink before his just and fiery rebuke.

The scene was not over when the door suddenly opened, and Mr. Rose appeared. He stood amazed to see Montagu there in his night-s.h.i.+rt, the boys all round, and Brigson was.h.i.+ng his nose, which was bleeding profusely, at his basin.

Montagu instantly stepped up to him. "You can trust me, sir; may I ask you kindly to say nothing of this? I have been thras.h.i.+ng some one that deserved it, and teaching these fellows a lesson."

Mr. Rose saw and allowed for his excited manner. "I can trust you," he said, "Montagu, and shall take no farther notice of this irregularity.

And now get instantly to your beds."

But Montagu, slipping on his clothes, went straight up to the studies, and called the upper boys together. He briefly told them what had occurred, and they rejoiced greatly, binding themselves for the future to check, if they could, by all fair means, Brigson's pernicious influence and abominable example.

But it was too late now; the mischief was done.

"O Eric," said Montagu, "why did you not make a stand against all this before? Your own brother was one of them."

"Little wretch. I'll kick him well for it," said Eric.

"No, no!" said Montagu, "that'll do no good. Try rather to look after him a little more."

"I hope _you_ will forgive him, and try and rescue him."

"I will do what I can," said Montagu, coldly.

Eric sighed, and they parted.

Montagu had hoped that after this Eric would at least break off all open connection with Brigson; and, indeed, Eric had meant to do so. But that personage kept carefully out of his way until the first burst of indignation against him had subsided, and after a time began to address Eric as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile he had completely regained his ascendancy over the lower part of the school, which was not difficult, because they were wincing under Montagu's contempt, and mingled no little dislike with it; a dislike which all are too apt to feel towards those whose very presence and moral superiority are a tacit rebuke of their own failings. But while Montagu was hated, Eric was at the zenith of popular favor, a favor which Brigson ostentatiously encouraged. He was openly flattered and caressed, and if ever he got a large score at cricket, it was chalked triumphantly over the walls. All this he was weak enough to enjoy immensely, and it was one of the reasons why he did not wish to risk his popularity by breaking with Brigson. So, after a little constraint and coldness, he began to stand in much the same relation to him as before.

The best-disposed of the upper boys disliked all this very much, and the sixth and fifth forms began to be split up into two main parties--the one, headed by Eric, and, to a much less degree, by Duncan, who devoted themselves to the games and diversions of the school, and troubled themselves comparatively little about anything else; the other, headed by Montagu, who took the lead in intellectual pursuits, and endeavored, by every means in their power, to counteract the pernicious effects of the spreading immorality.

And so at Roslyn, owing mainly to the wickedness of one depraved boy, and the weak fear of man which actuated others, all was disunion, misery, and deterioration. The community which had once been peaceful, happy, and united, was filled with violent jealousy and heart-burnings; every boy's hand seemed to be against his neighbor; lying, bad language, dishonesty, grew fearfully rife, and the few who, like Owen and Montagu, remained uncontaminated by the general mischief, walked alone and despondent amid their uncongenial and degraded schoolfellow.

CHAPTER II

WILDNEY

"That punishment's the best to bear That follows soonest on the sin, And guilt's a game where losers fare Better than those who seem to win."

COV. PATMORE.

At the beginning of this quarter Eric and Duncan had succeeded to one of the studies, and Owen shared with Montagu the one which adjoined it.

Latterly the small boys, in the universal spirit of disobedience, had frequented the studies a good deal, but it was generally understood that no study-boy might ask any one to be a regular visitor to his room without the leave of its other occupant.

So one evening Duncan said to Eric, "Do you know little Wildney?"

"You mean that jolly fearless-looking little fellow, with, the great black eyes, who came at the beginning of the quarter? No, I don't know him."

"Well, he's a very nice little fellow; a regular devil"

"Humph!" said Eric, laughing; "I shall bring out a new Duncan-dictionary, in which. [Greek: chezchochezons chos] = very nice little fellow."

"Pooh!" said Duncan; "you know well enough what I mean; I mean he's not one of your white-faced, lily-hearted new boys, but has lots of fun in him."

"Well, what of him?"

"Have you any objection to my asking him to sit in the study when he likes?"

"Not the least in the world."

"Very well, I'll go and fetch him now. But wouldn't you like to ask your brother Vernon to come in too whenever he's inclined?"

"No," said Eric, "I don't care. He does come every now and then."

Duncan went to fetch Wildney, and while he was gone, Brie was thinking _why_ he didn't give Vernon the free run of his study. He would not admit to himself the true reason, which was, that he had too much ground to fear that his example would do his brother no good.

Eric soon learned to like Wildney, who was a very bright, engaging, spirited boy, with a dash of pleasant impudence about him which took Eric's fancy. He had been one of the most mischievous of the lower fellows, but, although clever, did little or nothing in school, and was in the worst repute with the masters. Until he was "taken up" by Eric, he had been a regular little hero among his compeers, because he was game for any kind of mischief, and, in the new tone of popular morality, his fearless disregard of rules made him the object of general admiration. From this time, however, he was much in the studies, and unhappily carried with him to those upper regions the temptation to a deeper and more injurious cla.s.s of transgressions than had yet penetrated there.

It was an ill day for General Wildney when he sent his idolised little son to Roslyn; it was an ill day for Eric when Duncan first asked the child to frequent their study.

It was past nine at night, and the lower school had gone to bed, but there was Wildney quietly sitting on Eric's knee by the study fire, while Duncan was doing some Arnold's verses for him to be shown up next day.

"Bother these verses," said Duncan, "I shall have a whiff. Do you mind, Eric?"

"No; not at all."

"Give me a weed, too," said Wildney.

"What! young un--you don't mean to say you smoke?" asked Eric in surprise.

"Don't I, though? let me show you. Why, a whole lot of us went and smoked two or three pipes by Riverbend only yesterday."

"Phew!" said Eric, "then I suppose I must smoke too to keep you in countenance;" and he took a cigar. It was the first time he had touched one since the day at the Stack. The remembrance made him gloomy and silent. "Tempora mutantur," thought he, "nos et mutamur in illis."

"Why, how glum you are," said Wildney, patting him on the head.