Eric, or Little by Little Part 33

"That I'll _never_ do," he said, once more firing up. Just as the third round began, Duncan came striding in, for Owen, who had left the room, told him what was going on. He had always been a leading fellow, and quite recently his influence had several times been exerted in the right direction, and he was very much looked up to by all the boys alike, good or bad. He determined, for the credit of the sixth, that the fight should not go on, and bursting into the ring, with his strong shoulders he hurled on each side the boys who stood in his way, and struck down the lifted arms of the fighters.

"You _shan't_ fight," he said doggedly, thrusting himself between them; "so there's an end of it. If you do, you'll both have to fight me first."

"Shame!" said several of the boys, and the cry was caught up by Ball and others.

"Shame, is it?" said Duncan, and his lip curled with scorn. "There's only one way to argue with you fellows. Ball, if you or any other boy repeat that word, I'll thrash him. Here, Monty, come away from this disgraceful scene."

"I'm sick enough of it," said Montagu, "and am ready to stop if Williams is,--provided no one touches Wright."

"I'm sick of it too," said Eric sullenly.

"Then you two shall shake hands," said Duncan.

For one instant--an instant which he regretted till the end of his life--Montagu drew himself up and hesitated. He had been deeply wronged, deeply provoked, and no one could blame him for the momentary feeling; but Eric had observed the gesture, and his pa.s.sionate pride took the alarm. "It's come to this then," he thought; "Montagu doesn't think me good enough to be shaken hands with."

"Pis.h.!.+" he said aloud, in a tone of sarcasm; "it may be an awful honour to shake hands with such an immaculate person as Montagu, but I'm not proud on the subject," and he turned away.

Montagu's hesitation was but momentary, and without a particle of anger or indignation he sorrowfully held out his hand. It was too late; that moment had done the mischief, and it was now Eric's turn coldly to withdraw.

"You don't think me worthy of your friends.h.i.+p, and what's the good of grasping hands if we don't do it with cordial hearts?"

Montagu's lip trembled, but he said nothing, and quietly putting on his coat, motioned back the throng of boys with a sweep of his arm, and left the room with Duncan.

"Come along, Wright," he said.

"Nay, leave him," said Eric, with a touch of remorse. "Much as you think me beneath you, I have honour enough to see that no one hurts him."

The group of boys gradually dispersed, but one or two remained with Eric, although he was excessively wearied by their observations.

"You didn't fight half like yourself," said Wildney.

"Can't you tell why? I had the wrong side to fight for." And getting up abruptly, he left the room, to be alone in his study, and bathe his swollen and aching face.

In a few minutes Vernon joined him, and at the mere sight of him Eric turned away in shame. That evening with Vernon in the study, after the dinner at "The Jolly Herring," had revived all his really warm affection for his little brother; and as he could no longer conceal the line he took in the school, they had been often together since then; and Eric's moral obliquity was not so great as to prevent him from feeling--deep joy at the change for the better in Vernon's character.

"Verny, Verny," he said, as the boy came up and affectionately took his hand, "it was you that lost me that fight."

"Oh, but, Eric, you were fighting with Montagu. Don't you remember the days, Eric," he continued, "when we were home-boarders, and how kind Monty used to be to me even then, and how mother liked him, and thought him quite your truest friend, except poor Russell?"

"I do indeed. I didn't think then that it would come to this."

"I've always been _so_ sorry," said Vernon, "that I joined the fellows in playing him tricks. I can't think how I came to do it, except that I've done such lots of bad things here. But he's forgiven and forgotten that long ago, and is very kind to me now."

It was true; but Eric didn't know that half the kindness which Montagu showed to his brother was shown solely for _his_ sake.

"Do you know, I've thought of a plan for making you two friends again?

I've written to Aunt Trevor to ask him to Fairholm with us next holidays."

"Oh, have you? Good Verny! Yes; _there_ we might be friends. Perhaps there," he added, half to himself, "I might be more like what I was in better days."

"But it's a long time to look forward to. Easter hasn't come yet," said Vernon.

So the two young boys proposed; but G.o.d had disposed it otherwise.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE PIGEONS.

Et motae ad Lunam trepidabis arundinis umbram. _Juvenal_ x. 21.

"How awfully dull it is, Charlie," said Eric, a few weeks before Easter, as he sat with Wildney in his study one holiday afternoon.

"Yes; too late for football, too early for cricket." And Wildney stretched himself and yawned.

"I suppose this is what they call ennui," said Eric again, after a pause. "What's to be done, Sunbeam?"

"You _shan't_ call me that, Eric the fair-haired; you _shan't_ call me that, so there's an end of it," said Wildney, hitting him on the arm.

"Hush, Charlie, don't call _me_ that either; it is a name that--never mind; only don't--that's a good fellow."

"By the bye, Eric, I've just remembered to-morrow's my birthday, and I've got a parcel coming this afternoon full of grub from home. Let's go and see if it's come."

"Capital! We will."

So Eric and Wildney started off to the coach-office, where they found the hamper, and ordered it to be brought at once to the school, and carried up to Eric's study.

On opening it they found it rich in dainties, among which were a pair of fowls and a large plum-cake.

"Hurrah!" said Wildney; "you were talking of nothing to do; I vote we have a carouse to-morrow."

"Very well; only let's have it _before_ prayers, because we so nearly got caught last time."

"Ay, and let it be in one of the cla.s.srooms, Eric; not up here, lest we have another incursion of the 'Rosebuds.' I shall have to cut preparation, but that don't matter. It's Harley's night, and old Stupid will never twig."

"Well, whom shall we ask?" said Eric.

"Old Llewellyn for one," said Wildney. "We haven't seen him for an age, and he's getting too lazy even for a bit of fun."

"Good; and Graham?" suggested Eric. He and Wildney regarded their possessions so much as common property, that he hadn't the least delicacy in mentioning the boys whom he wanted to invite.

"Yes; Graham's a jolly bird; and Ball?"

"I've no objection; and Pietrie?"

"Well; and your brother Vernon?"