here he could hardly have been more affected than he was by
Montagu's simple remark. Montagu could not help noticing it, but at the
time merely attributed it to some unknown gust of feeling, and made no
comment. But Eric, hastily borrowing another bat, took his place again
quite tamely; he was trembling, and at the very next ball, he spooned a
miserable catch into Graham's hand, and the shout of triumph from the
other side proclaimed that his innings was over.

He walked dejectedly to the pavilion for his coat, and the boys, who
were seated in crowds about it, received him, of course, after his
brilliant score, with loud and continued plaudits. But the light had
died away from his face and figure, and he never raised his eyes from
the ground.

"Eric!" said Wildney chaffingly, "you don't acknowledge your honours."

Eric dropped his bat in the corner, put his coat across his arm, and
walked away. As he passed Wildney, he stooped down and whispered again
in a low voice--

"The curse has come upon me, cried
The Lady of Shalott."

"Hush, Eric, nonsense,", whispered Wildney; "you're not going away," he
continued aloud, as Eric turned towards the school. "Why, there are
only two more to go in!"

"Yes, thank you, I must go."

"Oh, then, I'll come too."

Wildney at once joined his friend. "There's nothing more the matter, is
there?" he asked anxiously, when they were out of hearing of the rest.

"God only knows."

"Well, let's change the subject. You've been playing brilliantly, old
fellow."

"Have I?"

"I should just think so, only you got out in rather a stupid way."

"Ah well! it matters very little."

Just at this moment one of the servants handed Eric a kind note from
Mrs Rowlands, with whom he was a very great favourite, asking him to
tea that night. He was not much surprised, for he had been asked
several times lately, and the sweet womanly kindness which she always
showed him caused him the greatest pleasure. Besides, she had known his
mother.

"Upon my word, honours _are_ being showered on you!" said Wildney.
"First to get _the_ score of the season at cricket, and bowl out about
half the other side, and then go to tea with the head-master. Upon my
word! Why, any of us poor wretches would give our two ears for such
distinctions. Talk of curse indeed! Fiddlestick-end!"

But Eric's sorrow lay too deep for chaff, and, only answering with a
sigh, he went to dress for tea.

Just before