dirty, tarred, and ragged, and his shoes, full of holes, barely
covered his feet. He remembered too that for weeks he had not been able
to wash, and that very morning, as he saw himself in a looking-glass at
a shop window, he had been deeply shocked at his own appearance. His
face was white as a sheet, the fair hair matted and tangled, the eyes
sunken and surrounded with a dark colour, and dead and lustreless. No!
he could not meet Wildney as a sick and ragged sailor boy; perhaps even
he might not be recognised if he did. He drew back, and hid himself
till the merry-hearted pair had passed, and it was almost with a pang of
jealousy that he saw how happy Wildney could be while _he_ was thus; but
he cast aside the unworthy thought at once. "After all, how is poor
Charlie to know what has happened to me?"

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HOME AT LAST.

I will arise and go to my Father.

Eric Williams pursued his disconsolate way to the station, and found
that his money only just sufficed to get him something to eat during the
day, and carry him third class by the parliamentary train to
Charlesbury, the little station where he had to take the branch line to
Ayrton.

He got into the carriage, and sat in the far corner, hiding himself from
notice as well as he could. The weary train--(it carried poor people
for the most part, so, of course, it could matter but little how tedious
or slow it was!)--the weary train, stopping at every station, and often
waiting on the rail until it had been passed by trains that started four
or five hours after it,--dragged its slow course through the fair
counties of England. Many people got in and out of the carriage, which
was generally full, and some of them tried occasionally to enter into
conversation with him. But poor Eric was too sick and tired, and his
heart was too full to talk much, and he contented himself with civil
answers to the questions put to him, dropping the conversation as soon
as he could.

At six in the evening the train stopped at Charlesbury, and he got down.

"Ticket," said the station-man.

Eric gave it, turning his head away, for the man knew him well from
having often seen him there. It was of no use; the man looked hard at
him, and then, opening his eyes wide, exclaimed--

"Well, I never! what, Master Williams of Fairholm, can that be you?"

"Hush, John, hush yes, I am Eric Williams. But don't say a word, that's
a good fellow; I'm going o