."

They left the room and dispersed, and Eric fancied that all shunned and
looked coldly on his degradation But not so: Montagu came, and taking
his arm in the old friendly way, went a walk with him. It was a
constrained and silent walk, and they were both glad when it was over,
although Montagu did all he could to show that he loved Eric no less
than before. Still it was weeks since they had been much together, and
they had far fewer things in common now than they used to have.

"I'm so wretched, Monty," said Eric at last; "do you think Rose despises
me?"

"I am _sure_ of the contrary. Won't you go to him, Eric, and say all you
feel?"

"Heigh ho! I shall never get right again. Oh, to recover the last two
years!"

"You can redeem them, Eric, by a nobler present. Let the same words
comfort you that have often brought hope to me--'I will restore the
years which the locust hath eaten.'"

They reached the school-door, and Eric went straight to the library. Mr.
Rose was there alone. He received him kindly, as usual, and Eric went up
to the fire-place where he was standing. They had often stood by that
library fire on far different terms.

"Forgive me, sir," was all Eric could say, as the tears rushed to his
eyes.

"Freely, my boy," said Mr. Rose, sadly. "I wish you could feel how fully
I forgive you; but," he added, laying his hand for the last time on
Eric's head, "you have far more, Eric, to forgive yourself. I will not
talk to you, Eric; it would be little good, I fear; but you little know
how much I pity and tremble for you."

While these scenes were being enacted with Eric, a large group was
collected round the fire-place in the boarders' room, and many tongues
were loudly discussing the recent events.

Alas for gratitude! there was not a boy in that group to whom Mr. Rose
had not done many an act of kindness; and to most of them far more than
they ever knew. Many a weary hour had he toiled for them in private,
when his weak frame was harassed by suffering; many a sleepless night
had he wrestled for them in prayer, when, for their sakes, his own many
troubles were laid aside. Work on, Walter Rose, and He who seeth in
secret will reward you openly! but expect no gratitude from those for
whose salvation you, like the great tenderhearted apostle, would almost
be ready to wish yourself accursed.

Nearly every one in that noisy group was abusing Mr. Rose. It had long
been Brigson's cue to do so; he derided hi