“Pluck!” said Montagu, scornfully; “you seem to me to think it consists in lowering yourself down to the level of that odious Brigson, and joining hand and glove with the dregs of the school.” “Dregs of the school! Upon my word, you’re cool, to speak of any of my associates in that way,” said Eric, now thoroughly angry. “Associates!” retorted Montagu, hotly; “pretty associates! How do you expect anything good to go on, when fellows high in the school like you have such dealings with the refined honorable Brigson, and the exemplary intellectual Wildney?” “You’re a couple of confounded muffs,” shouted Eric, banging the door, and flinging into his own study again without farther reply. “Hav’n’t you been a little hard on him, considering the row he’s in?” asked Owen. Montagu’s head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table. “Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the present state of things? Yes, you’re right,” he said, after a pause; “_this_ wasn’t the time to speak. I’ll go and talk to him again. But how utterly changed he is!” He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation of noise and gaiety. He ran after him, and said-- “Forgive me my passion and sarcasm, Williams. You know I am apt to express myself strongly.” He could not trust himself to say more, but held out his hand. Eric got red, and hesitated for a moment. “Come, Eric, it isn’t _wholly_ my fault, is it, that we are not so warm to each other as we were when ...” “Oh, Monty, Monty!” said Eric, softened by the allusion; and warmly grasped his friend’s proffered hand. “Oh, Eric!” The two shook hands in silence, and as they left each other they felt that while things continued thus their friendship could not last. It was a sad thought for both. Next morning Wildney received a severe flogging, but gained great reputation by not betraying his companion, and refusing to drop the least hint as to their means of getting out, or their purpose in visiting Ellan. So the secret of the bar remained undiscovered, and when any boy wanted to get out at night--(unhappily the trick now became common enough)--he had only to break a pane of glass in that particular window, which, as it was in the passage, often remained unmended and undiscovered for weeks. After the flogging, Mr. Rose said shortly to Eric, “I want to speak to you.” The boy’s heart misgave him as they entered the familiar library. “I think I suspect who was Wildney’s companion.” Eric was silent. “I have no proof, and shall not therefore act on vague suspicion; but the boy whom I _do_ suspect is one whose course lately has given me the deepest pain; one who has violated all the early promise he gave; one who seems to be going farther and farther astray, and sacrificing all moral principle to the ghost of a fleeting and most despicable popularity--to the approval of those whom he cannot himself approve.” Eric still silent.