There was a dead hush, and Eric tried once or twice in vain to utter a word. At last, by a spasmodic effort, he regained his voice, and read, but in so low and nervous a tone, that not even those nearest him heard what he was saying. Dr. Rowlands took the paper from him. “Owing,” he said, “to a very natural and pardonable emotion, the apology has been read in such a way that you could not have understood it. I will therefore read it myself. It is to this effect-- “‘I, Eric Williams, beg humbly and sincerely to apologise for my passionate and ungrateful insult to Mr. Rose.’ “You will understand that he was left quite free to choose his own expressions; and as he has acknowledged his shame and compunction for the act, I trust that none of you will be tempted to elevate him into a hero, for a folly which he himself so much regrets. This affair,--as I should wish all bad deeds to be after they have once been punished,--will now be forgiven, and I hope forgotten.” 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.