The Williamses spent the holidays at Fairholm, and now, indeed, in the prospect of losing them, Eric's feelings to his parents came out in all their strength. Most happily the days glided by, and the father and mother used them wisely. All their gentle influence, all their deep affection, were employed in leaving on the boy's heart lasting impressions of godliness and truth. He learnt to feel that their love would encircle him for ever with its heavenly tenderness, and their pure prayers rise for him night and day to the throne of God. The day of parting came, and most bitter and heart-rending it was. In the wildness of their passionate sorrow, Eric and Vernon seemed to hear the sound of everlasting farewells. It is God's mercy that ordains how seldom young hearts have to endure such misery. At length it was over. The last sound of wheels had died away; and during those hours the hearts of parents and children felt the bitterness of death. Mrs Trevor and Fanny, themselves filled with grief, still used all their unselfish endeavours to comfort their dear boys. Vernon, weary of crying, soon sank to sleep; but not so Eric. He sat on a low stool, his face buried in his hands, breaking the stillness every now and then with his convulsive sobs. "Oh, Aunty," he cried, "do you think I shall ever see them again? I have been so selfish, and so little grateful for all their love. Oh, I wish I had thought at Roslyn how soon I was to lose them." "Yes, dearest," said Mrs Trevor, "I have no doubt we shall all meet again soon. Your father is only going for five years, you know, and that will not seem very long. And then they will be writing continually to us, and we to them. Think, Eric, how gladdened their hearts will be to hear that you and Vernon are good boys, and getting on well." "Oh, I _will_ be a better boy, I _will_ indeed," said Eric; "I mean to do great things, and they shall have nothing but good reports of me." "God helping you, dear," said his aunt, pushing back his hair from his forehead, and kissing it softly; "without His help, Eric, we are all weak indeed." She sighed. But how far deeper her sigh would have been had she known the future. Merciful is the darkness that shrouds it from human eyes. VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SEVEN. ERIC A BOARDER. We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. _Winter's Tale_, i. 2. The holidays were over. Vernon was to have a tutor at Fairholm, and Eric was to return alone, and be received into Dr Rowlands's house. As he went on board the steam-packet, he saw numbers of the well-known faces on deck, and merry voices greeted him. "Hullo, Williams! here you are at last," said Duncan, seizing his hand. "How have you enjoyed the holidays? It's so jolly to see you again."