“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 on to Ayrton this evening.”

“Well, sir, I am, hurt like to see you looking so ragged and poorly.  Let me give you a bed to-night, and send you on by first train to-morrow.”

“O no, thank you, John.  I’ve got no money, and—­”

“Tut, tut, sir; I thought you’d know me better nor that.  Proud I’d be any day to do anything for Mrs. Trevor’s nephew, let alone a young gentleman like you.  Well, then, let me drive yon, sir, in my little cart this evening.”

“No, thank you, John, never mind; you are very, very good, but,” he said, and the tears were in his eyes, “I want to walk in alone to-night.”

“Well, God keep and bless you, sir,” said the man, “for you look to need it;” and touching his cap, he watched the boy’s painful walk across some fields to the main road.

“Who’d ha’ thought it, Jenny?” he said to his wife.  “There’s that young Master Williams, whom we’ve always thought so noble like, just been here as ragged as ragged, and with a face the color o’ my white signal flag.”

“Lawks!” said the woman; “well, well! poor young gentleman, I’m afeard he’s been doing something bad.”

Balmily and beautiful the evening fell, as Eric, not without toil, made his way along the road towards Ayrton, which was ten miles off.  The road wound through the valley, across the low hills that encircled it, sometimes spanning or running parallel to the bright stream that had been the delight of Eric’s innocent childhood.  There was something enjoyable at first to the poor boy’s eyes, so long accustomed to the barren sea, in resting once more on the soft undulating green of the summer fields, which were intertissued with white and yellow flowers, like a broidery of pearls and gold.  The whole scene was bathed in the exquisite light, and rich with the delicate perfumes of a glorious evening, which filled the sky over his head with every perfect gradation of rose and amber and amethyst, and breathed over the quiet landscape a sensation of unbroken peace.  But peace did not remain long in Eric’s heart; each well-remembered landmark filled his soul with recollections of the days when he had returned from school, oh! how differently; and of the last time when he had come home with Vernon by his side.  “Oh Verny, Verny, noble little Verny, would to God that I were with you now.  But you are resting, Verny, in the green grave by Russell’s side, and I—­oh God, be merciful to me now!”

It was evening, and the stars came out and shone by hundreds, and Eric walked on by the moonlight.  But the exertion had brought on the pain in his knee, and he had to sit down a long time by the road-side to rest.  He reached Ayrton at ten o’clock, but even then he could not summon up courage to pass through the town where he was so well known, lest any straggler should recognise him,—­and he took a detour in order to get to Fairholm.  He did not arrive there till eleven o’clock; and then he could not venture into the grounds, for he saw through the trees of the shrubbery that there was no light in any of the windows, and it was clear that they were all gone to bed.