Next morning Dr. Rowlands, in full academicals, sailed into the fourth-form room.  His entrance was the signal for every boy to rise, and after a word or two to Mr. Gordon, he motioned them to be seated.  Eric’s heart sank within him.

“Williams, Duncan, and Llewellyn, stand out!” said the Doctor.  The boys, with downcast eyes and burning cheeks, stood before him.

“I was sorry to notice,” said he, “your shameful conduct in chapel yesterday afternoon.  As far as I could observe, you were making yourselves merry in that sacred place with the personal defects of others.  The lessons you receive here must be futile indeed, if they do not teach you the duty of reverence to God, and courtesy to man.  It gives me special pain, Williams, to have observed that you, too, a boy high in your remove, were guilty of this most culpable levity.  You will all come to me at twelve o’clock in the library.”

At twelve o’clock they each received a flogging.  The pain inflicted was not great, and Duncan and Llewellyn, who had got into similar trouble before, cared very little for it, and went out laughing to tell the number of swishes they had received, to a little crowd of boys who were lingering outside the library door.  But not so Eric.  It was his first flogging, and he felt it deeply.  To his proud spirit the disgrace was intolerable.  At that moment he hated Dr. Rowlands, he hated Mr. Gordon, he hated his schoolfellows, he hated everybody.  He had been flogged; the thought haunted him; he, Eric Williams, had been forced to receive this most degrading corporal punishment.  He pushed fiercely through the knot of boys, and strode as quick as he could along the playground, angry and impenitent.

At the gate Russell met him.  Eric felt the meeting inopportune; he was ashamed to meet his friend, ashamed to speak to him, envious of him, and jealous of his better reputation.  He wanted to pass him by without notice, but Russell would not suffer this.  He came up to him and took his arm affectionately.  The slightest allusion to his late disgrace would have made Eric flame out into passion; but Russell was too kind to allude to it then.  He talked as if nothing had happened, and tried to turn his friend’s thoughts to more pleasant subjects.  Eric appreciated his kindness, but he was still sullen and fretful, and it was not until they parted that his better feelings won the day.  But when Russell said to him “Good bye, Eric,” it was too much for him, and seizing Edwin’s hand, he wrung it hard, and tears rushed to his eyes.

“Dear, good Edwin! how I wish I was like you.  If all my friends were like you, I should never get into these troubles.”

“Nay, Eric,” said Russell, “you may be far better than I. You have far batter gifts, if you will only do yourself justice.”

They parted by Mr. Williams’ door, and Russell walked home sad and thoughtful; but Eric, barely answering his brother’s greeting, rushed up to his room, and, flinging himself on his bed, sobbed like a child at the remembrance of his disgrace.  They were not refreshing tears; he felt something hard at his heart, and, as he prayed neither for help nor forgiveness, it was pride and rebellion, not penitence, that made him miserable.