At last, with a deep sigh, he turned away to go back, and meet the crowd of suspicious and unkindly companions, and brood alone over his sorrow in the midst of them.  He had not gone many steps, when he caught sight of Russell in the distance.  His first impulse was to run away and escape; but Russell determined to stop him, and when he came up, said, “Dear Eric, I have sought you out on purpose to tell you that I don’t suspect you, and have never done so for a moment.  I know you too well, my boy, and be sure that I will always stick to you, even if the whole school cut you.”

“Oh, Edwin, I am so wretched.  I needn’t tell you that I am quite innocent of this.  What have I done to be so suspected?  Why, even your cousin Upton won’t believe me.”

“But he does, Eric,” said Russell; “he told me so just now, and several others said the same thing.”

A transient gleam passed over Eric’s face.

“O, I do so long for home again,” he said.  “Except you, I have no friend.”

“Don’t say so, Eric.  This cloud will soon blow over.  Depend upon it, as the Doctor said, we shall discover the offender yet, and the fellows will soon make you reparation for their false suspicions.  And you have one friend, Eric,” he continued, pointing reverently upwards.

Eric was overcome; he sat down on the grass and hid his face till the tears flowed through his closed fingers.  Russell sat silent and pitying beside him, and let Eric’s head rest upon his shoulder.

When they got home, Eric found three notes in his drawer.  One was from Mr. Gordon, and ran thus:—­

“I have little doubt, Williams, that you have done this act.  Believe me, I feel no anger, only pity for you.  Come to me and confess, and I promise, by every means in my power, to befriend and save you.”

This note he read, and then, stamping on the floor, tore it up furiously into twenty pieces, which he scattered about the room.

Another was from Mr. Rose;

“Dear Eric—­I cannot, will not, believe you guilty, although appearances look very black.  You have many faults, but I feel sure that I cannot be mistaken in supposing you too noble-minded for a revenge so petty and so mean.  Come to me, dear boy, if I can help you in any way.  I trust you, Eric, and will use every endeavor to right you in the general estimation.  You are innocent; pray to God for help under this cruel trial, and be sure that your character will yet be cleared.—­Affectionately yours, WALTER ROSE.”

“P.S.—­I can easily understand that just now you will like quiet; come and sit with me in the library as much as you like.”

He read this note two or three times with grateful emotion, and at that moment would have died for Mr. Rose.  The third note was from Owen, as follows:—­

“Dear Williams—­We have been cool to each other lately; naturally, perhaps.  But yet I think that it will be some consolation to you to be told, even by a rival, that I, for one, feel certain of your innocence.  If you want company, I shall be delighted now to walk with you.—­Yours truly, D. OWEN.”