Very happily the next month glided away; a new life seemed opened to Eric in the world of rich affections which had unfolded itself before him.  His parents—­above all, his mother—­were everything that he had longed for; and Vernon more than fulfilled to his loving heart the ideal of his childish fancy.  He was never tired of playing with and patronising his little brother, and their rambles by stream and hill made those days appear the happiest he had ever spent.  Every evening (for he had not yet laid aside the habits of childhood) he said his prayers by his mother’s knee, and at the end of one long summer’s day, when prayers were finished, and full of life and happiness he lay down to sleep, “O mother,” he said, “I am so happy—­I like to say my prayers when you are here.”

“Yes, my boy, and God loves to hear them.”

“Aren’t there some who never say prayers, mother?”

“Very many, love, I fear.”

“How unhappy they must be!  I shall always love to say my prayers.”

“Ah, Eric, God grant that you may!”

And the fond mother hoped he always would.  But these words often came back to Eric’s mind in later and less happy days—­days when that gentle hand could no longer rest lovingly on his head—­when those mild blue eyes were dim with tears, and the fair boy, changed in heart and life, often flung himself down with an unreproaching conscience to prayerless sleep.

It had been settled that in another week Eric was to go to school in the Isle of Roslyn.  Mr. Williams had hired a small house in the town of Ellan, and intended to stay there for his year of furlough, at the end of which period Vernon was to be left at Fairholm, and Eric in the house of the head-master of the school.  Eric enjoyed the prospect of all things, and he hardly fancied that Paradise itself could be happier than a life at the seaside with his father and mother and Vernon, combined with the commencement of schoolboy dignity.  When the time for the voyage came, his first glimpse of the sea, and the sensation of sailing over it with only a few planks between him and the deep waters, struck him silent with admiring wonder.  It was a cloudless day; the line of blue sky melted into the line of blue wave, and the air was filled with sunlight.  At evening they landed, and the coach took them to Ellan.  On the way Eric saw for the first time the strength of the hills, so that when they reached the town and took possession of their cottage, he was dumb with the inrush of new and marvellous impressions.

Next morning he was awake early, and jumping out of bed, so as not to disturb the sleeping Vernon, he drew up the window-blind, and gently opened the window.  A very beautiful scene burst on him, one destined to be long mingled with all his most vivid reminiscences.  Not twenty yards below the garden, in front of the house, lay Ellan Bay, at that moment rippling with golden laughter in the fresh breeze of sunrise.