" And he moaned again. He was delirious.
"How cold it is, and wet too! where's Eric? are we bathing? run along,
we shall be late. But stop, you're smoking. Dear Eric, don't smoke.
Poor fellow, I'm afraid he's getting spoilt, and learning bad ways. Oh
save him." And as he wandered on, he repeated a prayer for Eric, which
evidently had been often on his lips.
Eric was touched to the heart's core, and in one rapid lightning-like
glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its
sorrowfulness. And _he_, too, prayed wildly for help both for soul and
body. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them,
growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror
began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and
exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on
his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow
calmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had done
in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn school.
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