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Farrar, Frederic William, 1831-1903

"Eric"


There he lay, so calm, and weak, and still, with his bright, earnest
eyes turned towards them, as though to see whether any of their
affection for him had ceased or been forgotten!
In an instant they were kneeling in silence by the bed with bowed
foreheads; and the sick boy tenderly put his hands on their heads, and
pushed the frail white fingers through their hair, and looked at them
tearfully without a word, till they hid their faces with their hands,
and broke into deep suppressed sobs of compassion.
"Oh hush, hush!" he said, as he felt their tears dropping on his hands
while they kissed him. "Dear Eric, dear Monty, why should you cry so for
me? I am very happy."
But they caught the outline of his form as he lay on the bed, and had
now for the first time realized that he was a cripple for life; and as
the throng of memories came on them--memories of his skill and fame at
cricket, and racquets, and football--of their sunny bathes together in
sea and river, and all their happy holiday wanderings--they could not
restrain their emotion, and wept uncontrollably.


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