"
"Oh, I am utterly wretched, Verny. I hate myself And to think that while
I am like this, they are yet loving and praising me at home. And, oh,
Verny, I was so sorry to hear from Duncan, how you were talking the
other day."
Vernon hid his face on Eric's shoulder; and as his brother stooped over
him, and folded him to his heart, they cried in silence, until wearied
with sorrow, the younger fell asleep; and then Eric carried him tenderly
down stairs, and laid him, still half-sleeping, upon his bed.
He laid him down, and looked at him as he slumbered. The other boys had
not been disturbed by their noiseless entrance, and he sat down on his
brother's bed to think, shading off the light of the candle with his
hand. It was rarely now that Eric's thoughts were so rich with the
memories of childhood, and sombre with the consciousness of sin, as they
were that night, while he gazed on his brother Vernon's face. He did not
know what made him look so long and earnestly; an indistinct sorrow, an
unconjectured foreboding, passed over his mind, like the shadow of a
summer cloud.
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