They had often stood by that
library fire on far different terms.
"Forgive me, sir," was all Eric could say, as the tears rushed to his
eyes.
"Freely, my boy," said Mr. Rose, sadly. "I wish you could feel how fully
I forgive you; but," he added, laying his hand for the last time on
Eric's head, "you have far more, Eric, to forgive yourself. I will not
talk to you, Eric; it would be little good, I fear; but you little know
how much I pity and tremble for you."
While these scenes were being enacted with Eric, a large group was
collected round the fire-place in the boarders' room, and many tongues
were loudly discussing the recent events.
Alas for gratitude! there was not a boy in that group to whom Mr. Rose
had not done many an act of kindness; and to most of them far more than
they ever knew. Many a weary hour had he toiled for them in private,
when his weak frame was harassed by suffering; many a sleepless night
had he wrestled for them in prayer, when, for their sakes, his own many
troubles were laid aside.
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