No one spoke; and rising with quiet dignity, he went back into his study
without a word.
"Very well," said Duncan; "you may all do as you like; only I heartily
hope now you will be caught. Come, Owen."
"Oh, Williams," said Owen, "you are changed indeed, to treat your best
friend so."
But Eric was excited with drink, and the slave of every evil passion at
that moment. "Serve him right," he said; "what business has he to
interfere with what I choose to do?"
There was no more noise that night. Wildney and the rest slunk off
ashamed and frightened, and Eric, leaving his candle flaring on the
table, went down to his bed-room, where he was very sick. He had neither
strength nor spirit to undress, and flung himself into bed just as was.
When they heard that he was gone, Owen and Duncan (for Montagu was
silent and melancholy) went into his study, put out the candle, and had
only just cleared away, to the best of their power, the traces of the
carouse, when Dr. Rowlands came up stairs on his usual nightly rounds.
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