The other two were trying to console him. They suggested every possible
topic of hope; but it was too plain that there was nothing to be said,
and that Eric had real cause to fear the worst. Yet though their
arguments were futile, he keenly felt the genuineness of their
affection, and it brought a little alleviation to his heavy mood.
"Well, well; at least _do_ hope the best, Eric," said Graham.
"Yes!" urged Wildney; "only think, dear old fellow, what lots of worse
scrapes we've been in before, and how we've always managed to get out of
them somehow."
"No, my boy; not worse scrapes," answered Eric. "Depend upon it this is
the last for me; I shall not have the chance of getting into another at
_Roslyn_, anyhow."
"Poor Eric! what shall I do if you leave?" said Wildney, putting his arm
round Eric's neck. "Besides it's all my fault, hang it, that you got
into this cursed row."
"'The curse is come upon, me, cried
The Lady of Shallott,'
"those words keep ringing in my ears," murmured Eric.
Pages:
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430