word was uttered quite heedlessly, on which turned for ever the decision
of our weal or woe.

Eric lay silent. The darkness was not broken by the flashing of an
angel's wing, the stillness was not syllabled by the sound of an angel's
voice; but to his dying day Eric never forgot the moments which passed,
until, weary and self-reproachful, he fell asleep.

Next morning he awoke, restless and feverish. He at once remembered what
had passed. Bull's words haunted him; he could not forget them; they
burnt within him like the flame of a moral fever. He was moody and
petulant, and for a time could hardly conceal his aversion to Bull. Ah
Eric! moodiness and petulance cannot save you, but prayerfulness would;
one word, Eric, at the throne of grace--one prayer before you go down
among the boys, that God in his mercy would wash away, in the blood of
his dear Son, your crimson stains, and keep your conscience and
memory clean.

The boy knelt down for a few minutes, and repeated to himself a few
formal words. Had he stayed longer on his knees, he might have given way
to a burst of penitence and supplication--but he heard Bull's footstep,
and getting up, he ran down stairs to breakfast; so Eric did not pray.

Conversations did not generally drop so suddenly in dormitory No. 7. On
the contrary, they generally flashed along in the liveliest way, till
some one said "Good night;" and then the boys turned off to sleep. Eric
knew this, and instantly conjectured that it was only a sort of respect
for him, and ignorance of the manner in which he would consider it, that
prevented Duncan and the rest from taking any further notice of Bull's
remark. It was therefore no good disburdening his mind to any of them;