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Updated: May 12, 2025
"I'm so glad you're going to play, though," said Graham; "and so will everybody be; and I'm certain it'll be good for you. The game will divert your thoughts." So that afternoon Eric, for the first time since Verny's death, played with the first eleven, of which he had been captain.
Oh! how awful it seemed to him now, as he looked through the darkness at the very road along which they had brought Verny's dead body. Then his thoughts turned to the theft of the pigeons, his own drunkenness, and then his last cruel, cruel experiences, and this dreadful end of the day which, for an hour or two, had seemed so bright on that very spot where he stood.
Williams had heard of Verny's melancholy death; by the next she had been told that her only other child, Eric, was not dead indeed, but a wandering outcast, marked with the brand of terrible suspicion. Let her agony be sacred; it was God who sent it, and he only enabled her to endure it.
Half contemplating the possibility of such an intention on Eric's part, Dr. Rowlands had locked it behind him when he went out. "Ha!" thought the boy, "then he, too, knows and suspects. Never mind. I must give up my treasures yes, even poor Verny's picture; perhaps it is best I should, for I'm only disgracing his noble memory. But they shan't prevent me from running away."
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