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my motives, and especially now that some of the boys are praising me; I feel as if I were working for self, not for Him, Whom, as you know, dear Evelyn, I long to serve with my whole powers.

"Write and tell me what to do; write, and advise me. I shall long for your letter; so write soon. I don't see much of Raymond: he's done with me now.

But never

mind, I didn't expect anything else. It is His will, and may I love it. Ever, dear Evelyn,

"Your truly affectionate friend,


Having written the letter, he went on more freely with his work; his heart was relieved; he quite trusted Evelyn's judgment. He felt sure of him, and so he determined not to keep the matter in his own hands any longer. He did the imposition, and gave it in. Many of the boys were with him. They said he had done his duty he was a "brick." Some said that he did all for show, and with them instead of being a brick, he was a "muff."

Such were the two schools of opinions. Eustace himself was not quite sure to which class he belonged; he waited for Evelyn to tell him. At last the letter came.

"Dearest Eustace,You ask me for advice, and I will candidly give it. You know me, and my way of viewing things. May I have but one aim in all such matters, and that is, what will please Him, whom I believe we both long Now for this end self must be suppressed, and He must be exalted. You are too conscious, and this is thinking too much of self, in fact, glorifying yourself. Forgive me speaking so plainly, dear Eustace; you are feeding on the thought that you are a martyr, and suf

to serve.

fering unjustly. You delight in finding that others pity, or admire, or hate you, and that Saunders is looked upon as a great brute, while you are extolled to the skies as a hero. Now this is all very well in worldly eyes, but it does not do for the servant of CHRIST. He has an

other aim; you have not done all your duty. You were placed in a position of trust and responsibility; you undertook to fulfil it. The disorder you could not help : true, but part of your duty was to hinder a repetition of it, and as you were distinctly asked, to lay honestly before Evans the truth of the case. This you have not done; and to win the plaudits of the bed-room, and the secret feeling of being an innocent sufferer, you have shrunk from this clear duty.

"Evans placed you in authority, and you accepted the office. The fact of innocent suffering looks well; but the moment it becomes a conscious principle pursued for its own sake, it is wrong. You may say, what shall I do now? I will advise you as you wish it.

"Go and tell Evans the plain truth, beg him to punish no one under the circumstances. Be indifferent whether the boys know it or not, and be careless of what they think of it, because it is right, and because you feel that you have left your true position by what you have done: your act of restitution is the return to that position. The pain or annoyance you may suffer in doing this, is just what all repentant acts are-painful.

"This is what I should do; but keep two views clearly before you. Feel that you are doing right, to please your LORD; and if you are laughed at or abused, let this be your comfort, that this act is for His sake.

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Now, I will say no more. Keep clearly before you the principle I have just laid down. He ever liveth to give you the needful aid.

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EUSTACE read the letter. His mind was soon made up, and he determined on his course; what Evelyn had recommended was plainly the line of duty. He determined to go to Evans. He would go then. He must pass through pupil room to reach Evans' study. When he entered, several boys were standing up at one end, talking to Saunders, their backs turned to Eustace. Saunders sat leaning back on a form, with his head against a desk, his hands joined round his knees, working up and down like an engine.

"I tell you, you're wrong, I'm sure of it,-bet ten to one on it, he's a sneak, a born sneak, which all these religious fellows are; and he's dead sure to tell all, and find out religion for a reason.'

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"Then I'll take any bet against you, I'll stake anything that Sherwood is staunch, so here goes," said Poynder, putting out his hands, "shake hands on it, old fellow, and it's done; done, my man."

“Well, ten to one," cried Saunders, "that he'll tell all in the end."

"I think it's a shame that Eustace hasn't got a better name among us all, a more highminded fellow I never met, and I'm sure he would as soon die as tell Evans anything. Why, he has borne all the blame and the

imposition too. Is that like a fellow who'll tell? No! you're all fools; why, at my former school, a fellow like that would have been understood, but here"


Oh, I daresay, that's so like Randall," said Saunders, turning away from the new speaker.

Now, if there was a boy in the school whom Eustace longed to know and have the regard of, it was Randall. There is no accounting for boys' tastes. He had taken the strongest fancy for Randall from the moment he had seen him. He was a tallish boy, rather shy, particular about his dress, gentlemanly in appearance, and reserved in manner.

Eustace paused-Randall held an influence over him. He had often longed to have a kind look and a patronising word from Randall. To fall in his esteem would have been a sore trial to Eustace; to do the thing which Randall approved a great satisfaction.

The last words rang in his ear. Randall's challenge for Eustace's honour. Saunders' firm declaration, that he did not and would not trust him; and yet what right had he to say that? What had Eustace done to justify the assertion? Nevertheless, on the present occasion, it was singularly true.

"Oh, Sherwood," said Randall, turning round suddenly and seeing him, "we were just talking of you, here's Saunders here declares that you would go and give him up to Evans as soon as look at him. What do you think of that? Where are you off to, eh ?" said he, coming up closer to him, and dropping his voice almost to a whisper. "Walk with me down to Perivale this afternoon; I do want to have a talk, to see if we can't crush this odious influence which these fellows exercise in the school, do, there's a good fellow." Eustace for a moment seemed to hesitate.

"Well, I'll see," said Eustace, looking down.

"See! why, what's the matter, why not? I thought you'd like it."

"Yes, yes, so I should, only—”

"Only what ?"

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'Why, I'm not sure you'll like it, when it comes to the point."

"What on earth does the fellow mean, has he gone mad ?" said Randall, half to himself, looking after Eustace as he left the pupil room, and Randall, turning on his heel, sat down and hummed an air of Weber's over an idyll of Theocritus.

Eustace had a short walk from the pupil room to the study, but in that short walk there was a struggle and a victory. Should he go-go and tell, horrible word,give up Saunders! at all times odious; but after having screened him, then to do it, still more so. And having won the praise of all the boys, and of the admired Randall! dreadful! But on the other side, he saw the line of duty-stern, severe, cold word-but there are words which have the same meaning and are of sweeter sound. Yes, that has decided it. "Yes, Evelyn, you are right; and if for no other reason, that I may act on that law without dwelling on myself."

He knocked at Evans' door, he had quite made up his mind, but he had needed delay; he feared lest Evans might be out, but the loud, energetic, "Come in," gave the finishing stroke to the victory, and decided the day.

Eustace stood before Evans; he was sitting at a table, his cap on, the tassel hanging over his face. The table was covered with books lying in confusion; boys' exercises, Latin verses, lay in two piles. Over the chimney piece was a print of Napoleon resolving to fly at Waterloo. There were some oak shelves round the room with books of all kinds unarranged; relics of an university life,—a

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