"I believe this was our best bat." "Oh, never mind," said Montagu; "we can soon get another; we've got lots of money in the box." What had come over Eric?
if there had been a sudden breath of poison in the atmosphere he could hardly have been more affected than he was by Montagu's simple remark.

Montagu could not help noticing it, but at the time merely attributed it to some unknown gust of feeling, and made no comment.

But Eric, hastily borrowing another bat, took his place again quite tamely; he was trembling, and at the very next ball, he spooned a miserable catch into Graham's hand, and the shout of triumph from the other side proclaimed that his innings was over.
He walked dejectedly to the pavilion for his coat, and the boys, who were seated in crowds about it, received him, of course, after his brilliant score, with loud and continued plaudits.

But the light had died away from his face and figure, and he never raised his eyes from the ground.
"Modest Eric!" said Wildney chaffingly, "you don't acknowledge your honors." Eric dropped his bat in the corner, put his coat across his arm, and walked away.

As he passed Wildney, he stooped down and whispered again in a low voice-- "'The curse has come upon me, cried The Lady of Shallott.'" "Hush, Eric, nonsense," whispered Wildney; "you're not going away," he continued aloud, as Eric turned towards the school.