All was gentleness, love, and dependence, in the once bright, impetuous, self-willed boy; it seemed as though the lightning of God's anger had shattered and swept away all that was evil in his heart and life, and left all his true excellence, all the royal prerogatives of his character, pure and unscathed Eric, even in his worst days, was, as I well remember, a lovable and noble boy; but at this period there must have been something about him for which to thank God, something unspeakably winning, and irresistibly attractive.

During the day, as Eric was too weak to walk with them, Montagu and Wildney used to take boating and fishing excursions by themselves, but in the evening the whole party would sit out reading and talking in the garden till twilight fell.

The two visitors began to hope that Mrs.Trevor had been mistaken, and that Eric's health would still recover; but Mrs.Trevor would not deceive herself with a vain hope, and the boy himself shook his head when they called him convalescent.
Their hopes were never higher than one evening about a week after their arrival, when they were all seated, as usual, in the open air, under a lime-tree on the lawn.

The sun was beginning to set, and the rain of golden sunlight fell over them through the green ambrosial foliage of the tree whose pale blossoms were still murmurous with bees.

Eric was leaning back in an easy chair, with Wildney sitting on the grass, cross-legged at his feet, while Montagu, resting on one of the mossy roots, read to them the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and the ladies were busy with their work.
"There--stop now," said Eric, "and let's sit out and talk until we see some of 'the fiery a'es and o'es of light' which he talks of." "I'd no idea Shakspeare was such immensely jolly reading," remarked Wildney naively.