He did not know what made him look so long and earnestly; an indistinct sorrow, an unconjectured foreboding, passed over his mind, like the shadow of a summer cloud.

Vernon was now slumbering deeply; his soft childish curls fell off his forehead, and his head nestled in the pillow; but there was an expression of uneasiness on his sleeping features, and the long eyelashes were still wet with tears.
"Poor child," thought Eric; "dear little Vernon; and he is to be flogged, perhaps birched, to-morrow." He went off sadly to bed, and hardly once remembered, that _he_ too would come in for certain punishment the next day..