Chapter Twenty.Undergraduate Friends.Hannah strolled into Darsie’s study, open letter in hand. “Here’s games!” she announced. “An invitation from Mrs Hoare for myself and friend—that’s you—to go to tea on Sunday afternoon. That’s because I’m Dan’s sister, of course. He’ll be there, too, I expect, and the handsome Percival, and lots more men. The question is, shall we go?”Now Mrs Hoare was the wife of the head of that well-known college of which Dan and Ralph were members, and the invitation was therefore the fulfilment of one of Darsie’s dreams.“Of course we’ll go!” she cried ardently. “Sunday tea at a man’s college is part of the Cambridge programme, and we want to see all that we can. Personally, I consider that they might have asked us before.” She lay back in her seat, and stared dreamily at the wall, puckering her brow in thought, the while Hannah chuckled in the background.“I know what you are thinking about!”“You don’t!” cried Darsie, and blushed, a deep guilty blush.“Ido! Costume for Sunday, and the question of possibly squeezing out three or four shillings to buy an extra bit of frippery to add to your charms!”“Boo!” cried Darsie impatiently; then with a sudden change of front: “And if Iwas, I was perfectly right! Newnham girls are not half careful enough about their appearance, and it tells against the cause. A perfect woman, nobly planned, ought to be as clever as she is—er—dainty, and as dainty as she is clever.”“Thank you for the concession! Very considerate of you, I’m sure. If you had stuck to ‘beautiful,’ I should have been hopelessly left out. Even ‘dainty’ is beyond me, I’m afraid; but I’ll promise you to be neat and tidy, and saints can do no more—if they happen to have been bornplainsaints, that’s to say!”Hannah stood in front of the mirror, staring back at her flat, square face with an expression of serenely detached criticism.“If you are the beauty of this college, I run a close race for the booby prize! Bit of a handicap that, if you care about popularity. This Sunday afternoon now! they’ll all be buzzing round you like so many flies, while I do wallflower in a corner. Nonsense to say that looks don’t count! So far as I can see, the difference between your face and mine will probably make the difference in our lives. You’ll marry a lord of high degree, and I’ll school marm and be maiden aunt.”“Oh, Hannah!” Darsie was acutely discomfited by such words from Hannah’s lips. True they were spoken in matter-of-fact tones, and without the suspicion of a whine, but as the first instance of anything approaching a lament, the occasion was historic. “Oh, Hannah, dear—it’s only at first! After the first no one cares a rapwhatyou look like, so long as you’re nice.”“Fal-de-ral!” cried Hannah scornfully. “Of course they care! Any one would—should myself, but you needn’t look so hang-dog, my dear. It’s notyourfault, and I am quite comfortable, thank you. If any man ever wants to marry me, I’ll know jolly well that it’s for myself, and that he really loves me through and through. There isn’t any of the glamour business about this child to make him imagine that he cares, when it’s only a passing phase. And if it’s my lot to live alone, I’ll back myself to be as happy as most wives I come across. It’s my own big, splendid life, and I’m going tomakeit splendid, or know the reason why!” Hannah struck a dramatic gesture, danced a few fancy steps in an elephantine manner, and stumped towards, the door. “So be it, then! We accept with pleasure, and I’ll leave you to trim your hat.”Whether or no any such embellishment did take place history sayeth not, but it is certain that Darsie Garnett made a very charming picture on the following Sunday afternoon, and that her dainty style of beauty showed to peculiar advantage against the oak panelling of the stately old room in which the head of — College and his gracious, fragile-looking wife dispensed tea to their guests.The first few minutes after their arrival were rather an ordeal to the two Freshers, who had never before been present at such a gathering, and felt themselves the cynosure of every eye; but the kindness of host and hostess soon put them at their ease.A fair sprinkling of college men were in the room, handing round tea and cakes to the guests. Dan Vernon greeted Darsie with an illuminating “Halloa!” and his sister with an even shorter grunt; but it was only when she was comfortably settled down to tea that Darsie caught sight of Ralph Percival’s fair, close-clipped head at the far side of the table. He seemed in no hurry to speak to her—a fact duly scored against him in Miss Darsie’s mind, and this indifference served to pique her into a more vivacious reception of the attentions of his companions.As Hannah had foretold, her pretty friend held quite a little court as one man after another strolled up to join the animated group around her chair. There were two other girls in that group, and a married woman with a strikingly sweet face, who had been introduced as the sister of the hostess. Mrs Reeves, as she was called, appeared to be on intimate terms with the men, and her presence, instead of acting as a restraint, only added to their enjoyment. Darsie thought that she was a charming creature, was conscious that she herself was being scrutinised with special attention, and sincerely hoped that the verdict was favourable. It was a curious person who did not wish to stand well in Alicia Reeves’s estimation!Suddenly Ralph Percival edged in at the back of the group, and stationed himself by Darsie with an air of possession.“Well, Miss Darsie Garnett, isn’t it about time that you had some talk with me?”“Quite time!” Darsie’s tone was eloquent, and she looked Ralph in the face with a quiet steadiness, at which he had the grace to blush. He had been in no hurry to claim acquaintanceship until her social success was assured; she was fully aware of the fact, but her pique died a rapid death as she looked closely into the lad’s face. Ralph at twenty-two was as handsome as in his boyhood, handsomer, indeed, but there were other changes, which the girl’s eyes were quick to read; for though we may keep silence with our tongue, the hand of Time imprints marks upon our features which are unfailing guides to our spiritual progress or decline.For many months past Ralph Vernon had persistently allowed himself to fall short of his best, slacking in work, overstepping at play, abandoning “straightness” for a gathering mesh of deceit. Attached to his name was an unsavoury reputation of card-playing for high stakes, of drinking too much, although not to the extent of actual drunkenness; and the character had alienated from him the friendship of serious men, and evoked a disapproving aloofness in the manner of his instructors. At the moment when he most needed help those who were best fitted to give it sedulously avoided his company, and in this first moment of meeting Darsie was tempted to follow their example.Horrid to look like that! At his age to own those lines, those reddened eyes, that dulled white skin! Up went the little head, the slender neck reared itself proudly, the red lips curled over small white teeth. Darsie intended to wither Ralph by the sight of such obvious distaste, but with the easy vanity of his nature he attributed her airs to girlish pique at his own neglect, and was correspondingly elated thereat.The little schoolgirl who had been his sister’s friend had grown into a “stunning girl,” with whom the men were evidently greatly impressed. Ralph decided that the hour had come to claim her as an old friend and take her under his wing. He sat himself down by her side and persistently monopolised her attention.“College life evidently suits you, Darsie. You are looking rippingly well!”“Am I? Sorry to be unable to return the compliment!”“Oh!” Ralph moved impatiently. “Don’tyoubegin that tune! It is dinned into my ears from morning till night. A fellow may swot himself into a rag, and not a word will be said, but if he oversteps an inch for his own amusement there’s the dickens to pay. I said from the start that I intended to have a good rag. College is one of the best times in a man’s life, and he’s a fool if he doesn’t make the most of his chance.”“It is also—incidentally—supposed to be a time for mental improvement,” returned Darsie in sententious tones, which brought upon her an instant rebuke.“Oh, for pity’s sake don’t come the Newnham swag over me! Can’t stand those girls as a rule. Avoid ’em like poison. Take my advice as an old friend and avoid that style as you would the plague. You’re too jolly pretty to come the strong-minded female. Far better stick to your old style. Men like it a heap better.”“It is a matter of perfect indifference to mewhatmen like!” declared Darsie, not, it is to be feared, with absolute veracity. “I am proud to be a Newnhamite, and if the girls do have a few mannerisms, they count for precious little beside their virtues. They are up to work, and theydowork with might and main, though there can be no place in the world where there is no fun. We are always having some prank or other—politicals, and cocoa-parties and hockey matches, and dances—”“What’s the fun of dances with no men to dance with? Wait till May term, and see what a real ball is like. We’ll have some river picnics, too, and breakfasts at the Orchard. There’s lots to be done in summer, but just now there’s nothing on but teas. You must come to tea in my rooms. I’ve got a slap-up study.” He turned towards Mrs Reeves and addressed her with confident familiarity. “Mrs Reeves will play chaperon, and I’ll promise you the best cakes that Cambridge can produce.”“Oh, yes, I’ll play chaperon.” To Darsie’s surprise the sweet-faced woman smiled back into Ralph’s face with friendly eyes, not appearing even to notice the over-confidence of his manner. “Mr Percival gives charming parties, and I can answer for it that his boast as to the cakes is justified. I can never fathom where he gets them.”She turned to Darsie with a little gesture of confidence, and slightly lowered her voice. “I am known as ‘the Professional Chaperon.’ I hope you will engage my services if you are in need of such a personage, but perhaps we ought to know one another a little better first. I should like so much to know you! Will you come to see me one afternoon next week when you are free, and feel inclined for a chat? I won’t ask any one else, so that we can have a real cosy time.”Surprised and gratified, and more than a little flattered, Darsie mentioned her free hours, and received in return Mrs Reeves’s card bearing an address in Grange Road, then once more Ralph engrossed her attention.“I say! You might ask Ida up for a night or two, and bring her along. They’ll let you have a friend now and then, and she’d like it all right. Awfully decent in writing to me, Ida is, and fights my battles at home. Sensible girl! Understand it’s no good to jaw. I’d like to have Ida up for a bit.”“So would I. I’ll ask her with pleasure.” One of Ralph’s best points had been his affection for his sisters, and the reminder thereof softened Darsie’s heart. She smiled at him with recovered friendliness. “I’ll ask Ida, and you must ask Dan and Hannah Vernon, and make a nice family party. Do you see much of Dan? I don’t expecthemakes a rag of himself over amusement!”Ralph shrugged carelessly. “I’ve no use for Vernon! Good head for routine work, but as a pal, dull as you make ’em! I’ll ask him once as you make a point of it, but I don’t fancy you’ll want him twice. As for the sister—but perhaps I’d better not make any remarks?”“Much better!” Darsie said frostily. “Your manners have not improved, Ralph. I think, if you please, that I would rather not talk to you any more for the present. Would you tell Dan Vernon that I want him to take your place?”It was the first, the very first time in her life that Darsie had essayed the part of queening it over a member of the opposite sex, and the success of the venture was startling even to herself. Ralph flushed, flinched, rose without a word, and stalked across the room to summon Dan as required; and Dan came meekly forward, seated himself in the discarded chair, and faced her with an air of solemn expectation. His rugged face looked plain and roughly hewn in contrast with Ralph’s classical features, but the dark eyes were eloquent as of yore, and the sight of the tilted chin brought back a score of old-time memories. Darsie looked at him with satisfaction, but with a disconcerting blankness of mind as to what to say first. From the other side of the room Ralph was looking on with cynical eyes; it was imperative that the silence should be broken at once.“Dan,pleasesay something! I wanted Ralph to go, so I asked for you. Do please find something to say.”Dan smiled broadly. Each time that she saw him smile Darsie wondered afresh how she could ever have thought him plain. His dark eyes glowed upon her with the look she liked best to see.“What am I to say? It’s good to see you here, Darsie. You are looking very—well! Everything going all right? Sure there’s nothing I can do?”“No.” Darsie beamed happily. At that moment there seemed nothing left to wish. Dan’s friendliness gave the finishing touch to her content, and the world wascouleur de rose. “I am loving it all more than I expected. The work’s glorious, and the play’s glorious, and I’m just absorbed in both. It’s splendid, coming here to-day to see this lovely old house and meet you again. I thought you had forgotten all about me.”But Dan had drawn back into his shell, and refused to be cajoled. He glowered at the opposite wall for some minutes, then asked abruptly—“Why did you send off Percival?”“Oh—!” Darsie hesitated, and then answered with discretion: “I had talked to him as much as I cared about for the moment, and I shall see him soon again. He is going to get up a tea-party for me, with that sweet Mrs Reeves as chaperon. I told him to ask you and Hannah.”“You should not have done that!” Dan spoke with sharp displeasure. “I don’t care to accept Percival’s hospitality for myself, and certainly not for my sister. I shall tell Hannah to refuse.”Darsie glanced across to where Hannah sat, a typical plain Hannah at that moment, with feet planted well apart, and on her face the expression of dour determination which she adopted in moments of boredom; from her to Ralph Percival, standing in graceful pose, his fine, almost feminine, profile outlined clearly against the panelled wall, and, glancing, laughed softly to herself. It seemed so ridiculous to think of this girl needing protection from this man.“I fancy Hannah is quite capable of looking after herself.”“I’m sure of it. She’s a new-comer, however, and she doesn’t get into Percival’s set if I can help it.”“Dan! It can’t be so bad if Mrs Reeves is willing to go. She accepted in a minute. I heard her myself.”“She goes everywhere, to the wildest fellows’ rooms. She has her own ideas, no doubt, but I don’t profess to understand them.” He hesitated, puckering his brows, and looking at her with dark, questioning eyes. “I have no authority over you, Darsie, but I wish—”“Ralph saved my life,” interrupted Darsie simply.Dan looked at her sharply, stared with scrutinising attention at her face, but spoke no further word of protest. He evidently realised, as Darsie did herself, that it would be a mean act to reject the friendship of a man who had wrought so great a service.Half an hour later the two girls slowly wended their way past the tower gateway of Trinity, past Caius, with its twinkling lights, stately King’s, and modest Catherine’s, to the homelike shelter of their own dear Newnham.“Well!” cried Hannah, breaking a long silence, “you had a big success and I had—not! But you’re not a bit happier than I, that I can see. Men are poor, blind bats. I prefer my own sex; they are much more discriminating, and when they like you—theylikeyou, and there’s no more shilly-shally. Those men never know their own minds!”
Hannah strolled into Darsie’s study, open letter in hand. “Here’s games!” she announced. “An invitation from Mrs Hoare for myself and friend—that’s you—to go to tea on Sunday afternoon. That’s because I’m Dan’s sister, of course. He’ll be there, too, I expect, and the handsome Percival, and lots more men. The question is, shall we go?”
Now Mrs Hoare was the wife of the head of that well-known college of which Dan and Ralph were members, and the invitation was therefore the fulfilment of one of Darsie’s dreams.
“Of course we’ll go!” she cried ardently. “Sunday tea at a man’s college is part of the Cambridge programme, and we want to see all that we can. Personally, I consider that they might have asked us before.” She lay back in her seat, and stared dreamily at the wall, puckering her brow in thought, the while Hannah chuckled in the background.
“I know what you are thinking about!”
“You don’t!” cried Darsie, and blushed, a deep guilty blush.
“Ido! Costume for Sunday, and the question of possibly squeezing out three or four shillings to buy an extra bit of frippery to add to your charms!”
“Boo!” cried Darsie impatiently; then with a sudden change of front: “And if Iwas, I was perfectly right! Newnham girls are not half careful enough about their appearance, and it tells against the cause. A perfect woman, nobly planned, ought to be as clever as she is—er—dainty, and as dainty as she is clever.”
“Thank you for the concession! Very considerate of you, I’m sure. If you had stuck to ‘beautiful,’ I should have been hopelessly left out. Even ‘dainty’ is beyond me, I’m afraid; but I’ll promise you to be neat and tidy, and saints can do no more—if they happen to have been bornplainsaints, that’s to say!”
Hannah stood in front of the mirror, staring back at her flat, square face with an expression of serenely detached criticism.
“If you are the beauty of this college, I run a close race for the booby prize! Bit of a handicap that, if you care about popularity. This Sunday afternoon now! they’ll all be buzzing round you like so many flies, while I do wallflower in a corner. Nonsense to say that looks don’t count! So far as I can see, the difference between your face and mine will probably make the difference in our lives. You’ll marry a lord of high degree, and I’ll school marm and be maiden aunt.”
“Oh, Hannah!” Darsie was acutely discomfited by such words from Hannah’s lips. True they were spoken in matter-of-fact tones, and without the suspicion of a whine, but as the first instance of anything approaching a lament, the occasion was historic. “Oh, Hannah, dear—it’s only at first! After the first no one cares a rapwhatyou look like, so long as you’re nice.”
“Fal-de-ral!” cried Hannah scornfully. “Of course they care! Any one would—should myself, but you needn’t look so hang-dog, my dear. It’s notyourfault, and I am quite comfortable, thank you. If any man ever wants to marry me, I’ll know jolly well that it’s for myself, and that he really loves me through and through. There isn’t any of the glamour business about this child to make him imagine that he cares, when it’s only a passing phase. And if it’s my lot to live alone, I’ll back myself to be as happy as most wives I come across. It’s my own big, splendid life, and I’m going tomakeit splendid, or know the reason why!” Hannah struck a dramatic gesture, danced a few fancy steps in an elephantine manner, and stumped towards, the door. “So be it, then! We accept with pleasure, and I’ll leave you to trim your hat.”
Whether or no any such embellishment did take place history sayeth not, but it is certain that Darsie Garnett made a very charming picture on the following Sunday afternoon, and that her dainty style of beauty showed to peculiar advantage against the oak panelling of the stately old room in which the head of — College and his gracious, fragile-looking wife dispensed tea to their guests.
The first few minutes after their arrival were rather an ordeal to the two Freshers, who had never before been present at such a gathering, and felt themselves the cynosure of every eye; but the kindness of host and hostess soon put them at their ease.
A fair sprinkling of college men were in the room, handing round tea and cakes to the guests. Dan Vernon greeted Darsie with an illuminating “Halloa!” and his sister with an even shorter grunt; but it was only when she was comfortably settled down to tea that Darsie caught sight of Ralph Percival’s fair, close-clipped head at the far side of the table. He seemed in no hurry to speak to her—a fact duly scored against him in Miss Darsie’s mind, and this indifference served to pique her into a more vivacious reception of the attentions of his companions.
As Hannah had foretold, her pretty friend held quite a little court as one man after another strolled up to join the animated group around her chair. There were two other girls in that group, and a married woman with a strikingly sweet face, who had been introduced as the sister of the hostess. Mrs Reeves, as she was called, appeared to be on intimate terms with the men, and her presence, instead of acting as a restraint, only added to their enjoyment. Darsie thought that she was a charming creature, was conscious that she herself was being scrutinised with special attention, and sincerely hoped that the verdict was favourable. It was a curious person who did not wish to stand well in Alicia Reeves’s estimation!
Suddenly Ralph Percival edged in at the back of the group, and stationed himself by Darsie with an air of possession.
“Well, Miss Darsie Garnett, isn’t it about time that you had some talk with me?”
“Quite time!” Darsie’s tone was eloquent, and she looked Ralph in the face with a quiet steadiness, at which he had the grace to blush. He had been in no hurry to claim acquaintanceship until her social success was assured; she was fully aware of the fact, but her pique died a rapid death as she looked closely into the lad’s face. Ralph at twenty-two was as handsome as in his boyhood, handsomer, indeed, but there were other changes, which the girl’s eyes were quick to read; for though we may keep silence with our tongue, the hand of Time imprints marks upon our features which are unfailing guides to our spiritual progress or decline.
For many months past Ralph Vernon had persistently allowed himself to fall short of his best, slacking in work, overstepping at play, abandoning “straightness” for a gathering mesh of deceit. Attached to his name was an unsavoury reputation of card-playing for high stakes, of drinking too much, although not to the extent of actual drunkenness; and the character had alienated from him the friendship of serious men, and evoked a disapproving aloofness in the manner of his instructors. At the moment when he most needed help those who were best fitted to give it sedulously avoided his company, and in this first moment of meeting Darsie was tempted to follow their example.
Horrid to look like that! At his age to own those lines, those reddened eyes, that dulled white skin! Up went the little head, the slender neck reared itself proudly, the red lips curled over small white teeth. Darsie intended to wither Ralph by the sight of such obvious distaste, but with the easy vanity of his nature he attributed her airs to girlish pique at his own neglect, and was correspondingly elated thereat.
The little schoolgirl who had been his sister’s friend had grown into a “stunning girl,” with whom the men were evidently greatly impressed. Ralph decided that the hour had come to claim her as an old friend and take her under his wing. He sat himself down by her side and persistently monopolised her attention.
“College life evidently suits you, Darsie. You are looking rippingly well!”
“Am I? Sorry to be unable to return the compliment!”
“Oh!” Ralph moved impatiently. “Don’tyoubegin that tune! It is dinned into my ears from morning till night. A fellow may swot himself into a rag, and not a word will be said, but if he oversteps an inch for his own amusement there’s the dickens to pay. I said from the start that I intended to have a good rag. College is one of the best times in a man’s life, and he’s a fool if he doesn’t make the most of his chance.”
“It is also—incidentally—supposed to be a time for mental improvement,” returned Darsie in sententious tones, which brought upon her an instant rebuke.
“Oh, for pity’s sake don’t come the Newnham swag over me! Can’t stand those girls as a rule. Avoid ’em like poison. Take my advice as an old friend and avoid that style as you would the plague. You’re too jolly pretty to come the strong-minded female. Far better stick to your old style. Men like it a heap better.”
“It is a matter of perfect indifference to mewhatmen like!” declared Darsie, not, it is to be feared, with absolute veracity. “I am proud to be a Newnhamite, and if the girls do have a few mannerisms, they count for precious little beside their virtues. They are up to work, and theydowork with might and main, though there can be no place in the world where there is no fun. We are always having some prank or other—politicals, and cocoa-parties and hockey matches, and dances—”
“What’s the fun of dances with no men to dance with? Wait till May term, and see what a real ball is like. We’ll have some river picnics, too, and breakfasts at the Orchard. There’s lots to be done in summer, but just now there’s nothing on but teas. You must come to tea in my rooms. I’ve got a slap-up study.” He turned towards Mrs Reeves and addressed her with confident familiarity. “Mrs Reeves will play chaperon, and I’ll promise you the best cakes that Cambridge can produce.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll play chaperon.” To Darsie’s surprise the sweet-faced woman smiled back into Ralph’s face with friendly eyes, not appearing even to notice the over-confidence of his manner. “Mr Percival gives charming parties, and I can answer for it that his boast as to the cakes is justified. I can never fathom where he gets them.”
She turned to Darsie with a little gesture of confidence, and slightly lowered her voice. “I am known as ‘the Professional Chaperon.’ I hope you will engage my services if you are in need of such a personage, but perhaps we ought to know one another a little better first. I should like so much to know you! Will you come to see me one afternoon next week when you are free, and feel inclined for a chat? I won’t ask any one else, so that we can have a real cosy time.”
Surprised and gratified, and more than a little flattered, Darsie mentioned her free hours, and received in return Mrs Reeves’s card bearing an address in Grange Road, then once more Ralph engrossed her attention.
“I say! You might ask Ida up for a night or two, and bring her along. They’ll let you have a friend now and then, and she’d like it all right. Awfully decent in writing to me, Ida is, and fights my battles at home. Sensible girl! Understand it’s no good to jaw. I’d like to have Ida up for a bit.”
“So would I. I’ll ask her with pleasure.” One of Ralph’s best points had been his affection for his sisters, and the reminder thereof softened Darsie’s heart. She smiled at him with recovered friendliness. “I’ll ask Ida, and you must ask Dan and Hannah Vernon, and make a nice family party. Do you see much of Dan? I don’t expecthemakes a rag of himself over amusement!”
Ralph shrugged carelessly. “I’ve no use for Vernon! Good head for routine work, but as a pal, dull as you make ’em! I’ll ask him once as you make a point of it, but I don’t fancy you’ll want him twice. As for the sister—but perhaps I’d better not make any remarks?”
“Much better!” Darsie said frostily. “Your manners have not improved, Ralph. I think, if you please, that I would rather not talk to you any more for the present. Would you tell Dan Vernon that I want him to take your place?”
It was the first, the very first time in her life that Darsie had essayed the part of queening it over a member of the opposite sex, and the success of the venture was startling even to herself. Ralph flushed, flinched, rose without a word, and stalked across the room to summon Dan as required; and Dan came meekly forward, seated himself in the discarded chair, and faced her with an air of solemn expectation. His rugged face looked plain and roughly hewn in contrast with Ralph’s classical features, but the dark eyes were eloquent as of yore, and the sight of the tilted chin brought back a score of old-time memories. Darsie looked at him with satisfaction, but with a disconcerting blankness of mind as to what to say first. From the other side of the room Ralph was looking on with cynical eyes; it was imperative that the silence should be broken at once.
“Dan,pleasesay something! I wanted Ralph to go, so I asked for you. Do please find something to say.”
Dan smiled broadly. Each time that she saw him smile Darsie wondered afresh how she could ever have thought him plain. His dark eyes glowed upon her with the look she liked best to see.
“What am I to say? It’s good to see you here, Darsie. You are looking very—well! Everything going all right? Sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“No.” Darsie beamed happily. At that moment there seemed nothing left to wish. Dan’s friendliness gave the finishing touch to her content, and the world wascouleur de rose. “I am loving it all more than I expected. The work’s glorious, and the play’s glorious, and I’m just absorbed in both. It’s splendid, coming here to-day to see this lovely old house and meet you again. I thought you had forgotten all about me.”
But Dan had drawn back into his shell, and refused to be cajoled. He glowered at the opposite wall for some minutes, then asked abruptly—
“Why did you send off Percival?”
“Oh—!” Darsie hesitated, and then answered with discretion: “I had talked to him as much as I cared about for the moment, and I shall see him soon again. He is going to get up a tea-party for me, with that sweet Mrs Reeves as chaperon. I told him to ask you and Hannah.”
“You should not have done that!” Dan spoke with sharp displeasure. “I don’t care to accept Percival’s hospitality for myself, and certainly not for my sister. I shall tell Hannah to refuse.”
Darsie glanced across to where Hannah sat, a typical plain Hannah at that moment, with feet planted well apart, and on her face the expression of dour determination which she adopted in moments of boredom; from her to Ralph Percival, standing in graceful pose, his fine, almost feminine, profile outlined clearly against the panelled wall, and, glancing, laughed softly to herself. It seemed so ridiculous to think of this girl needing protection from this man.
“I fancy Hannah is quite capable of looking after herself.”
“I’m sure of it. She’s a new-comer, however, and she doesn’t get into Percival’s set if I can help it.”
“Dan! It can’t be so bad if Mrs Reeves is willing to go. She accepted in a minute. I heard her myself.”
“She goes everywhere, to the wildest fellows’ rooms. She has her own ideas, no doubt, but I don’t profess to understand them.” He hesitated, puckering his brows, and looking at her with dark, questioning eyes. “I have no authority over you, Darsie, but I wish—”
“Ralph saved my life,” interrupted Darsie simply.
Dan looked at her sharply, stared with scrutinising attention at her face, but spoke no further word of protest. He evidently realised, as Darsie did herself, that it would be a mean act to reject the friendship of a man who had wrought so great a service.
Half an hour later the two girls slowly wended their way past the tower gateway of Trinity, past Caius, with its twinkling lights, stately King’s, and modest Catherine’s, to the homelike shelter of their own dear Newnham.
“Well!” cried Hannah, breaking a long silence, “you had a big success and I had—not! But you’re not a bit happier than I, that I can see. Men are poor, blind bats. I prefer my own sex; they are much more discriminating, and when they like you—theylikeyou, and there’s no more shilly-shally. Those men never know their own minds!”
Chapter Twenty One.Mrs Reeves makes a Proposal.Four days later Darsie went by appointment to hertête-à-têtetea with the professional chaperon with a pleasurable expectation which was largely streaked with curiosity.If physiognomy counted for anything, Mrs Reeves must surely be a most sweet and noble character. Her grey eyes looked into yours with a straight, transparent gaze, her lips closed one upon another firmly enough to debar all trace of weakness, yet not so firmly as to hint at undue severity, her hair waved back from a broad white brow. It was, as Dan had said, difficult to understand how such a woman could be the willing companion of men whom even fellow-students were anxious to shun. Darsie wondered if the afternoon’s conversation would throw any light on this knotty point.She was shown, not into the drawing-room but into a cosy little den on the second floor, a sort of glorious edition of a college study, where Mrs Reeves sat reading by the fire, clad in a loose velvet gown of a curious reddish-brown, like the autumn tint of a leaf, which matched the high lights of her chestnut hair. Darsie watched her with fascinated attention as she presided over the tea-table, with lithe, graceful movements which made a poem out of the every-day proceeding, and Mrs Reeves studied her in return, as she chatted lightly about a dozen casual subjects. Then the tea-things were carried away, and with the drawing nearer to the fire conversation took a more intimate turn.“I hope your friend did not think me inhospitable for not including her in my invitation to-day, but when I want to get to know a girl I prefer to have her entirely to myself. Perhaps she will come another day. Vernon’s sister ought to be worth knowing.”“You know Dan?” Darsie’s smile was somewhat anxious, for Dan’s own manner with respect to her hostess was still a disturbing element. “You know him well?”“No,” Mrs Reeves smiled; “not well. But I like him well by repute! Vernon has no need of my services. He is strong: enough to stand by himself.”“You mean tea-parties?” queried Darsie vaguely, whereat Mrs Reeves subsided into a ripple of laughter.“No, I donotmean tea-parties—something very much wider. I don’t fancy, however, that Vernon is sociably disposed, and the authorities here are not inclined to encourage meetings between the men and girl students. The head of his college is my brother-in-law, and one of your Dons is a very old friend, so I hear the question discussed from both sides, and then—like a wise woman—I gang my own gait! So long as men are men, and girls are girls, they are bound to attract each other; it’s natural and right, and when they are bound to meet in any case, it is my little hobby to help them to do so under the best conditions. I flatter myself I am quite an expert in the art of being just chaperon enough, and not too chaperon, and I never refuse to act if I can possibly contrive to do so.”“No! Dan said—” began Darsie involuntarily, and then stopped short with a furious blush. Mrs Reeves, however, did not share her discomfiture; she laughed, and said shrewdly—“Oh, I have observed his disapproving eye. I can guess what he said. Many people feel the same, who judge only from the surface, and don’t take the trouble to realise my motives. One doesn’t explain such things to the world in general, but I wantyouto understand. If one man less admirable than another; if his friends and his entertainments are inclined to become rowdy and discreditable, does he need helpless, or more? Vernon and other men of his kind consider that they do their duty by leaving such a man severely alone. I find mine in being with him—just—as much—as ever I can!” She emphasised the words by a series of taps with the poker on the top of an obstinate coal, given in the most delightfully school-girlish manner. “I chaperon his parties; I talk to him and his friends; I make myself so agreeable that they love to have me, and want to have me again. I try with every power I possess to encourage all that is good, and kind, and honest, and cheering in themselves and their conversation, and deftly, delicately, invisibly, as it were, to fight against everything that is mean and unworthy. It’s difficult, Darsie!—I may call you Darsie, mayn’t I? it’s such a beguiling little name!—one of the most difficult feats a woman could set herself to accomplish, and though I’ve had a fair measure of success, it’s only a measure. It’s such a great big work. Think of all that it means, that itmaymean to England, if we can keep these men from drifting, and give them a pull-up in time! I am constantly looking, looking out for fellow-workers. That’s why I invited you here to-day—to askyouto be on my side!”“I!” Darsie’s gasp of amazement sounded throughout the room. “I! Oh, you can’t mean it! What could I do? I can do nothing—I’m only a girl!”“Only a girl! But, dear child, that’s your finest qualification! You can do more than I can ever accomplish, just because youarea girl, and will be admitted to an intimacy which is impossible for me. Besides, Darsie, you are a particularly pretty and attractive girl into the bargain; you know that, don’t you? Yououghtto know it, and be very, very thankful for a great weapon given into your hands. If you will join the ranks with me, and act as my curate, you will immensely increase my power for good.”“But I can’t! I can’t! I’d love to if I could, but you don’t know how impossible it is. I couldn’t preach to save my life.”“I’m thankful to hear it. I don’t want you to preach. You’d soon lose your influence if you did. It’s a case ofbeing, Darsie, rather than doing; being your truest, sweetest, highest self when you are with these men, so that they may feel your influence through all the fun and banter. Lots of fun, please; you can’t have too much of that; a dull girl is soon left to herself. People in general don’t half realise the influence of just rightthinking—the atmosphere which surrounds a person who is mentally fighting for good. The sunbeams fall on the dark earth and soak up the poisoned waters, and so may our thoughts—our prayers,” She was silent for a few moments, her hand resting lightly on Darsie’s knees. “There is a girl in your house—Margaret France—I expect you know her! She has been one of my best helpers these last years. Wherever Margaret is there is fun and laughter; she is just brimful of it, but—can you imagine any one going to Margaret with an unworthy thought, an unworthy cause? I want you to follow in her steps!”She paused again for a long minute, then said slowly and emphatically—“Ralph Percival needs help, Darsie! He has not fallen very low as yet, but he is drifting. He is in a bad set, and, like too many of our richer men, he lacks purpose. They come up here because their fathers have been before them, and it is the correct thing to do. There is no real reason why they should work, or take a high place, but there seems to themselves every reason why they should have a good time. Parents sometimes seem to hold more or less the same opinion; at others they seem distressed, but powerless. College authorities are regarded as natural enemies; religious influences for the time beat on closed doors; now, Darsie, here comes the chance for ‘only a girl!’ A man like Ralph Percival, at this stage of his life, will be more influenced by a girl like you than by any power on earth. It’s a law of Nature and of God, and if every girl realised it, it would be a blessed thing for the race. I once heard a preacher say that so long as one dealt with general principles, and talked broadly of the human race, there was very little done. We have to fine it down tomy next door neighbourbefore we really set to work. Fine down what I have said to Ralph Percival, Darsie, and help me with him! He’s drifting. He needs you. Help me to pull him back!”Darsie nodded dumbly. Mrs Reeves thought the expression on her downcast face touchingly sweet and earnest, but even she missed the clue to the girl’s inmost thought.Years ago she herself had been drifting, drifting towards death, and Ralph had stepped forward to save her; now, in an allegorical sense, the positions were reversed, and she was summoned to the rescue. There was no refusing a duty so obvious. Heavy and onerous as the responsibility might be, it had been placed in her hands. Darsie braced herself to the burden.
Four days later Darsie went by appointment to hertête-à-têtetea with the professional chaperon with a pleasurable expectation which was largely streaked with curiosity.
If physiognomy counted for anything, Mrs Reeves must surely be a most sweet and noble character. Her grey eyes looked into yours with a straight, transparent gaze, her lips closed one upon another firmly enough to debar all trace of weakness, yet not so firmly as to hint at undue severity, her hair waved back from a broad white brow. It was, as Dan had said, difficult to understand how such a woman could be the willing companion of men whom even fellow-students were anxious to shun. Darsie wondered if the afternoon’s conversation would throw any light on this knotty point.
She was shown, not into the drawing-room but into a cosy little den on the second floor, a sort of glorious edition of a college study, where Mrs Reeves sat reading by the fire, clad in a loose velvet gown of a curious reddish-brown, like the autumn tint of a leaf, which matched the high lights of her chestnut hair. Darsie watched her with fascinated attention as she presided over the tea-table, with lithe, graceful movements which made a poem out of the every-day proceeding, and Mrs Reeves studied her in return, as she chatted lightly about a dozen casual subjects. Then the tea-things were carried away, and with the drawing nearer to the fire conversation took a more intimate turn.
“I hope your friend did not think me inhospitable for not including her in my invitation to-day, but when I want to get to know a girl I prefer to have her entirely to myself. Perhaps she will come another day. Vernon’s sister ought to be worth knowing.”
“You know Dan?” Darsie’s smile was somewhat anxious, for Dan’s own manner with respect to her hostess was still a disturbing element. “You know him well?”
“No,” Mrs Reeves smiled; “not well. But I like him well by repute! Vernon has no need of my services. He is strong: enough to stand by himself.”
“You mean tea-parties?” queried Darsie vaguely, whereat Mrs Reeves subsided into a ripple of laughter.
“No, I donotmean tea-parties—something very much wider. I don’t fancy, however, that Vernon is sociably disposed, and the authorities here are not inclined to encourage meetings between the men and girl students. The head of his college is my brother-in-law, and one of your Dons is a very old friend, so I hear the question discussed from both sides, and then—like a wise woman—I gang my own gait! So long as men are men, and girls are girls, they are bound to attract each other; it’s natural and right, and when they are bound to meet in any case, it is my little hobby to help them to do so under the best conditions. I flatter myself I am quite an expert in the art of being just chaperon enough, and not too chaperon, and I never refuse to act if I can possibly contrive to do so.”
“No! Dan said—” began Darsie involuntarily, and then stopped short with a furious blush. Mrs Reeves, however, did not share her discomfiture; she laughed, and said shrewdly—
“Oh, I have observed his disapproving eye. I can guess what he said. Many people feel the same, who judge only from the surface, and don’t take the trouble to realise my motives. One doesn’t explain such things to the world in general, but I wantyouto understand. If one man less admirable than another; if his friends and his entertainments are inclined to become rowdy and discreditable, does he need helpless, or more? Vernon and other men of his kind consider that they do their duty by leaving such a man severely alone. I find mine in being with him—just—as much—as ever I can!” She emphasised the words by a series of taps with the poker on the top of an obstinate coal, given in the most delightfully school-girlish manner. “I chaperon his parties; I talk to him and his friends; I make myself so agreeable that they love to have me, and want to have me again. I try with every power I possess to encourage all that is good, and kind, and honest, and cheering in themselves and their conversation, and deftly, delicately, invisibly, as it were, to fight against everything that is mean and unworthy. It’s difficult, Darsie!—I may call you Darsie, mayn’t I? it’s such a beguiling little name!—one of the most difficult feats a woman could set herself to accomplish, and though I’ve had a fair measure of success, it’s only a measure. It’s such a great big work. Think of all that it means, that itmaymean to England, if we can keep these men from drifting, and give them a pull-up in time! I am constantly looking, looking out for fellow-workers. That’s why I invited you here to-day—to askyouto be on my side!”
“I!” Darsie’s gasp of amazement sounded throughout the room. “I! Oh, you can’t mean it! What could I do? I can do nothing—I’m only a girl!”
“Only a girl! But, dear child, that’s your finest qualification! You can do more than I can ever accomplish, just because youarea girl, and will be admitted to an intimacy which is impossible for me. Besides, Darsie, you are a particularly pretty and attractive girl into the bargain; you know that, don’t you? Yououghtto know it, and be very, very thankful for a great weapon given into your hands. If you will join the ranks with me, and act as my curate, you will immensely increase my power for good.”
“But I can’t! I can’t! I’d love to if I could, but you don’t know how impossible it is. I couldn’t preach to save my life.”
“I’m thankful to hear it. I don’t want you to preach. You’d soon lose your influence if you did. It’s a case ofbeing, Darsie, rather than doing; being your truest, sweetest, highest self when you are with these men, so that they may feel your influence through all the fun and banter. Lots of fun, please; you can’t have too much of that; a dull girl is soon left to herself. People in general don’t half realise the influence of just rightthinking—the atmosphere which surrounds a person who is mentally fighting for good. The sunbeams fall on the dark earth and soak up the poisoned waters, and so may our thoughts—our prayers,” She was silent for a few moments, her hand resting lightly on Darsie’s knees. “There is a girl in your house—Margaret France—I expect you know her! She has been one of my best helpers these last years. Wherever Margaret is there is fun and laughter; she is just brimful of it, but—can you imagine any one going to Margaret with an unworthy thought, an unworthy cause? I want you to follow in her steps!”
She paused again for a long minute, then said slowly and emphatically—
“Ralph Percival needs help, Darsie! He has not fallen very low as yet, but he is drifting. He is in a bad set, and, like too many of our richer men, he lacks purpose. They come up here because their fathers have been before them, and it is the correct thing to do. There is no real reason why they should work, or take a high place, but there seems to themselves every reason why they should have a good time. Parents sometimes seem to hold more or less the same opinion; at others they seem distressed, but powerless. College authorities are regarded as natural enemies; religious influences for the time beat on closed doors; now, Darsie, here comes the chance for ‘only a girl!’ A man like Ralph Percival, at this stage of his life, will be more influenced by a girl like you than by any power on earth. It’s a law of Nature and of God, and if every girl realised it, it would be a blessed thing for the race. I once heard a preacher say that so long as one dealt with general principles, and talked broadly of the human race, there was very little done. We have to fine it down tomy next door neighbourbefore we really set to work. Fine down what I have said to Ralph Percival, Darsie, and help me with him! He’s drifting. He needs you. Help me to pull him back!”
Darsie nodded dumbly. Mrs Reeves thought the expression on her downcast face touchingly sweet and earnest, but even she missed the clue to the girl’s inmost thought.
Years ago she herself had been drifting, drifting towards death, and Ralph had stepped forward to save her; now, in an allegorical sense, the positions were reversed, and she was summoned to the rescue. There was no refusing a duty so obvious. Heavy and onerous as the responsibility might be, it had been placed in her hands. Darsie braced herself to the burden.
Chapter Twenty Two.Christmas Day.It was Christmas Day; fifteen eventful months had passed by since Darsie Garnett and Hannah Vernon had made their appearance in Clough in the character of modest and diffident Freshers. Now, advanced to the dignity of second-year girls, they patronised new-comers with the best, and talked, thought, and behaved as though, deprived of their valuable support, the historical centre of Cambridge must swiftly crumble to the dust.The little air of assurance and self-esteem which seems inseparable from a feminine student had laid its hand on Darsie’s beauty, robbing it of the old shy grace, and on each fresh return to the old home Clemence and Lavender eloquently described themselves as “squelched flat” by the dignified young woman who sailed about with her head in the air, and delivered an ultimatum on every subject as it arose, with an air of “My opinion is final. Let no dog bark!”These mannerisms, however, were only, after all, a veneer; and when two or three days of merry, rollicking family life had passed by, the old Darsie made her appearance once more, forgot to be learned and superior, forbore to refer to college and college ways in every second or third sentence, and showed a reviving interest in family affairs.Clemence was fatter than ever, a subject of intense mortification to herself, though at each fresh meeting she confided in whispered asides that she had “lost five pounds—ten pounds,” as the case might be. No one believed in these diminutions, but if one happened to be amiably disposed, one murmured vaguely, and affected conviction; and if one were not, one openly jeered and scoffed! Lavender was sentimental and wrote poetry in which “pale roses died, in the garden wide, and the wind blew drear, o’er the stricken mere.” She had advanced to the dignity of long skirts, and dressed her hair—badly!—in the latest eccentricity of fashion.Vie Vernon, on the contrary, had developed into a most elegant person, quite an accomplished woman of the world, darkly suspected of “going to be engaged” to a young lawyer with a dark moustache, who had lately developed a suspicious fondness for her father’s company.It really gave one quite a shock to realisehowgrown-up the old companions had become even the brothers Harry and Russell were transformed into tall striplings who bought newspapers on their own account, and preferred, actuallypreferred, to be clean rather than dirty! It was a positive relief to listen to Tim’s loud voice, look at his grimy paws, and reflect that one member of the family was still in the enjoyment of youth.As usual, the postman’s arrival was the first excitement of Christmas morning. He brought with him an armful of letters and parcels, and Darsie was quick to spy Ralph Percival’s handwriting upon one of the smallest and most attractive-looking of the packets.The colour came into her cheeks as she looked, but after holding the parcel uncertainly for a moment, she laid it down again, and proceeded to open other letters and boxes, leaving this particular one to the last. An onlooker would have been puzzled to decide whether it was more dread or expectation which prompted this decision; and perhaps Darsie herself could hardly have answered the question. The table was soon spread with envelopes and wrappings of paper which had enclosed souvenirs from college friends, and the more costly offerings from Mrs Percival and her girls, inscribed with the orthodox words of greeting. Darsie ranged them in order, and then, still hesitating, turned to the last packet of all.Inside was a note folded so as to act as additional wrapper for a small white box. Ralph’s writing, large and well-formed like himself, filled the half-sheet.“Dear Darsie,—I hope you will accept the enclosed trifle which has been made for you, from my own design. You will understand its meaning! I am more than ever in need of pulling up! Don’t fail a fellow, Darsie!“Yours,—“Ralph B. Percival.”Inside the box lay a small but beautifully modelled anchor brooch, with a fine golden rope twined round the stock. Darsie looked at it with the same mingling of joy and pain which seemed inseparable from each stage of her friendship with this attractive but irresponsible young man.It was just like Ralph to have thought of this pretty and graceful way of expressing his sentiments, and it was not in girl nature to resist a glow of gratified vanity; but as she turned the golden anchor in her hands and realised the significance of the symbol, an old impatience stirred in Darsie’s heart. A man who trusted to another for anchorage in life, and who was ever in danger of breaking loose and drifting on to the rocks, was not the strong knight of a young girl’s dreams. There were moments when the protecting tenderness which had prompted the last year’s efforts gave place to sudden intolerance and resentment.Inspired by Mrs Reeves’s words in her first term at college, Darsie had set gallantly to the task of influencing Ralph Percival for good, and preventing his further deterioration. At first it had appeared a forlorn hope; and she would have despaired many a time if it had not been for the encouragement which she received from Mrs Reeves and her “curate,” Margaret France. Then gradually and surely her influence had begun to make itself felt. It could not truthfully be said that she had so inspired Ralph that he had turned over a new leaf, and abandoned bad practices from a desire for the right itself. If the truth must be told, desire for his pretty mentor’s approbation and praise had been a far stronger factor in the improvement which seemed to have been effected.Ralph was emotional, and as his interest in Darsie deepened into the sentimental attachment which seemed a natural development of their intimacy, he grew increasingly anxious to stand well in her estimation. During the May term there had been teas in the college gardens, breakfast parties at the Orchard, picnics on the river, which had afforded opportunities oftête-à-têteconversations when, amidst the flowers and the sunshine, it had been quite an agreeable sensation to lament over one’s weaknesses and shortcomings, and to receive in return the wisest of counsels from Darsie’s pretty lips.“To pleaseyou, Darsie!—I’m hanged if I care what other people think, but ifyouask me—” The promises gained were all couched in this personal vein. “If you chuck me, Darsie, I shan’t worry any more.” This was the threat held out for the future. Unsatisfactory, if you will, yet the fact remained that for the first part of the last term Ralphhadappeared to show greater interest in work than he had before manifested, and had been involved in a minimum of scrapes.There were moments when, remembering these facts, Darsie felt proudly that she had not lived in vain; moments when Ralph’s dependence on herself and graceful acknowledgments of her help seemed the chief interest in life. But there were also other moments when the bond between them weighed heavy as a chain. In less than two years the training days would be over, Ralph would be a man, and she herself a woman on the threshold of life. Would she be expected to play the part of permanent anchor, and, if so, could she, should she undertake the task?For the last few weeks of the term Darsie had been so absorbed in her own surroundings that she had had no time or thought to bestow on outside interests, and Mrs Reeves being abroad, no college news came to her ears from that source.Now since the beginning of the holidays Ralph’s name had hardly been mentioned, since family interests were predominant, and Darsie had learned from experience that the subject of “Percival” was calculated to send Dan Vernon into his most taciturn mood.On this Christmas morning, however, Darsie was in a mood of somewhat reckless gaiety; let the future take care of itself. For to-day, at least, she was young and happy and free; the Vernon family was coming over in bulk to spend the evening, when the presence of one of Dan’s chums would supply an agreeable element of novelty to the occasion. Not one single gloomy thought must be allowed to cloud the sunshine of this Christmas Day!Dinner was served at seven o’clock, and was truly a festive occasion. The dining-room table being unequal to the task of providing accommodation for sixteen people, the schoolroom table had to be used as a supplement. It was a good inch higher than the other, and supplied with a preponderance of legs, but these small drawbacks could not weigh against the magnificent effect of the combined length, covered, as it was, with fruit, flowers, and a plethora of bright red bonbons and crackers. The girls wore their prettiest evening frocks; the turkey, the goose, the plum-pudding, and the mince-pies were all paragons of their kind, while dessert was enlivened by the discovery of small surprise presents cunningly hidden away within hollowed oranges, apples, and nuts. Silver thimbles, pocket-calendars, stamp-cases, sleeve-links, and miniature brooches, made their appearance with such extraordinary unexpectedness that Darsie finally declared she was afraid to venture to eat even a grape, lest she might swallow a diamond alive!When the hilarious meal had come to an end, the company adjourned into a drawing-room illumined by firelight only, but such firelight! For over a week those logs had been stacked by the kitchen grate so that they might become “as dry as tinder.”Placed in the big grate, they sent up a leaping, crackling flame which was in itself an embodiment of cheer, and when the sixteen chairs were filled and ranged in a circle round the blaze, there was a Christmas picture complete, and as goodly and cheery a picture as one need wish to see. A basket of fir-cones stood at either side of the grate, and the order of proceedings was that each guest in turn should drop a cone into the heart of the fire, and relate an amusing story or coincidence the while it burned. Results proved that the amount of time so consumed varied so strangely that suggestions of foul play were made by more than one raconteur.“It’s not fair! Some one has got at these cones! Some of them have been soaked to make them damp!—”Be that as it may, no one could possibly have foretold who would happen to hit on this particular cone, so that the charge of injustice fell swiftly to the ground.Mrs Garnett opened the ball with a coincidence taken from her own life, the cone burning bright and blue the while.“When I was a girl of twenty, living at home with my father and mother, I had a curiously distinct dream one night about a certain Mr Dalrymple. We knew no one of that name, but in my dream he appeared to be a lifelong friend. He was a clergyman, about sixty years of age—not handsome, but with a kind, clever face. He had grey hair, and heavy black eyebrows almost meeting over his nose. I was particularly interested in his appearance, because—this is the exciting part!—in my dream I was engaged to him, and we were going to be married the following month... Next morning, when I awoke, the impression left was unusually distinct, and at breakfast I made them all laugh over my matrimonial plans. My sisters called me ‘Mrs Dalrymple’ for several days, and then the joke faded away, and was replaced by something newer and more exciting. Two years passed by, and then, in the summer holidays, I went to Scotland to pay a visit. A slight accident on the line delayed me at a small station for a couple of hours, and I strolled through the village to pass the time by seeing what could be seen. It was a dull little place, and the principal street was empty of every one but a few children until, when I reached the end, a man in a black coat came suddenly out of a house and walked towards me. He was tall and elderly and thin, his hair was grey, his eyebrows were dark and met in a peak over his nose. My heart gave a great big jump, for it was the face of the man I had seen in my dream—the man who was to have been my husband! You can imagine my surprise! It was many, many months since I had given a thought to the silly old dream, but at the first glance at that face the memory of it came back as clear and distinct as on the morning after it had happened. I walked towards him quite dazed with surprise, and then another extraordinary thing happened! He was evidently short-sighted, and could not distinguish figures at a distance, but presently, as we drew nearer together, he in his turn started violently, stared in my face as if he could hardly believe his eyes, and then rushed forward and seized me by the hand. ‘Iamglad to see you—Iamglad! Thisisa pleasure! When did you come?’ Poor old man! My blank face showed him his mistake, and he dropped my hand and began to mumble out apologies. ‘I’ve made a mistake. I thought you were—I thought you were—’ He frowned, evidently searched in vain for a clue, and added feebly, ‘I thought I knew you.Your face is so familiar!’ It was all over in a minute. He took off his hat, and hurried on overcome with embarrassment, and I turned mechanically in the direction of the church. It was closed, but by the gate stood a board bearing the hours of services, and beneath them the name of the minister of the parish. I read it with a thrill. The name was ‘The Rev. John Dalrymple’!”Mrs Garnett lay back in her chair with the contented air of araconteusewho has deftly led up to adénouement, and her audience gasped in mingled surprise and curiosity.“Howthrilling! How weird!”“What an extraordinary thing! Go on! Go on! And what happened next?”Mrs Garnett chuckled contentedly.“I met your father, married him, and lived happily ever after! As for Mr Dalrymple, I never met him again nor heard his name mentioned. The sequel is not at all exciting, but it was certainly an extraordinary coincidence, and caused me much agitation at the time. I have timed myself very well—my cone has just burned out. Who’s turn comes next?”There followed a somewhat lengthened pause while every one nudged a next-door neighbour, and disdained responsibility on his own account. Then Mr Vernon stepped into the breach.“I heard a curious thing the other day. A friend of mine was taken suddenly ill on a hillside in Switzerland, was carried into a chalet and most kindly tended by the good woman. When, at the end of several hours, he was well enough to leave, he wished to make her a present of money. She refused to take it, but said that she had a daughter in service in England, and that it would be a real pleasure to her, if, upon his return, my friend would write to the girl telling her of his visit to the old home. He asked for the address, and was told, ‘Mary Smith, care of Mr Spencer, The Towers, Chestone.’ He read it, looked the old woman in the face and said, ‘Iam Mr Spencer!Ilive at The Towers, Chestone; and my children’s nurse is called Mary Smith!’ There! I can vouch for the absolute truth of that coincidence, and I think you will find it hard to beat.”“And what did he say to the nurse?” asked literal Clemence, to the delight of her brothers and sisters, whose imaginary dialogues between master and maid filled the next few minutes with amusement.Dan’s friend hailed from Oxford, and gave a highly coloured account of a practical joke in several stages, which he had played on an irritating acquaintance. The elder members of the party listened with awe, if without approval, but Tim showed repeated signs of restlessness, and in a final outburst corrected the narrator on an all-important point.“That’s the way they had it inBritain’s Boys!” he declared, whereupon the Oxford man hid his head under an antimacassar, and exclaimed tragically that all was discovered! “Now it’s Darsie’s turn! Tell us a story, Darsie—an adventure, your own adventure when you went out in that punt, and the mill began working—”“Why should I tell what you know by heart already? You’d only be bored.”“Oh, but you never tell a story twice over in the same way,” persisted Clemence with doubtful flattery. “And Mr Leslie has never heard it. I’m sure he’d be interested. It reallywasan adventure. So romantic, too. Ralph Percival issogood-looking!”“I fail to see what his looks have to do with it,” said Darsie in her most Newnham manner. “Strong arms were more to the purpose, and those he certainly does possess.”“Strong arms—stout heart!” murmured Lavender in sentimental aside. “Well, then, tell about the treasure-hunt in the Percivals’ garden—and how you—you know! Go on—that’s anotherrealadventure.”“All Miss Darsie’s adventures seem to have been in connection with the Percival family!” remarked the Oxford man at this point.Darsie flushed with annoyance, and retired determinedly into her shell. She was seated almost in the centre of the circle, between her father and John Vernon, and the leaping light of the fire showed up her face and figure in varying shades of colour. Now she was a rose-maiden, dress, hair, and face glowing in a warm pink hue; anon, the rose changed into a faint metallic blue, which gave a ghostlike effect to the slim form; again, she was all white—a dazzling, unbroken white, in which the little oval face assumed an air of childlike fragility and pathos. As she sat with her hands folded on her knee, and her head resting against the dark cushions of her chair, more than one of the company watched her with admiration: but Darsie was too much occupied with her own thoughts to be conscious of their scrutiny.As each story-teller began his narrative, she cast a momentary glance in his direction, and then turned back to fire-gazing once more. Once or twice she cast a curious glance towards the far corner where Dan Vernon was seated, but he had drawn his chair so far back that nothing could be distinguished but the white blur of shirt-front. Darsie wondered if Dan were uninterested, bored, asleep—yet as her eyes questioned the darkness she had the strangest impression of meeting other eyes—dark, intent eyes, which stared, and stared—Vie Vernon was telling “amost interestingcoincidence,” her opening sentence—“It was told to me by a friend—a lawyer,”—causing surreptitious smiles and nudges among her younger hearers. “There was a girl in his office—a typewriting girl. All the money had been lost—”“Whose money? The lawyer’s or the office’s?”“Neither! Don’t be silly. The girl’s father’s, of course.”“You never told us that she had a father!”“Russell, if you interrupt every minute, I won’t play. Of course he’d lost it, or the girl wouldn’t have been a typist. Any one would know that! Ed—the lawyer did sea-sort of business—what do you call it?—marine things—and the girl typed them. Years before a brother had disappeared—”“The lawyer’s brother?”“No! I’m sorry I began. You are so disagreeable, Thegirl’suncle, of course, and they often wanted to find him, because he was rich, and might have helped them now they were poor. One day, when she was typing out one of the depositions—”“Ha!” The unusual word evoked unanimous comment. “‘De-pos-itions—if you please’! How legal we are becoming, to be sure!”Vie flushed, and hurried on breathlessly—“She came across the name of John H. Rose, and she wondered if the H. meant Hesselwhaite, for that was her uncle’s second name, and she looked it up in the big document, and itwashim, and he was on the west coast of South America, and they wrote to him, and he left them a lot of money, and they lived happy ever after.”Polite murmurs of astonishment from the elders, unconcealed sniggerings from the juniors, greeted the conclusion of this thrilling tale, and then once more Darsie was called upon for her contribution, and this time consented without demur.“Very well! I’ve thought of a story. It’s about a managing clerk who was sent to Madrid on business for his firm. I didn’t know him myself, so don’t ask questions! While he was in Madrid he went to the opera one night, and sat in a box. Just opposite was another box, in which sat a beauteous Spanish maid. He looked at her, and she looked at him. They kept looking and looking. At last he thought that she smiled, and waved her fan as if beckoning him to come and speak to her. So in the first interval the eager youth made his way along the richly carpeted corridors; but just as he reached the door of the box it opened, and a man came out and put a letter into his hand. It was written in Spanish, which the youth did not understand; but, being filled with a frenzy of curiosity to know what the fair one had to say, he decided to run to his hotel, and get the manager to translate it without delay. Well, he went; but as soon as the manager had read the note he started violently, and said in a manner of the utmost concern: ‘I exceedingly regret, sir, to appear inhospitable or inconsiderate, but I find it my painful duty to ask you to leave my hotel within an hour.’ The clerk protested, questioned, raged, and stormed, but all in vain. The manager refused even to refer to the letter; he simply insisted that he could entertain him no longer in the hotel, and added darkly: ‘It would be well for the Señor to take the first train out of Spain.’“Alarmed by this mysterious warning, the unhappy youth accordingly shook off the dust from his feet and returned to London, where he confided his woes to his beloved and generous employer. The employer was a Spanish merchant and understood the language, so he naturally offered to solve the mystery. No sooner, however, had his eye scanned the brief lines, than a cloud shadowedhisexpressive countenance, and he addressed himself to the youth more in sorrow than in anger. ‘It grieves me to the heart, Mr—er—Bumpas,’ he said, ‘to sever our connection after your faithful service to the firm; but, after the perusal of this note, I have unfortunately no choice. If you will apply to the cashier he will hand you a cheque equal to six months’ salary; but I must ask you to understand that when you leave my office this morning it is for the last time!’”A rustle of excitement from the audience, a momentary glimpse of Dan’s face in the flickering light, testified to the interest of this extraordinary history.Darsie bent forward to encourage her fir-cone with a pat from the poker, and continued dramatically—“Bewildered, broken-hearted, almost demented, the unfortunate youth betook him to an uncle in America (all uncles seem to live in America), who received him with consideration, listened to his sad tale, and bade him be of good cheer. ‘By a strange coincidence’ (coincidence again!) said the worthy man, ‘there sups with me to-night a learned professor of languages, resident at our local college. He, without doubt, will make plain the mysterious contents of the fatal note!’ Punctual to his hour the professor arrived, and the harassed youth hailed with joy the end of his long suspense. Whatever might be the purport of the words written in that fatal paper, the knowledge thereof could not be worse than the fate which had dogged his footsteps ever since that tragic night when he had first cast eyes on the baleful beauty of the Spanish maid. Yet might it not be that once again the sight of these words would send him wandering homeless o’er the world—that the stream of his uncle’s benevolence might be suddenly damned by a force mysterious as inexorable?“Trembling with emotion, the young man thrust his hand into his pocket to bring forth this mystic note—”Darsie paused dramatically.“And—and—and then—?”“He discovered that it was not there! In the course of his long wanderings it had unfortunately been mislaid.”The clamour of indignation which followed thisdénouementcan be better imagined than described but the example having been set, wonderful how many stories of the same baffling character were revived by the different members of the company during the remainder of the firelightstance. So wild and exaggerated did the narratives become, indeed, that the meeting broke up in confusion, and took refuge in those admittedly uproarious Christmas games which survived from the happy nursery days, when “to make as much noise as we like” seemed the climax of enjoyment.And so ended Christmas Day for the joint ranks of the Vernons and Garnetts.
It was Christmas Day; fifteen eventful months had passed by since Darsie Garnett and Hannah Vernon had made their appearance in Clough in the character of modest and diffident Freshers. Now, advanced to the dignity of second-year girls, they patronised new-comers with the best, and talked, thought, and behaved as though, deprived of their valuable support, the historical centre of Cambridge must swiftly crumble to the dust.
The little air of assurance and self-esteem which seems inseparable from a feminine student had laid its hand on Darsie’s beauty, robbing it of the old shy grace, and on each fresh return to the old home Clemence and Lavender eloquently described themselves as “squelched flat” by the dignified young woman who sailed about with her head in the air, and delivered an ultimatum on every subject as it arose, with an air of “My opinion is final. Let no dog bark!”
These mannerisms, however, were only, after all, a veneer; and when two or three days of merry, rollicking family life had passed by, the old Darsie made her appearance once more, forgot to be learned and superior, forbore to refer to college and college ways in every second or third sentence, and showed a reviving interest in family affairs.
Clemence was fatter than ever, a subject of intense mortification to herself, though at each fresh meeting she confided in whispered asides that she had “lost five pounds—ten pounds,” as the case might be. No one believed in these diminutions, but if one happened to be amiably disposed, one murmured vaguely, and affected conviction; and if one were not, one openly jeered and scoffed! Lavender was sentimental and wrote poetry in which “pale roses died, in the garden wide, and the wind blew drear, o’er the stricken mere.” She had advanced to the dignity of long skirts, and dressed her hair—badly!—in the latest eccentricity of fashion.
Vie Vernon, on the contrary, had developed into a most elegant person, quite an accomplished woman of the world, darkly suspected of “going to be engaged” to a young lawyer with a dark moustache, who had lately developed a suspicious fondness for her father’s company.
It really gave one quite a shock to realisehowgrown-up the old companions had become even the brothers Harry and Russell were transformed into tall striplings who bought newspapers on their own account, and preferred, actuallypreferred, to be clean rather than dirty! It was a positive relief to listen to Tim’s loud voice, look at his grimy paws, and reflect that one member of the family was still in the enjoyment of youth.
As usual, the postman’s arrival was the first excitement of Christmas morning. He brought with him an armful of letters and parcels, and Darsie was quick to spy Ralph Percival’s handwriting upon one of the smallest and most attractive-looking of the packets.
The colour came into her cheeks as she looked, but after holding the parcel uncertainly for a moment, she laid it down again, and proceeded to open other letters and boxes, leaving this particular one to the last. An onlooker would have been puzzled to decide whether it was more dread or expectation which prompted this decision; and perhaps Darsie herself could hardly have answered the question. The table was soon spread with envelopes and wrappings of paper which had enclosed souvenirs from college friends, and the more costly offerings from Mrs Percival and her girls, inscribed with the orthodox words of greeting. Darsie ranged them in order, and then, still hesitating, turned to the last packet of all.
Inside was a note folded so as to act as additional wrapper for a small white box. Ralph’s writing, large and well-formed like himself, filled the half-sheet.
“Dear Darsie,—I hope you will accept the enclosed trifle which has been made for you, from my own design. You will understand its meaning! I am more than ever in need of pulling up! Don’t fail a fellow, Darsie!
“Yours,—
“Ralph B. Percival.”
Inside the box lay a small but beautifully modelled anchor brooch, with a fine golden rope twined round the stock. Darsie looked at it with the same mingling of joy and pain which seemed inseparable from each stage of her friendship with this attractive but irresponsible young man.
It was just like Ralph to have thought of this pretty and graceful way of expressing his sentiments, and it was not in girl nature to resist a glow of gratified vanity; but as she turned the golden anchor in her hands and realised the significance of the symbol, an old impatience stirred in Darsie’s heart. A man who trusted to another for anchorage in life, and who was ever in danger of breaking loose and drifting on to the rocks, was not the strong knight of a young girl’s dreams. There were moments when the protecting tenderness which had prompted the last year’s efforts gave place to sudden intolerance and resentment.
Inspired by Mrs Reeves’s words in her first term at college, Darsie had set gallantly to the task of influencing Ralph Percival for good, and preventing his further deterioration. At first it had appeared a forlorn hope; and she would have despaired many a time if it had not been for the encouragement which she received from Mrs Reeves and her “curate,” Margaret France. Then gradually and surely her influence had begun to make itself felt. It could not truthfully be said that she had so inspired Ralph that he had turned over a new leaf, and abandoned bad practices from a desire for the right itself. If the truth must be told, desire for his pretty mentor’s approbation and praise had been a far stronger factor in the improvement which seemed to have been effected.
Ralph was emotional, and as his interest in Darsie deepened into the sentimental attachment which seemed a natural development of their intimacy, he grew increasingly anxious to stand well in her estimation. During the May term there had been teas in the college gardens, breakfast parties at the Orchard, picnics on the river, which had afforded opportunities oftête-à-têteconversations when, amidst the flowers and the sunshine, it had been quite an agreeable sensation to lament over one’s weaknesses and shortcomings, and to receive in return the wisest of counsels from Darsie’s pretty lips.
“To pleaseyou, Darsie!—I’m hanged if I care what other people think, but ifyouask me—” The promises gained were all couched in this personal vein. “If you chuck me, Darsie, I shan’t worry any more.” This was the threat held out for the future. Unsatisfactory, if you will, yet the fact remained that for the first part of the last term Ralphhadappeared to show greater interest in work than he had before manifested, and had been involved in a minimum of scrapes.
There were moments when, remembering these facts, Darsie felt proudly that she had not lived in vain; moments when Ralph’s dependence on herself and graceful acknowledgments of her help seemed the chief interest in life. But there were also other moments when the bond between them weighed heavy as a chain. In less than two years the training days would be over, Ralph would be a man, and she herself a woman on the threshold of life. Would she be expected to play the part of permanent anchor, and, if so, could she, should she undertake the task?
For the last few weeks of the term Darsie had been so absorbed in her own surroundings that she had had no time or thought to bestow on outside interests, and Mrs Reeves being abroad, no college news came to her ears from that source.
Now since the beginning of the holidays Ralph’s name had hardly been mentioned, since family interests were predominant, and Darsie had learned from experience that the subject of “Percival” was calculated to send Dan Vernon into his most taciturn mood.
On this Christmas morning, however, Darsie was in a mood of somewhat reckless gaiety; let the future take care of itself. For to-day, at least, she was young and happy and free; the Vernon family was coming over in bulk to spend the evening, when the presence of one of Dan’s chums would supply an agreeable element of novelty to the occasion. Not one single gloomy thought must be allowed to cloud the sunshine of this Christmas Day!
Dinner was served at seven o’clock, and was truly a festive occasion. The dining-room table being unequal to the task of providing accommodation for sixteen people, the schoolroom table had to be used as a supplement. It was a good inch higher than the other, and supplied with a preponderance of legs, but these small drawbacks could not weigh against the magnificent effect of the combined length, covered, as it was, with fruit, flowers, and a plethora of bright red bonbons and crackers. The girls wore their prettiest evening frocks; the turkey, the goose, the plum-pudding, and the mince-pies were all paragons of their kind, while dessert was enlivened by the discovery of small surprise presents cunningly hidden away within hollowed oranges, apples, and nuts. Silver thimbles, pocket-calendars, stamp-cases, sleeve-links, and miniature brooches, made their appearance with such extraordinary unexpectedness that Darsie finally declared she was afraid to venture to eat even a grape, lest she might swallow a diamond alive!
When the hilarious meal had come to an end, the company adjourned into a drawing-room illumined by firelight only, but such firelight! For over a week those logs had been stacked by the kitchen grate so that they might become “as dry as tinder.”
Placed in the big grate, they sent up a leaping, crackling flame which was in itself an embodiment of cheer, and when the sixteen chairs were filled and ranged in a circle round the blaze, there was a Christmas picture complete, and as goodly and cheery a picture as one need wish to see. A basket of fir-cones stood at either side of the grate, and the order of proceedings was that each guest in turn should drop a cone into the heart of the fire, and relate an amusing story or coincidence the while it burned. Results proved that the amount of time so consumed varied so strangely that suggestions of foul play were made by more than one raconteur.
“It’s not fair! Some one has got at these cones! Some of them have been soaked to make them damp!—”
Be that as it may, no one could possibly have foretold who would happen to hit on this particular cone, so that the charge of injustice fell swiftly to the ground.
Mrs Garnett opened the ball with a coincidence taken from her own life, the cone burning bright and blue the while.
“When I was a girl of twenty, living at home with my father and mother, I had a curiously distinct dream one night about a certain Mr Dalrymple. We knew no one of that name, but in my dream he appeared to be a lifelong friend. He was a clergyman, about sixty years of age—not handsome, but with a kind, clever face. He had grey hair, and heavy black eyebrows almost meeting over his nose. I was particularly interested in his appearance, because—this is the exciting part!—in my dream I was engaged to him, and we were going to be married the following month... Next morning, when I awoke, the impression left was unusually distinct, and at breakfast I made them all laugh over my matrimonial plans. My sisters called me ‘Mrs Dalrymple’ for several days, and then the joke faded away, and was replaced by something newer and more exciting. Two years passed by, and then, in the summer holidays, I went to Scotland to pay a visit. A slight accident on the line delayed me at a small station for a couple of hours, and I strolled through the village to pass the time by seeing what could be seen. It was a dull little place, and the principal street was empty of every one but a few children until, when I reached the end, a man in a black coat came suddenly out of a house and walked towards me. He was tall and elderly and thin, his hair was grey, his eyebrows were dark and met in a peak over his nose. My heart gave a great big jump, for it was the face of the man I had seen in my dream—the man who was to have been my husband! You can imagine my surprise! It was many, many months since I had given a thought to the silly old dream, but at the first glance at that face the memory of it came back as clear and distinct as on the morning after it had happened. I walked towards him quite dazed with surprise, and then another extraordinary thing happened! He was evidently short-sighted, and could not distinguish figures at a distance, but presently, as we drew nearer together, he in his turn started violently, stared in my face as if he could hardly believe his eyes, and then rushed forward and seized me by the hand. ‘Iamglad to see you—Iamglad! Thisisa pleasure! When did you come?’ Poor old man! My blank face showed him his mistake, and he dropped my hand and began to mumble out apologies. ‘I’ve made a mistake. I thought you were—I thought you were—’ He frowned, evidently searched in vain for a clue, and added feebly, ‘I thought I knew you.Your face is so familiar!’ It was all over in a minute. He took off his hat, and hurried on overcome with embarrassment, and I turned mechanically in the direction of the church. It was closed, but by the gate stood a board bearing the hours of services, and beneath them the name of the minister of the parish. I read it with a thrill. The name was ‘The Rev. John Dalrymple’!”
Mrs Garnett lay back in her chair with the contented air of araconteusewho has deftly led up to adénouement, and her audience gasped in mingled surprise and curiosity.
“Howthrilling! How weird!”
“What an extraordinary thing! Go on! Go on! And what happened next?”
Mrs Garnett chuckled contentedly.
“I met your father, married him, and lived happily ever after! As for Mr Dalrymple, I never met him again nor heard his name mentioned. The sequel is not at all exciting, but it was certainly an extraordinary coincidence, and caused me much agitation at the time. I have timed myself very well—my cone has just burned out. Who’s turn comes next?”
There followed a somewhat lengthened pause while every one nudged a next-door neighbour, and disdained responsibility on his own account. Then Mr Vernon stepped into the breach.
“I heard a curious thing the other day. A friend of mine was taken suddenly ill on a hillside in Switzerland, was carried into a chalet and most kindly tended by the good woman. When, at the end of several hours, he was well enough to leave, he wished to make her a present of money. She refused to take it, but said that she had a daughter in service in England, and that it would be a real pleasure to her, if, upon his return, my friend would write to the girl telling her of his visit to the old home. He asked for the address, and was told, ‘Mary Smith, care of Mr Spencer, The Towers, Chestone.’ He read it, looked the old woman in the face and said, ‘Iam Mr Spencer!Ilive at The Towers, Chestone; and my children’s nurse is called Mary Smith!’ There! I can vouch for the absolute truth of that coincidence, and I think you will find it hard to beat.”
“And what did he say to the nurse?” asked literal Clemence, to the delight of her brothers and sisters, whose imaginary dialogues between master and maid filled the next few minutes with amusement.
Dan’s friend hailed from Oxford, and gave a highly coloured account of a practical joke in several stages, which he had played on an irritating acquaintance. The elder members of the party listened with awe, if without approval, but Tim showed repeated signs of restlessness, and in a final outburst corrected the narrator on an all-important point.
“That’s the way they had it inBritain’s Boys!” he declared, whereupon the Oxford man hid his head under an antimacassar, and exclaimed tragically that all was discovered! “Now it’s Darsie’s turn! Tell us a story, Darsie—an adventure, your own adventure when you went out in that punt, and the mill began working—”
“Why should I tell what you know by heart already? You’d only be bored.”
“Oh, but you never tell a story twice over in the same way,” persisted Clemence with doubtful flattery. “And Mr Leslie has never heard it. I’m sure he’d be interested. It reallywasan adventure. So romantic, too. Ralph Percival issogood-looking!”
“I fail to see what his looks have to do with it,” said Darsie in her most Newnham manner. “Strong arms were more to the purpose, and those he certainly does possess.”
“Strong arms—stout heart!” murmured Lavender in sentimental aside. “Well, then, tell about the treasure-hunt in the Percivals’ garden—and how you—you know! Go on—that’s anotherrealadventure.”
“All Miss Darsie’s adventures seem to have been in connection with the Percival family!” remarked the Oxford man at this point.
Darsie flushed with annoyance, and retired determinedly into her shell. She was seated almost in the centre of the circle, between her father and John Vernon, and the leaping light of the fire showed up her face and figure in varying shades of colour. Now she was a rose-maiden, dress, hair, and face glowing in a warm pink hue; anon, the rose changed into a faint metallic blue, which gave a ghostlike effect to the slim form; again, she was all white—a dazzling, unbroken white, in which the little oval face assumed an air of childlike fragility and pathos. As she sat with her hands folded on her knee, and her head resting against the dark cushions of her chair, more than one of the company watched her with admiration: but Darsie was too much occupied with her own thoughts to be conscious of their scrutiny.
As each story-teller began his narrative, she cast a momentary glance in his direction, and then turned back to fire-gazing once more. Once or twice she cast a curious glance towards the far corner where Dan Vernon was seated, but he had drawn his chair so far back that nothing could be distinguished but the white blur of shirt-front. Darsie wondered if Dan were uninterested, bored, asleep—yet as her eyes questioned the darkness she had the strangest impression of meeting other eyes—dark, intent eyes, which stared, and stared—
Vie Vernon was telling “amost interestingcoincidence,” her opening sentence—“It was told to me by a friend—a lawyer,”—causing surreptitious smiles and nudges among her younger hearers. “There was a girl in his office—a typewriting girl. All the money had been lost—”
“Whose money? The lawyer’s or the office’s?”
“Neither! Don’t be silly. The girl’s father’s, of course.”
“You never told us that she had a father!”
“Russell, if you interrupt every minute, I won’t play. Of course he’d lost it, or the girl wouldn’t have been a typist. Any one would know that! Ed—the lawyer did sea-sort of business—what do you call it?—marine things—and the girl typed them. Years before a brother had disappeared—”
“The lawyer’s brother?”
“No! I’m sorry I began. You are so disagreeable, Thegirl’suncle, of course, and they often wanted to find him, because he was rich, and might have helped them now they were poor. One day, when she was typing out one of the depositions—”
“Ha!” The unusual word evoked unanimous comment. “‘De-pos-itions—if you please’! How legal we are becoming, to be sure!”
Vie flushed, and hurried on breathlessly—
“She came across the name of John H. Rose, and she wondered if the H. meant Hesselwhaite, for that was her uncle’s second name, and she looked it up in the big document, and itwashim, and he was on the west coast of South America, and they wrote to him, and he left them a lot of money, and they lived happy ever after.”
Polite murmurs of astonishment from the elders, unconcealed sniggerings from the juniors, greeted the conclusion of this thrilling tale, and then once more Darsie was called upon for her contribution, and this time consented without demur.
“Very well! I’ve thought of a story. It’s about a managing clerk who was sent to Madrid on business for his firm. I didn’t know him myself, so don’t ask questions! While he was in Madrid he went to the opera one night, and sat in a box. Just opposite was another box, in which sat a beauteous Spanish maid. He looked at her, and she looked at him. They kept looking and looking. At last he thought that she smiled, and waved her fan as if beckoning him to come and speak to her. So in the first interval the eager youth made his way along the richly carpeted corridors; but just as he reached the door of the box it opened, and a man came out and put a letter into his hand. It was written in Spanish, which the youth did not understand; but, being filled with a frenzy of curiosity to know what the fair one had to say, he decided to run to his hotel, and get the manager to translate it without delay. Well, he went; but as soon as the manager had read the note he started violently, and said in a manner of the utmost concern: ‘I exceedingly regret, sir, to appear inhospitable or inconsiderate, but I find it my painful duty to ask you to leave my hotel within an hour.’ The clerk protested, questioned, raged, and stormed, but all in vain. The manager refused even to refer to the letter; he simply insisted that he could entertain him no longer in the hotel, and added darkly: ‘It would be well for the Señor to take the first train out of Spain.’
“Alarmed by this mysterious warning, the unhappy youth accordingly shook off the dust from his feet and returned to London, where he confided his woes to his beloved and generous employer. The employer was a Spanish merchant and understood the language, so he naturally offered to solve the mystery. No sooner, however, had his eye scanned the brief lines, than a cloud shadowedhisexpressive countenance, and he addressed himself to the youth more in sorrow than in anger. ‘It grieves me to the heart, Mr—er—Bumpas,’ he said, ‘to sever our connection after your faithful service to the firm; but, after the perusal of this note, I have unfortunately no choice. If you will apply to the cashier he will hand you a cheque equal to six months’ salary; but I must ask you to understand that when you leave my office this morning it is for the last time!’”
A rustle of excitement from the audience, a momentary glimpse of Dan’s face in the flickering light, testified to the interest of this extraordinary history.
Darsie bent forward to encourage her fir-cone with a pat from the poker, and continued dramatically—
“Bewildered, broken-hearted, almost demented, the unfortunate youth betook him to an uncle in America (all uncles seem to live in America), who received him with consideration, listened to his sad tale, and bade him be of good cheer. ‘By a strange coincidence’ (coincidence again!) said the worthy man, ‘there sups with me to-night a learned professor of languages, resident at our local college. He, without doubt, will make plain the mysterious contents of the fatal note!’ Punctual to his hour the professor arrived, and the harassed youth hailed with joy the end of his long suspense. Whatever might be the purport of the words written in that fatal paper, the knowledge thereof could not be worse than the fate which had dogged his footsteps ever since that tragic night when he had first cast eyes on the baleful beauty of the Spanish maid. Yet might it not be that once again the sight of these words would send him wandering homeless o’er the world—that the stream of his uncle’s benevolence might be suddenly damned by a force mysterious as inexorable?
“Trembling with emotion, the young man thrust his hand into his pocket to bring forth this mystic note—”
Darsie paused dramatically.
“And—and—and then—?”
“He discovered that it was not there! In the course of his long wanderings it had unfortunately been mislaid.”
The clamour of indignation which followed thisdénouementcan be better imagined than described but the example having been set, wonderful how many stories of the same baffling character were revived by the different members of the company during the remainder of the firelightstance. So wild and exaggerated did the narratives become, indeed, that the meeting broke up in confusion, and took refuge in those admittedly uproarious Christmas games which survived from the happy nursery days, when “to make as much noise as we like” seemed the climax of enjoyment.
And so ended Christmas Day for the joint ranks of the Vernons and Garnetts.