Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.At the Orchard.Ralph Percival spent a long hour alone with his father in the chill dawn of that New Year’s morn, and during its passing heard more stern home-truths than he had ever before listened to from those indulgent lips. The Squire had not insisted on any arduous work on his son’s part: in his heart he shared Ralph’s theory that a man whose life is to be spent looking after his own land has no need of much scholarly lore. He must be straight and manly, intelligent enough to understand and move with the movements of the day, but not so intelligent as to grow discontented with a circle of admirable, but somewhat humdrum, neighbours. He must be possessed of courteous and agreeable manners, able on occasion to take the chair at a meeting, possibly even on a Bench, with credit to himself and his family.A ’Varsity education was obviously the best means of developing such qualities, but who was going to bother his head as to the question of honours or no honours? There was no reason why the boy should slave as if he had his living to make by sheer brain effort. The Squire was prepared to show the utmost leniency towards Ralph’s scholastic efforts, but that he should have persistently broken the rules, ignored warnings, incurred gambling debts, and, crowning indignity of all, that he should have been sent down, even for the last week of the term—that stabbed the honest old countryman to his heart.He said very little on the subject of his own feelings; such men are not given to talk of themselves, but the tone of his voice was eloquent, and Ralph winced before it. It was a new experience for the spoilt son and heir to hear any accents but those of love and appreciation from a member of his own family, and the experience was unexpectedly bitter. Who could have believed that the Governor would cut up so rough—could deliver himself of such sledge-hammer judgments? The card debts would be paid, there was no question of that—every debt should be paid—and Ralph should return to college with a clean sheet so far as money was concerned, and with his handsome allowance undiminished—for the present. He himself must decide what would happen in the future. The Squire asked for no promises; he had had experience of the uselessness of promises (the listener winced again at the significance of those words); but Ralph must understand that any debts would be subtracted from his own future allowance. He must also understand that he was expected to take his pass the following May. There had been too much shirking and running loose—now he must work for a change. For his parents’ sake, his sisters’ sake, he must make amends for the pain and shame of the last weeks.It was a painful scene for both father and son, but the charm of manner which was the great secret of Ralph’s popularity did not forsake him, even in this hour of humiliation. He made an ideal penitent—abashed, yet manly, subdued and silenced, yet when the right moment came ready with a few apt, quietly spoken words.“Thank you, sir. You are always generous. I’ve made a beastly poor return. I hope this year may end better than it has begun.”Poor Ralph! How little he guessed at that moment all that the year held in store! How little the father dreamed of the altered conditions with which he would face another New Year’s Day! But so long as they both lived it was good to remember that the interview had ended peacefully and with a renewed sense of harmony, with a firm hand-grip and an affectionate glance.Ralph took his candle from a table in the hall and made his way quietly up the oak staircase, and his father stood below and watched him go, while his heart waxed tender within him.His son—his only son! He would give his heart’s blood for the lad. Had he been just, wise, prudent, in the words which he had said? Had he been stern enough?—too stern? He was in a thousand minds about his own conduct, but in only one as regards Ralph’s. The boy had taken his dressing like a man. How handsome he had looked as he stood to listen, not flinching or hanging his head as an ordinary culprit would have done, but drawn to his full height, with straight, fearless gaze. With what a frank air he had held out his hand for that farewell grasp! Bless the boy! his heart was in the right place. He would settle down, and make a fine man yet. Patience! Patience!And so when the family met again for a late breakfast that New Year’s morning there was no shadow visible on the horizon, and throughout the remainder of Darsie’s visit every day seemed given up to enjoyment, and brought with it some fresh festivity.Contrary to her expectation, the subject of Ralph’s troubles was avoided rather than sought, and it was only on the eve of her departure to Newnham that mother and sisters broke the silence to urge in each case the same request—“See as much of Ralph as you can during these next six months! Have a little talk with Ralph now and again! Show an interest in his work. Let him see that you care. We must all do our best to encourage him to work!”By all the members of the family it was taken for granted that Darsie’s interest in Ralph’s future was equal to, if not greater than, their own; they made no secret of their belief that her influence had the more weight. If Darsie had known a passing temptation to abandon her efforts, it would have been impossible to do so in the face of such unanimous appeals.Well, it was good to be back in Newnham once more, to get to work again after the lazy weeks, to wake up one’s brains with tussles over Anglo-Saxon texts, to wrestle with philology, instead of browsing over novels and magazine tales. The Divinity Schools were stuffy as ever, the men on one side shutting up the windows with their usual persistence, while the girls on theirs frowned and fumed; but the Chaucer lectures were full of interest, and coaching assumed a keener interest as spring advanced and the prospect of “Mays” drew near. Last year both Darsie and Hannah had gained second-class honours; this year they had determined to gain firsts, or perish in the attempt. With a second and a first record for Mays there was a possibility—a dazzling possibility—of firsts in the final Tripos. When one thought of that it seemed impossible to work too hard, to puttoomuch energy into one’s studies. But the happy blending of work and play which characterises Newnham life prevented industry from being carried to an exaggerated extent. The hour’s informal dancing after dinner on Wednesday and Saturday evenings seemed to quicken circulation and brain alike, and the great Shakespeare Ball was a distinct fillip, although—or was itbecause?—it involved some slackness for the preparation of costumes.The short Easter vac. served but as a breathing-space, and then another May term began with an unparalleled succession of fine and sunny days. Everything seemed early this spring; trees and shrubs rushed into leaf, a wealth of blossom gave a fairy-like beauty to the old-world gardens, and in every youth and maid the spirit of the spring awoke also, and called to them to come out to play. This was the season for picnics, for walks along the fields by the riverside, for boating, for bathing, for garden teas, for breakfast parties at the Orchard, amidst the pink and white wonder of the apple-blossom.Darsie Garnett was fired with a desire to give an Orchard party on her own account, the guests to be Hannah, Margaret France, her special Fresher adorer (Marian White by name), Ralph Percival, Dan Vernon, two agreeable Classics from King’s; Mrs Reeves to play chaperon—just a cheery little party of nine. What could you wish for more?Margaret, preternaturally solemn, opined thattenwould be a more desirable number. “Poor Mrs Reeves! What hasshedone? Why not ask some one to play about withher? I can’t bear to see a Lonely at a picnic or to be interrupted myself!”“Itmightbe judicious to invite Minerva!” agreed Darsie, twinkling, and alluding to the Don who enjoyed the privilege of Mrs Reeves’s special friendship. “Two chaperons! What a character for propriety I shall gain, to be sure! They little know.”“They know perfectly well, but they are human creatures after all. They’ve been young themselves, and they enjoy the Orchard! Set to work at once, my dear, and get out your invitations. This weather can’t possibly last, and it’s going to break my heart if it is wet.”But there was no sign of rain on that exquisite morning when at the striking of six o’clock Darsie leaped out of bed, and thrust her ruffled golden head out of the opened window. A few feathery white clouds served but to intensify the blueness of the sky; the air was soft and sweet, the garden beneath was already bathed in sunlight. Darsie gave a little caper of delight. Sunshine, a picnic, a pretty frock and hat waiting to be worn, and one’s very best friends to admire the result—what healthy girl of twenty could fail to be happy under such circumstances as these?She sang as she dressed; she made little fancy steps, and three separate pirouettes which would have delighted the heart of a terpsichorean mistress. One pirouette greeted the effect of the white dress; the second, that of the wide straw hat, with its appropriate garland of blossom; the third was partly in celebration of the combined effect, and partly out of sheer inability to keep still.Her toilette completed, Darsie repaired to Hannah’s room and surprised that tasteless young woman engaged in putting the final touches to her own costume, in the shape of an abomination designated “a neck arrangement,” composed of the cheapest of machine lace and papery satin ribbon. Hannah jumped with dismay as a hand descended suddenly over her shoulder, and tore this treasure from her grasp.“No!” cried Darsie firmly. “You are my childhood’s friend, and I love you dearly, but wear lace frills with a linen collar at my Orchard party you—shall not! Miserable woman! Will you never learn how to dress?”“I paid eleven-three for it, near the end of a term. Thought Iwouldplease you this time! Hate the tickling stuff myself. Some people are never satisfied,” grumbled Hannah, rummaging in her tie-box, but it never occurred to her to dispute the decree. On questions of toilette Darsie’s word was absolute.The two girls descended the stairs together, and found the other three members of the party awaiting them at the door, Margaret and the little Fresher abeam with smiles, and even Minerva herself looking quite young and skittish. At moments like these it dawned upon the student mind that even a don herself could occasionally enjoy a mixture of play with her work.At the river Mrs Reeves and the four men came forward to meet the Newnham party, the canaders were ranged ready for the embarkment, and Darsie felt the honours of her position press heavily, as the other members of the party stood silently waiting for her to apportion the crews. The worst of it was that one felt obliged to take the least desirable place oneself. Considered as a don, Minerva had many points, but when bound for a river picnic one did not exactly hanker after her society. Still, there it was. Every position has its drawbacks. The row up the river on that exquisite morning was a joy independent of society, and when the Orchard itself was reached it was undeniably agreeable to sit at the head of the table, and play the gracious hostess to one’s guests.Orchard appetites are proverbial, but this particular party claimed to have broken all previous records. Soon there was hardly a fragment of food left on a plate. The pile of banana-skins was positively startling to behold; tea and coffee pots were drained, and drained again; requests for milk and more milk threatened the supply of later guests, and the birds in the trees overhead chattered not a whit more gaily than the company around the board.“Shop” was sternly forbidden as a subject of conversation, and the remotest reference thereto was instantly booed into silence, for behind all the lightsomeness of demeanour a weight of anxiety lay on each heart. The critical time was approaching when the result of the year’s work would be put to the test. The two classics, as sons of a poor clergyman, were acutely conscious of all that was involved by a first or second class. Ralph Percival was realising painfully the difficulty of making up for years of slacking, or even of keeping up a spurt beyond a few days at a time; the little Fresher trembled at the thought of her first Mays; even Margaret France herself showed signs of nerves before the ordeal of the Tripos, and on one tragic occasion had even been discovered weeping hysterically upon her bed.“C–c–couldn’t remember a context,” was her hiccoughing explanation of the breakdown, and henceforth Darsie had taken her in hand, fagged for her, petted her, scolded her, put her to bed, and ruthlessly carried off notebooks to her own study, to frustrate disastrous attempts at midnight toil.As for Dan, he was a giant among pigmies. Examinations had no terrors for him; his place was assured. When strangers visited Cambridge, their sons and brothers pointed out his big, lumbering form in the streets, and bade them remember Vernon—Vernon would arrive! Darsie was conscious that his presence lent distinction to her party, for Dan but seldom appeared in the social world.And he was behaving so well, too! taking part in the conversation, even telling stories and capping anecdotes of his own accord, and behaving quite amiably to Ralph. Darsie beamed approval on him from the end of the table, and deliberately singled him out as her companion for the after-breakfast stroll.“Come down to the river, Dan! There’s a tree with the most convenient forked branch where one can sit hidden by the leaves and watch the canaders come up. Last year I heard some quite thrilling fragments of conversation.”“I’ll be wary of that tree,” said Dan solemnly, but he helped Darsie to her eyrie, and swung himself up beside her with an alacrity which showed that the suggestion fell in well with his own wishes, and there they sat like birds in a nest, smiling at each other with bright, friendly glances.“Isn’t this fine? No one saw us come, did they? They’ll think we’re lost. I’m tired of being polite. Thank you for coming to my party, Dan, and for being so jolly.”“Thank you for asking me and for looking so—ripping!” Dan cast an appreciative glance at the white dress and blossom-wreathed hat. “Glad to see you’re not knocking yourself up with too much work.”Darsie bent her head with a dubious air.She wished to look well, but, on the other hand, a little sympathy would not have been unwelcome. “I’m excited this morning, and that gives me a colour,” she explained. “If you could see me at the end of the day—I’m so weak in my mediaeval French Grammar. It haunts me at night—”“Stop!” cried Dan warningly. “Don’t let it haunt you here, at any rate—it would be a crime among this blossom. Tell me a story as you used to do in the old schoolroom days. I haven’t heard you tell a story since that Christmas night when we all sat round the fire and burnt fir-cones, and the light shone on your face. You wore a white dress then. You lookedallwhite.”“And you sat in the corner and glowered—I could see nothing, but Ifelteyes. That will be one of the times we shall remember, Dan, when we look back on our young days—all together, and so happy and free. I had a melancholy turn during that cone-burning, one of the shadows that fall upon one causelessly in the midst of the sunshine, but that was only a bit of the happiness, after all. It’s rather wonderful to be twenty, Dan, and never to have known a real big sorrow! Most of the girls here have come through something, some of them a great deal. I feel such a babe beside them. It isn’t good for one, I suppose, to have thingstoosmooth.”“I hope they’ll continue smooth for a long time to come. You’re too young for troubles, Darsie,” said Dan hastily. He sat silent for a few moments, his chin poking forward, his thin, expressive lips twitching as if struggling with difficult speech. A canader came gliding slowly by, the man and girl occupants chatting gaily together, unconscious of the watchers in the tree on the bank. Their words fell absently on Darsie’s ear, she was waiting for what Dan had to say.“When theydocome, you know you can depend on me. I’m not much of a hand at social life, so it’s best to keep out of the way and let other fellows chip in who can make a better show, but if there’s anything useful to be done, you might give me a turn. We’re very old friends.”Darsie gave him an affectionate glance. “Indeed I will. I should feel you a tower of strength. Thank you, dear Oak-tree.”“Thank you, Apple-blossom!” returned Dan quite gallantly, if you please, and with a laugh which followed the passing seriousness vanished.For the next half-hour they laughed and sparred, capped stories, and made merry, more like a couple of happy children than hard-worked students on the verge of examinations; and then, alas! it was time to return to work, and, sliding down from their perch, Dan and Darsie walked forward to assemble the scattered members of the party.

Ralph Percival spent a long hour alone with his father in the chill dawn of that New Year’s morn, and during its passing heard more stern home-truths than he had ever before listened to from those indulgent lips. The Squire had not insisted on any arduous work on his son’s part: in his heart he shared Ralph’s theory that a man whose life is to be spent looking after his own land has no need of much scholarly lore. He must be straight and manly, intelligent enough to understand and move with the movements of the day, but not so intelligent as to grow discontented with a circle of admirable, but somewhat humdrum, neighbours. He must be possessed of courteous and agreeable manners, able on occasion to take the chair at a meeting, possibly even on a Bench, with credit to himself and his family.

A ’Varsity education was obviously the best means of developing such qualities, but who was going to bother his head as to the question of honours or no honours? There was no reason why the boy should slave as if he had his living to make by sheer brain effort. The Squire was prepared to show the utmost leniency towards Ralph’s scholastic efforts, but that he should have persistently broken the rules, ignored warnings, incurred gambling debts, and, crowning indignity of all, that he should have been sent down, even for the last week of the term—that stabbed the honest old countryman to his heart.

He said very little on the subject of his own feelings; such men are not given to talk of themselves, but the tone of his voice was eloquent, and Ralph winced before it. It was a new experience for the spoilt son and heir to hear any accents but those of love and appreciation from a member of his own family, and the experience was unexpectedly bitter. Who could have believed that the Governor would cut up so rough—could deliver himself of such sledge-hammer judgments? The card debts would be paid, there was no question of that—every debt should be paid—and Ralph should return to college with a clean sheet so far as money was concerned, and with his handsome allowance undiminished—for the present. He himself must decide what would happen in the future. The Squire asked for no promises; he had had experience of the uselessness of promises (the listener winced again at the significance of those words); but Ralph must understand that any debts would be subtracted from his own future allowance. He must also understand that he was expected to take his pass the following May. There had been too much shirking and running loose—now he must work for a change. For his parents’ sake, his sisters’ sake, he must make amends for the pain and shame of the last weeks.

It was a painful scene for both father and son, but the charm of manner which was the great secret of Ralph’s popularity did not forsake him, even in this hour of humiliation. He made an ideal penitent—abashed, yet manly, subdued and silenced, yet when the right moment came ready with a few apt, quietly spoken words.

“Thank you, sir. You are always generous. I’ve made a beastly poor return. I hope this year may end better than it has begun.”

Poor Ralph! How little he guessed at that moment all that the year held in store! How little the father dreamed of the altered conditions with which he would face another New Year’s Day! But so long as they both lived it was good to remember that the interview had ended peacefully and with a renewed sense of harmony, with a firm hand-grip and an affectionate glance.

Ralph took his candle from a table in the hall and made his way quietly up the oak staircase, and his father stood below and watched him go, while his heart waxed tender within him.

His son—his only son! He would give his heart’s blood for the lad. Had he been just, wise, prudent, in the words which he had said? Had he been stern enough?—too stern? He was in a thousand minds about his own conduct, but in only one as regards Ralph’s. The boy had taken his dressing like a man. How handsome he had looked as he stood to listen, not flinching or hanging his head as an ordinary culprit would have done, but drawn to his full height, with straight, fearless gaze. With what a frank air he had held out his hand for that farewell grasp! Bless the boy! his heart was in the right place. He would settle down, and make a fine man yet. Patience! Patience!

And so when the family met again for a late breakfast that New Year’s morning there was no shadow visible on the horizon, and throughout the remainder of Darsie’s visit every day seemed given up to enjoyment, and brought with it some fresh festivity.

Contrary to her expectation, the subject of Ralph’s troubles was avoided rather than sought, and it was only on the eve of her departure to Newnham that mother and sisters broke the silence to urge in each case the same request—

“See as much of Ralph as you can during these next six months! Have a little talk with Ralph now and again! Show an interest in his work. Let him see that you care. We must all do our best to encourage him to work!”

By all the members of the family it was taken for granted that Darsie’s interest in Ralph’s future was equal to, if not greater than, their own; they made no secret of their belief that her influence had the more weight. If Darsie had known a passing temptation to abandon her efforts, it would have been impossible to do so in the face of such unanimous appeals.

Well, it was good to be back in Newnham once more, to get to work again after the lazy weeks, to wake up one’s brains with tussles over Anglo-Saxon texts, to wrestle with philology, instead of browsing over novels and magazine tales. The Divinity Schools were stuffy as ever, the men on one side shutting up the windows with their usual persistence, while the girls on theirs frowned and fumed; but the Chaucer lectures were full of interest, and coaching assumed a keener interest as spring advanced and the prospect of “Mays” drew near. Last year both Darsie and Hannah had gained second-class honours; this year they had determined to gain firsts, or perish in the attempt. With a second and a first record for Mays there was a possibility—a dazzling possibility—of firsts in the final Tripos. When one thought of that it seemed impossible to work too hard, to puttoomuch energy into one’s studies. But the happy blending of work and play which characterises Newnham life prevented industry from being carried to an exaggerated extent. The hour’s informal dancing after dinner on Wednesday and Saturday evenings seemed to quicken circulation and brain alike, and the great Shakespeare Ball was a distinct fillip, although—or was itbecause?—it involved some slackness for the preparation of costumes.

The short Easter vac. served but as a breathing-space, and then another May term began with an unparalleled succession of fine and sunny days. Everything seemed early this spring; trees and shrubs rushed into leaf, a wealth of blossom gave a fairy-like beauty to the old-world gardens, and in every youth and maid the spirit of the spring awoke also, and called to them to come out to play. This was the season for picnics, for walks along the fields by the riverside, for boating, for bathing, for garden teas, for breakfast parties at the Orchard, amidst the pink and white wonder of the apple-blossom.

Darsie Garnett was fired with a desire to give an Orchard party on her own account, the guests to be Hannah, Margaret France, her special Fresher adorer (Marian White by name), Ralph Percival, Dan Vernon, two agreeable Classics from King’s; Mrs Reeves to play chaperon—just a cheery little party of nine. What could you wish for more?

Margaret, preternaturally solemn, opined thattenwould be a more desirable number. “Poor Mrs Reeves! What hasshedone? Why not ask some one to play about withher? I can’t bear to see a Lonely at a picnic or to be interrupted myself!”

“Itmightbe judicious to invite Minerva!” agreed Darsie, twinkling, and alluding to the Don who enjoyed the privilege of Mrs Reeves’s special friendship. “Two chaperons! What a character for propriety I shall gain, to be sure! They little know.”

“They know perfectly well, but they are human creatures after all. They’ve been young themselves, and they enjoy the Orchard! Set to work at once, my dear, and get out your invitations. This weather can’t possibly last, and it’s going to break my heart if it is wet.”

But there was no sign of rain on that exquisite morning when at the striking of six o’clock Darsie leaped out of bed, and thrust her ruffled golden head out of the opened window. A few feathery white clouds served but to intensify the blueness of the sky; the air was soft and sweet, the garden beneath was already bathed in sunlight. Darsie gave a little caper of delight. Sunshine, a picnic, a pretty frock and hat waiting to be worn, and one’s very best friends to admire the result—what healthy girl of twenty could fail to be happy under such circumstances as these?

She sang as she dressed; she made little fancy steps, and three separate pirouettes which would have delighted the heart of a terpsichorean mistress. One pirouette greeted the effect of the white dress; the second, that of the wide straw hat, with its appropriate garland of blossom; the third was partly in celebration of the combined effect, and partly out of sheer inability to keep still.

Her toilette completed, Darsie repaired to Hannah’s room and surprised that tasteless young woman engaged in putting the final touches to her own costume, in the shape of an abomination designated “a neck arrangement,” composed of the cheapest of machine lace and papery satin ribbon. Hannah jumped with dismay as a hand descended suddenly over her shoulder, and tore this treasure from her grasp.

“No!” cried Darsie firmly. “You are my childhood’s friend, and I love you dearly, but wear lace frills with a linen collar at my Orchard party you—shall not! Miserable woman! Will you never learn how to dress?”

“I paid eleven-three for it, near the end of a term. Thought Iwouldplease you this time! Hate the tickling stuff myself. Some people are never satisfied,” grumbled Hannah, rummaging in her tie-box, but it never occurred to her to dispute the decree. On questions of toilette Darsie’s word was absolute.

The two girls descended the stairs together, and found the other three members of the party awaiting them at the door, Margaret and the little Fresher abeam with smiles, and even Minerva herself looking quite young and skittish. At moments like these it dawned upon the student mind that even a don herself could occasionally enjoy a mixture of play with her work.

At the river Mrs Reeves and the four men came forward to meet the Newnham party, the canaders were ranged ready for the embarkment, and Darsie felt the honours of her position press heavily, as the other members of the party stood silently waiting for her to apportion the crews. The worst of it was that one felt obliged to take the least desirable place oneself. Considered as a don, Minerva had many points, but when bound for a river picnic one did not exactly hanker after her society. Still, there it was. Every position has its drawbacks. The row up the river on that exquisite morning was a joy independent of society, and when the Orchard itself was reached it was undeniably agreeable to sit at the head of the table, and play the gracious hostess to one’s guests.

Orchard appetites are proverbial, but this particular party claimed to have broken all previous records. Soon there was hardly a fragment of food left on a plate. The pile of banana-skins was positively startling to behold; tea and coffee pots were drained, and drained again; requests for milk and more milk threatened the supply of later guests, and the birds in the trees overhead chattered not a whit more gaily than the company around the board.

“Shop” was sternly forbidden as a subject of conversation, and the remotest reference thereto was instantly booed into silence, for behind all the lightsomeness of demeanour a weight of anxiety lay on each heart. The critical time was approaching when the result of the year’s work would be put to the test. The two classics, as sons of a poor clergyman, were acutely conscious of all that was involved by a first or second class. Ralph Percival was realising painfully the difficulty of making up for years of slacking, or even of keeping up a spurt beyond a few days at a time; the little Fresher trembled at the thought of her first Mays; even Margaret France herself showed signs of nerves before the ordeal of the Tripos, and on one tragic occasion had even been discovered weeping hysterically upon her bed.

“C–c–couldn’t remember a context,” was her hiccoughing explanation of the breakdown, and henceforth Darsie had taken her in hand, fagged for her, petted her, scolded her, put her to bed, and ruthlessly carried off notebooks to her own study, to frustrate disastrous attempts at midnight toil.

As for Dan, he was a giant among pigmies. Examinations had no terrors for him; his place was assured. When strangers visited Cambridge, their sons and brothers pointed out his big, lumbering form in the streets, and bade them remember Vernon—Vernon would arrive! Darsie was conscious that his presence lent distinction to her party, for Dan but seldom appeared in the social world.

And he was behaving so well, too! taking part in the conversation, even telling stories and capping anecdotes of his own accord, and behaving quite amiably to Ralph. Darsie beamed approval on him from the end of the table, and deliberately singled him out as her companion for the after-breakfast stroll.

“Come down to the river, Dan! There’s a tree with the most convenient forked branch where one can sit hidden by the leaves and watch the canaders come up. Last year I heard some quite thrilling fragments of conversation.”

“I’ll be wary of that tree,” said Dan solemnly, but he helped Darsie to her eyrie, and swung himself up beside her with an alacrity which showed that the suggestion fell in well with his own wishes, and there they sat like birds in a nest, smiling at each other with bright, friendly glances.

“Isn’t this fine? No one saw us come, did they? They’ll think we’re lost. I’m tired of being polite. Thank you for coming to my party, Dan, and for being so jolly.”

“Thank you for asking me and for looking so—ripping!” Dan cast an appreciative glance at the white dress and blossom-wreathed hat. “Glad to see you’re not knocking yourself up with too much work.”

Darsie bent her head with a dubious air.

She wished to look well, but, on the other hand, a little sympathy would not have been unwelcome. “I’m excited this morning, and that gives me a colour,” she explained. “If you could see me at the end of the day—I’m so weak in my mediaeval French Grammar. It haunts me at night—”

“Stop!” cried Dan warningly. “Don’t let it haunt you here, at any rate—it would be a crime among this blossom. Tell me a story as you used to do in the old schoolroom days. I haven’t heard you tell a story since that Christmas night when we all sat round the fire and burnt fir-cones, and the light shone on your face. You wore a white dress then. You lookedallwhite.”

“And you sat in the corner and glowered—I could see nothing, but Ifelteyes. That will be one of the times we shall remember, Dan, when we look back on our young days—all together, and so happy and free. I had a melancholy turn during that cone-burning, one of the shadows that fall upon one causelessly in the midst of the sunshine, but that was only a bit of the happiness, after all. It’s rather wonderful to be twenty, Dan, and never to have known a real big sorrow! Most of the girls here have come through something, some of them a great deal. I feel such a babe beside them. It isn’t good for one, I suppose, to have thingstoosmooth.”

“I hope they’ll continue smooth for a long time to come. You’re too young for troubles, Darsie,” said Dan hastily. He sat silent for a few moments, his chin poking forward, his thin, expressive lips twitching as if struggling with difficult speech. A canader came gliding slowly by, the man and girl occupants chatting gaily together, unconscious of the watchers in the tree on the bank. Their words fell absently on Darsie’s ear, she was waiting for what Dan had to say.

“When theydocome, you know you can depend on me. I’m not much of a hand at social life, so it’s best to keep out of the way and let other fellows chip in who can make a better show, but if there’s anything useful to be done, you might give me a turn. We’re very old friends.”

Darsie gave him an affectionate glance. “Indeed I will. I should feel you a tower of strength. Thank you, dear Oak-tree.”

“Thank you, Apple-blossom!” returned Dan quite gallantly, if you please, and with a laugh which followed the passing seriousness vanished.

For the next half-hour they laughed and sparred, capped stories, and made merry, more like a couple of happy children than hard-worked students on the verge of examinations; and then, alas! it was time to return to work, and, sliding down from their perch, Dan and Darsie walked forward to assemble the scattered members of the party.

Chapter Twenty Seven.Disaster.Cambridge May week is a function so well known, and so often described, that it would be superfluous to enter in detail into its various happenings. In their first year Darsie and Hannah had taken little part in the festivities, but upon their second anniversary they looked forward to a welcome spell of gaiety. Not only were the Percivals coming up for the whole week, but Mr and Mrs Vernon and Vie were also to be installed in rooms, and the Newnham students had received permission to attend the two principal balls, being housed for the nights by their own party. Throughout Newnham the subject of frocks became, indeed, generally intermingled with the day’s work. Cardboard boxes arrived from home, cloaks and scarves were unearthed from the recesses of “coffins,” and placed to air before opened windows; “burries” were strewn with ribbons, laces, and scraps of tinsel, instead of the usual notebooks; third-year girls, reviving slowly from the strain of the Tripos, consented languidly to have their hats re-trimmed by second-year admirers, and so, despite themselves, were drawn into the maelstrom. One enterprising Fresher offered items of her wardrobe on hire, by the hour, day, or week, and reaped thereby quite a goodly sum towards her summer holiday. A blue-silk parasol, in particular, was in universal request, and appeared withéclatand in different hands at every outdoor function of the week.In after-years Darsie Garnett looked back upon the day of that year on which the Masonic Ball was held with feelings of tender recollection, as a piece of her girlhood which was altogether bright and unclouded. She met the Percival party at one o’clock, and went with them to lunch in Ralph’s rooms, where two other men had been invited to make the party complete. There was hardly room to stir in the overcrowded little study, but the crush seemed but to add to the general hilarity.Ralph made the gayest and most genial of hosts, and the luncheon provided for his guests was a typical specimen of the daring hospitality of his kind! Iced soup, lobster mayonnaise, salmon and green peas, veal cutlets and mushrooms, trifle, strawberries and cream, and strong coffee, were pressed in turns upon the guests, who—be it acknowledged at once—ate, drank, enjoyed, and went forth in peace. Later in the afternoon the little party strolled down to the river, and in the evening there was fresh feasting, leading up to the culminating excitement of all—the ball itself.Beside the Percivals’ Parisian creations, Darsie’s simple dress made but a poor show, but then Darsie’s dresses were wont to take a secondary place, and to appear but as a background to her fresh young beauty, instead of—as is too often the case—a dresspar excellence, with a girl tightly laced inside. When she made her appearance in the sitting-room of the lodgings, the verdict on her appearance was universally approving—“You look alamb!” gushed Ida enthusiastically.“How do you manage it, dear? Youalwaysseem to hit the right thing!” exclaimed Mrs Percival in plaintive amaze; and as he helped her on with her cloak, Ralph murmured significantly—“As if it mattered whatyouwore! No one will notice the frock.”At the ball there was an appalling plethora of girls; wallflowers sat waiting round the walls, and waited in vain. Darsie felt sorry for them, tragically sorry; but the sight of their fixed smiles could not but heighten the sense of her own good luck in having the chance of more partners than she could accept. Ralph showed at his best that evening, evincing as much care for his sisters’ enjoyment as for that of their friend. Not until the three programmes were filled to the last extra did he rest from his efforts, and think of his own pleasure. It is true that his pleasure consisted chiefly in dancing with Darsie, and their steps went so well together that she was ready to give him the numbers for which he asked. As for Dan Vernon, he did not dance, but out of some mistaken sense of duty, felt it his duty to put in an appearance andglower.“See old Vernon, glowering over there?” inquired Ralph, laughing, as he whirled Darsie lightly by to the strains of an inspiriting two-step, and for a moment a cloud shadowed the gaiety of her spirits. Dan ought either to dance or stay away! She didn’tliketo see him looking glum!The dancing was carried on until four in the morning, when in the chill grey light the company were ranged in rows, and photographed, apparently to provide a demonstration of how elderly and plain even the youngest of the number could look under such inauspicious circumstances.The three girls had breakfast in bed the next morning, somewhere about twelve o’clock—a delightful occasion when all three talked at the same time, relating thrilling experiences of the night before, comparing notes, admiring, quizzing, shaking with laughter over a dozen innocent drolleries. These after-conferences are perhaps the best part of the festivities of our youth; and Noreen, Ida, and Darsie began that fine June day as gaily, as happily, as unconscious of coming ill as any three girls in the land.Ralph had been anxious that his people should again lunch in his rooms, but Mrs Percival had prudently decided in favour of a simple meal at home, and it was approaching tea-time when the party sallied forth to witness the day’s “bumping” on the river. The elders were frankly tired after their late hours, but the three girls looked fresh as flowers in their dainty white frocks, and enjoyed to the full the kaleidoscopic beauty of the scene.The two Percivals’ interest in the bumping was of the slightest description—Ralph was not taking part this afternoon, and with Ralph began and ended their concern. They stood on the crowded bank, rather hot, rather bored, amusing themselves by scanning the people near at hand. The Vernon party were but a few yards away, and Hannah attracted special attention.“Sheisplain!” exclaimed Noreen; whereat Darsie snapped her up in double-quick time.“Ofcourseshe is plain! She wouldn’t dream, of being anything else!”Beloved plain Hannah! No features, however classic, could be as eloquent as hers in her old friend’s eyes. Darsie tossed her head, and looked flusty and annoyed, whereat Noreen feebly apologised, emphasising her offence by blundering explanations, and Ralph grew restless and impatient.“I say! This is getting slow. Come along, girls; let’s take the ferry and cross to the other side. It’s not half bad fun to see all the shows. It will be a change, anyhow, and you can come back when you’re tired.”“I’ll stay with mother,” Noreen decided dutifully. Ida surveyed the crowd on the opposite bank with the dubious air of one who has lived all her life within her own gates. “I don’tthinkI care to go into that crush.”“Oh, come along, Darsie. Thank goodness you’re not so squeamish. Let’s get out of this.” Ralph pushed impatiently forward, and Mrs Percival turned to Darsie, with raised eyebrows, and said urgently—“Do go, dear! Ralph will take care of you. We will wait for you here.”Darsie smiled assent, the thought passing lightly through her mind that Mrs Percival looked particularly sweet and gracious when she smiled. She never dreamt that that particular smile, that little glance of appeal, were to remain with her all heir life, to be her comfort in a bitter grief.They passed the spot where Hannah and Dan were standing with their friends, and acting on a sudden impulse, Darsie turned her head, with a few laughing words of explanation: “We’re going to look at the Punch and Judies!”There was no definite response, but Hannah’s exclamation had an envious tone which made Ralph quicken his footsteps. It was rare good luck to get Darsie to himself for an hour; he certainly did not wish to be saddled with plain Hannah as an unwelcome third.The ferry-boat was on the point of starting, its flat surfaces crowded with pleasure-seekers. Ralph and Darsie had to run the last few yards in order to secure a bare space for standing. Ralph took the outside with the nonchalance of the true boating-man, who would almost as soon fall in the water as not. Darsie, standing close by his side, glanced from one to the other of her companions, her never-failing interest inpeoplediscovering a story in each new group.They had reached the middle of the stream, when a movement of the deck upset her balance, and sent her swaying against Ralph’s arm. She looked up with a laughing apology, and was startled by the sight of his face. So far was he from sharing her amusement, that never in the course of their acquaintance had she seen him so pale, so set. He seized the hand she had laid on his arm, and held it in a vice-like grip, as he bent to look at the deck. At that moment Darsie stumbled afresh, and felt the lapping of water against her thinly clad feet. She exclaimed loudly, but her voice was drowned in the chorus of cries, questions, and appeals which arose from every side.How swiftly, with what incredible, paralysing speed a scene may change, and seeming security give way to panic fear! Darsie, turning her head to look at the crowd of faces which towered so strangely above her, met but one expression in every eye—breathless, agonising dread.Looking back upon the scene in after-life, it seemed the nightmare of a moment; then the grip upon her arm tightened, she felt herself being pushed past Ralph towards the edge of the boat, heard his voice speaking to her in crisp, firm tones which she had heard in dreams, but never, never from his living lips.“Darsie! She’s turning turtle! There’s no danger, darling, if you jump clear. The water’s not deep. Some one will come. I’m going to throw you in. Strike out for your life!”She was lifted like a doll in his strong arms; her wild eyes, searching his, met a cheery smile in response, she felt herself swayed to and fro, realised with a shudder the parting from the firm grasp—fell, splashed, felt the water close over her head.When she rose to the surface the water near her seemed full of struggling forms; she caught a terrified glimpse of a perpendicular deck, of passengers falling like flies from their perch, and with the instinct of despair struck out in the opposite direction.Like most Newnham girls, she was a fair swimmer—happy hours spent in the swimming-tent had ensured so much; but it was her first experience of fighting the water in all the crippling fineries of race-week attire. Her shoes, her skirts, the floating ends of sash and scarf all held her down; her soaking hat flopped over her eyes, her very gloves seemed to lessen the force of her stroke; but breathless and spent as she was, she could not pause while from behind arose that dread, continued cry. Ralph had told her to strike out, that there was no danger if only she kept clear.“All right, Darsie—all right! Keep calm—keep calm! I’m coming! I’ve got you! Leave yourself to me.”It was Dan’s voice speaking in her ear, clear and distinct in the midst of the clamour; she felt herself seized in scientific fashion—in the way at which she herself had played at rescuing her companions from imaginary death—and, relinquishing all effort, was towed numbly to the shore.It seemed as if hundreds of people were waiting to rescue her; hundreds of arms stretched out in welcome; hundreds of eyes grew suddenly moist with tears. She was tired, and wet, and dazed, but she could stand on her own feet, had no need of helping arms. Dan took her hand in his and ran swiftly across the grass to the nearest tent, where already preparations were in train for the restoration of the unfortunates.Darsie was the first of the crew to reach this shelter, and Mrs Percival and the girls awaited her tearfully on the threshold. She awoke to fuller consciousness at sight of their faces, smiled in reassurement, and murmured disjointed phrases.“Quite all right—only wet! Ralph saved me! A second time! So calm and brave!”“Yes, dear child; yes! Take off that wet hat!” replied Mrs Percival urgently, the girl’s praise of her son adding to her tender solicitude, and she hovered around with tender touches, the while from around rose a ceaseless string of suggestions.“Brandy! Hot tea!” “She ought to change at once!” “My house is just at hand—do come to my house!” “My motor is waiting outside! Let me drive you home!”So on, and so on, innate kindliness of heart bubbling to the surface as it invariably does in moments of disaster. As each unfortunate entered the tent the same programme was enacted, the same kind offices volunteered. “My house is close at hand—do come to my house!”“My motor is waiting—do let me drive you back!” Each victim of the immersion wore at first the same dazed, helpless expression, but the presence of their companions, the kindly voices speaking in their ear, the hot, reviving draughts soon brought about a change of mood, so that they began to smile, to exchange remarks, to congratulate themselves on escape. Darsie, with characteristic elasticity, was one of the first to regain composure, and the Percivals hung delightedly on her description of Ralph’s composure and resource.“I was terrified. It was a dreadful sensation to feel the deck sinking beneath your feet on one side, and to see it gradually rising above you on the other. And all the bewildered, terrified faces! Ralph never turned a hair. He told me that there was no danger so long as I kept clear of the boat; he lifted me up in his arms as if I had been a doll.”The colour mounted to Darsie’s white cheeks as she spoke, and a thrill of emotion tingled her blood. The first time she hears herself addressed as “darling” in a man’s deep voice is one that a girl cannot lightly forget. She turned her head over her shoulder so as to be able to see the entrance into the tent.“WhereisRalph?”“He will be here presently. None of the men have come in yet. Ralph will be so useful. He is as much at home in the water as on land. He will be busy helping the others.”Mrs Percival spoke with happy assurance; nevertheless, she left Darsie’s side and edged her way through the crowd towards the open doorway, through which she ought now to be able to see her son’s return. As she was within a few yards of the entrance it was suddenly blocked by a group of men—hatless, dripping, dishevelled, but in demeanour composed and cheery, as if what had happened had been quite an enjoyable experience.The foremost of the group greeted their friends with smiles and waving of hands.“Hullo! Hullo! Here we are! How are you feeling? All serene now? Every one comfortably on shore? Got any tea left?”“Is my son with you? Have you seen my son—Ralph Percival?”Mrs Percival spoke in a high, clear voice, at the sound of which a young undergrad. wheeled round quickly towards his companions.“By Jove—yes! He was on board. I thought we were all here. Where’s Percival?”He dashed out of the tent, stood looking blankly around, turned a blanched face towards the tent.Then from an inner corner of the tent another voice questioned sharply: “Mary! Where’s Mary—Mary Everard? She was with us—standing quite near.Mary’s not here!”No one answered. There was a breathless silence, while each man and woman in that crowded tent was subtly, overpoweringly conscious of a new presence filling the atmosphere around—the presence ofFear! Heavy as a palpable presence it pressed upon them; it lapped them round; the fumes of it mounted to their brains.Months before, Darsie had listened while a woman who had been near San Francisco at the time of the earthquake and fire endeavoured to describe what was in truth indescribable, how the very air itself was at that time charged with a poignancy of agony—an impalpable spiritual agony, apart from such physical cause as heat and fire, an agony which arose from the grief of thousands of tortured hearts.She had listened—interested, curious, pleased to nestle in her easy-chair, and ponder over a novel thought; but at this terrible moment she had no need to ponder; realisation came sharp and sure. Tragedy was in the air; she inhaled it with every breath, tasted it, felt its heavy hand.With one accord the occupants of the tent streamed across the lawns towards the waterside, where even now an informal inquiry was taking place. The officials in charge of the ferry-boat were defending themselves against their accusers. Overcrowded? The ferry-boat had been as crowded on two previous days, and all had gone well. It was impossible to account for the accident. Since no further harm than a few minutes’ ducking had happened to the passengers, the greater loss was on their own side.To these officials, protesting, excusing, arrived in a mass a body of white-faced men and women, demanding with one voice their lost—a young man, an undergraduate; tall, fair, in a white flannel suit; last seen standing on the side of the boat helping to lower the women into the water; a young girl, in a boating-dress of blue and white. They were not among the rescued. They had not been seen since the moment of the accident.Where were they?As Darsie stood, ghastly and shuddering, by the water brink, she was subconsciously aware of a strong arm in hers. Subconsciously also she was aware that the arm belonged to Dan Vernon, but she had no time for look or word; her whole being was strung to one agonising thought. Mr Percival supported his half-fainting wife; the two sisters clung together; the relations of Mary Everard paced wildly to and fro. On shore all was tumult and confusion, on the river sunbeams sparkled, the stream was quiet and undisturbed.“Percival was like a fish: Percival could have kept afloat for hours.”A voice separated itself from the confused babel, and struck on Darsie’s ear, but even as her heart leaped upward another voice spoke. “It is not a case of swimming. If he were not quick enough in getting away—if he were caught beneath—penned!”The strong arm gripped her more firmly still, steadied her trembling. A fierce voice issued an order for “Silence! Silence!”Margaret France came up with beautiful soft eyes and a beautiful soft voice. She spoke wise, tender words. You were to come away—it was better so. It would add to your friends’ distress if you were ill. You were wet, cold. You were to be sensible and come home.Darsie looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. She was thinking that she loved Margaret France, that she had taken a fancy to her the first evening at Newnham. How droll and witty she had been as an auctioneer! Of the purport of her present words she had no comprehension. She sighed and turned her face to the river.“Leave her to me,” said Dan’s voice quietly. “I will take care of her.”They found them at sundown; the two young, fair bodies—the tall, pale lad, the slim, dark maid—two cold effigies of youth, and health, and joy. On Ralph’s forehead was a deep red mark, the mark of the blow which had given him a prey to the waters; but Mary’s brown locks floated round a sweet, untroubled face.They bore them to the mortuary, and those who loved them sat and wept alone. Darsie spent the two following days with the stricken family, who found their one comfort in listening again and again to the story of Ralph’s brave end. Weak and unstable in life, in death he had shown a gallant front, and more than one of the unfortunate crew came forward to testify to his courageous and selfless efforts on their behalf.Mr Percival went about with a set face and shoulders bowed like those of an old man. The girls wept helplessly from morn till night; Mrs Percival lost in one night all lingering trace of youth; she kept up bravely before her husband and daughters, but alone with Darsie her anguish found vent.“My son, my son! He was so good to me—so loving and kind. His faults were the faults of youth, and, oh, Darsie, my, faults also! We blamed him for faults which we had not tried to check. If he had lived and had been obliged to face life for himself he would have risen to it, as he rose to that last great chance. It takes a brave man to face death calmly. He was not weak or selfish then—my Ralph! No one dared call him weak. Thank God! We were with him to the end, we were happy together, and you were with him too. That is what he would have wished. He loved you, Darsie. If he had lived, he would have wished you for his wife.”“Yes!” sighed Darsie, and laid her head gently on the other’s knee. In the silence which followed she was acutely aware of the unspoken question which filled the air, acutely distressed that she could not give the stricken mother the assurance for which she craved.In Ralph’s lifetime his friendship had brought Darsie as much pain as joy, and, though death had wiped away all but tender recollections, even in this hour of grief and shock she did not delude herself that she sorrowed for him with the deepest sorrow of all. The anxious, pitiful affection which she had felt for the man who leaned so heavily upon her was more that of a sister than a wife.Darsie stretched out her hand, found the chilly one of the poor mother, and leaning her soft cheek over it, pressed it tenderly with her lips.“You must let me be your third daughter! We can talk about him together. I can tell you about this last year—every little tiny thing that he said and did. You’ll never be anxious about him any more, dear, never afraid! You will always be proud of your hero boy.”Mrs Percival sighed. She was in too sensitive a mood not to realise the meaning of the girl’s lack of response, but the first pang of disappointment was followed by a thought full of comfort to the sore mother-heart.“I loved him best. He was mine to the end! No one loved him like his mother!”

Cambridge May week is a function so well known, and so often described, that it would be superfluous to enter in detail into its various happenings. In their first year Darsie and Hannah had taken little part in the festivities, but upon their second anniversary they looked forward to a welcome spell of gaiety. Not only were the Percivals coming up for the whole week, but Mr and Mrs Vernon and Vie were also to be installed in rooms, and the Newnham students had received permission to attend the two principal balls, being housed for the nights by their own party. Throughout Newnham the subject of frocks became, indeed, generally intermingled with the day’s work. Cardboard boxes arrived from home, cloaks and scarves were unearthed from the recesses of “coffins,” and placed to air before opened windows; “burries” were strewn with ribbons, laces, and scraps of tinsel, instead of the usual notebooks; third-year girls, reviving slowly from the strain of the Tripos, consented languidly to have their hats re-trimmed by second-year admirers, and so, despite themselves, were drawn into the maelstrom. One enterprising Fresher offered items of her wardrobe on hire, by the hour, day, or week, and reaped thereby quite a goodly sum towards her summer holiday. A blue-silk parasol, in particular, was in universal request, and appeared withéclatand in different hands at every outdoor function of the week.

In after-years Darsie Garnett looked back upon the day of that year on which the Masonic Ball was held with feelings of tender recollection, as a piece of her girlhood which was altogether bright and unclouded. She met the Percival party at one o’clock, and went with them to lunch in Ralph’s rooms, where two other men had been invited to make the party complete. There was hardly room to stir in the overcrowded little study, but the crush seemed but to add to the general hilarity.

Ralph made the gayest and most genial of hosts, and the luncheon provided for his guests was a typical specimen of the daring hospitality of his kind! Iced soup, lobster mayonnaise, salmon and green peas, veal cutlets and mushrooms, trifle, strawberries and cream, and strong coffee, were pressed in turns upon the guests, who—be it acknowledged at once—ate, drank, enjoyed, and went forth in peace. Later in the afternoon the little party strolled down to the river, and in the evening there was fresh feasting, leading up to the culminating excitement of all—the ball itself.

Beside the Percivals’ Parisian creations, Darsie’s simple dress made but a poor show, but then Darsie’s dresses were wont to take a secondary place, and to appear but as a background to her fresh young beauty, instead of—as is too often the case—a dresspar excellence, with a girl tightly laced inside. When she made her appearance in the sitting-room of the lodgings, the verdict on her appearance was universally approving—

“You look alamb!” gushed Ida enthusiastically.

“How do you manage it, dear? Youalwaysseem to hit the right thing!” exclaimed Mrs Percival in plaintive amaze; and as he helped her on with her cloak, Ralph murmured significantly—

“As if it mattered whatyouwore! No one will notice the frock.”

At the ball there was an appalling plethora of girls; wallflowers sat waiting round the walls, and waited in vain. Darsie felt sorry for them, tragically sorry; but the sight of their fixed smiles could not but heighten the sense of her own good luck in having the chance of more partners than she could accept. Ralph showed at his best that evening, evincing as much care for his sisters’ enjoyment as for that of their friend. Not until the three programmes were filled to the last extra did he rest from his efforts, and think of his own pleasure. It is true that his pleasure consisted chiefly in dancing with Darsie, and their steps went so well together that she was ready to give him the numbers for which he asked. As for Dan Vernon, he did not dance, but out of some mistaken sense of duty, felt it his duty to put in an appearance andglower.

“See old Vernon, glowering over there?” inquired Ralph, laughing, as he whirled Darsie lightly by to the strains of an inspiriting two-step, and for a moment a cloud shadowed the gaiety of her spirits. Dan ought either to dance or stay away! She didn’tliketo see him looking glum!

The dancing was carried on until four in the morning, when in the chill grey light the company were ranged in rows, and photographed, apparently to provide a demonstration of how elderly and plain even the youngest of the number could look under such inauspicious circumstances.

The three girls had breakfast in bed the next morning, somewhere about twelve o’clock—a delightful occasion when all three talked at the same time, relating thrilling experiences of the night before, comparing notes, admiring, quizzing, shaking with laughter over a dozen innocent drolleries. These after-conferences are perhaps the best part of the festivities of our youth; and Noreen, Ida, and Darsie began that fine June day as gaily, as happily, as unconscious of coming ill as any three girls in the land.

Ralph had been anxious that his people should again lunch in his rooms, but Mrs Percival had prudently decided in favour of a simple meal at home, and it was approaching tea-time when the party sallied forth to witness the day’s “bumping” on the river. The elders were frankly tired after their late hours, but the three girls looked fresh as flowers in their dainty white frocks, and enjoyed to the full the kaleidoscopic beauty of the scene.

The two Percivals’ interest in the bumping was of the slightest description—Ralph was not taking part this afternoon, and with Ralph began and ended their concern. They stood on the crowded bank, rather hot, rather bored, amusing themselves by scanning the people near at hand. The Vernon party were but a few yards away, and Hannah attracted special attention.

“Sheisplain!” exclaimed Noreen; whereat Darsie snapped her up in double-quick time.

“Ofcourseshe is plain! She wouldn’t dream, of being anything else!”

Beloved plain Hannah! No features, however classic, could be as eloquent as hers in her old friend’s eyes. Darsie tossed her head, and looked flusty and annoyed, whereat Noreen feebly apologised, emphasising her offence by blundering explanations, and Ralph grew restless and impatient.

“I say! This is getting slow. Come along, girls; let’s take the ferry and cross to the other side. It’s not half bad fun to see all the shows. It will be a change, anyhow, and you can come back when you’re tired.”

“I’ll stay with mother,” Noreen decided dutifully. Ida surveyed the crowd on the opposite bank with the dubious air of one who has lived all her life within her own gates. “I don’tthinkI care to go into that crush.”

“Oh, come along, Darsie. Thank goodness you’re not so squeamish. Let’s get out of this.” Ralph pushed impatiently forward, and Mrs Percival turned to Darsie, with raised eyebrows, and said urgently—

“Do go, dear! Ralph will take care of you. We will wait for you here.”

Darsie smiled assent, the thought passing lightly through her mind that Mrs Percival looked particularly sweet and gracious when she smiled. She never dreamt that that particular smile, that little glance of appeal, were to remain with her all heir life, to be her comfort in a bitter grief.

They passed the spot where Hannah and Dan were standing with their friends, and acting on a sudden impulse, Darsie turned her head, with a few laughing words of explanation: “We’re going to look at the Punch and Judies!”

There was no definite response, but Hannah’s exclamation had an envious tone which made Ralph quicken his footsteps. It was rare good luck to get Darsie to himself for an hour; he certainly did not wish to be saddled with plain Hannah as an unwelcome third.

The ferry-boat was on the point of starting, its flat surfaces crowded with pleasure-seekers. Ralph and Darsie had to run the last few yards in order to secure a bare space for standing. Ralph took the outside with the nonchalance of the true boating-man, who would almost as soon fall in the water as not. Darsie, standing close by his side, glanced from one to the other of her companions, her never-failing interest inpeoplediscovering a story in each new group.

They had reached the middle of the stream, when a movement of the deck upset her balance, and sent her swaying against Ralph’s arm. She looked up with a laughing apology, and was startled by the sight of his face. So far was he from sharing her amusement, that never in the course of their acquaintance had she seen him so pale, so set. He seized the hand she had laid on his arm, and held it in a vice-like grip, as he bent to look at the deck. At that moment Darsie stumbled afresh, and felt the lapping of water against her thinly clad feet. She exclaimed loudly, but her voice was drowned in the chorus of cries, questions, and appeals which arose from every side.

How swiftly, with what incredible, paralysing speed a scene may change, and seeming security give way to panic fear! Darsie, turning her head to look at the crowd of faces which towered so strangely above her, met but one expression in every eye—breathless, agonising dread.

Looking back upon the scene in after-life, it seemed the nightmare of a moment; then the grip upon her arm tightened, she felt herself being pushed past Ralph towards the edge of the boat, heard his voice speaking to her in crisp, firm tones which she had heard in dreams, but never, never from his living lips.

“Darsie! She’s turning turtle! There’s no danger, darling, if you jump clear. The water’s not deep. Some one will come. I’m going to throw you in. Strike out for your life!”

She was lifted like a doll in his strong arms; her wild eyes, searching his, met a cheery smile in response, she felt herself swayed to and fro, realised with a shudder the parting from the firm grasp—fell, splashed, felt the water close over her head.

When she rose to the surface the water near her seemed full of struggling forms; she caught a terrified glimpse of a perpendicular deck, of passengers falling like flies from their perch, and with the instinct of despair struck out in the opposite direction.

Like most Newnham girls, she was a fair swimmer—happy hours spent in the swimming-tent had ensured so much; but it was her first experience of fighting the water in all the crippling fineries of race-week attire. Her shoes, her skirts, the floating ends of sash and scarf all held her down; her soaking hat flopped over her eyes, her very gloves seemed to lessen the force of her stroke; but breathless and spent as she was, she could not pause while from behind arose that dread, continued cry. Ralph had told her to strike out, that there was no danger if only she kept clear.

“All right, Darsie—all right! Keep calm—keep calm! I’m coming! I’ve got you! Leave yourself to me.”

It was Dan’s voice speaking in her ear, clear and distinct in the midst of the clamour; she felt herself seized in scientific fashion—in the way at which she herself had played at rescuing her companions from imaginary death—and, relinquishing all effort, was towed numbly to the shore.

It seemed as if hundreds of people were waiting to rescue her; hundreds of arms stretched out in welcome; hundreds of eyes grew suddenly moist with tears. She was tired, and wet, and dazed, but she could stand on her own feet, had no need of helping arms. Dan took her hand in his and ran swiftly across the grass to the nearest tent, where already preparations were in train for the restoration of the unfortunates.

Darsie was the first of the crew to reach this shelter, and Mrs Percival and the girls awaited her tearfully on the threshold. She awoke to fuller consciousness at sight of their faces, smiled in reassurement, and murmured disjointed phrases.

“Quite all right—only wet! Ralph saved me! A second time! So calm and brave!”

“Yes, dear child; yes! Take off that wet hat!” replied Mrs Percival urgently, the girl’s praise of her son adding to her tender solicitude, and she hovered around with tender touches, the while from around rose a ceaseless string of suggestions.

“Brandy! Hot tea!” “She ought to change at once!” “My house is just at hand—do come to my house!” “My motor is waiting outside! Let me drive you home!”

So on, and so on, innate kindliness of heart bubbling to the surface as it invariably does in moments of disaster. As each unfortunate entered the tent the same programme was enacted, the same kind offices volunteered. “My house is close at hand—do come to my house!”

“My motor is waiting—do let me drive you back!” Each victim of the immersion wore at first the same dazed, helpless expression, but the presence of their companions, the kindly voices speaking in their ear, the hot, reviving draughts soon brought about a change of mood, so that they began to smile, to exchange remarks, to congratulate themselves on escape. Darsie, with characteristic elasticity, was one of the first to regain composure, and the Percivals hung delightedly on her description of Ralph’s composure and resource.

“I was terrified. It was a dreadful sensation to feel the deck sinking beneath your feet on one side, and to see it gradually rising above you on the other. And all the bewildered, terrified faces! Ralph never turned a hair. He told me that there was no danger so long as I kept clear of the boat; he lifted me up in his arms as if I had been a doll.”

The colour mounted to Darsie’s white cheeks as she spoke, and a thrill of emotion tingled her blood. The first time she hears herself addressed as “darling” in a man’s deep voice is one that a girl cannot lightly forget. She turned her head over her shoulder so as to be able to see the entrance into the tent.

“WhereisRalph?”

“He will be here presently. None of the men have come in yet. Ralph will be so useful. He is as much at home in the water as on land. He will be busy helping the others.”

Mrs Percival spoke with happy assurance; nevertheless, she left Darsie’s side and edged her way through the crowd towards the open doorway, through which she ought now to be able to see her son’s return. As she was within a few yards of the entrance it was suddenly blocked by a group of men—hatless, dripping, dishevelled, but in demeanour composed and cheery, as if what had happened had been quite an enjoyable experience.

The foremost of the group greeted their friends with smiles and waving of hands.

“Hullo! Hullo! Here we are! How are you feeling? All serene now? Every one comfortably on shore? Got any tea left?”

“Is my son with you? Have you seen my son—Ralph Percival?”

Mrs Percival spoke in a high, clear voice, at the sound of which a young undergrad. wheeled round quickly towards his companions.

“By Jove—yes! He was on board. I thought we were all here. Where’s Percival?”

He dashed out of the tent, stood looking blankly around, turned a blanched face towards the tent.

Then from an inner corner of the tent another voice questioned sharply: “Mary! Where’s Mary—Mary Everard? She was with us—standing quite near.Mary’s not here!”

No one answered. There was a breathless silence, while each man and woman in that crowded tent was subtly, overpoweringly conscious of a new presence filling the atmosphere around—the presence ofFear! Heavy as a palpable presence it pressed upon them; it lapped them round; the fumes of it mounted to their brains.

Months before, Darsie had listened while a woman who had been near San Francisco at the time of the earthquake and fire endeavoured to describe what was in truth indescribable, how the very air itself was at that time charged with a poignancy of agony—an impalpable spiritual agony, apart from such physical cause as heat and fire, an agony which arose from the grief of thousands of tortured hearts.

She had listened—interested, curious, pleased to nestle in her easy-chair, and ponder over a novel thought; but at this terrible moment she had no need to ponder; realisation came sharp and sure. Tragedy was in the air; she inhaled it with every breath, tasted it, felt its heavy hand.

With one accord the occupants of the tent streamed across the lawns towards the waterside, where even now an informal inquiry was taking place. The officials in charge of the ferry-boat were defending themselves against their accusers. Overcrowded? The ferry-boat had been as crowded on two previous days, and all had gone well. It was impossible to account for the accident. Since no further harm than a few minutes’ ducking had happened to the passengers, the greater loss was on their own side.

To these officials, protesting, excusing, arrived in a mass a body of white-faced men and women, demanding with one voice their lost—a young man, an undergraduate; tall, fair, in a white flannel suit; last seen standing on the side of the boat helping to lower the women into the water; a young girl, in a boating-dress of blue and white. They were not among the rescued. They had not been seen since the moment of the accident.

Where were they?

As Darsie stood, ghastly and shuddering, by the water brink, she was subconsciously aware of a strong arm in hers. Subconsciously also she was aware that the arm belonged to Dan Vernon, but she had no time for look or word; her whole being was strung to one agonising thought. Mr Percival supported his half-fainting wife; the two sisters clung together; the relations of Mary Everard paced wildly to and fro. On shore all was tumult and confusion, on the river sunbeams sparkled, the stream was quiet and undisturbed.

“Percival was like a fish: Percival could have kept afloat for hours.”

A voice separated itself from the confused babel, and struck on Darsie’s ear, but even as her heart leaped upward another voice spoke. “It is not a case of swimming. If he were not quick enough in getting away—if he were caught beneath—penned!”

The strong arm gripped her more firmly still, steadied her trembling. A fierce voice issued an order for “Silence! Silence!”

Margaret France came up with beautiful soft eyes and a beautiful soft voice. She spoke wise, tender words. You were to come away—it was better so. It would add to your friends’ distress if you were ill. You were wet, cold. You were to be sensible and come home.

Darsie looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. She was thinking that she loved Margaret France, that she had taken a fancy to her the first evening at Newnham. How droll and witty she had been as an auctioneer! Of the purport of her present words she had no comprehension. She sighed and turned her face to the river.

“Leave her to me,” said Dan’s voice quietly. “I will take care of her.”

They found them at sundown; the two young, fair bodies—the tall, pale lad, the slim, dark maid—two cold effigies of youth, and health, and joy. On Ralph’s forehead was a deep red mark, the mark of the blow which had given him a prey to the waters; but Mary’s brown locks floated round a sweet, untroubled face.

They bore them to the mortuary, and those who loved them sat and wept alone. Darsie spent the two following days with the stricken family, who found their one comfort in listening again and again to the story of Ralph’s brave end. Weak and unstable in life, in death he had shown a gallant front, and more than one of the unfortunate crew came forward to testify to his courageous and selfless efforts on their behalf.

Mr Percival went about with a set face and shoulders bowed like those of an old man. The girls wept helplessly from morn till night; Mrs Percival lost in one night all lingering trace of youth; she kept up bravely before her husband and daughters, but alone with Darsie her anguish found vent.

“My son, my son! He was so good to me—so loving and kind. His faults were the faults of youth, and, oh, Darsie, my, faults also! We blamed him for faults which we had not tried to check. If he had lived and had been obliged to face life for himself he would have risen to it, as he rose to that last great chance. It takes a brave man to face death calmly. He was not weak or selfish then—my Ralph! No one dared call him weak. Thank God! We were with him to the end, we were happy together, and you were with him too. That is what he would have wished. He loved you, Darsie. If he had lived, he would have wished you for his wife.”

“Yes!” sighed Darsie, and laid her head gently on the other’s knee. In the silence which followed she was acutely aware of the unspoken question which filled the air, acutely distressed that she could not give the stricken mother the assurance for which she craved.

In Ralph’s lifetime his friendship had brought Darsie as much pain as joy, and, though death had wiped away all but tender recollections, even in this hour of grief and shock she did not delude herself that she sorrowed for him with the deepest sorrow of all. The anxious, pitiful affection which she had felt for the man who leaned so heavily upon her was more that of a sister than a wife.

Darsie stretched out her hand, found the chilly one of the poor mother, and leaning her soft cheek over it, pressed it tenderly with her lips.

“You must let me be your third daughter! We can talk about him together. I can tell you about this last year—every little tiny thing that he said and did. You’ll never be anxious about him any more, dear, never afraid! You will always be proud of your hero boy.”

Mrs Percival sighed. She was in too sensitive a mood not to realise the meaning of the girl’s lack of response, but the first pang of disappointment was followed by a thought full of comfort to the sore mother-heart.

“I loved him best. He was mine to the end! No one loved him like his mother!”

Chapter Twenty Eight.Brighter Days.Six months passed by—months of grief and pain, and bitter, unavailing regret; of work and play, of long summer days, and wintry fog and cold; of reviving happiness also, since, thank God! joy returns like the spring, bringing back hope and joy to a darkened world. There was a place in Darsie’s heart which would ever be consecrated to the memory of Ralph; butitwas not a foremost place—that most crushing of sorrows had been spared her; and when one not yet twenty-one is living the healthiest and most congenial of lives, and is above all elevated to the proud position of third-year girl, it would be as unnatural as wrong to dwell continually upon a past grief.At first Darsie felt shocked and ashamed when the old gay mood swept her off her balance, and she found herself dancing, singing, and making merry as of yore, but her two mentors, Mrs Reeves and Hannah Vernon, united to combat this impression.“To bear a sorrowcheerfullyis the only resignation worthy of the name!” This was the older woman’s verdict; the younger preached the same precept in student vernacular—“Why grizzle when you want to smile? Pray, what good can you do yourself, or any one else, by going about with a face like a fiddle? Remember Margaret France, and don’t block up the window to shut out the stars! Let them twinkle for all they are worth, the blessed little things. They aretiredof hiding behind the clouds. You have a duty to the living as well as to the dead; remember that!”Yes, it was true. Looking back over the last eight months Darsie realised what a debt of gratitude she owed to relations and friends alike for their tenderness and forbearance. It had been hard on the home party to have the summer holidays clouded by the presence of a mourner who shuddered at the sight of water, collapsed into tears at unexpected moments, and lived in a condition of super-sensitiveness, ready as it seemed to be hurt by the most innocent word; yet how gentle and patient they had been, every single one of them, down to Tim himself! Mother and father, of course, had been angels; one took it for granted that they would be, but who could have believed in such consideration from the boys and girls. Dear old Clemence! What a comfort she had been! Darsie had often been inclined to think that, for sheer rest and soothing, no one could compete with a plump, practical, matter-of-fact sister, who had no thought for “ifs” or “whys,” but was full of care to ensure your present physical well-being. Then, if for a moment Clemence seemed to fall short, there was Lavender, ready to pour out floods of sympathy, to mingle her tears with yours, and listen to endless reminiscences. As for the boys, Harry and Russell forbore to tease, affected blindness to reddened eyes, and said, “Buck up, old girl!” with real heartiness of feeling, while Tim was assiduous in the offer of sticky sweets.The Vernons, lucky creatures! went offen masseto Switzerland for July and August. Darsie morbidly told herself that they were anxious to avoid the depression of her own presence during the chief holiday of the year. She was, as she expressed it, “too proud to say so,” but the inward soreness made her so cold and abrupt in manner that her friends had good cause to reverse the accusation.With regard to Dan Vernon in especial there was a soreness at Darsie’s heart. During the first days after the tragic happening Dan had been a tower of strength, always at hand to comfort, support, and take every difficulty upon his own shoulders. To outward appearance Darsie had appeared oblivious of his presence, but subconsciously she had leaned on his strength with a profound relief. It was hard to have Dan withdraw into his shell just as she was beginning to long for his presence; but hehadwithdrawn, and like most naturally shy and reticent people, withdrawn farther than ever, as if in reaction from his unusual demonstration.In hall itself the absence of Margaret France made a big blank. Having passed her tripos with a first class, Margaret had placidly returned home to help her mother in the house, and take part in an ordinary social life. “What a waste!” cried her Newnham acquaintances, but Margaret’s friends, remembering her own words on the subject, believed that she had chosen the better part.With October came the return to Newnham, and for the first few weeks an access of grief and depression. It was hard to fall into the old life shorn of its greatest interest, to be reminded of Ralph at every turn, to see his friends pass by, laughing and gay, while his place was blank.Then it was that Darsie discovered the real tenderness of heart which lies beneath the somewhat callous exterior of the college girl. Freshers, second-year girls, even austere thirds themselves, combined to surround her with an atmosphere of kindness and consideration. Nowordof sympathy was ever spoken, but almost every hour of the day brought with it some fresh deed of comfort and cheer. Offerings of flowers, tendered by a friend, or laid anonymously on “burry” or coffin; bags of fruit and cake, invitations galore, surprise visits to her own study, each in turn bringing a gleam of brightness to the day. Plain Hannah, too, dear old plain Hannah! In the midst of her grief Darsie was filled with amusement at Hannah’s unique fashion of showing her sympathy. Hot water evidently commended itself to her mind as the ideal medium, for at a dozen hours of the day and night the door of Darsie’s study would open and Hannah would appear on the threshold, steaming can in hand. Early morning, eleven o’clock, before lunch, before tea, before dinner, before cocoa, before bed, Hannah and her can never failed to appear. For the first half of the Michaelmas term Darsie might literally have been described as never out of hot water.And now it was the Lent term; eight months had passed by since the date of Ralph’s death, and it surely behoved Darsie to rise above her depression, and to throw herself once more into the full, happy life of the house. She was thankful to do it, thankful to welcome dawnings of the old zest, to feel her feet involuntarily quicken to a dance, to discover herself singing as she moved to and fro. The winter had passed; spring was in the air. It seemed right that it should be in her heart also.As usual in the Lent term, hockey was the one absorbing subject outside “shop,” and Hannah Vernon, now advanced to the lofty position of captain, had special reasons for welcoming her friend’s reviving spirits.One chilly day in February she entered Darsie’s study with a somewhat unusual request.“The girls are getting restive, and think that it’s quite time we had another fancy match. They want me to arrange one on the spot. It’s so blighting to be told that one is so clever, and looked to for inspiration. Every idea forsakes one on the instant. You’ve been hibernating for an age, you ought to have lots stored up!”“I haven’t—I’ve grown hideously dull. What did we have last?”“Thicks against Thins! Never shall I forget it! To play forward padded with three separate cushions, and with shawls wound round your limbs, is the sort of thing one rises tooncein a lifetime, but never twice. I made an adorable fat woman! The Thins had no spirit left in them when they beheld my bulk. I vote that we don’t have anything that involves padding this time. One never knows one’s luck.”“No–o! I think we might hit on something more subtle,” Darsie ruminated, with her eyes on the ceiling. Her reputation of being the Newnham belle remained unchallenged after two separate incursions of Freshers.As she sat before a “burry,” clad in a blue, pinafore-like garment, from which emerged white silk sleeves to match the collar and yoke, her hand absently turning over a pile of notebooks, bound in green and blue and rose, she made a striking contrast to Hannah Vernon in a cinnamon coat and skirt, built for wear by a cheap tailor on the principle of “there or thereabouts.” Even the notebooks reflected the personality of their owners, for the one which Hannah carried was of the shiny black persuasion which seemed to proclaim that, being made for good solid work, it disdained the affectation of beauty. Plain Hannah’s little eyes twinkled affectionately at her old friend. She detached a pencil from a chain which dangled by her side, and said tentatively—“Subtle—yes! Good biz! Let’s have a Subtler by all means.”“I—was thinking—we might have something touching upon future possibilities. I’ve not quite got it yet, but something about brides and spinsters. Future brides—budding brides—beautiful brides.”“Easy enough to have adjectives for the brides. Where do the spinsters come in?”“Oh, one would have to infer—subtly, of course—that theywouldbe spinsters! That would be adjective enough. Embryo spinsters—preparatory spinsters—p–p–probable spinsters. I have it! I have it! ‘Possible Brides against Probable Spinsters!’”“Ha!” ejaculated Hannah, and drew her forefinger slowly down her nose. “Good! Top hole. Amusin’, but—injudicious? Shouldn’t mind one rap myself; lead off the Probables with a cheer. But, I fear me, there’d be brickbats floating in the air. How much would you take in coin of the realm to go up to Vera Ruskin and invite her to play for the spinsters? Personally I’d rather be excused.”“I’d volunteer as a start! Love to do it!”“Ye–es! Just so. Noble of you, no doubt; but unconvincing,” returned Hannah dryly. “No! It’s a fine suggestion in theory, but in practice I’m afraid it won’t work. I don’t want to imperil my popularity for good. Think of something a trifle less searching! Er—er—Slackers against—against what? Slackers against Swotters! How would that do for a change?”Darsie curled her little nose.“Dull! No scope. How would you dress?”“Oh–h! The Swotters might have bandages round their heads, and study notebooks between play. The Slackers would just—could just—”“Just so! ‘Could just’! Too feeble, my dear! It won’t do. What about worth and charm? Might make up something out of that. Worth, solid worth, genuine worth—”“Moral worth!”“That’s it! Moral Worth against Charm, personal charm! That’ll do it. That’ll do it!Moral Worth against Personal Charm. Nobody can be offended at being asked to represent Moral Worth.”“They will, though! The female heart is desperately wicked,” returned Hannah shrewdly. “But if they do it’s their own look-out. We’ll preserve a high and lofty tone, and besurprised! Thanks awfully, old girl. It’s an adorable idea. What price the Moral Worth costume—eh, what?”The Hockey captain went off chuckling, and excitement ran high in the hockey world when the thrilling announcement was posted that afternoon. “For which side shall I be asked to play?” Forwards, Backs, and Goals alike agitated themselves over these questions, and, sad to relate, Hannah proved a true prophet, for while an invitation from the ‘Personal Charm’ captain aroused smiles of delight, the implication of ‘Moral Worth’ was but coldly received.Darsie Garnett herself was conscious of an electric shock of the most unpleasant nature when, but half an hour after the posting of the notice, the “Moral Worths” invited her to join their ranks! With all the determination in the world, she found it impossible to repress a start of surprise, and was acutely conscious of smothered giggles of amusement from those around. She accepted, of course, with protestations of delight, and ten minutes later found balm in the shape of an invitation from the rival team. The “Personal Charms” deplored Darsie’s loss, but considered it a masterpiece of diplomacy on the part of the “Moral Worth” captain to have headed her team with the name of the Newnham Belle. “No one could be snarkey after that!”The two teams held committee meetings on the subject of costumes, which were kept a dead secret until the hour for the match had arrived, when a large body of spectators awaited their arrival on the ground, with expectations pleasantly excited. The “Personal Charms” appeared first, marching in pairs with heads erect, and stamped on each face that brilliant, unalterable, toothy smile affected by actresses of inferior rank. Each head was frizzed and tousled to about twice its natural size, and crowned by an enormous topknot of blue ribbon. White blouses and skirts, blue belts, ties, and hose completed an attractive costume, and as a finishing touch, the handle of the hockey-stick was embellished with a second huge blue bow.From a spectacular point of view the “Personal Charms” were certainly an unusually attractive spectacle, but as regards popularity with the “field,” they fell far behind the rival team. The “Moral Worths” allowed a judicious time to elapse after the appearance of the “Personal Charms,” and then, just as the spectators were beginning to wax impatient, excitement was aroused by the appearance of a white banner, borne proudly aloft in the arms of two brawny Forwards. Printed on the banner were two lines of poetry, which at nearer view proved to be a highly appropriate adaptation—“Be good, sweet maid,And let who will be charming!”Certainly the “Moral Worths” had been at pains to disguise any charm they possessed! Even Darsie herself looked plain with her hair dragged back into a tight little knot, her grey flannel shirt padded into the similitude of stooping shoulders, her skirt turned carefully back to front. With lumping gait and heavy footsteps the team marched round the field, and drew up beside the beaming “Personal Charms,” who despite the blasts of easterly wind through summer muslin blouses, continued to smile, and smile, and smile.Throughout the heated game which followed the “Moral Worths” were distinctly the favourite team; nevertheless, it is the deplorable truth that the “Personal Charms” won at a canter, despite the handicap of their beribboned sticks.When, tired and muddy, Darsie reached her study again, it was to find a postcard from Lavender which a kindly Fresher had laid upon her “burry.” It bore but a few words written in large characters, and plentifully underlined—“Which team were you asked to play for?”What a glow of satisfaction it gave one to be able to reply, truthfully and accurately, with one short, illuminating—“Both!”Among the other joys of the last terms, one shone out pre-eminent in Darsie Garnett’s estimation. She was Prime Minister! It seemed almost too splendid to be true! She, who three years before had made her first appearance at Political as the bashful representative of Bootle-cum-Linacre, to have advanced to this dizzy height of power! To be captain of the Hockey Club paled into insignificance before this crowning honour, but as Hannah was “Speaker,” Darsie was unable to crow as loudly as she would have done if her friend’s place had been below the gangway.Political was held in College Hall on Monday evenings at eight o’clock, and in old-fashioned style the members were divided into three parties, Conservatives, Liberals, and Unionists, whose seats were so arranged as to form three sides of a square.Viewed from afar there was a strong element of humour about this mock Parliament. Prophetic it might be, but it was distinctly droll to hear Honourable Members addressed as “Madam,” while some of the statutes embodied in the Constitution-book were quite deliciously unexpected, the special one, which ran, “Members occupying the front benches are requested not to darn stockings during Political” being a constant source of delight to parents and friends.Darsie was a Liberal. Members of the Opposition accused her openly of Socialism.What! shall we sacrifice our brother man for the sake of the demon gold? she would declaim with waving hands and cheeks aflame, whereat the Liberals would cheer as one girl, and even the Conservatives themselves be moved to admiration.Debates relating to Education, Suffrage, and the House of Lords were held during the winter months, but the crowning excitement followed a daring Bill introduced by the Liberal party for the abolishment of the Unionistsin toto, on the ground that, being neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring, they acted but as a drag on the wheels of progress. The benches were crowded to their fullest capacity on the occasion of this historic debate; even the Dons themselves came in to listen, and the whips flew round the corridors, giving no quarter to the few skulkers discovered at work in their studies, until they also were forced into the breach. As a result, the Unionist party, supported by Moderates on both sides, achieved a brilliant and decisive victory.So much for Political, but the Prime Minister occupied another proud position, for Margaret France’s prophecy had been fulfilled, and Darsie was now captain of the Clough Fire Brigade. Beneath her were two lieutenants, and two companies, each seven girls strong, and the duty of choosing times of the utmost inconvenience and unpreparedness for drill alarms rested entirely at her discretion. When the fire-bell rang, every member of the brigade must leave whatever she happened to be about, and dash pell-mell to the assembling-ground on an upper story. There the force ranked up in order, the captain explained the locality and nature of the supposed conflagration, and each “man” received “his” own instruction—one to shut windows and ventilators, and so diminish draughts, another to uncoil the hose, a third to affix the nozzle, and so on. The work was accomplished, examined by the authorities, and the “men” were back on the top landing, ranked up in their original order, in an incredibly short space of time, when the captain gave a sharp criticism of the performance, followed by a few questions to test the general knowledge of the staff: Where was Mary Murray’s study? What was its aspect? What was the nearest water supply? Etcetera.One excuse for non-attendance, and one only, was allowed to pass muster—a member who chanced to be in a hot bath what time the bell rang forth the alarm might lie at ease and smile at the scurry without, health and the risk of chill being considered before imaginary dangers. If, however, the bath werecold, out she must get, dash into the coat and skirt which, for members of the fire brigade, supplanted the ordinary dressing-gown, and take her place with the rest.Nor—with Darsie Garnett as captain—was it any use to attempt deception, as a tired little Fresher discovered to her cost, when she naughtily turned a warm stream into her cold bath and refused to budge. No sooner were lightning-like instructions rapped out upstairs than down flew the irate captain, rapped at the door, demanded admission, and—in the absence of steam upon the wall—sentenced the cringing truant to a month’s suspension of privileges.Nor was Darsie’s own position free from anxiety, for once in a term it was the prerogative of the brigade to surprise the captain, and woe befall her prestige if, on that occasion, she were found wanting! Coat, skirt, and slippers lay nightly on a chair by her bedside, together with the inevitable pile of notebooks, and she felt a burden off her mind when the alarm had come and gone.Deep, deep down in the recesses of Darsie’s mind there slumbered a fell ambition. If there could be arealfire before her term of office expired! Not a serious one, of course—nothing to imperil the safety of the dear old house, but just sufficient to cause arealalarm, and give the brigade an opportunity of demonstrating its powers! It was almost too aggravating to be borne, to hear one morning that a second-year girl had indulged in a study fire, and had extinguished it of her own accord. Extinguished by private effort, when a captain, two lieutenants, and fourteen “men” were languishing for an opportunity to exhibit their powers! The captain spoke sternly to the second-year girl, and rebuked her.“How,” she demanded, “can youexpecta reliable force, if precious opportunities are to be wasted like this? Curtains ablaze, and the bedclothes singeing. We may wait foryearsfor another such opportunity!”“But where doIcome in?” cried the second-year girl. “I gave ten and sixpence for that quilt. And a jug of water standing close at hand! It was only human nature—”“I hope,” returned the captain of the Fire Brigade icily—“Ihopethat is not the spirit in which you propose to go through life. It’s a poor thing if you cannot sacrifice a ten-and-sixpenny quilt in the interest of the public good.” And she stalked majestically from the room.

Six months passed by—months of grief and pain, and bitter, unavailing regret; of work and play, of long summer days, and wintry fog and cold; of reviving happiness also, since, thank God! joy returns like the spring, bringing back hope and joy to a darkened world. There was a place in Darsie’s heart which would ever be consecrated to the memory of Ralph; butitwas not a foremost place—that most crushing of sorrows had been spared her; and when one not yet twenty-one is living the healthiest and most congenial of lives, and is above all elevated to the proud position of third-year girl, it would be as unnatural as wrong to dwell continually upon a past grief.

At first Darsie felt shocked and ashamed when the old gay mood swept her off her balance, and she found herself dancing, singing, and making merry as of yore, but her two mentors, Mrs Reeves and Hannah Vernon, united to combat this impression.

“To bear a sorrowcheerfullyis the only resignation worthy of the name!” This was the older woman’s verdict; the younger preached the same precept in student vernacular—

“Why grizzle when you want to smile? Pray, what good can you do yourself, or any one else, by going about with a face like a fiddle? Remember Margaret France, and don’t block up the window to shut out the stars! Let them twinkle for all they are worth, the blessed little things. They aretiredof hiding behind the clouds. You have a duty to the living as well as to the dead; remember that!”

Yes, it was true. Looking back over the last eight months Darsie realised what a debt of gratitude she owed to relations and friends alike for their tenderness and forbearance. It had been hard on the home party to have the summer holidays clouded by the presence of a mourner who shuddered at the sight of water, collapsed into tears at unexpected moments, and lived in a condition of super-sensitiveness, ready as it seemed to be hurt by the most innocent word; yet how gentle and patient they had been, every single one of them, down to Tim himself! Mother and father, of course, had been angels; one took it for granted that they would be, but who could have believed in such consideration from the boys and girls. Dear old Clemence! What a comfort she had been! Darsie had often been inclined to think that, for sheer rest and soothing, no one could compete with a plump, practical, matter-of-fact sister, who had no thought for “ifs” or “whys,” but was full of care to ensure your present physical well-being. Then, if for a moment Clemence seemed to fall short, there was Lavender, ready to pour out floods of sympathy, to mingle her tears with yours, and listen to endless reminiscences. As for the boys, Harry and Russell forbore to tease, affected blindness to reddened eyes, and said, “Buck up, old girl!” with real heartiness of feeling, while Tim was assiduous in the offer of sticky sweets.

The Vernons, lucky creatures! went offen masseto Switzerland for July and August. Darsie morbidly told herself that they were anxious to avoid the depression of her own presence during the chief holiday of the year. She was, as she expressed it, “too proud to say so,” but the inward soreness made her so cold and abrupt in manner that her friends had good cause to reverse the accusation.

With regard to Dan Vernon in especial there was a soreness at Darsie’s heart. During the first days after the tragic happening Dan had been a tower of strength, always at hand to comfort, support, and take every difficulty upon his own shoulders. To outward appearance Darsie had appeared oblivious of his presence, but subconsciously she had leaned on his strength with a profound relief. It was hard to have Dan withdraw into his shell just as she was beginning to long for his presence; but hehadwithdrawn, and like most naturally shy and reticent people, withdrawn farther than ever, as if in reaction from his unusual demonstration.

In hall itself the absence of Margaret France made a big blank. Having passed her tripos with a first class, Margaret had placidly returned home to help her mother in the house, and take part in an ordinary social life. “What a waste!” cried her Newnham acquaintances, but Margaret’s friends, remembering her own words on the subject, believed that she had chosen the better part.

With October came the return to Newnham, and for the first few weeks an access of grief and depression. It was hard to fall into the old life shorn of its greatest interest, to be reminded of Ralph at every turn, to see his friends pass by, laughing and gay, while his place was blank.

Then it was that Darsie discovered the real tenderness of heart which lies beneath the somewhat callous exterior of the college girl. Freshers, second-year girls, even austere thirds themselves, combined to surround her with an atmosphere of kindness and consideration. Nowordof sympathy was ever spoken, but almost every hour of the day brought with it some fresh deed of comfort and cheer. Offerings of flowers, tendered by a friend, or laid anonymously on “burry” or coffin; bags of fruit and cake, invitations galore, surprise visits to her own study, each in turn bringing a gleam of brightness to the day. Plain Hannah, too, dear old plain Hannah! In the midst of her grief Darsie was filled with amusement at Hannah’s unique fashion of showing her sympathy. Hot water evidently commended itself to her mind as the ideal medium, for at a dozen hours of the day and night the door of Darsie’s study would open and Hannah would appear on the threshold, steaming can in hand. Early morning, eleven o’clock, before lunch, before tea, before dinner, before cocoa, before bed, Hannah and her can never failed to appear. For the first half of the Michaelmas term Darsie might literally have been described as never out of hot water.

And now it was the Lent term; eight months had passed by since the date of Ralph’s death, and it surely behoved Darsie to rise above her depression, and to throw herself once more into the full, happy life of the house. She was thankful to do it, thankful to welcome dawnings of the old zest, to feel her feet involuntarily quicken to a dance, to discover herself singing as she moved to and fro. The winter had passed; spring was in the air. It seemed right that it should be in her heart also.

As usual in the Lent term, hockey was the one absorbing subject outside “shop,” and Hannah Vernon, now advanced to the lofty position of captain, had special reasons for welcoming her friend’s reviving spirits.

One chilly day in February she entered Darsie’s study with a somewhat unusual request.

“The girls are getting restive, and think that it’s quite time we had another fancy match. They want me to arrange one on the spot. It’s so blighting to be told that one is so clever, and looked to for inspiration. Every idea forsakes one on the instant. You’ve been hibernating for an age, you ought to have lots stored up!”

“I haven’t—I’ve grown hideously dull. What did we have last?”

“Thicks against Thins! Never shall I forget it! To play forward padded with three separate cushions, and with shawls wound round your limbs, is the sort of thing one rises tooncein a lifetime, but never twice. I made an adorable fat woman! The Thins had no spirit left in them when they beheld my bulk. I vote that we don’t have anything that involves padding this time. One never knows one’s luck.”

“No–o! I think we might hit on something more subtle,” Darsie ruminated, with her eyes on the ceiling. Her reputation of being the Newnham belle remained unchallenged after two separate incursions of Freshers.

As she sat before a “burry,” clad in a blue, pinafore-like garment, from which emerged white silk sleeves to match the collar and yoke, her hand absently turning over a pile of notebooks, bound in green and blue and rose, she made a striking contrast to Hannah Vernon in a cinnamon coat and skirt, built for wear by a cheap tailor on the principle of “there or thereabouts.” Even the notebooks reflected the personality of their owners, for the one which Hannah carried was of the shiny black persuasion which seemed to proclaim that, being made for good solid work, it disdained the affectation of beauty. Plain Hannah’s little eyes twinkled affectionately at her old friend. She detached a pencil from a chain which dangled by her side, and said tentatively—

“Subtle—yes! Good biz! Let’s have a Subtler by all means.”

“I—was thinking—we might have something touching upon future possibilities. I’ve not quite got it yet, but something about brides and spinsters. Future brides—budding brides—beautiful brides.”

“Easy enough to have adjectives for the brides. Where do the spinsters come in?”

“Oh, one would have to infer—subtly, of course—that theywouldbe spinsters! That would be adjective enough. Embryo spinsters—preparatory spinsters—p–p–probable spinsters. I have it! I have it! ‘Possible Brides against Probable Spinsters!’”

“Ha!” ejaculated Hannah, and drew her forefinger slowly down her nose. “Good! Top hole. Amusin’, but—injudicious? Shouldn’t mind one rap myself; lead off the Probables with a cheer. But, I fear me, there’d be brickbats floating in the air. How much would you take in coin of the realm to go up to Vera Ruskin and invite her to play for the spinsters? Personally I’d rather be excused.”

“I’d volunteer as a start! Love to do it!”

“Ye–es! Just so. Noble of you, no doubt; but unconvincing,” returned Hannah dryly. “No! It’s a fine suggestion in theory, but in practice I’m afraid it won’t work. I don’t want to imperil my popularity for good. Think of something a trifle less searching! Er—er—Slackers against—against what? Slackers against Swotters! How would that do for a change?”

Darsie curled her little nose.

“Dull! No scope. How would you dress?”

“Oh–h! The Swotters might have bandages round their heads, and study notebooks between play. The Slackers would just—could just—”

“Just so! ‘Could just’! Too feeble, my dear! It won’t do. What about worth and charm? Might make up something out of that. Worth, solid worth, genuine worth—”

“Moral worth!”

“That’s it! Moral Worth against Charm, personal charm! That’ll do it. That’ll do it!Moral Worth against Personal Charm. Nobody can be offended at being asked to represent Moral Worth.”

“They will, though! The female heart is desperately wicked,” returned Hannah shrewdly. “But if they do it’s their own look-out. We’ll preserve a high and lofty tone, and besurprised! Thanks awfully, old girl. It’s an adorable idea. What price the Moral Worth costume—eh, what?”

The Hockey captain went off chuckling, and excitement ran high in the hockey world when the thrilling announcement was posted that afternoon. “For which side shall I be asked to play?” Forwards, Backs, and Goals alike agitated themselves over these questions, and, sad to relate, Hannah proved a true prophet, for while an invitation from the ‘Personal Charm’ captain aroused smiles of delight, the implication of ‘Moral Worth’ was but coldly received.

Darsie Garnett herself was conscious of an electric shock of the most unpleasant nature when, but half an hour after the posting of the notice, the “Moral Worths” invited her to join their ranks! With all the determination in the world, she found it impossible to repress a start of surprise, and was acutely conscious of smothered giggles of amusement from those around. She accepted, of course, with protestations of delight, and ten minutes later found balm in the shape of an invitation from the rival team. The “Personal Charms” deplored Darsie’s loss, but considered it a masterpiece of diplomacy on the part of the “Moral Worth” captain to have headed her team with the name of the Newnham Belle. “No one could be snarkey after that!”

The two teams held committee meetings on the subject of costumes, which were kept a dead secret until the hour for the match had arrived, when a large body of spectators awaited their arrival on the ground, with expectations pleasantly excited. The “Personal Charms” appeared first, marching in pairs with heads erect, and stamped on each face that brilliant, unalterable, toothy smile affected by actresses of inferior rank. Each head was frizzed and tousled to about twice its natural size, and crowned by an enormous topknot of blue ribbon. White blouses and skirts, blue belts, ties, and hose completed an attractive costume, and as a finishing touch, the handle of the hockey-stick was embellished with a second huge blue bow.

From a spectacular point of view the “Personal Charms” were certainly an unusually attractive spectacle, but as regards popularity with the “field,” they fell far behind the rival team. The “Moral Worths” allowed a judicious time to elapse after the appearance of the “Personal Charms,” and then, just as the spectators were beginning to wax impatient, excitement was aroused by the appearance of a white banner, borne proudly aloft in the arms of two brawny Forwards. Printed on the banner were two lines of poetry, which at nearer view proved to be a highly appropriate adaptation—

“Be good, sweet maid,And let who will be charming!”

“Be good, sweet maid,And let who will be charming!”

Certainly the “Moral Worths” had been at pains to disguise any charm they possessed! Even Darsie herself looked plain with her hair dragged back into a tight little knot, her grey flannel shirt padded into the similitude of stooping shoulders, her skirt turned carefully back to front. With lumping gait and heavy footsteps the team marched round the field, and drew up beside the beaming “Personal Charms,” who despite the blasts of easterly wind through summer muslin blouses, continued to smile, and smile, and smile.

Throughout the heated game which followed the “Moral Worths” were distinctly the favourite team; nevertheless, it is the deplorable truth that the “Personal Charms” won at a canter, despite the handicap of their beribboned sticks.

When, tired and muddy, Darsie reached her study again, it was to find a postcard from Lavender which a kindly Fresher had laid upon her “burry.” It bore but a few words written in large characters, and plentifully underlined—

“Which team were you asked to play for?”

What a glow of satisfaction it gave one to be able to reply, truthfully and accurately, with one short, illuminating—“Both!”

Among the other joys of the last terms, one shone out pre-eminent in Darsie Garnett’s estimation. She was Prime Minister! It seemed almost too splendid to be true! She, who three years before had made her first appearance at Political as the bashful representative of Bootle-cum-Linacre, to have advanced to this dizzy height of power! To be captain of the Hockey Club paled into insignificance before this crowning honour, but as Hannah was “Speaker,” Darsie was unable to crow as loudly as she would have done if her friend’s place had been below the gangway.

Political was held in College Hall on Monday evenings at eight o’clock, and in old-fashioned style the members were divided into three parties, Conservatives, Liberals, and Unionists, whose seats were so arranged as to form three sides of a square.

Viewed from afar there was a strong element of humour about this mock Parliament. Prophetic it might be, but it was distinctly droll to hear Honourable Members addressed as “Madam,” while some of the statutes embodied in the Constitution-book were quite deliciously unexpected, the special one, which ran, “Members occupying the front benches are requested not to darn stockings during Political” being a constant source of delight to parents and friends.

Darsie was a Liberal. Members of the Opposition accused her openly of Socialism.What! shall we sacrifice our brother man for the sake of the demon gold? she would declaim with waving hands and cheeks aflame, whereat the Liberals would cheer as one girl, and even the Conservatives themselves be moved to admiration.

Debates relating to Education, Suffrage, and the House of Lords were held during the winter months, but the crowning excitement followed a daring Bill introduced by the Liberal party for the abolishment of the Unionistsin toto, on the ground that, being neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring, they acted but as a drag on the wheels of progress. The benches were crowded to their fullest capacity on the occasion of this historic debate; even the Dons themselves came in to listen, and the whips flew round the corridors, giving no quarter to the few skulkers discovered at work in their studies, until they also were forced into the breach. As a result, the Unionist party, supported by Moderates on both sides, achieved a brilliant and decisive victory.

So much for Political, but the Prime Minister occupied another proud position, for Margaret France’s prophecy had been fulfilled, and Darsie was now captain of the Clough Fire Brigade. Beneath her were two lieutenants, and two companies, each seven girls strong, and the duty of choosing times of the utmost inconvenience and unpreparedness for drill alarms rested entirely at her discretion. When the fire-bell rang, every member of the brigade must leave whatever she happened to be about, and dash pell-mell to the assembling-ground on an upper story. There the force ranked up in order, the captain explained the locality and nature of the supposed conflagration, and each “man” received “his” own instruction—one to shut windows and ventilators, and so diminish draughts, another to uncoil the hose, a third to affix the nozzle, and so on. The work was accomplished, examined by the authorities, and the “men” were back on the top landing, ranked up in their original order, in an incredibly short space of time, when the captain gave a sharp criticism of the performance, followed by a few questions to test the general knowledge of the staff: Where was Mary Murray’s study? What was its aspect? What was the nearest water supply? Etcetera.

One excuse for non-attendance, and one only, was allowed to pass muster—a member who chanced to be in a hot bath what time the bell rang forth the alarm might lie at ease and smile at the scurry without, health and the risk of chill being considered before imaginary dangers. If, however, the bath werecold, out she must get, dash into the coat and skirt which, for members of the fire brigade, supplanted the ordinary dressing-gown, and take her place with the rest.

Nor—with Darsie Garnett as captain—was it any use to attempt deception, as a tired little Fresher discovered to her cost, when she naughtily turned a warm stream into her cold bath and refused to budge. No sooner were lightning-like instructions rapped out upstairs than down flew the irate captain, rapped at the door, demanded admission, and—in the absence of steam upon the wall—sentenced the cringing truant to a month’s suspension of privileges.

Nor was Darsie’s own position free from anxiety, for once in a term it was the prerogative of the brigade to surprise the captain, and woe befall her prestige if, on that occasion, she were found wanting! Coat, skirt, and slippers lay nightly on a chair by her bedside, together with the inevitable pile of notebooks, and she felt a burden off her mind when the alarm had come and gone.

Deep, deep down in the recesses of Darsie’s mind there slumbered a fell ambition. If there could be arealfire before her term of office expired! Not a serious one, of course—nothing to imperil the safety of the dear old house, but just sufficient to cause arealalarm, and give the brigade an opportunity of demonstrating its powers! It was almost too aggravating to be borne, to hear one morning that a second-year girl had indulged in a study fire, and had extinguished it of her own accord. Extinguished by private effort, when a captain, two lieutenants, and fourteen “men” were languishing for an opportunity to exhibit their powers! The captain spoke sternly to the second-year girl, and rebuked her.

“How,” she demanded, “can youexpecta reliable force, if precious opportunities are to be wasted like this? Curtains ablaze, and the bedclothes singeing. We may wait foryearsfor another such opportunity!”

“But where doIcome in?” cried the second-year girl. “I gave ten and sixpence for that quilt. And a jug of water standing close at hand! It was only human nature—”

“I hope,” returned the captain of the Fire Brigade icily—“Ihopethat is not the spirit in which you propose to go through life. It’s a poor thing if you cannot sacrifice a ten-and-sixpenny quilt in the interest of the public good.” And she stalked majestically from the room.

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