Fred did not have the satisfaction of seeing his eleven beat Cambridge, but there had not been such a close finish in a 'Varsity match for nearly twenty years, and Nina said the excitement was really painful. "I was quite glad when it was over," she wrote to me. "Mother never spoke for quite half-an-hour, and Mr. Bradfield nearly ruined his hat by constantly taking it off and putting it on again. I warned him that he was spoiling it, but he said that such a finish was worth a hat. And we lost in the end; a big Cambridge man hit a four and father said awful things at the top of his voice. Somehow or other that seemed to relieve everybody. There was only one other Cambridge man to come in, and if the big man had been bowled instead of hitting a four it would have been splendid. We waited for Fred afterwards and saw him for a minute. He said that the big man had been the best cricketer at Cambridge for four years, and now that he was going down Oxford ought really to win next year. Fred was very disappointed, but he told us that this man was a thoroughly good sort, which annoyed me because I felt as if he must be perfectly horrid."
If my people could be excited at a cricket match I knew that I had missed something worth seeing, but when I tried to talk about the 'Varsity match to the only member of my German family who spoke English, she thought I was explaining lawn tennis to her. I felt very sad indeed, and had to go for a long bicycle ride to shake off a vigorous attack of the blues.
I suppose those months in Germany must have been useful to me, yet in spite of a great amount of kindness I was very glad when they were over. I learned a great deal, I honestly believe, for I often went to a restaurant and talked politics with three professors, and that is no mean feat even if you do it in your own language. For some reason which I have never been able to understand, these men were very pleased with me; possibly they liked me because I never agreed with anything they said. I asked them to come and see us if they were ever in England, an invitation given out of joy in wishing them good-bye. The prospect of leaving the German language made me very liberal in the way of invitations to those who spoke it, and if all the people whom I asked had happened to come at the same time, they would have caused a considerable sensation in our small household. There were, however, dangers in plunging me into foreign families which my father did not discover; for I like everybody so much, when I am leaving them, that I feel certain that they are the nicest people in the world. I had not been at home for a day before I found out that something very like a mystery had attached itself to The Bradder, so I went to my mother and asked her what had happened.
"I meant to tell you," she answered. "My dear, he wants to marry Nina, we were quite astonished." I did not think Nina would have cared to hear that. "He was here for a fortnight, but we never suspected anything, Nina is so very young. It only happened a week ago."
"Are they engaged?"
"No, we thought it best that there should be no engagement for at least a year. I hope we decided right, for I must have time to think about Nina being the wife of a don. I think they are very much in love with one another."
"Nina is not so very young."
"Very young to be the wife of a don," my mother replied, and I believe that she thought such a lady, to be suitable, ought to have numbered at least forty years.
"The Bradder would have to go out of college if he married," I said; "we shan't get such another man in a hurry," but my mother did not think this as important as I did.
When I talked to Nina about this new state of things she was very disappointed to find that I was not surprised. She seemed to think that I was depriving her of something due to her, but her letters had made me think that something startling was going to happen, and I was prepared for almost anything.
"Our engagement is not to be announced for a year," Nina said.
"I thought there wasn't any engagement," I answered.
"There isn't, until it is announced, but we have quite made up our minds," and then she took my arm and I listened to a glorification of The Bradder. "He is very fond of you," it finished up, and that is all I can remember of it.
"I am glad of that, as he is my tutor and is going to be my brother-in-law," I said.
"You don't seem to see how happy I am," Nina answered. "I wanted to telegraph to you at once."
"I am most tremendously glad you are happy. The Bradder's a splendid man," I said, and added, "I should like to tell Fred directly he comes next week."
"Yes, tell him," she replied, "but he won't mind; perhaps I oughtn't to say that, but I know that you think he will. Fred's a dear, he's just like another brother."
"For pity's sake don't say that to him," I exclaimed.
"Of course I shan't say anything to him, but he will understand all right," and I gathered that if he could not understand it was my duty to make him, which, considering how peculiarly he had behaved to Jack, I did not expect to be an easy matter. But there was a difference between Fred and Nina, for he seemed to fall out of love as he grew older, while she fell in. I don't know enough about such things to say whether he was ever actually in the state called "in love," but I do know that he was inclined to regard Nina with a jealous eye, and that I suffered many unpleasant moments in consequence. So I drove down to the station to meet him and intended to break the news to him gently, but we had such a lot of other things to talk about that I had not mentioned Nina, except to say that she was well, when we met her in the drive. Fred got out of the dog-cart to speak to her, and I, having totally neglected my mission, was wise enough to disappear for an hour.
In that time he must have found out what had happened, for when we were left alone in the smoking-room after dinner and I was wondering whether I had better begin the gentle process, which I was sure I should muddle hopelessly, he said, "It will take me some time to get used to the idea of Nina marrying a don."
"I meant to tell you as we drove down, but I forgot clean all about it," I answered.
"Bradfield's a good sort, isn't he? It would be a most vile shame if he isn't."
"He's a splendid chap."
"I saw him with Nina at Lord's, and I got a kind of idea into my head then. He looks all right anyhow."
"He is all right."
Fred sat and smoked for ages without saying a word, which made me uneasy.
"Don't you feel horribly old?" he said to me at last. "This is a kind of end to all the good time we have had here. I mean that everything will be different; I can't imagine Nina being married."
"She won't be for ages, and when she is it will be just the same," I answered. "The Bradder's the best sort in the world, except you. Let's go to bed, we have to shoot to-morrow."
I stayed in Fred's room, however, for a long time, and I expect some of the things we said would have amused those who can jump without regret from one state of things to another. But all the same this talk did us good, for we finished off the subject of Nina's engagement at one sitting, and Fred pleased me by saying that he must have been a fool to hate Jack Ward so violently. That told me all I wanted to know, and though he was not in very good spirits for a day or two he soon recovered, and I believe that Nina and he enjoyed themselves more than they ever had since they began to wonder whether they were grown up or not.
Before going back to Oxford Fred and I went to stay with Mr. Sandyman, our old house-master at Cliborough. I had been to Cliborough several times since I left school, but my first visits made me feel almost sad. The glory of being a blue, and I could not help feeling it, was not enough compensation for the way in which I seemed to have entirely dropped out of things. I loved Cliborough, and when you are fond of places or people it is horrid to see that they can get on quite well without you. You may not be forgotten, but you must necessarily cease to count for much, and it was not until I went back after having left for three years that I was quite happy there. Our feelings—for Fred felt as I did—may have been wrong, but no one would have them who was not fond of their school and who did not in some way or other wish to be worthy of it. Sandy was as nice to us as possible, and it was quite funny to see what a hero Fred was thought to be by some of the fellows in our house. I think I was regarded as a hero more or less decayed, but Fred nearly reinstated me by saying that I was the fastest bowler he had ever played against, and by forgetting to add further details.
We went back to Oxford from Cliborough, and during my last year I saw more of Fred than ever, for in nearly every college men in their fourth year have to go into lodgings, and Jack and I took rooms in the same house in the High as Fred and Henderson. Fred was President of Vincent's, Henderson was to be captain of the 'Varsity XI., and Jack was immediately put into one of the trial Eights and finally, rowed six in the winning boat. The shadow of approaching examinations was over all of us except Henderson, who was not reading for Honours, and had nothing but two papers on political economy between him and a degree. But I should not think any four men ever got on together better than we did, and the mere sight of Jack was enough to make any one feel cheerful. He had fairly and squarely found himself at last, and whether he was sitting in front of piles of books or getting up and going to bed at strange times because he was in training, he was an endless delight to all of us. His methods of reading history made Fred laugh so much that I thought he might possibly abandon them, but nothing would persuade him that his road to a degree was not the safest he could take. On one subject Jack only opened his heart to me. He had set his mind on getting into the 'Varsity Eight, and his keenness was terrific. I assured him time after time that he must have a splendid chance of his blue, but I don't believe that the mere fact of getting his blue meant very much to him. He wanted to show his people and his college that he could really do something.
"If I could only get into the 'Varsity boat I should have done something," he said to me, "because I'm not a natural oar. I have to learn it all, and it's frightfully hard work remembering all you're told. Some of you men think a fellow who rows is just a machine, but it's not so easy to become a good machine."
To Fred and Henderson he hardly ever mentioned the river, but they knew how desperately keen he was, and when he was tried in the 'Varsity boat at four, during the beginning of the Lent Term, we all hoped most vigorously that he would keep his place. For nearly a fortnight the same crew rowed every day, but neither the President nor the Secretary had yet taken their places, and I was in a state of terror that Jack would have to go when they went into the boat. The Secretary, however, took his place and Jack remained where he was, and a few days afterwards the President went in at seven, seven went to three, and one unfortunate man disappeared. Then we openly rejoiced, and at the beginning of Lent Jack was told to go into training. We had a mild celebration on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, and Bunny Langham, who had been President of the Union and had developed a habit of making very long speeches, for which he apologized by saying that he believed in heredity, came round and helped to make a noise. Whenever he got the ghost of an opportunity he began to congratulate Jack, and he required a very great deal of suppressing.
For a whole week Jack rowed in the boat, and then he had a sudden attack of influenza. Somehow or other I had never thought it possible that he could be ill, and I have never seen any one hurry up so much to get well again. In ten days he was nearly all right, but when he was put back into the boat he said he felt miserably weak, and I think he went to work to prepare himself for a disappointment. At any rate when it came Jack took his luck like a hero, for hardly anything more crushing could have happened to him just then. I must say that the President was as kind about it as any man could be; he knew what it meant to Jack, and his sympathy was very real. But Jack himself surprised all of us, he seemed to throw the whole thing behind him, and I never heard him complain of anything except his wretched illness.
"I shall be fit next term," he said, "and if we get our boat near the head of the river again it won't be so bad after all."
My last year in rooms with Fred, Jack and Henderson was the best of four good years at Oxford. Everything, except Jack's luck, was so exactly right, and I was most delightfully happy. The college was doing as well as we could want, and most of the dons, led I am certain by The Bradder, behaved splendidly. The Freshers' Wine became an organized institution and ceased to be a sort of "hole and corner" entertainment, at which every one made a most horrible noise because they ought not to have made any at all. In my spare time, and I had not much, I caught myself regretting that I had ever been stupid enough to carry on long battles with Mr. Edwardes, it seemed to me that I might have been more peaceful, but the fact remains that he and I were not made for each other.
Until the time began to grow near for me to go down from Oxford I never felt as strong an affection for the 'Varsity as I had for Cliborough. I think the reason was that Oxford is such a huge place, that it took me some time to realize how splendid it is. I missed the feeling of unity which there was at Cliborough, and I supplied my loss by going furiously to work in trying to make the college less slack. Certainly St. Cuthbert's, owing more to Jack's efforts than mine, had changed very much, but in setting our minds absolutely on one thing for two years we had missed a lot, even if we had been successful in what we wanted to do. Our last year, however, made up for everything, and when we came back for the summer term examinations had lost their horrors, and the only thing I regretted was that in eight short weeks my time at Oxford would be over.
The Bradder, who watched over me like a prospective brother-in-law, encouraged me to think that I should not do very badly in the "schools," but I think he was rather agitated when Henderson chose me to play for the 'Varsity against the Gentlemen of England, and in a very bad light I got more wickets than I ever expected to get in a first-class match. That performance gave me a good start in the 'Varsity XI., and The Bradder was desperately afraid that I should stop reading altogether. But Fred and Jack were both hard at work, and except on one evening a week Henderson had to go into a separate room when he wanted to entertain his numerous friends. Jack rowed in our Eight, and they went up to fourth. They would have been second if they had been lucky, but as it was they intended to go to Henley.
I think that I was fortunate in having to struggle for my blue during my last term, for this gave me so much to think about that I escaped some of the feelings which Fred had about leaving Oxford. I felt that I was by no means ready to go, but I was also desperately eager to get into the XI., and that I knew would not be decided until the term was over. One leaves Oxford slowly, if I may express it so; you have to come back for avivâ voce, and then for your degree; there is no abrupt break as there is at school, and the fact that I was playing for the 'Varsity after the term was over, helped me more than it did Fred, who had played in the XI. for three years. Nearly every Sunday afternoon during May and June, Fred and I quite solemnly went out for a walk together, and we nearly always found ourselves by the river. I believe this was because we were never tired of looking at Corpus and Merton from the Christchurch meadows. There is no view so keenly rooted in my memory as this, nor one which I am so glad to look upon again. I don't care in the least whether it is the most beautiful in Oxford or not, for it means something to me, and you can ask no more from a view than that. I can never look at it without remembering many things which were all of them very pleasant, and Oxford is the place to build up memories.
The term slipped by far too fast, and we found ourselves plunged into the schools. For once in my life I should have been glad not to see the sun, but the week during which we had to put on paper the results of over two years' work was most cruelly hot, and all of us were glad when it was over. It is no use guessing how you have done in honour schools, for those who think they have got a first are too often surprised when the lists come out, and unless you are going to guess something nice, it is much better to leave it alone altogether. With one consent Fred, Jack and I refused to talk about our chances, and set out to enjoy the few days which remained to us without being harrowed by doubts and fears. I did, however, have secret dips into a political economy book, for I thought if the examiners shared my opinion they would wonder how little of this subject I knew. I couldn't keep away from the wretched thing, try as I would, and was always reading "Adam Smith" and "Walker" at odd moments. I think my nerves must have been upset.
Directly after the schools were over, Jack and I had to go to a dinner which Murray got up. I was ready to go to anything, but I had no idea that this was a sort of entertainment organized in honour of us until I got to it. The Bradder took the chair, and I am sure that I tried to feel grateful to Murray, but if you don't care much about being set on a small pedestal it is very hard to pretend that you do. I did, however, enjoy that dinner because every one was so very cheerful, and I made a speech which lasted—counting the applause—nearly ten minutes. The Bradder spoke more about Jack than me, which was very thoughtful of him, and Jack told me afterwards that this evening almost made up for having missed his blue. The things which were said about him took him most completely by surprise, and the fact that he was really appreciated and that the college owed something to him, sent him off to Henley a happier man than he had ever been in his life.
My place in the eleven was in doubt until the last game before the 'Varsity match, and then I bowled one of the best batsmen in England—I must add off his pads—and got three men caught in the slips. Henderson gave me my blue in the pavilion at Lord's and simply banged me on the back as he did it, a very unorthodox and pleasant ending to what had been a great anxiety. Fred, too, was most uproariously delighted, and I should think that some of the people, who seem to think that the pavilion at Lord's is a kind of cathedral, must have decided that the Oxford XI. had suddenly gone mad. But I disentangled myself after a time from men who wanted to congratulate me, and started sending telegrams. I was guilty at that moment of trying to think of people to whom I could telegraph with decency, but I had wanted to play against Cambridge very much. We had been beaten in all the last three matches, and as Fred had never really played well at Lord's, I think some men were inclined to say that he was not anything like as good a cricketer as he was supposed to be. But in this match he settled that question once and for ever. We went in first and started terribly, Henderson was caught at the wicket, and another man was bowled before we had made a run. I could not have smiled at the best joke in the world. Then Fred and a left-hander got well set, and before we had finished our total was over 350. Fred never gave a chance until he had made well over a hundred, and though some men told me that he was out l.b.w. at least four times, there are always plenty of people who think that they know more than the umpires.
The Cambridge men failed in the first innings, and I only bowled six overs, which annoyed my mother and Nina, because they said that I was there to bowl. But after Cambridge went in again they played an uphill game most splendidly, and my people had plenty of opportunity to see me bowl. I got four men out, and Henderson was very pleased with me, but I was not a first-class bowler, though I tried hard to look like one. We had nearly two hundred runs to win, and I confess that I was afraid that I might have to go in when there were two or three runs still wanted. In the first innings my efforts as a batsman had been brief and glorious, I had received three balls, two of which I had hit to the boundary and the third I meant to go to the same place, only somebody caught it. I hoped sincerely that my part in the 'Varsity match was over, but whenever a wicket fell I had a very bad moment. I did not, however, have to make that long journey from the pavilion to the wickets again, for Henderson, who kept himself back in the second innings, played beautifully, and we won with some wickets in hand. I don't want to forget the wholesome thrill which I had when Henderson made the winning stroke, and I am quite certain that I never shall forget it.
My father and mother, too, were pleased, and I was very glad to see their delight, for I thought that I might have added more to their anxiety than to their pleasure during the last four years.
In July both Fred and Jack came to stay with me, because in a few weeks I had to start on one of my journeys in search of a language which I did not know. I wanted Jack to be with us when the History List came out, in case anything disastrous should happen. But Jack had filled himself so full of facts that when the telegram from the Clerk of the Schools came he was delighted to find that he had got a third, and he declared that I must be a genius to have got a second, but that was only his way of expressing his surprise. The Greats' List was a triumph for St. Cuthbert's, Murray and five other men getting firsts. Fred got a second, and considering that he had been playing footer and cricket for the 'Varsity so much, everybody thought that he had done most thoroughly well. Cliborough was so satisfied with him that he was offered a mastership at once, which was a stroke of luck both for Fred and the school.
Nothing remained for us to do except to take our degrees, and we arranged with Henderson that we should go back together once more and take them at the same time. I think that we clung to that expedition as our last remaining link with the 'Varsity. But there is a link, which those who learn to love Oxford, as Fred, Jack and I loved her, cannot break; it is the debt which we owe to her, for we shall never be able to repay it in full.
THE END
The Spectator:—"The book is extremely good reading from end to end; it abounds in entertaining and exciting episodes, is wholly void of sentimentality, and enforces in the most unmistakable and wholesome way the duty of straight and manly conduct."
The Standard:—"Boys will be delighted with this faithful record of public school life. It shows up without the smallest priggishness, or the least hint of lecturing or sermonising, that side of the English public school of which we are so proud—the fine, broad standard of a gentleman that the well-bred boy sets up for himself."
The Daily Telegraph:—"Godfrey Marten, Schoolboy, may rank with the very small number of books which treat successfully of boy-life.... It is a bright, stirring story, and should find a hearty welcome."
Morning Post:—"Godfrey Martenwill rejoice the heart of many a lad. Mr. Turley knows boys and writes lovingly of them. His story is vivacious, the heroes are real live ones, the style is racy and true to reality in its descriptions of masters, boys and sports, and even in its use of school slang, the book throughout is clean, wholesome and manly."
The Times:—"Returning to Mr. Turley's book after a year's interval we are more than ever taken by its quiet, unassuming merits and a certain insidious charm. Thinking over other school books we can recall nothing nearer to boy nature than this, nor any that has greater interest as a story."
The Guardian:—"The book is a wholesome one; the boys are gentlemen, the games are described with spirit, and some of the difficulties of public school life are treated in a healthy and helpful way. Moreover it is written for boys rather than about them, and the author succeeds in looking at things from a boy's point of view."
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21, Bedford Street, W.C.