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diff --git a/4989-h/4989-h.htm b/4989-h/4989-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c54cc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/4989-h/4989-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13684 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Sweet Girl Graduate,by Mrs. L. T. Meade</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Sweet Girl Graduate, by Mrs. L. T. Meade</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Sweet Girl Graduate</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mrs. L. T. Meade</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 7, 2002 [eBook #4989]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 4, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jim Weiler, xooqi.com</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SWEET GIRL GRADUATE ***</div> + +<h1>A Sweet Girl Graduate</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Mrs. L. T. Meade</h2> + +<h3>1891</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE DELIGHTS OF BEING A FRESHER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. AN UNWILLING “AT HOME”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. AN EAVESDROPPER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. WHY PRISCILLA PEEL WENT TO ST. BENET’S</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. COLLEGE LIFE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. IN MISS OLIPHANT’S ROOM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. THE KINDEST AND MOST COMFORTING WAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. A NEW LIFE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. ST. HILDA’S CHAPEL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. CONSPIRATORS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. A GOOD THING TO BE YOUNG</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. CAUGHT IN A TRAP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. IN THE ELLIOT-SMITH’S DRAWING-ROOM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. POLLY SINGLETON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. PRETTY LITTLE ROSALIND</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. SEALSKIN AND PINK CORAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. A BLACK SELF AND A WHITE SELF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. IN MISS ECCLESTON’S SITTING-ROOM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. A PAINTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. “I DETEST IT”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. A BLACK SATIN JACKET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. THE FASHION OF THE DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. TWO EXTREMES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. A MYSTERIOUS EPISODE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. IN THE ANTE-CHAPEL OF ST. HILDA’S</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. BEAUTIFUL ANNABEL LEE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. “COME AND KILL THE BOGIE”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX. AT THE ELLIOT-SMITHS PARTY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX. “IF I HAD KNOWN YOU SOONER”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI. A MESSAGE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII. “THE PRINCESS”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CONCLUSION</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD</h2> + +<p> +Priscilla’s trunk was neatly packed. It was a new trunk and had a nice +canvas covering over it. The canvas was bound with red braid, and +Priscilla’s initials were worked on the top in large plain letters. Her +initials were P. P. P., and they stood for Priscilla Penywern Peel. The trunk +was corded and strapped and put away, and Priscilla stood by her aunt’s +side in the little parlor of Penywern Cottage. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think I’ve told you everything,” said the aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, Aunt Raby, I sha’n’t forget. I’m to write +once a week, and I’m to try not to be nervous. I don’t suppose I +shall be— I don’t see why I should. Girls aren’t nervous +nowadays, are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, my dear. It seems to me that if they aren’t +they ought to be. I can understand girls doing hard things if they must. I can +understand any one doing anything that has to be done, but as to not being +nervous— well— there! Sit down, Prissie, child, and take your +tea.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was tall and slight. Her figure was younger than her years, which +were nearly nineteen, but her face was older. It was an almost careworn face, +thoughtful, grave, with anxious lines already deepening the seriousness of the +too serious mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla cut some bread and butter and poured out some tea for her aunt and +for herself. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Rachel Peel was not the least like her niece. She was short and rather +dumpy. She had a sensible, downright sort of face, and she took life with a +gravity which would have oppressed a less earnest spirit than +Priscilla’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m tired,” she said, when the meal was over. “I +suppose I’ve done a great deal more than I thought I had all day. I think +I’ll go to bed early. We have said all our last words, haven’t we, +Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty nearly, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, that reminds me— there’s one thing more. Your fees +will be all right, of course, and your traveling, and I have arranged about +your washing money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Aunt Raby, oh, yes; everything is all right.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla fidgeted, moved her position a little and looked longingly out of the +window. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have a little money over and above these things,” +proceeded Miss Peel in her sedate voice. “I am not rich, but I’ll +allow you— yes, I’ll manage to allow you two shillings a week. That +will be for pocket-money, you understand, child.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s old-young face flushed painfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll want a few pence for stamps, of course,” she said. +“But I sha’n’t write a great many letters. I’ll be a +great deal too busy studying. You need not allow me anything like so large a +sum as that, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, child. You’ll find it all too small when you go out into +the world. You are a clever girl, Prissie, and I’m going to be proud of +you. I don’t hold with the present craze about women’s education. +But I feel somehow that I shall be proud of you. You’ll be learned +enough, but you’ll be a woman with it all. I wouldn’t have you +stinted for the world, Prissie, my dear. Yes, I’ll make it ten shillings +a month— yes, I will. I can easily screw that sum out of the butter +money. Now, not another word. I’m off to bed. Good night, my love.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla kissed her aunt and went out. It was a lovely autumn evening. She +stepped on to the green sward which surrounded the little cottage, and with the +moonlight casting its full radiance on her slim figure, looked steadily out +over the sea. The cottage was on the top of some high cliffs. The light of the +moon made a bright path over the water, and Priscilla had a good view of +shining, silvered water and dark, deep blue sky. +</p> + +<p> +She stood perfectly still, gazing straight out before her. Some of the +reflection and brightness of the moonlight seemed to get into her anxious eyes +and the faint dawn of a new-born hope to tremble around her lips. She thought +herself rich with ten shillings a month pocket-money. She returned to the +house, feeling overpowered at Aunt Raby’s goodness. +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs in Prissie’s room there were two beds. One was small; in this +she herself slept. The other had now three occupants. Three heads were raised +when Prissie entered the room and three shrill voices exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, all wide awake, Prissie, darling!” +</p> + +<p> +This remark, made simultaneously, was followed by prolonged peals of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Three of you in that small bed!” said Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +She stood still, and a smile broke all over her face. “Why, +Hattie,” she said, catching up the eldest of the three girls and giving +her a fervent hug— “how did you slip out of Aunt Raby’s +room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I managed to,” said Hattie in a stage whisper. “Aunt +Raby came upstairs half an hour ago, and she undressed very fast, and got into +bed, and I heard her snoring in about a minute. It was then I slipped away. She +never heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hop up on the bed now, Prissie,” exclaimed Rose, another of the +children, “and let us all have a chat. Here, Katie, if you’ll +promise not to cry, you may get into the middle, between Hattie and me, then +you’ll be very close to darling Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +Katie was the youngest of the three occupants of the bed; she was about eight +years old; her small face was delicate in its outline, her mouth peevish; she +did not look a strong child, and self-control could scarcely be expected of +her. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla placed her candle on the chimney-piece, jumped on the bed according +to orders and looked earnestly at her three small sisters. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Prissie,” said Hattie in the important little voice which she +always used, “begin, go on— tell us all about your grand college +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I, Hattie, when I don’t know what to say. I can’t +<i>guess</i> what I am to do at college.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear,” sighed Rose, “I only wish I were the one to go! +It will be very dull living with Aunt Raby when you are away, Priscilla. She +won’t let us take long walks, and if ever we go in for a real, jolly lark +we are sure to be punished. Oh, dear, oh, dear!” +</p> + +<p> +“Even though it is for your good, I wish with all my heart you were not +going away, Prissie,” said Hattie in her blunt fashion. +</p> + +<p> +Katie burst into sudden loud wails. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla colored. Then she spoke with firmness. “We have had enough of +this kind of talk. Katie, you shall come and sit in my lap, darling. I’ll +wrap you up quite warm in this big shawl. Now, girls,” she said, +“what <i>is</i> the use of making things harder? You know, perfectly, you +two elder ones, why I must go away, and you, Katie, you know also, don’t +you, pet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Prissie,” answered Katie, speaking in a broken, half-sobbing +voice, “only I <i>am</i> so lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’re not going to be selfish, darling. By and by I’ll +come back to you all. Once every year, at least, I’ll come back. And +then, after I’ve gone through my course of study, I’ll get a +situation of some sort— a good situation— and you three shall come +and live with me. There, what do you say to that? Only three years, and then +such a jolly time. Why, Katie will be only eleven then.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla spoke in a remarkably cheerful voice, but the appalling magnitude of +three years could not be diminished, and the three little sisters who were to +stay behind with Aunt Raby were still disposed to view things dismally. +</p> + +<p> +“If <i>she</i> wasn’t just what she is——” began +Hattie. +</p> + +<p> +“If she didn’t think the least tiny morsel of a lark +wrong——” continued Rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then we could pull along somehow,” sighed Hattie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’ll pull along as it is,” said Priscilla +“I’ll write to you as often as ever I can. If possible I’ll +keep a sort of journal and send it to you. And perhaps there’ll be +stories and larks in it. Now you really must go to sleep, for I have to get up +so early in the morning. Katie, darling, I’ll make a corner for you in my +bed to-night. Won’t that be a treat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +Katie’s pale face was lit up by a radiant smile; Hattie and Rose lay down +side by side and closed their eyes. In a few moments they were sound asleep. +</p> + +<p> +As they lay in the sound, happy sleep of healthy childhood Priscilla bent over +them and kissed them. Then before she lay down herself she knelt by the window, +looked up at the clear, dark sky in which the moon sailed in majesty, bent her +head, murmured a few words of prayer, then crept into bed by her little +sister’s side. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie felt full of courage and good resolves. She was going out into the +world to-morrow, and she was quite determined that the world should not conquer +her, although she knew that she was a very poor maiden with a specially heavy +load of care on her young shoulders. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE DELIGHTS OF BEING A FRESHER</h2> + +<p> +The college was quite shut away in its own grounds, and only from the upper +windows did the girls get a peep of the old university town of Kingsdene. From +these, however, particularly in the winter, they could see the gabled colleges, +the chapels with their rich glory of architecture and the smooth lawns of the +college gardens as they sloped gently down to the river. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benet’s, the college for women, was approached by a private road, and +high entrance gates obstructed the gaze of the curious. Inside there were +cheerful halls and pleasant gardens and gay, fresh, unrestrained life. But the +passer-by got no peep of these things unless the high gates happened to be +open. +</p> + +<p> +This was the first evening of term, and most of the girls were back. There was +nothing very particular going on, and they were walking about the gardens, and +greeting old friends, and telling each other their experiences, and more or +less picking up the threads which had been broken or loosened in the long +vacation. +</p> + +<p> +The evenings were drawing in, but the pleasant twilight which was soon to be +rendered brilliant by the full moon seemed to the girls even nicer than broad +daylight to linger about in. They did not want to go into the houses; they +flitted about in groups here and there, chatting and laughing merrily. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benet’s had three halls, each with its own vice-principal, and a +certain number of resident students. Each hall stood in its own grounds and was +more or less a complete home in itself. There were resident lecturers and +demonstrators for the whole college and one lady principal, who took the lead +and was virtually head of the college. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Vincent was the name of the present principal. She was an old lady and had +a vice-principal under her at Vincent Hall, the largest and newest of these +spacious homes, where young women received the advantages of university +instruction to prepare them for the battle of life. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was to live at Heath Hall— a slightly smaller house, which +stood at a little distance away— its grounds being divided from the +grounds of Vincent Hall by means of a rustic paling. Miss Heath was the very +popular vice-principal of this hall, and Prissie was considered a fortunate +girl to obtain a home in her house. She sat now a forlorn and rather scared +young person, huddled up in one corner of the fly which turned in at the wide +gates, and finally deposited her and her luggage at the back entrance of Heath +Hall. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla looked out in the darkness of the autumn night with frightened eyes. +She hated herself for feeling nervous. She had told Aunt Raby that, of course, +she would have no silly tremors, yet here she was trembling and scarcely able +to pay the cabman his fare. +</p> + +<p> +She heard a girl’s laugh in the distance, and it caused her to start so +violently that she dropped one of her few treasured sixpences, which went +rolling about aimlessly almost under the horse’s hoofs. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a minute, I’ll find it for you,” said a voice. A tall +girl with big, brown eyes suddenly darted into view, picked up the sixpence as +if by magic, popped it into Priscilla’s hand and then vanished. Priscilla +knew that this was the girl who had laughed; she heard her laughing again as +she turned to join some one who was standing beside a laurel hedge. The two +linked their arms together and walked off in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Such a frightened poor fresher!” said the girl who had picked up +the sixpence to her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie,” said the other in a warning voice, “I know you, I +know what you mean to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, good Nancy, it is more than I know myself. What awful +indiscretion does your prophetic soul see me perpetrating?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie, as if anything could change your nature! You know +you’ll take up that miserable fresher for about a fortnight, and make her +imagine that you are going to be excellent friends for the rest of your life, +and then— p—— f! you’ll snuff her out as if she had +never existed; I know you, Maggie, and I call it cruel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not that Miss Banister I hear talking?” said a voice quite +close to the two girls. +</p> + +<p> +They both turned, and immediately with heightened color rushed up eagerly to +shake hands with the vice-principal of their college. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, my dears?” she said in a hearty voice. “Are +you quite well, Maggie, and you, Nancy? Had you a pleasant holiday? And did you +two great chums spend it together?” +</p> + +<p> +The girls began answering eagerly; some other girls came up and joined the +group, all anxious to shake hands with Miss Heath and to get a word of greeting +from her. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the dressing-gong for dinner sounded, and the little group moved +slowly toward the house. +</p> + +<p> +In the entrance hall numbers of girls who had recently arrived were standing +about; all had a nod, or a smile, or a kiss for Maggie Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Miss Oliphant? Come and see me to-night in my room, +won’t you, dear?” issued from many throats. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie promised in her good-natured, affectionate, wholesale way. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy Banister was also greeted by several friends. She, too, was gay and +bright, but quieter than Maggie. Her face was more reliable in its expression, +but not nearly so beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +“If you accept all these invitations, Maggie,” she said as the two +girls walked down the corridor which led to their rooms, “you know you +will have to sit up until morning. Why will you say ‘yes’ to every +one? You know it only causes disappointment and jealousy.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, good creature, don’t worry your righteous soul,” +she answered. “I’ll call on all the girls I can, and the others +must grin and bear it. Now we have barely time to change our dresses for +dinner. Surely, though, Nance, there’s a light under Annabel Lee’s +door. Who have they dared to put into her room? It must be one of those +wretched freshers. I don’t think I can bear it. I shall have to go away +into another corridor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, dear— you are far too sensitive. Could the college afford +to keep a room empty because poor, dear Annie Lee occupied it?” +</p> + +<p> +“They could, they ought,” burst from Maggie. She stamped her foot +with anger. “That room is a shrine to me. It will always be a shrine. I +shall hate the person who lives in it.” Tears filled her bright brown +eyes. Her arched, proud lips trembled. She opened her door, and going into her +room, shut it with a bang, almost in Nancy Banister’s face. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy stood still for a moment. A quick sigh came from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie is the dearest girl in the college,” she said to herself; +“the dearest, the sweetest, the prettiest, yet also the most tantalizing, +the most provoking, the most inconsequent. It is the greatest wonder she has +kept so long out of some serious scrape. She will never leave here without +doing something outrageous, and yet there isn’t a girl in the place to be +named with her. I wish—” here Nancy sighed again and put her hand +to her brow as if to chase away some perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she went up to the door of the room +next to Maggie’s and knocked. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment’s silence, then a constrained voice said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy entered at once. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla Peel was standing in the center of the room. The electric light was +turned on, revealing the bareness and absence of all ornament of the apartment; +a fire was laid in the grate but not lit, and Priscilla’s ugly square +trunk, its canvas covering removed, stood in a prominent position, half on the +hearthrug, half on the square of carpet which covered the center of the floor. +Priscilla had taken off her jacket and hat. She had washed her hands, and +removed her muddy boots, and smoothed out her straight, light brown hair. She +looked what she felt— a very stiff and unformed specimen of girlhood. +There was a great lump in her throat, brought there by mingled nervousness and +home-sickness, but that very fact only made her manner icy and repellent. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me,” said Nancy, blushing all over her rosy face. “I +thought perhaps you might like to know one or two things as you are quite +strange here. My name is Banister. I have a room in the same corridor, but +quite at the other end. You must come and visit me presently. Oh, has no one +lit your fire? Wouldn’t you like one? The evenings are turning so chilly +now, and a fire in one’s room gives one a home-like feeling, +doesn’t it? Shall I light it for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, thank you,” said Priscilla stiffly. She longed to rush at +Nancy and smother her with kisses, but she could only stand in the middle of +her room, helpless and awkward, held in a terrible bondage of shyness. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy drew back a step, chilled in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I see there are matches on the chimney-piece,” she said, “so +you can light the fire yourself whenever you like. The gong that will sound in +a minute will be for dinner, and Miss Heath always likes us to be punctual for +that meal. It does not matter about any other. Do you think you can find your +way to the dining-hall or shall I come and fetch you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No— thank you. I— I can manage.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’ll come with pleasure if you like me to.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’d rather you didn’t trouble, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; if you’re sure you know the way. You go down the broad +stairs, then turn to the right, then to the left. Good-by. I must rush off, or +I shall be late.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy shut the door behind her. She did it gently, although she did not feel +gentle, for she had a distinct sensation of being irritated. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Priscilla, clasping her hands together behind the closed door, looked +yearningly in the direction where the bright face and trim, neat girlish figure +had stood. She was trembling slightly and her eyes slowly filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel sick and lonely and horrid,” she said under her breath. +“Talk of nerves; oh, if Aunt Raby could see me now! Why, I’m +positively shaking, I can scarcely speak, I can scarcely think properly. What +would the children say if they saw their Prissie now? And I’m the girl +who is to fight the world, and kill the dragon, and make a home for the +nestlings. Don’t I feel like it! Don’t I look like it! Don’t +I just loathe myself! How hideously I do my hair, and what a frightful dress I +have on. Oh, I wish I weren’t shaking so much. I know I shall get red all +over at dinner. I wish I weren’t going to dinner. I wish, oh, I wish I +were at home again.” +</p> + +<p> +Crash! bang! pealed the great gong through the house. Doors were opened all +along the corridor; light steps passed Priscilla’s room. She heard the +rustle of silk and the sweet, high tinkle of girlish laughter. +</p> + +<p> +She stayed in her room till the last footsteps had died away, then in +desperation made a rush for it, flew down the wide stairs in a bashful agony, +and, as a matter of course, entered the spacious dining-hall by the door +devoted to the dons. +</p> + +<p> +A girl’s life at one of the women’s colleges is supposed to be more +or less an unfettered sort of existence. The broad rules guiding conduct are +few and little more than those which must be exercised in any well-organized +family. But there is the unspoken etiquette made chiefly by the students +themselves, which fills the place like an atmosphere, and which can only be +transgressed at the risk of surly glances and muttered comments and even words +of derision. +</p> + +<p> +No student was expected to enter the hall by the dons’ entrance, and for +this enormity to be perpetrated by a fresher immediately made her the cynosure +of all eyes. Poor Priscilla was unconscious of any offense. She grew scarlet +under the gaze of the merciless young eyes and further added to her sins by +sitting down at one of the tables at the top of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +No one reproved her in words or requested her to take a lower seat, but some +rude giggles were not inaudible; and Priscilla, who would thankfully have taken +her dinner in the scullery, heard hints about a certain young person’s +presumption, and about the cheek of those wretched freshers, which must +instantly be put down with a high hand. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had choked over her soup, and was making poor way with the fish that +followed, when suddenly a sweet, low voice addressed her. +</p> + +<p> +“This is your first evening at St. Benet’s,” said the voice. +“I hope you will be happy. I know you will, after a little.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla turned and met the full gaze of lovely eyes, brown like a nut, soft +and deep as the thick pile of velvet, and yet with a latent flash and glow in +them which gave them a red, half-wild gleam now and then. The lips that +belonged to this face were slightly parted in a smile; the smile and the +expression in the eyes stole straight down with a glow of delicious comfort +into Priscilla’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said in her stiff, wooden tone; but her eyes did +not look stiff, and the girl began to talk again. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe my room is next to yours. My name is Oliphant— Margaret +Oliphant, but every one calls me Maggie. That is, of course, I mean my friends +do. Would you like to come into my room and let me tell you some of the +rules?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Priscilla again. She longed to add, “I +should love beyond words to come into your room”; but instead she +remarked icily, “I think Miss Heath has given me printed rules.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you have seen our dear Dorothea— I mean Miss Heath. +Isn’t she lovely?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” answered Priscilla. “I think +she’s rather a plain person.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Miss”— I have not caught your name— “you +really are too deliciously prosaic. Stay here for a month, and then tell me if +you think Dorothea— I mean Miss Heath— plain. No, I won’t say +any more. You must find out for yourself. But now, about the rules. I +don’t mean the <i>printed</i> rules. We have, I assure you, at St. +Benet’s all kinds of little etiquettes which we expect each other to +observe. We are supposed to be democratic and inclined to go in for all that is +advanced in womanhood. But, oh dear, oh dear! let any student dare to break one +of our own little pet proprieties, and you will see how conservative we can +be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I broken any of them?” asked Priscilla in alarm. “I did +notice that every one stared at me when I came into the hall, but I thought it +was because my face was fresh, and I hoped people would get accustomed to me by +and by.” +</p> + +<p> +“You poor, dear child, there are lots of fresh faces here besides yours. +You should have come down under the shelter of my wing, then it would have been +all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what have I done? Do tell me. I’d much rather know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear, you have <i>only</i> come into the hall by the dons’ +entrance, and you have <i>only</i> seated yourself at the top of the table, +where the learned students who are going in for a tripos take their august +meals. That is pretty good for a fresher. Forgive me, we call the new girls +freshers for a week or two. Oh, you have done nothing wrong. Of course not, how +could you know any better? Only I think it would be nice to put you up to our +little rules, would it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be very much obliged,” said Priscilla. “And please +tell me now where I ought to sit at dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant’s merry eyes twinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“Look down this long hall,” she said. “Observe that door at +the further end— that is the students’ door; through that door you +ought to have entered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes— well, well?” +</p> + +<p> +“What an impatient ‘well, well.’ I shall make you quite an +enthusiastic Benetite before dinner is over.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry I spoke too eagerly,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, not a bit too eagerly.” +</p> + +<p> +“But please tell me where I ought to have seated myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a table near that lower entrance, Miss——” +</p> + +<p> +“Peel,” interposed Priscilla. “My name is Priscilla +Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +“How quaint and great-grandmotherly. Quite delicious! Well, Miss Peel, by +that entrance door is a table, a table rather in a draught, and consecrated to +the freshers— there the freshers humbly partake of nourishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. Then I am as far from the right place as I can be.” +</p> + +<p> +“About as far as you can be.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is why all the girls have stared so at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course; but let them stare. Who minds such a trifle?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla sat silent for a few moments. One of the neat waiting-maids removed +her plate; her almost untasted dinner lay upon it. Miss Oliphant turned to +attack some roast mutton with truly British vigor. +</p> + +<p> +By and by Priscilla’s voice, stiff but with a break in it, fell upon her +ear. +</p> + +<p> +“I think the students at St. Benet’s must be very cruel.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Miss Peel, the honor of the most fascinating college in England +is imperiled. Unsay those words.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant was joking. Her voice was gay with badinage, her eyes brimful +of laughter. But Priscilla, unaccustomed to light repartee or chaff in any +form, replied to her with heavy and pained seriousness. +</p> + +<p> +“I think the students here are cruel,” she repeated. “How can +a stranger know which is the dons’ entrance and which is the right seat +to take at table? If nobody shows her, how can a stranger know? I do think the +students are cruel, and I am sorry— very sorry I came.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +AN UNWILLING “AT HOME”</h2> + +<p> +Most of the girls who sat at those dinner-tables had fringed or tousled or +curled locks. Priscilla’s were brushed simply away from her broad +forehead. After saying her last words, she bent her head low over her plate and +longed even for the protection of a fringe to hide her burning blushes. Her +momentary courage had evaporated; she was shocked at having betrayed herself to +a stranger; her brief fit of passion left her stiffer and shyer than ever. +Blinding tears rushed to Priscilla’s eyes, and her terror was that they +would drop on to her plate. Suppose some of those horrid girls saw her crying? +Hateful thought. She would rather die than show emotion before them. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a soft, plump little hand was slipped into hers and the sweetest +of voices said: +</p> + +<p> +“I am so sorry anything has seemed unkind to you. Believe me, we are not +what you imagine. We have our fun and our prejudices, of course, but we are not +what you think we are.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla could not help smiling, nor could she resist slightly squeezing the +fingers which touched hers. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not unkind, I know,” she answered; and she ate the rest of +her dinner in a comforted frame of mind. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner one of the lecturers who resided at Heath Hall, a pleasant, bright +girl of two- or three-and-twenty, came and introduced herself, and presently +took Priscilla with her to her own room, to talk over the line of study which +the young girl proposed to take up. This conference lasted some little time, +and then Priscilla, in the lecturer’s company, returned to the hall for +tea. +</p> + +<p> +A great many girls kept coming in and out. Some stayed to have tea, but most +helped themselves to tea and bread and butter and took them away to partake of +in their own private rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant and Nancy Banister presently rushed in for this purpose. +Maggie, seeing Priscilla, ran up to her. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you getting on?” she asked brightly. “Oh, by-the-by, +will you cocoa with me to-night at half-past ten?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean,” answered Priscilla. “But +I’ll do it,” she added, her eyes brightening. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I’ll explain the simple ceremony when you come. My room +is next to yours, so you’ll have no difficulty in finding me out. I +don’t expect to have any one present except Miss Banister,” nodding +her head in Nancy’s direction, “and perhaps one other girl. By-by, +I’ll see you at half-past ten.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned to leave the hall, but Nancy lingered for a moment by +Priscilla’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you like to take your tea up to your room?” she +asked. “We most of us do it. You may, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I wish to,” answered Priscilla in an uncertain +voice. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy half turned to go, then came back. +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to unpack by and by, aren’t you?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, when I get back to my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you ought to know beforehand; the girls will be coming to +call.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla raised her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What girls?” she asked, alarm in her tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, most of the students in your corridor. They always call on a fresher +the first night in her room. You need not bother yourself about them; +they’ll just talk for a little while and then go away. What is the +matter, Miss Peel? Maggie has told me your name, you see.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you tell me sounds so very— very formal.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it isn’t— not really. Shall I come and help you to +entertain them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish——” began Priscilla. She hesitated; the words +seemed to stick in her throat. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say?” Nancy bent forward a little impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish— yes, do come,” with a violent effort. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, you may expect me.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy flew after Maggie Oliphant, and Priscilla went slowly up the wide, +luxurious stairs. She turned down the corridor which led to her own room. There +were doors leading out of this corridor at both sides, and Priscilla caught +glimpses of luxurious rooms bright with flowers and electric light. Girls were +laughing and chatting in them; she saw pictures on the walls and lounges and +chairs scattered about. Her own room was at the far end of the corridor. The +electric light was also brightening it, but the fire was unlit, and the +presence of the unpacked trunk, taking up a position of prominence on the +floor, gave it a very unhomelike feel. In itself the room was particularly +picturesque. It had two charming lattice windows, set in deep square bays. One +window faced the fireplace, the other the door. The effect was slightly +irregular, but for that very reason all the more charming. The walls of the +room were painted light blue; there was a looking-glass over the mantel-piece +set in a frame of the palest, most delicate blue. A picture-rail ran round the +room about six feet from the ground, and the high frieze above had a scroll of +wild roses painted on it in bold, free relief. +</p> + +<p> +The panels of the doors were also decorated with sprays of wild flowers in +picturesque confusion. Both the flowers and the scroll were boldly designed, +but were unfinished, the final and completing touches remaining yet to be +given. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla looked hungrily at these unexpected trophies of art. She could have +shouted with glee as she recognized some of her dear, wild Devonshire flowers, +among the groups on the door panels. She wondered if all the rest of the +students were treated to these artistic decorations and grew a little happier +and less homesick at the thought. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla could have been an artist herself had the opportunity arisen, but she +was one of those girls all alive with aspiration and longing who never up to +the present had come in the way of special culture in any style. +</p> + +<p> +She stood for some time gazing at the groups of wild flowers, then remembering +with horror that she was to receive visitors that night, she looked round the +room to see if she could do anything to make it appear homelike and inviting. +</p> + +<p> +It was a nice room, certainly. Priscilla had never before in her whole life +occupied such a luxurious apartment, and yet it had a cold, dreary, uninhabited +feel. She had an intuition that none of the other students’ rooms looked +like hers. She rushed to light the fire, but could not find the matches, which +had been removed from their place on the mantel-piece, and felt far too shy to +ring the electric bell. It was Priscilla’s fashion to clasp her hands +together when she felt a sense of dismay, and she did so now as she looked +around the pretty room, which yet with all its luxuries looked to her cold and +dreary. +</p> + +<p> +The furniture was excellent of its kind. A Turkey carpet covered the center of +the floor, the boards round the edge were stained and brightly polished. In one +corner of the room was a little bed, made to look like a sofa by day, with a +Liberty cretonne covering. A curtain of the same shut away the wardrobe and +washing apparatus. Just under one of the bay windows stood a writing-table, so +contrived as to form a writing-table, and a bookcase at the top, and a chest of +drawers to hold linen below. Besides this there was a small square table for +tea in the room and a couple of chairs. The whole effect was undoubtedly bare. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was hesitating whether to begin to unpack her trunk or not when a +light knock was heard at her door. She said “Come in,” and two +girls burst rather noisily into the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do?” they said, favoring the fresh girl with a brief +nod. “You came to-day, didn’t you? What are you going to study? Are +you clever?” +</p> + +<p> +These queries issued rapidly from the lips of the tallest of the girls. She had +red hair, tousled and tossed about her head. Her face was essentially +commonplace; her small restless eyes now glanced at Priscilla, now wandered +over the room. She did not wait for a reply to any of her queries, but turned +rapidly to her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you so, Polly,” she said. “I was quite sure that she +was going to be put into Miss Lee’s room. You see, I’m right; this +<i>is</i> Annabel Lee’s old room; it has never been occupied +since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said the other girl. +</p> + +<p> +The two walked across the apartment and seated themselves on Priscilla’s +bed. +</p> + +<p> +There came a fresh knock at the door, and this time three students entered. +They barely nodded to Priscilla and then rushed across the room with cries of +rapture to greet the girls who were seated on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Miss Atkins? How do you do, Miss Jones?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jones and Miss Atkins exchanged kisses with Miss Phillips, Miss Marsh and +Miss Day. The babel of tongues rose high, and every one had something to say +with regard to the room which had been assigned to Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” said Miss Day, “it was in that corner she had her +rocking-chair. Girls, <i>do</i> you remember Annabel’s rocking-chair, and +how she used to sway herself backward and forward in it and half-shut her +lovely eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, and don’t I just seem to <i>see</i> that little red tea-table +of hers near the fire,” burst from Miss Marsh. “That Japanese +table, with the Japanese tea-set— oh dear, oh dear! those cups of +tea— those cakes! Well, the room <i>was</i> luxurious, <i>was</i> worth +coming to see in Annabel’s time.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s more than it is now,” laughed Miss Jones in a harsh +voice. “How bare the walls look without her pictures. It was in that +recess the large figure of Hope by Burne-Jones used to hang, and there, that +queer, wild, wonderful head looking out of clouds. You know she never would +tell us the artist’s name. Yes, she had pretty things everywhere! How the +room is altered! I don’t think I care for it a bit now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could any one who knew Annabel Lee care for the room without her?” +asked one of the girls. She had a common, not to say vulgar, face, but it wore +a wistful expression as she uttered these words. +</p> + +<p> +All this time Priscilla was standing, feeling utterly shy and miserable. From +time to time other girls came in; they nodded to her and then rushed upon their +companions. The eager talk began afresh, and always there were looks of regret +and allusions, accompanied by sighs, to the girl who had lived in the room +last. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said one merry little girl, who was spoken to by the others +as Ada Hardy, “I have no doubt that by and by, when +Miss——” She glanced toward Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Peel,” faltered Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“When Miss Peel unpacks her trunk, she’ll make the room look very +pretty, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“She can’t,” said Miss Day in a tragic voice; “she +never could make the room look at it used to— not if she was to live till +the age of Methuselah. Of course you’ll improve it, Miss Peel; you +couldn’t possibly exist in it as it is now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you of a capital shop in Kingsdene, Miss Peel,” said +Miss Marsh, “where you can buy tables and chairs, and pretty artistic +cloths, and little whatnots of all descriptions. I’d advise you to go to +Rigg’s. He’s in the High Street, No. 48.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Spilman has much the most <i>recherche’</i> articles, you +know, Lucy,” interposed Miss Day. “I’ll walk over to +Spilman’s to-morrow with you, if you like, Miss Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +Before Priscilla had time to reply there was again a knock at the door, and +this time Nancy Banister, looking flushed and pretty, came in. +</p> + +<p> +She took in the scene at a glance; numbers of girls making themselves at home +in Priscilla’s room, some seated on her trunk, some on her bureau, +several curled up in comfortable attitudes on her bed and she herself standing, +meek, awkward, depressed, near one of the windows. +</p> + +<p> +“How tired you look, Miss Peel!” said Nancy Banister. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla smiled gratefully at her. +</p> + +<p> +“And your trunk is not unpacked yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! there is time enough,” faltered Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we in your way?” suddenly spoke Miss Marsh, springing to her +feet. “Good night. My name is Marsh, my room is thirty-eight.” +</p> + +<p> +She swung herself lazily and carelessly out of the room, followed, at longer or +shorter intervals, by the other girls, who all nodded to Priscilla, told her +their names and one or two the numbers of their rooms. At last she was left +alone with Nancy Banister. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor thing! How tired and white you look!” said Nancy. “But +now that dreadful martyrdom is over, you shall have a real cozy time. +Don’t you want a nice hot cup of cocoa? It will be ready in a minute or +two. And please may I help you to unpack?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Priscilla; her teeth were chattering. “If I +might have a fire?” she asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you poor, shivering darling! Of course. Are there no matches here? +There were some on the mantel-piece before dinner. No, I declare they have +vanished. How careless of the maid. I’ll run into Maggie’s room and +fetch some.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Banister was not a minute away. She returned with a box of matches, and, +stooping down, set a light to the wood, and a pleasant fire was soon blazing +and crackling merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, isn’t that better?” said Nancy. “Please sit down +on your bed and give me the key of your trunk. I’ll soon have the things +out and put all to rights for you. I’m a splendid unpacker.” +</p> + +<p> +But Priscilla had no desire to have her small and meager wardrobe overhauled +even by the kindest of St. Benet’s girls. +</p> + +<p> +“I will unpack presently myself, if you don’t mind,” she +said. She felt full of gratitude, but she could not help an almost surly tone +coming into her voice. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy drew back, repulsed and distressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you would like me to go away?” she said. “I will go +into Maggie’s room and let you know when cocoa is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Prissie. Miss Banister disappeared, and Priscilla +sat on by the fire, unconscious that she had given any pain or annoyance, +thinking with gratitude of Nancy, and with feelings of love of Maggie Oliphant, +and wondering what her little sisters were doing without her at home to-night. +</p> + +<p> +By and by there came a tap at her door. Priscilla ran to open it. Miss Oliphant +stood outside. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you come in?” said Priscilla, throwing the door wide +open and smiling with joy. It was already delightful to her to look at Maggie. +“Please come in,” she added in a tone almost of entreaty. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant started and turned pale. “Into that room? No, no, I +can’t,” she said in a queer voice. She rushed back to her own, +leaving Priscilla standing in amazement by her open door. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment’s silence. Then Miss Oliphant’s voice, rich, +soft and lazy, was heard within the shelter of her own apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“Please come in, Miss Peel; cocoa awaits you. Do not stand on +ceremony.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla went timidly across the landing, and the instant found herself in one +of the prettiest of the students’ rooms at St. Benet’s. A few rare +prints and some beautiful photogravures of well-known pictures adorned the +walls. The room was crowded with knick-knacks and rendered gay and sweet by +many tall flowers in pots. A piano stood open by one of the walls and a violin +lay carelessly on a chair not far off. There were piles of new music and some +tempting, small, neatly bound books lying about. A fire glowed on the hearth +and a little brass kettle sang merrily on the hob. The cocoa-table was drawn up +in front of the fire and on a quaintly shaped tray stood the bright little +cocoa-pot and the oddly devised cups and saucers. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome to St. Benet’s!” said Maggie, going up and taking +Priscilla’s hand cordially within her own. “Now you’ll have +to get into this low chair and make yourself quite at home and happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“How snug you are here,” said Prissie, her eyes brightening and a +pink color mounting into her cheeks. She was glad that Maggie was alone; she +felt more at ease with her than with any one, but the next moment she said with +a look of apparent regret: +</p> + +<p> +“I thought Miss Banister was in your room?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; Nancy has gone to her own room at the end of the corridor to do some +work for an hour. She will come back to say good night. She always does. Are +you sorry to have me by myself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I am not,” said Priscilla. The smile, which made her rather +plain face attractive, crept slowly back to it. Maggie poured out a cup of +cocoa and brought it to her. Then, drawing another chair forward, she seated +herself in it, sipped her own cocoa and began to talk. +</p> + +<p> +Long afterward Priscilla remembered that talk. It was not what Maggie said, for +her conversation in itself was not at all brilliant, but it was the sound of +her rich, calm, rather lazy voice, the different lights which glanced and +gleamed in her eyes, the dimples about her mouth, the attitude she put herself +in. Maggie had a way of changing color, too, which added to her fascination. +Sometimes the beautiful oval of her face would he almost ivory white, but then +again a rosy cloud would well up and up the cheeks and even slightly suffuse +the broad, low forehead. Her face was never long the same, never more than a +moment in repose; eyes, mouth, brow, even the very waves of her hair seemed to +Priscilla, this first night as she sat by her hearth, to be all speech. +</p> + +<p> +The girls grew cozy and confidential together. Priscilla told Maggie about her +home, a little also about her past history and her motive in coming to St. +Benet’s. Maggie sympathized with all the expression she was capable of. +At last Priscilla bade her new friend good night, and, rising from her +luxurious chair, prepared to go back to her own room. +</p> + +<p> +She had just reached the door of Maggie’s room, and was about to turn the +handle, when a sudden thought arrested her. She came back a few steps. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask you a question?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied Miss Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is the girl who used to live in my room? Annabel Lee, the other +girls call her. Who is she? What is there remarkable about her?” +</p> + +<p> +To Priscilla’s astonishment, Maggie started a step forward, her eyes +blazed with an expression which was half frightened— half angry. She +interlocked one soft hand inside the other, her face grew white, hard and +strained. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not ask me about Annabel Lee,” she said in a whisper, +“for I— I can tell you nothing about her. I can <i>never</i> tell +you about her— never.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she rushed to her sofa-bed, flung herself upon it face downward, and burst +into queer, silent, distressful tears. +</p> + +<p> +Some one touched Priscilla softly an her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take you to your room, Miss Peel,” said Nancy Banister. +“Don’t take any notice of Maggie; she will be all right by and +by.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy took Priscilla’s hand and walked with her across the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so sorry I said anything to hurt Miss Oliphant,” said +Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you were not to blame. You could not know any better. Of course, now +that you do know, you will never do it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t know anything now. Please will <i>you</i> tell me who +Annabel Lee is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! don’t speak so loud. Annabel Lee” Nancy’s eyes +filled with tears— “no girl in the college was so popular.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say <i>was?</i> and why do you cry?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know that I cried. Annabel Lee is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla walked into her room and Nancy went back to Maggie Oliphant. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +AN EAVESDROPPER</h2> + +<p> +The students at St. Benet’s were accustomed to unlimited license in the +matter of sitting up at night. At a certain hour the electric light were put +out, but each girl was well supplied with candles and could sit up and pursue +her studies into the small hours, if she willed. +</p> + +<p> +It was late when Priscilla left Maggie Oliphant’s room on this first +night, but, long as her journey had been, and tired as she undoubtedly felt, +the events of the evening had excited her, and she did not care to go to bed. +Her fire was now burning well, and her room was warm and cozy. She drew the +bolt of her door, and, unlocking her trunk, began to unpack. She was a +methodical girl and well trained. Miss Rachel Peel had instilled order into +Priscilla from her earliest days, and she now quickly disposed of her small but +neat wardrobe. Her linen would just fit into the drawers of the bureau. Her two +or three dresses and jackets were hung tidily away behind the curtain which +formed her wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla pushed her empty trunk against the wall, folded up the bits of string +and paper which lay scattered about, and then, slowly undressing, she got into +bed. +</p> + +<p> +She undressed with a certain sense of luxuriousness and pleasure. Her room +began to look charming to her now that her things were unpacked, and the first +sharp pain of her homesickness was greatly softened since she had fallen in +love with Maggie Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had not often in the course of her life undressed by a fire, but then +had she ever spent an evening like this one? All was fresh to her, new, +exciting. Now she was really very tired, and the moment she laid her head on +her pillow would doubtless be asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She got into bed, and, putting out her candle, lay down. The firelight played +on the pale blue walls and lit up the bold design of the briar-roses which ran +round the frieze at the top of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla wondered why she did not drop asleep at once. She felt vexed with +herself when she discovered that each instant the chance of slumber was flying +before her, that every moment her tired body became more restless and +wide-awake. She could not help gazing at that scroll of briar-roses; she could +not help thinking of the hand that had painted the flowers, of the girl whose +presence had once made the room in which she now lay so charming. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had not yet been twelve hours at St. Benet’s, and yet almost +every student she had met had spoken of Annabel Lee— had spoken of her +with interest, with regret. One girl had gone further than this; she had +breathed her name with bitter sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla wished she had not been put into this room. She felt absolutely +nervous; she had a sense of usurping some one else’s place, of turning +somebody else out into the cold. She did not believe in ghosts, but she had an +uncomfortable sensation, and it would not have greatly surprised her if Annabel +had come gliding back in the night watches to put the finishing touches to +those scrolls of wild flowers which ornamented the panels of the doors, and to +the design of the briar-rose which ran round the frieze of the room. Annabel +might come in, and pursue this work in stealthy spirit fashion, and then glide +up to her, and ask her to get out of this little white bed, and let the strange +visitor, to whom it had once belonged, rest in it herself once more. +</p> + +<p> +Annabel Lee! It was a queer name— a wild, bewitching sort of a +name— the name of a girl in a song. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla knew many of Poe’s strange songs, and she found herself now +murmuring some words which used to fascinate her long ago: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And the angels, not half so happy in heaven,<br/> + Went envying her and me;<br/> + Yes! that was the reason (as all men know<br/> + In this kingdom by the sea)<br/> + That the wind came out of the cloud by night,<br/> + Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee!<br/> +<br/> + “But our love it was stronger by far than the love<br/> + Of those who were older than we—<br/> + Of many far wiser than we;<br/> + And neither the angels in heaven above,<br/> + Nor the demons down under the sea,<br/> + Can ever dissever my soul from the soul<br/> + Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.” +</p> + +<p> +Some ashes fell from the expiring fire; Priscilla jumped up in bed with a +start. Her heart was beating fast. She thought of Maggie’s exquisite +face. She remembered it as she had seen it that night when they were sitting by +the fire, as she had seen it last, when it turned so white and the eyes blazed +at her in anger. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla stretched out her hand for a box of matches. She would light her +candle, and, as there was no chance of her going to sleep, sit up, put her +dressing-jacket on and begin to write a long letter home to Aunt Raby and to +her little sisters. Such methodical work would calm nerves not often so highly +strung. +</p> + +<p> +She rose, and fetching her neat little leather writing-case from where she had +placed it on the top of her bureau, prepared to open it. +</p> + +<p> +The little case was locked. Priscilla went over to her curtained wardrobe, +pushed it aside and felt in the pocket of the dress she had worn that day for +her purse. It was not there. Within that purse the little key was safely +hiding, but the purse itself was nowhere to be found. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla looked all around the room. In vain; the neat brown-leather purse, +which held the key, some very precious memoranda of different sorts and her +small store of worldly wealth, was nowhere to be found. +</p> + +<p> +She stood still for a moment in perplexity. All her nervous fears had now +completely vanished; a real calamity and a grave one stared her in the face. +Suppose her purse were gone? Suppose it had been stolen? The very small supply +of money which that purse contained was most precious to Priscilla. It seemed +to her that nothing could well be more terrible than for her now to have to +apply to Aunt Raby for fresh funds. Aunt Raby had stinted herself dreadfully to +get Priscilla’s modest little outfit together, and now— oh, she +would rather starve than appeal to her again. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly as she stood in the middle of her room a memory came back to her. It +was the recollection of a very trivial incident. She remembered something +dropping on the floor as she sat by Maggie’s side at dinner. She had felt +too nervous and miserable at the time to take any notice of the slight sound +made by the fall, but now it returned vividly to her memory. She was sure that +her purse must have dropped out of her pocket at that moment, and was now +convinced that it was now lying quietly under the table where she had sat. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla felt far too excited to wait until the morning to make herself sure +on this point. No; happen what might, she would set her fears at rest now and +find her way somehow through the strange and sleeping house until she +discovered her lost treasure. +</p> + +<p> +Partly re-dressing, she took her candle in her hand and softly unhasped her +door. It was a well-oiled lock and made no click or noise of any kind as she +turned the handle. When she opened the door wide it did not creak. The long +corridor outside had a stone floor and was richly carpeted. No fear of +treacherous, creaking boards here. Priscilla prepared to walk briskly down the +length of the corridor, when she was arrested by seeing a light streaming out +of Maggie Oliphant’s room. +</p> + +<p> +The electric lights were all extinguished, and this light alone shone like a +ray in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie stood still, with a gasp of dismay. She did not want Maggie to hear her +now. She would have been distressed at Maggie being acquainted with her +carelessness. She felt sure that a girl like Maggie Oliphant could never +understand what a little purse, which only contained a sovereign or two, would +mean to her. +</p> + +<p> +On tiptoe, and shading the candle with her hand, she stole past the partly open +door. A rich tapestry curtain hung at the other side, and Maggie doubtless +thought the door was shut. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had almost gone past the open door, when her steps were again +arrested by the sound of voices. Some one said “Priscilla Peel,” +and then some one else laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla stood perfectly still. Of course she had no right to listen, but she +did. She waited breathless, in an agony of expectation, for the next words. +</p> + +<p> +“I would not be jealous if I were you, Nancy,” said Maggie’s +lazy, sweet voice. “The poor girl is as queer as her name, but it gives +me a kind of aesthetic pleasure to be good to people. <i>You</i> have no cause +to be jealous, sweet pet.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla raised one trembling hand and noiselessly put out her candle. Her +feet seemed rooted to the spot. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy murmured something which Priscilla could not hear. Then there was the +sound of one girl kissing another, and Maggie’s light laugh was heard +again. +</p> + +<p> +“The unfortunate girl has fallen in love with you, there’s no doubt +about that, Maggie,” said Nancy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear, she’ll get over that little fever presently. When +I’m kind to them, they all have it. I believe I am gracious to them just +because I like to see that grateful, affectionate expression in their eyes. The +fact is, Nance, I have a perfectly crazy desire to excite love.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you give love, Maggie? Do you ever give it back in return?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes. I don’t know, I believe I am rather fond of you, for +instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, was Geoffrey Hammond at St. Hilda’s this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t possibly say,” replied Maggie in a cold voice. Then +she added excitedly, “I don’t believe the door is shut! You are so +careless, Nannie, so indifferent to the fact that there <i>may</i> be +eavesdroppers about.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla crept back to her room. She had forgotten all about her purse; every +other feeling was completely swallowed up in a burning, choking sense of anger. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +WHY PRISCILLA PEEL WENT TO ST. BENET’S</h2> + +<p> +Priscilla had received a shock, and hers was not the sort of nature to take +such a blow easily. She was a reserved girl, but her feelings were deep, her +affections very strong. Priscilla had a rather commonplace past, but it was the +sort of past to foster and deepen the peculiarities of her character. Her +father had died when she was twelve, her mother when she was fourteen. They +were north-country folk, and they possessed all the best characteristics of +their class. They were rigidly upright people, they never went in debt; they +considered luxuries bad for the soul and the smaller refinements of life +altogether unnecessary. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Peel managed to save a little money out of his earnings. He took year by +year these savings to the nearest county bank and invested them to the best of +his ability. The bank broke, and in one fell stroke he lost all the savings of +a life. This affected his health, and he never held up his head or recovered +his vigor of mind and body again. +</p> + +<p> +He died and two years afterward his wife followed him. Priscilla was then +fourteen and there were three little sisters several years younger. They were +merry little children, strong, healthy, untouched by care. Priscilla, on the +contrary, was grave and looked much older than her years. +</p> + +<p> +On the night their mother was buried Aunt Rachel Peel, their father’s +sister, came from her home far away on the borders of Devonshire, and told the +four desolate children that she was going to take them away to live on her +little farm with her. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby spoke in a very frank manner. She concealed nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only fair to tell you, Prissie,” she said, addressing +the tall, gawky girl, who stood with her hands folded in front of her— +“it’s only fair to tell you that hitherto I’ve just made two +ends meet for one mouth alone, and how I’m to fill four extra ones the +Lord knows, but I don’t. Still, I’m going to try, for it shall +never be said that Andrew Peel’s children wanted bread while his sister, +Rachel Peel, lived.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have none of us big appetites,” said Priscilla after a long, +solemn pause; “we can do with very little food— very little. The +only one who ever is <i>really</i> hungry is Hattie.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby looked up at the pale face, for Prissie was taller than her aunt even +then, and said in a shocked voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious, child! do you think I’d stint one of you? You ought +all to be hearty, and I hope you will be. No, no, it isn’t that, Prissie, +but there’ll be no luxuries, so don’t you expect them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want them,” answered Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +The children all went to Devonshire, and Aunt Raby toiled, as perhaps no woman +had ever toiled before, to put bread into their mouths. Katie had a fever, +which made her pale and thin and took away that look of robustness which had +characterized the little Yorkshire maiden. Nobody thought about the +children’s education, and they might have grown up without any were it +not for Priscilla, who taught them what she knew herself. Nobody thought +Priscilla clever; she had no brilliance about her in any way, but she had a +great gift for acquiring knowledge. Wherever she went she picked up a fresh +fact, or a fresh fancy, or a new idea, and these she turned over and over in +her active, strong, young brain until she assimilated them and made them part +of herself. +</p> + +<p> +Among the few things that had been saved from her early home there was a box of +her father’s old books, and as these comprised several of the early poets +and essayists, she might have gone further and fared worse. +</p> + +<p> +One day the old clergyman who lived at a small vicarage near called to see Miss +Peel. He discovered Priscilla deep over Carlyle’s “History of the +French Revolution.” The young girl had become absorbed in the fascination +of the wild and terrible tale. Some of the horror of it had got into her eyes +as she raised them to return Mr. Hayes’ courteous greeting. His attention +was arrested by the look she gave him. He questioned her about her reading, and +presently offered to help her. From this hour Priscilla made rapid progress. +She was not taught in the ordinary fashion, but she was being really educated. +Her life was full now; she knew nothing about the world, nothing about society. +She had no ambitions and she did not trouble herself to look very far ahead. +The old classics which she studied from morning till night abundantly satisfied +her really strong intellectual nature. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hayes allowed her to talk with him, even to argue points with him. He +always liked her to draw her own conclusions; he encouraged her really original +ideas; he was proud of his pupil, and he grew fond of her. It was not +Priscilla’s way to say a word about it, but she soon loved the old +clergyman as if he were her father. +</p> + +<p> +Some time between her sixteenth and seventeenth birthday that awakening came +which altered the whole course of her life. It was a summer’s day +Priscilla was seated in the old wainscoted parlor of the cottage, devouring a +book lent to her by Mr. Hayes on the origin of the Greek drama and occasionally +bending to kiss little Katie, who sat curled up in her arms, when the two elder +children rushed in with the information that Aunt Raby had suddenly lain flat +down in the hayfield, and they thought she was asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie tumbled her book in one direction and Katie in the other. In a moment +she was kneeling by Miss Peel’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Aunt Raby?” she asked tenderly. “Are you +ill?” +</p> + +<p> +The tired woman opened her eyes slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I fainted, dear love,” she said. “Perhaps it was the +heat of the sun.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla managed to get her back into the house. She grew better presently and +seemed something like herself, but that evening the aunt and niece had a long +talk, and the next day Prissie went up to see Mr. Hayes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am interested,” he said when he saw her enter the room, +“to see how you have construed that passage in Cicero, Priscilla. You +know I warned you of its difficulty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please, sir, don’t,” said Prissie, holding up her hand +with an impatient movement, which she now and then found herself indulging in. +“I don’t care if Cicero is at the bottom of the sea. I don’t +want to speak about him or think about him. His day is over, mine is— oh, +sir, I beg your pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granted, my dear child. Sit down, Prissie. I will forgive your profane +words about Cicero, for I see you are excited. What is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to help me, Mr. Hayes. Will you help me? You have always been +my dear friend, my good friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will help you. What is wrong? Speak to me fully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Raby fainted in the hayfield yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? It was a warm day; I am truly concerned. Would she like to see +me? Is she better to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is quite well to-day— quite well for the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Priscilla, what a tragic face! Your Aunt Raby is not the first +woman who has fainted and got out of her faint again and been none the +worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is just the point, Mr. Hayes. Aunt Raby has got out of her faint, +but she <i>is</i> the worse.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hayes looked hard into his pupil’s face. There was no beauty in it. +The mouth was wide, the complexion dull, the features irregular. Even her +eyes— and perhaps they were Prissie’s best point— were +neither large nor dark; but an expression now filled those eyes and lingered +round that mouth which made the old rector feel solemn. +</p> + +<p> +He took one of the girl’s thin unformed hands between his own. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child,” he said, “something weighs on your mind. +Tell your old friend— your almost father— all that is in your +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus begged to make a confidence, Priscilla did tell a commonplace, and yet +tragic, story. Aunt Raby was affected with an incurable illness. It would not +kill her soon; she might live for years, but every year she would grow a little +weaker and a little less capable of toil. As long as she lived the little farm +belonged to her, but whenever she died it would pass to a distant cousin. +Whenever Aunt Raby died, Priscilla and her three sisters would be penniless. +</p> + +<p> +“So I have come to you,” continued Prissie, “to say that I +must take steps at once to enable me to earn money. I must support Hattie and +Rose and Katie whenever Aunt Raby goes. I must earn money as soon as it is +possible for a girl to do so, and I must stop dreaming and thinking of nothing +but books, for perhaps books and I will have little to say to each other in +future.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be sad,” replied Mr. Hayes, “for that would be +taking a directly opposite direction to the path which Providence clearly +intends you to walk in.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla raised her eyes and looked earnestly at the old rector. Then, +clasping her hands tightly together, she said with suppressed passion: +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you encourage me to be selfish, Mr. Hayes?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not,” he replied, answering her look; “I will listen +patiently to all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourself +and your sisters?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought of dressmaking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Um! Did you— make— the gown you have on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespun +garment. +</p> + +<p> +The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet and benevolent way. +</p> + +<p> +“I am no judge of such matters,” he said, “and I may be +wrong. But my impression is that the style and cut of that dress would scarcely +have a large demand in fashionable quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir!” Prissie blushed all over. “You know I said I +should have to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child,” said Mr. Hayes firmly, “when it becomes a +question of a woman earning her bread, let her turn to that path where promise +lies. There is no promise in the fit of that gown, Prissie. But here— +here there is much.” +</p> + +<p> +He touched her big forehead lightly with his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not give up your books, my dear,” he said, “for, +independently of the pleasure they afford, they will also give you bread and +butter. Go home now and let me think over matters. Come again to-morrow. I may +have important things to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +From this conversation came the results which, shortly after the completion of +her eighteenth year, made Priscilla an inmate of St. Benet’s far-famed +college for women. Mr. Hayes left no stone unturned to effect his object. He +thought Priscilla could do brilliantly as a teacher, and he resolved that for +this purpose she should have the advantages which a collegiate life alone could +offer to her. He himself prepared her for her entrance examination, and he and +Aunt Raby between them managed the necessary funds to give the girl a +three-years’ life as a student in these halls of learning. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie knew very little about the money part of the scheme. She only guessed +what had become of Aunt Raby’s watch and chain; and a spasm crossed her +face when one day she happened to see that Aunt Raby’s poor little jewel +case was empty. The jewels and the watch could certainly not fetch much, but +they provided Prissie with a modest little outfit, and Mr. Hayes had got a +grant from a loan society, which further lightened expenses for all parties. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla bade her sisters, her aunt and the old rector good-by and started on +her new life with courage. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +COLLEGE LIFE</h2> + +<p> +The routine of life at St. Benet’s was something as follows: +</p> + +<p> +The dressing-bell was rung at seven, and all the students were expected to meet +in the chapel for prayers at eight. Nothing was said if they did not appear; no +reproofs were uttered and no inquiries made; but the good-fellowship between +the students and the dons was so apparent in the three halls that known wishes +were always regarded, and, as a rule, there were few absentees. +</p> + +<p> +The girls went to chapel in their white-straw sailor-hats, simply trimmed with +a broad band of ribbon of the college colors, green with a narrow stripe of +gold. Breakfast immediately followed chapel; tea and coffee and different cold +meats were placed on the side-tables, and the girls helped themselves to what +they pleased. +</p> + +<p> +The great event at breakfast was the post. Each student, when she entered the +breakfast-hall, would make an eager rush to the side-table where the letters +were neatly placed. During breakfast these were read and chatted over. The +whole meal was most informal and seldom lasted more than a quarter of an hour. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast the notice-board in the large entrance-hall was visited and +eagerly scanned, for it contained a detailed account of the hours for the +different lectures and the names of the lecturers who would instruct the +students during the day. By the side of the large official notice-board hung +another, which was read with quite as deep interest. This contained particulars +of the meetings of the different clubs and societies for pleasure or profit got +up by the girls themselves. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning after her arrival Priscilla, with the other students, read the +contents of these two boards, and then, in the company of a fresher nearly as +shy as herself, she wandered about the lovely grounds which surrounded Heath +Hall until nine o’clock, when lectures began. +</p> + +<p> +Lectures continued without interruption until lunchtime, a meal which was taken +very much when the girls pleased. The time allowed for this light midday +refreshment was from half-past twelve to two. The-afternoons were mostly given +up to games and gymnastics, although occasionally there were more lectures, and +the more studious of the girls spent a considerable part of the time studying +in their own rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Tea was the convivial meal of the day. To this the girls invited outside +friends and acquaintances, and, as a rule, they always took it in their own +rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner was at half-past six, and from half-past seven to half-past nine was +usually the time when the different clubs and societies met. +</p> + +<p> +There was a regularity and yet a freedom about the life; invisible bounds were +prescribed, beyond which no right-minded or conscientious girl cared to +venture, but the rules were really very few. Students might visit their friends +in Kingsdene and receive them at the college. They might entertain them at +luncheon or dinner or at tea in their own rooms at a fixed charge, and provided +the friends left at a certain hour, and the girls themselves asked for leave of +absence when they wished to remain out, and mentioned the place to which they +proposed to go, no questions were asked and no objections offered. +</p> + +<p> +They were expected to return to the college not later than eleven at night, and +one invitation to go out in the week was, as a rule, the most they ever +accepted. +</p> + +<p> +Into this life Priscilla came, fresh from the Devonshire farm and from all the +pursuits and interests which had hitherto formed her world. She had made a very +firm niche for herself in Aunt Raby’s old cottage, and the dislodgment +therefrom caused her for the time such mental disquiet and so many nervous and +queer sensations that her pain was often acute and her sense of awkwardness +considerable. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla’s best in her early life always seemed but a poor affair, and +she certainly neither looked nor was at her best at first here. After a few +days, however, she fitted into her new grooves, took up the line of study which +she intended to pursue and was quickly absorbed in all the fascinations which +it offered to a nature like hers. +</p> + +<p> +Her purse was restored to her on the morning after her arrival, and neither +Maggie Oliphant nor Nancy Banister ever guessed that she had overheard some +words of theirs on the night of her arrival, and that these had put bitterness +into her heart and nearly destroyed her faith in her fellow-students. Both +Maggie and Nance made several overtures of kindness to Prissie, but the cold +manner which was more or less habitual to her never thawed, and, after a time, +they left her alone. There is no saying what might have happened to Prissie had +she never overheard this conversation. As it was, however, after the first +shock it gave her courage. +</p> + +<p> +She said to herself: +</p> + +<p> +“I should think very little of myself if I did not despise a girl like +Miss Oliphant. Is it likely I should care to imitate one whom I despise? There +was a brief, dreadful hour when I absolutely pined to have pretty things in my +room as she has in hers; now I can do without them. My room shall remain bare +and unadorned. In this state it will at least look unique.” +</p> + +<p> +It did. The other students who lived in the same corridor came to visit +Priscilla in the free and easy manner which characterized them and made remarks +the reverse of flattering. When <i>was</i> she going to put her pictures up? +Miss Day would be delighted to help her whenever she chose to do it. When did +she intend to go down to Kingsdene to order her easy-chairs and little Japanese +tables, and rugs, and the other small but necessary articles which would be +required to make her room habitable? +</p> + +<p> +For several days Priscilla turned these inquiries aside. She blushed, +stammered, looked awkward and spoke of something else. At last, however, she +summoned up courage, and, once for all, delivered herself from her tormentors. +She did that remarkably brave thing which sometimes very nervous people can +brace themselves to do. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening and Miss Day, Miss Marsh and Nancy Banister had all come in for +a few minutes to see Priscilla on their way to their own rooms. +</p> + +<p> +“Do come and cocoa with me to-night, Miss Peel,” said Miss Day. +“You’re so dreadfully unsociable, not a bit like an ordinary St. +Benet’s girl. If you go on in this fashion, you’ll be moped to +death before your first term is over.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am accustomed to a very quiet life,” responded Priscilla, +“and I want to work; I have come here to work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear, dear! any one would suppose you were going in for a tripos. If +this were your last term I could understand it— but your first!” +</p> + +<p> +It was Miss Marsh who said these words. She was a bright-eyed, merry-looking +girl, the reverse of over-studious herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come along, dear; I’ll give you such a delicious cup of +cocoa,” said Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +She crossed the room and tried to link her hand affectionately in +Prissie’s arm. Miss Peel drew back a step. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said, “but I— I— cannot +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must say you have a blunt way of refusing,” said Miss Day. She +felt inclined to be offended, but Nancy Banister, who was standing by and had +not hitherto spoken, bestowed a quick glance of approval on Priscilla and then +said something soothing to Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +“May I cocoa with you instead, Annie?” she said. “I am afraid +no one can accuse me of killing myself with work, but we all respect earnest +workers— we must. It is for them St. Benet’s is really meant. It +was endowed for them, and built for them, and we poor drones must not throw +disparaging remarks on the busy bees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nonsense!” said Miss Marsh; “St. Benet’s was made +for sociability as well as study, and I have no patience with the students who +don’t try to combine the two. By the way,” she added, turning round +and speaking in a rather impertinent voice to Priscilla, “I sent you a +message to say I was going down to Kingsdene this afternoon and would be happy +to take you with me if you would care to visit Spilman’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Priscilla, “I got your note just too late +to answer it. I was going to speak to you about it,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you would have come?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla’s face grew very red. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I should not have come.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Miss Marsh’s turn to get red. +</p> + +<p> +“Come! Annie,” she exclaimed, turning to Miss Day, “we had +better waste no more time here. Miss Banister, we’ll see you presently, +won’t we? Good night, Miss Peel. Perhaps you don’t mind my saying +something very frank?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said Priscilla, “but that won’t prevent your +saying it, will it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it will. After you have been at St. Benet’s a +little longer you will know that we not only appreciate cleverness and studious +ways, but also obliging and sociable and friendly manners; and— +and— pretty rooms— rooms with easy-chairs, and comfortable lounges, +and the thousand and one things which give one a feeling of home. Take my +advice, Miss Peel, there’s no use fighting against the tide. You’ll +have to do as others do in the long run, and you may as well do it at once. +That is my plain opinion, and I should not have given it to you if I had not +thought you needed it. Good night.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, stop a minute,” said Priscilla. Every scrap of color had left +her face, every trace of nervousness her manner. She walked before the two +girls to the door and closed it. “Please stay just for a minute longer, +Miss Day and Miss Marsh, and you too, Miss Banister, if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +She went across the room again, and, opening the top drawer of her bureau, took +out her purse. Out of the purse she took a key. The key fitted a small padlock +and the padlock belonged to her trunk. She unlocked her empty trunk and opened +it. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” she said, turning to the girls— “there,” +she continued, “you will be good enough to notice that there are no +photographs concealed in this trunk, no pictures, no prints.” She lifted +the tray. “Empty, you see,” she added, pointing with her hand to +the lower portion of the trunk— “nothing here to make my room +pretty, and cozy, and home-like.” Then she shut the trunk again and +locked it, and going up to where the three girls stood, gazing at her in +bewilderment and some alarm, she unfastened her purse and turned all its +contents into the palm of her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Miss Marsh,” she said, turning to the girl who had spoken +last. “You may count what is here. One sovereign, one half-sovereign, two +or three shillings, some pence. Would this money go far at Spilman’s, do +you think?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla put it all slowly back again into her purse. Her face was still +absolutely colorless. She laid the purse on the top of her bureau. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not suppose,” she said in a low, sad voice, “that I am +the sort of girl who often comes to a place of this sort. I am poor, and I have +got to work hard, and I have no time for pleasure. Nevertheless,” she +added— and now a great wave of color swept over her face, and her eyes +were lit up, and she had a sensation of feeling quite glad, and strong, and +happy— “I am not going away because I am poor, and I am not going +to mind what any one thinks of me as long as I do right. My room must stay +empty and bare, because I have no money to make it full and beautiful. And do +you think that I would ask those— those who sent me here— to add +one feather’s weight to their cares and expenses, to give me money to buy +beautiful things because I am afraid of you? No, I should be <i>awfully</i> +afraid to do that; but I am not afraid of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla opened the drawer of her bureau and put her little light purse back +again in its hiding-place. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Miss Peel,” said Miss Day in a thin, small kind of +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Miss Peel,” said Miss Marsh. The girls went gently out +of the room. They closed the door behind them, without making any noise. Nancy +Banister remained behind. She came up to Priscilla and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“You are brave,” she said. “I admire you. I— I— +am proud of you. I am glad to know that a girl like you has come to live +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t— don’t,” said poor Prissie. Her little +burst of courage had deserted her. She covered her face with her trembling +hands. She did not want Nancy Banister to see that her eyes were full of tears. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +IN MISS OLIPHANT’S ROOM</h2> + +<p> +“My dear,” said Nancy Banister that same evening— “my +dear and beloved Maggie, we have both been guilty of a huge mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” asked Miss Oliphant. She was leaning back in a deep +easy-chair, and Nancy, who did not care for luxurious seats, had perched +herself on a little stool at her feet. Nancy was a small, nervous-looking +person; she had a zealous face and eager, almost too active movements. Nancy +was the soul of bustling good nature, of brightness and kindness. She often +said that Maggie Oliphant’s laziness rested her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Maggie again. “How are we in the wrong, +Nance?” +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her dimpled hand as she spoke and contemplated it with a slow, +satisfied sort of smile. +</p> + +<p> +“We have made a mistake about Miss Peel, that is all; she is a very noble +girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear Nance! Poor little Puritan Prissie! What next?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very fine to call her names,” replied Nancy— here +she sprang to her feet— “but <i>I</i> couldn’t do what she +did. Do you know that she absolutely and completely turned the tables on that +vulgar Annie Day and that pushing, silly little Lucy Marsh. I never saw any two +look smaller or poorer than those two when they skedaddled out of her room. +Yes, that’s the word— they skedaddled to the door, both of them, +looking as limp as a cotton dress when it has been worn for a week, and one +almost treading on the other’s heels; and I do not think Prissie will be +worried by them any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Nancy, you look quite pretty when you are excited! Now, what did +this wonderful Miss Peel do? Did she box the ears of those two detestable +girls? If so, she has my hearty congratulations.” +</p> + +<p> +“More than that, Maggie— that poor, little, meek, awkward, slim +creature absolutely demolished them. Oh! she did it in such a fine, simple, +unworldly sort of way. I only wish you had seen her! They were twitting her +about not going in for all the fun here, and, above everything, for keeping her +room so bare and unattractive. You know she has been a fortnight here to-day, +and she has not got an extra thing— not one. There isn’t a room in +the hall like hers— it’s so bare and unhomelike. What’s the +matter, Maggie?” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t go on, Nancy; if it’s about the room, I +don’t want to hear it. You know I can’t— I can’t bear +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s lips were trembling, her face was white. She shaded her eyes +with her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I forgot— I really did! There, you +must try and think it was any room. What she did was all the same. Well, those +girls had been twitting her. I expect she’s had a nice fortnight of it! +She turned very white, and at last her blood was up, and she just gave it to +them. She opened her little trunk. I really could have cried. It was such a +poor, pathetic sort of receptacle to be capable of holding all one’s +worldly goods, and she showed it to them— empty! ‘You see,’ +she said, ‘that I have no pictures nor ornaments here!’ Then she +turned the contents of her purse into her hand. I think, Maggie, she had about +thirty shillings in the world, and she asked Lucy Marsh to count her money, and +inquired how many things she thought it would purchase at Spilman’s. +Then, Maggie, Priscilla turned on them. Oh, she did not look plain then, nor +awkward either. Her eyes had such a splendid good, brave sort of light in them. +And she said she had come here to work, and she meant to work, and her room +must stay bare, for she had no money to make it anything else. +‘But,’ she said, ‘I am not afraid of you, but I <i>am</i> +afraid of hurting those’— whoever ‘those’ are— +‘those’— oh, with such a ring on the word— ‘who +have sent me here!’ +</p> + +<p> +“After that the two girls skedaddled; they had had enough of her, and I +expect, Maggie, your little Puritan Prissie will be left in peace in the +future.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t call her my little Puritan,” said Maggie. “I +have nothing to say to her.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie was leaning back again in her chair now; her face was still pale and her +soft eyes looked troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t tell me heroic stories, Nancy,” she +remarked after a pause. “They make me feel so uncomfortable. If Priscilla +Peel is going to be turned into a sort of heroine, she’ll be much more +unbearable than in her former character.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie, I wish you wouldn’t talk in that reckless way nor +pretend that you hate goodness. You know you adore it— you know you do! +You know you are far and away the most lovable and bewitching, and the— +the very best girl at St. Benet’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear little Nance, you are quite mistaken. Perhaps I’m +bewitching— I suppose to a certain extent I am, for people always tell me +so— but I’m <i>not</i> lovable and I’m <i>not</i> good. +There, my dear, do let us turn from that uninteresting person— Maggie +Oliphant. And so, Nancy, you are going to worship Priscilla Peel in +future?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear no! that’s not my way. But I’m going to respect her +very much. I think we have both rather shunned her lately, and I <i>did</i> +feel sure at first that you meant to be very kind to her, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant yawned. It was her way to get over emotion very quickly. A moment +before her face had been all eloquent with feeling; now its expression was +distinctly bored, and her lazy eyes were not even open to their full extent. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I found her stupid,” she said, “and so for that +reason dropped her. Perhaps I would have continued to be kind if she had +reciprocated attentions, but she did not. I am glad now, very glad, that we are +unlikely to be friends, for, after what you have just told me, I should +probably find her insupportable. Are you going, Nancy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I promised to have cocoa with Annie Day. I had almost forgotten. +Good night, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy shut the door softly behind her, and Maggie closed her eyes for a moment +with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nice to be alone,” she said softly under her breath, +“it’s nice and yet it isn’t nice. Nancy irritated me +dreadfully this evening. I don’t like stories about good people. I +don’t wish to think about good people. I am determined that I will not +allow my thoughts to dwell on that unpleasant Priscilla Peel, and her pathetic +poverty, and her burst of heroics. It is too trying to hear footsteps in that +room. No, I will not think of that room nor of its inmate. Now, if I could only +go to sleep!” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie curled herself up in her luxurious chair, arranged a soft pillow under +her head and shut her eyes. In this attitude she made a charming picture: her +thick black lashes lay heavily on her pale cheeks; her red lips were slightly +parted; her breathing came quietly. By and by repose took the place of +tension— her face looked as if it were cut out of marble. The excitement +and unrest, which her words had betrayed, vanished utterly; her features were +beautiful, but almost expressionless. +</p> + +<p> +This lasted for a short time, perhaps ten minutes; then a trivial circumstance, +the falling of a coal in the grate, disturbed the light slumber of the sleeper. +Maggie stirred restlessly and turned her head. She was not awake, but she was +dreaming. A faint rose tint visited each cheek, and she clenched one hand, then +moved it, and laid it over the other. Presently tears stole from under the +black eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. She opened her eyes wide; she was +awake again; unutterable regret, remorse, which might never be quieted, filled +her face. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie rose from her chair, and, going across the room, sat down at her bureau. +She turned a shaded lamp, so that the light might fall upon the pages of a book +she was studying, and, pushing her hands through her thick hair, she began to +read a passage from the splendid <i>Prometheus Vinctus</i> of Æschylus: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O divine ether, O swift-winged winds!” +</p> + +<p> +She muttered the opening lines to herself, then turning the page began to +translate from the Greek with great ease and fluency: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O divine ether, and swift-winged winds,<br/> +O flowing rivers, and ocean with countless-dimpling smile,<br/> +Earth, mother of all, and the all-seeing circle of the sun, to you I call;<br/> +Behold me, and the things that I, a god, suffer at the hands of gods.<br/> +Behold the wrongs with which I am worn away, and which I shall suffer through endless time.<br/> +Such is the shameful bondage which the new ruler of the Blessed Ones has invented for me.<br/> +Alas! Alas! I bewail my present and future misery——” +</p> + +<p> +Any one who had seen Maggie in her deep and expressionless sleep but a few +minutes before would have watched her now with a sensation of surprise. This +queer girl was showing another phase of her complex nature. Her face was no +longer lacking in expression, no longer stricken with sorrow nor harrowed with +unavailing regret. A fine fire filled her eyes; her brow, as she pushed back +her hair, showed its rather massive proportions. Now, intellect and the +triumphant delight of overcoming a mental difficulty reigned supreme in her +face. She read on without interruption for nearly an hour. At the end of that +time her cheeks were burning like two glowing crimson roses. +</p> + +<p> +A knock came at her door; she started and turned round petulantly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just my luck,” muttered Maggie. “I’d have +got the sense of that whole magnificent passage in another hour. It was +beginning to fill me: I was getting satisfied— now it’s all over! +I’d have had a good night if that knock hadn’t come— but +now— now I am Maggie Oliphant, the most miserable girl at St. +Benet’s, once again.” +</p> + +<p> +The knock was repeated. Miss Oliphant sprang to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” she said in a petulant voice. +</p> + +<p> +The handle of the door was slowly turned, the tapestry curtain moved forward +and a little fair-haired girl, with an infantile expression of face and looking +years younger than her eighteen summers, tripped a few steps into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Maggie,” she said. “I had not a moment to +come sooner— not one really. That stupid Miss Turner chose to raise the +alarm for the fire brigade. Of course I had to go, and I’ve only just +come back and changed my dress.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to be in bed, Rosalind; it’s past eleven +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as if that mattered! I’ll go in a minute. How cozy you look +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I am not going to keep you out of your beauty sleep. You can +admire my room another time. If you have a message for me, Rosalind, let me +have it, and then— oh, cruel word, but I must say it, my love— +Go!” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton had serene baby-blue eyes; they looked up now full at Maggie. +Then her dimpled little hand slid swiftly into the pocket of her dress, came +out again with a quick, little, frightened dart and deposited a square envelope +with some manly writing on it on the bureau, where Maggie had been studying +<i>Prometheus Vinctus.</i> The letter covered the greater portion of the open +page. It seemed to Maggie as if the Greek play had suddenly faded and gone out +of sight behind a curtain. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Rosalind, “that’s for you. I was at +Kingsdene to-day— and— I— I said you should have it, and +I— I promised that I’d <i>help</i> you, Maggie. I— yes— +I promised. I said I would help you, if you’d let me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” replied Miss Oliphant in a lofty tone. The words came +out of her lips with the coldness of ice. “And if I need you— +I— promise— to ask your help. Where did you say you met Mr. +Hammond?” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie took up her letter and opened it slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“At Spilman’s. He was buying something for his room. +He——” Rosalind blushed all over her face. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie took her letter out of its envelope. She looked at the first two or +three words, then laid it, open as it was, on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Rosalind,” she said in her usual tone. “It was +kind of you to bring this, certainly; but Mr. Hammond would have done +better— yes, undoubtedly better— had he sent his letter by post. +There would have been no mystery about it then, and I should have received it +at least two hours ago. Thank you, Rosalind, all the same— good +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton stepped demurely out of the room. In the corridor, however, a +change come over her small childish face. Her blue eyes became full of angry +flame and she clenched her baby hand and shook it in the direction of the +closed door. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie Oliphant, what a deceiver you are!” she murmured. +“You think that I’m a baby and notice nothing, but I’m on the +alert now, and I’ll watch— and watch. I don’t love you any +longer, Maggie Oliphant. Who loves being snubbed? Oh, of course, you pretend +you don’t care about that letter! But I know you <i>do</i> care; and +I’ll get hold of all your secrets before many weeks are over, see if I +don’t!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +THE KINDEST AND MOST COMFORTING WAY</h2> + +<p> +Maggie was once more alone. She stood quite still for nearly half a minute in +the center of her room. Her hands were clasped tightly together. The expression +of her face and her attitude showed such intense feeling as to be almost +theatrical. This was no acting, however; it was Maggie’s nature to throw +herself into attitudes before spectators or alone. She required some vent for +all her passionate excitement, and what her girl friends called Miss +Oliphant’s poses may have afforded her a certain measure of relief. +</p> + +<p> +After standing still for these few seconds, she ran to the door and drew the +bolt; then, sinking down once more in her easy-chair, she took up the letter +which Rosalind Merton had brought her and began to read the contents. Four +sides of a sheet of paper were covered with small, close writing, the neat +somewhat cramped hand which at that time characterized the men of St. +Hilda’s College. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s eyes seemed to fly over the writing; they absorbed the sense, +they took the full meaning out of each word. At last all was known to her, +burnt in, indeed, upon her brain. +</p> + +<p> +She crushed the letter suddenly in one of her hands, then raised it to her lips +and kissed it; then fiercely, as though she hated it, tossed it into the fire. +After this she sat quiet, her hands folded meekly, her head slightly bent. The +color gradually left her cheeks. She looked dead tired and languid. After a +time she arose, and, walking very slowly across her room, sat down by her +bureau and drew a sheet of paper before her. As she did so her eyes fell for a +moment on the Greek play which had fascinated her an hour ago. She found +herself again murmuring some lines from <i>Prometheus Vinctus:</i> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O divine ether, and swift-winged winds——” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted herself with a petulant movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Folly!” she murmured, pushing the book aside. “Even +glorious, great thoughts like those don’t satisfy me. Whoever supposed +they would? What was I given a heart for? Why does it beat so fiercely, and +long, and love? and why is it wrong— wrong of me to love? Oh, Annabel +Lee! oh, darling! if only your wretched Maggie Oliphant had never known +you!” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie dashed some heavy tears from her eyes. Then, taking up her pen, she +began to write. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“HEATH HALL,<br/> +“ST. BENET’S. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“D<small>EAR</small> M<small>R</small>. H<small>AMMMOND</small>: I should +prefer that you did not in future give letters for me to any of my friends +here. I do not wish to receive them through the medium of any of my +fellow-students. Please understand this. When you have anything to say to me, +you can write in the ordinary course of post. I am not ashamed of any slight +correspondence we may have together; but I refuse to countenance, or to be in +any sense a party to, what may even seem underhand.<br/> + “I shall try to be at the Marshalls’ on Sunday afternoon, but I +have nothing to say in reply to your letter. My views are unalterable. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Yours sincerely,<br/> +“M<small>ARGARET</small> O<small>LIPHANT</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie did not read the letter after she had written it. She put it into an +envelope and directed it. Here was a large and bold hand and the address was +swiftly written +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“G<small>EOFFREY</small> H<small>AMMOND</small>, E<small>SQ</small>.,<br/> + “St. Hilda’s,<br/> + “Kingsdene.” +</p> + +<p> +She stamped her letter and, late as it was, took it down herself and deposited +it in the post-bag. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, when the students strolled in to breakfast, many pairs of +eyes were raised with a new curiosity to watch Priscilla Peel. Even Maggie, as +she drank her coffee and munched a piece of dry toast, for she was a very poor +eater, could not help flashing a keen and interested glance at the young girl +as she came into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie was the reverse of fashionable in her attire; her neat brown cashmere +dress had been made by Aunt Raby. The hemming, the stitching, the gathering, +the frilling which went to make up this useful garment were neat, were even +exquisite; but then, Aunt Raby was not gifted with a stylish cut. +Prissie’s hair was smoothly parted, but the thick plait on the back of +the neck was by no means artistically coiled. +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s plain, pale face was not set off by the severity of her +toilet; there was no touch of spring or brightness anywhere, no look or note +which should belong to one so young, unless it was the extreme thinness of her +figure. +</p> + +<p> +The curious eyes of the students were raised when she appeared and one or two +laughed and turned their heads away. They had heard of her exploit of the night +before. Miss Day and Miss Marsh had repeated this good story. It had impressed +them at the time, but they did not tell it to others in an impressive way, and +the girls, who had not seen Prissie, but had only heard the tale, spoke of her +to one another as an “insufferable little prig.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it too absurd,” said Rosalind Merton, sidling up to +Maggie and casting some disdainful glances at poor Priscilla, “the +conceit of some people! Of all forms of conceit, preserve me from the priggish +style.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you,” said Maggie, raising her eyes and +speaking in her lazy voice. “Are there any prigs about? I don’t see +them. Oh, Miss Peel”— she jumped up hastily— +“won’t you sit here by me? I have been reserving this place for +you, for I have been so anxious to know if you would do me a kindness. Please +sit down, and I’ll tell you what it is. You needn’t wait, Rosalind. +What I have got to say is for Miss Peel’s ears.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind retired in dudgeon to the other end of the room, and, if the laughing +and muttering continued, they now only reached Maggie and Priscilla in the form +of very distant murmurs. +</p> + +<p> +“How pale you look,” said Maggie, turning to the girl, “and +how cold you are! Yes, I am quite sure you are bitterly cold. Now you shall +have a good breakfast. Let me help you. Please do. I’ll go to the +side-table and bring you something so tempting; wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t trouble really,” began Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant flashed a brilliant smile at her. Prissie found her words +arrested, and, in spite of herself, her coldness began to thaw. Maggie ran over +to the side-table and Priscilla kept repeating under her breath: +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not true— she’s beautiful, but she’s +false; she has the kindest, sweetest, most comforting way in the world, but she +only does it for the sake of an aesthetic pleasure. I ought not to let her. I +ought not to speak to her. I ought to go away, and have nothing to do with her +proffers of goodwill, and yet somehow or other I can’t resist her.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie came back with some delicately carved chicken and ham and a hot cup of +delicious coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not this nice?” she said. “Now eat it all up and speak to +me afterward. Oh, how dreadfully cold you do look!” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel cold— in spirit as well as physically,” retorted +Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let breakfast warm you— and— and— a small dose +of the tonic of sympathy, if I may dare to offer it.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla turned her eyes full upon Miss Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean it?” she said in a choked kind of voice. “Is +that quite true what you said just now?” +</p> + +<p> +“True? What a queer child! Of course it is true. What do you take me for? +Why should not I sympathize with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to,” said Prissie. Tears filled her eyes; she turned +her head away. Maggie gave her hand a squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +“Now eat your breakfast,” she said. “I shall glance through +my letters while you are busy.” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned back in her chair and opened several envelopes. Priscilla ate her +chicken and ham, drank her coffee and felt the benefit of the double tonic +which had been administered in so timely a fashion. It was one of Miss +Oliphant’s peculiarities to inspire in those she wanted to fascinate +absolute and almost unreasoning faith for the time being. Doubts would and +might return in her absence, but in the sunshine of her particularly genial +manner they found it hard to live. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast the girls were leaving the room together when Miss Heath, the +principal of the hall in which they resided, came into the room. She was a +tall, stately woman of about thirty-five and had seen very little of Priscilla +since her arrival, but now she stopped to give both girls a special greeting. +Her manners were very frank and pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” she said to Prissie, “I have been anxious to +cultivate your acquaintance. Will you come and have tea with me in my room this +afternoon? And, Maggie, dear, will you come with Miss Peel?” +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hand on Maggie’s shoulder as she spoke, looked swiftly into +the young girl’s face, then turned with a glance of great interest to +Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“You will both come,” she said. “That is right. I won’t +ask any one else. We shall have a cozy time together, and Miss Peel can tell me +all about her studies, and aims, and ambitions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Maggie, “I’ll answer for Miss Peel. +We’ll both come; we shall be delighted.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath nodded to the pair and walked swiftly down the long hall to the +dons’ special entrance, where she disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not she charming?” whispered Maggie. “Did I not tell you +you would fall in love with Dorothea?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have not,” said Priscilla, coloring. “And I +don’t know whether she is charming or not.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie checked a petulant exclamation which was rising to her lips. She was +conscious of a curious desire to win her queer young companion’s goodwill +and sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” she said, “the moment of victory is only +delayed. You will tell a very different story after you have had tea with +Dorothea this evening. Now, let us come and look at the notice-boards and see +what the day’s program is. By the way, are you going to attend any +lectures this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, two,” said Prissie— “one on Middle History, from +eleven to twelve, and I have a French lecture afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am not doing anything this morning. I wish you were not. We +might have taken a long walk together. Don’t you love long walks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; but there is no time for anything of that sort here— +nor——” Priscilla hesitated. “I don’t think +there’s space for a very long walk here,” she added. The color +rushed into her cheeks as she spoke and her eyes looked wistful. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>are</i> your ideas in regard to space, Miss Peel? The whole of +Kingsdeneshire lies before us. We are untrammeled and can go where we please. +Is not that a sufficiently broad area for our roamings?” +</p> + +<p> +“But there is no sea,” said Priscilla. “We should never have +time to walk from here to the sea, and nothing— nothing else seems worth +while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you have lived by the sea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all my life. When I was a little girl, my home was near Whitby, in +Yorkshire, and lately I have lived close to Lyme— two extreme points of +England, you will say; but no matter, the sea is the same. To walk for miles on +the top of the cliffs, that means exercise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Maggie with a sigh, “I understand you— I +know what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke quickly, as she always did under the least touch of excitement. +“Such a walk means more than exercise; it means thought, aspiration. Your +brain seems to expand then and ideas come. Of course you don’t care for +poor flat Kingsdeneshire.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla turned and stared at Miss Oliphant. Maggie laughed; she raised her +hand to her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I must not talk any more,” she said, turning pale and shrinking +into herself. “Forgive my rhapsodies. You’ll understand what they +are worth when you know me better. Oh, by the way, will you come with me to +Kingsdene on Sunday? We can go to the three o’clock service at the chapel +and afterward have tea with some friends of mine— the Marshalls— +they’d be delighted to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What chapel is the service at?” inquired Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“What chapel? Is there a second? Come with me, and you will never ask +that question again. Get under the shade of St. Hilda’s— see once +those fretted roofs and those painted windows. Listen but once to that angel +choir, and then dare to ask me what chapel I mean when I invite you to come and +taste of heaven beforehand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Priscilla, “I’ll come. I cannot be +expected to know about things before I have heard of them, can I? But I am very +much obliged to you, and I shall be delighted to come.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +A NEW LIFE</h2> + +<p> +The vice-principal’s room at Heath Hall was double the size of those +occupied by the students. Miss Heath had, of course, a separate sleeping +apartment. Her delightful sitting-room, therefore, had not the curtained-off +effect which took slightly from the charm of the students’ rooms. In +summer Miss Heath’s room was beautiful, for the two deep bay +windows— one facing west, the other south— looked out upon smoothly +kept lawns and flower-beds, upon tall elm trees and also upon a distant peep of +the river, for which Kingsdene was famous, and some of the spires and towers of +the old churches. In winter, too, however— and winter had almost come +now— the vice-principal’s room had a unique effect, and Priscilla +never forgot the first time she saw it. The young girl stepped across the +threshold of a new life on this first evening. She would always remember it. +</p> + +<p> +It was getting dark, and curtains were drawn round the cozy bays, and the +firelight blazed cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie was a little before rather than behind her time, and there was no one +in the room to greet her when she entered. She felt so overmastered by shyness, +however, that this was almost a relief, and she sank down into one of the many +comfortable chairs with a feeling of thankfulness and looked around her. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment a servant entered with a lamp, covered with a gold silk shade. +She placed it on a table near the fire, and lit a few candles, which stood on +carved brackets round the walls. Then Prissie saw what made her forget Miss +Heath and her shyness and all else— a great bank of flowers, which +stretched across one complete angle of the room. There were some roses, some +chrysanthemums, some geraniums. They were cunningly arranged in pots, but had +the effect at a little distance of a gay, tropical garden. Prissie rushed to +them, knelt down by a tall, white Japanese chrysanthemum and buried her face in +its long, wavy petals. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie had never seen such flowers, and she loved all flowers. Her heart +swelled with a kind of wonder; and when, the next moment, she felt a light and +very soft kiss on her forehead she was scarcely surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child,” said Miss Heath, “I am so sorry I was not in +the room when you came in; but never mind, my flowers gave you welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Prissie, standing up pale and with a luminous light in +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You love flowers?” said Miss Heath, giving her a keen glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; but I did not know— I could not guess— that any +flower could be as beautiful as this,” and she touched the great white +chrysanthemum with her finger. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and there are some flowers even more wonderful. Have you ever seen +orchids?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have something to live for. Orchids are ordinary flowers +spiritualized. They have a glamor over them. We have good orchid shows +sometimes at Kingsdene. I will take you to the next.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant brought in tea, and Miss Heath placed Prissie in a comfortable +chair, where she was neither oppressed by lamplight nor firelight. +</p> + +<p> +“A shy little soul like this will love the shade,” she said to +herself. “For all her plainness this is no ordinary girl, and I mean to +draw her out presently. What a brow she has, and what a light came into her +eyes when she looked at my white chrysanthemum.” +</p> + +<p> +There came a tap at the door, and Maggie Oliphant entered, looking fresh and +bright. She gave Prissie an affectionate glance and nod and then began to busy +herself, helping Miss Heath with the tea. During the meal a little pleasant +murmur of conversation was kept up. Miss Heath and Maggie exchanged ideas. They +even entered upon one or two delicate little skirmishes, each cleverly arguing +a slight point on which they appeared to differ. Maggie could make smart +repartees, and Miss Heath could parry her graceful young adversary’s home +thrusts with excellent effect. +</p> + +<p> +They talked of one or two books which were then under discussion; they said a +little about music and a word or two with regard to the pictures which were +just then causing talk among the art critics in London. It was all new to +Prissie, this “light, airy, nothing” kind of talk. It was not +study; could it be classed under the head of recreation? +</p> + +<p> +Prissie was accustomed to classify everything, but she did not know under what +head to put this pleasant conversation. She was bewildered, puzzled. She +listened without losing a word. She forgot herself absolutely. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath, however, who knew Maggie Oliphant, but did not know Prissie, was +observant of the silent young stranger through all the delights of her pleasant +talk. Almost imperceptibly she got Prissie to say a word or two. She paused +when she saw a question in Prissie’s eyes, and her timid and gentle words +were listened to with deference. By slow degrees Maggie was the silent one and +Priscilla and Miss Heath held the field between them. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have never been properly educated,” Prissie was saying. +“I have never gone to a high school. I don’t do things in the +regular fashion. I was so afraid I should not be able to pass the entrance +examination for St. Benet’s. I was delighted when I found that I had done +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You passed the examination creditably,” said Miss Heath. “I +have looked through your papers. Your answers were not stereotyped. They were +much better; they were thoughtful. Whoever has educated you, you have been well +taught. You can think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, my dear friend, Mr. Hayes, always said that was the first +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that accounts for it,” replied Miss Heath. “You have had +the advantage of listening to a cultivated man’s conversation. You ought +to do very well here. What do you mean to take up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, everything. I can’t know too much.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath laughed and looked at Maggie. Maggie was lying back in her +easy-chair, her head resting luxuriously against a dark velvet cushion. She was +tapping the floor slightly with her small foot; her eyes were fixed on Prissie. +When Miss Heath laughed Maggie echoed the sound, but both laughs were in the +sweetest sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not overwork yourself, my dear,” said Miss Heath. +“That would be a very false beginning. I think— I am sure— +that you have an earnest and ardent nature, but you must avoid an extreme which +will only end in disaster.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” she said. “I have come here to study. It +has been done with such, such difficulty. It would be cruel to waste a moment. +I mustn’t; it wouldn’t be right. You can’t mean what you +say.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath was silent. She thought it kinder to look away from Prissie. After a +moment she said in a voice which she on purpose made intensely quiet and matter +of fact: +</p> + +<p> +“Many girls come to St. Benet’s, Miss Peel, who are, I fancy, +circumstanced like you. Their friends find it difficult to send them here, but +they make the sacrifice, sometimes in one way, sometimes in another— and +the girls come. They know it is their duty to study; they have an ulterior +motive, which underlies everything else. They know by and by they must pay +back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Priscilla, starting forward and a flush coming into +her face. “I know that— that is what it is for. To pay back +worthily— to give back a thousandfold what you have received. Those girls +can’t be idle, can they?” she added in a gentle, piteous sort of +way. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, there have been several such girls at St. Benet’s, and +none of them has been idle; they have been best and first among our students. +Many of them have done more than well— many of them have brought fame to +St. Benet’s. They are in the world now and earning honorable livelihoods +as teachers or in other departments where cultivated women can alone take the +field. These girls are all paying back a thousandfold those who have helped +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“You would like to follow their example?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; please tell me about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some of them were like you and thought they would take up +everything— everything I mean in the scholastic line. They filled their +days with lectures and studied into the short hours of the night. Maggie, dear, +please tell Miss Peel about Good-night and Good-morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were such a funny pair,” said Maggie. “They had rooms +next to each other in our corridor, Miss Peel. They were both studying for a +tripos, and during the term before the examination one went to bed at four and +one got up at four. Mary Joliffe used to go into Susan Martin’s room and +say good morning to her. Susan used to raise such a white face and say, +‘Good night, my dear.’ Well, poor things, neither of them got a +tripos; they worked too hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“The simple English of all this,” said Miss Heath, “is that +the successful girl here is the girl who takes advantage of the whole life +mapped out for her, who divides her time between play and work, who joins the +clubs and enters heartily into the social life of the place. Yes,” she +added, looking suddenly full at Priscilla, “these last words of mine may +seem strange to you, dear. Believe me, however, they are true. But I +know,” she added with a sigh, “that it takes rather an old person +to believe in the education of <i>play.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla looked unconvinced. +</p> + +<p> +“I must do what you wish,” she said, “for, of course, you +ought to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a lame kind of assent, my love! Maggie, you will have to gently +lure this young person into the paths of frivolity. I promise you, my dear, +that you shall be a very cultivated woman some day; but I only promise this if +you will take advantage of all sides of the pleasant life here. Now tell me +what are your particular tastes? What branch of study do you like best?” +</p> + +<p> +“I love Latin and Greek better than anything else in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you truly?” said Maggie, suddenly starting forward. “Then +in one thing we have a great sympathy. What have you read? Do tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath stepped directly into the background. The two girls conversed for a +long time together. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +ST. HILDA’S CHAPEL</h2> + +<p> +“Here we are now,” said Maggie Oliphant, touching her young +companion; “we are in good time; this is the outer chapel. Yes, I know +all that you are thinking, but you need not speak; I did not want to speak the +first time I came to St. Hilda’s. Just follow me quickly. I know this +verger; he will put us into two stalls; then it will be perfect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Priscilla. She spoke in an awed kind of voice. The +cool effect of the dark oak, combined with the richness of the many shafts of +colored light coming from the magnificent windows, gave her own face a curious +expression. Was it caused by emotion or by the strange lights in the chapel? +</p> + +<p> +Maggie glanced at her, touched her hand for a moment and then hurried forward +to her seat. +</p> + +<p> +The girls were accommodated with stalls just above the choir. They could read +out of the college prayer-books and had a fine view of the church. +</p> + +<p> +The congregation streamed in, the choir followed; the doors between the chapel +and ante-chapel were shut, the curtains were dropped and the service began. +</p> + +<p> +There is no better musical service in England than that which Sunday after +Sunday is conducted at St. Hilda’s Chapel at Kingsdene. The harmony and +the richness of the sounds which fill that old chapel can scarcely be +surpassed. The boys send up notes clear and sweet as nightingales into the +fretted arches of the roof; the men’s deeper notes swell the music until +it breaks on the ears in a full tide of perfect harmony; the great organ fills +in the breaks and pauses. This splendid service of song seems to reach +perfection. In its way earth cannot give anything more perfect. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant did not come very often to St. Hilda’s. At one time she +was a constant worshiper there, but that was a year ago, before something +happened which changed her. Then Sunday after Sunday two lovely girls used to +walk up the aisle side by side. The verger knew them and reserved their +favorite stalls for them. They used to kneel together and listen to the +service, and, what is more, take part in it. +</p> + +<p> +But a time came when one of the girls could never return to St. Hilda’s +and the other, people said, did not care to sit in the old seat without her. +They said she missed her friend and was more cut up than any one else at the +sudden death of one so fair and lovely. +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than one person turned +to look at her with interest. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with a drooping +plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fair face shone in the +midst of these surroundings like an exquisite flower. +</p> + +<p> +The service went on. During the prayers Maggie wept, but, when a great wave of +song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; her voice rose with +the other singers, clear, sweet and high. Her soul seemed to go up on her +voice, for all the sadness left her face; her eyes looked jubilant. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie had never been in any place like St. Hilda’s before. It had been +one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at Exeter, but year after year this +desire of hers had been put off and put off, and this was the first time in her +life that she had ever listened to cathedral music. She was impressed, +delighted, but not overpowered. +</p> + +<p> +“The organ is magnificent,” she said to herself, “but not +grander than the sea. The sea accompanies all the service at the dear little +old church at home.” +</p> + +<p> +People met and talked to one another in the green quadrangle outside the +chapel. Several other St. Benet girls had come to the afternoon service. Among +them was Miss Day and that fair, innocent-looking little girl, Rosalind Merton. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day and Miss Merton were together. They were both stepping back to join +Maggie and Prissie, when a tall, dark young man came hastily forward, bowed to +Rosalind Merton, and, coming up to Maggie Oliphant, shook hands with her. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you in chapel,” he said. “Are you coming to the +Marshall’s to tea?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am. Let me introduce to you my friend, Miss Peel. Miss Peel, this is +Mr. Hammond.” +</p> + +<p> +Hammond raised his hat to Prissie, said a courteous word to her and then turned +to speak again to Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +The three walked through the gates of the quadrangle and turned up the narrow, +picturesque High Street. It would soon be dusk; a wintry light was over +everything. Rosalind Merton and Miss Day followed behind. Maggie, who was +always absorbed with the present interest, did not heed or notice them, but +Priscilla heard one or two ill-bred giggles. +</p> + +<p> +She turned her head with indignation and received scornful glances from both +girls. The four met for a moment at a certain corner. Maggie said something to +Annie Day and introduced Mr. Hammond to her. As she did so, Rosalind took the +opportunity to come up to Priscilla and whisper to her: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not wanted, you know. You had much better come home with +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” replied Prissie in her matter-of-fact voice. +“Miss Oliphant has asked me to go with her to the +Marshalls’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well— if you care to be in the——” resumed +Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie suddenly flashed round on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Miss Peel, we’ll be late,” she said. +“Goodby.” She nodded to Rosalind; her eyes were full of an angry +fire; she took Prissie’s hand and hurried down the street. +</p> + +<p> +The two girls walked away, still giggling; a deep color mantled Maggie’s +cheeks. She turned and began to talk desperately to Mr. Hammond. Her tone was +flippant; her silvery laughter floated in the air. Priscilla turned and gazed +at her friend. She was seeing Maggie in yet another aspect. She felt +bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +The three presently reached a pleasant house standing in its own grounds. They +were shown into a large drawing-room, full of young people. Mrs. Marshall, a +pretty old lady, with white hair, came forward to receive them. Maggie was +swept away amid fervent embraces and handshakes to the other end of the room. +Mrs. Marshall saw that Priscilla looked frightened; she took her under her +wing, sat down by her on a sofa and began to talk. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie answered in a sedate voice. Mrs. Marshall had a very gentle manner. +Prissie began to lose her shyness; she almost imagined that she was back again +with Aunt Raby. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, you will like us all very much,” the old lady said. +“No life can be so absolutely delightful as that of a girl graduate at +St. Benet’s. The freedom from care, the mixture of study with play, the +pleasant social life, all combine to make young women both healthy and wise. +Ah, my love, we leave out the middle of the old proverb. The girls at St. +Benet’s are in that happy period of existence when they need give no +thought to money-making.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some are,” said Prissie. She sighed and the color rushed into her +cheeks. Mrs. Marshall looked at her affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +“Helen,” she called to her granddaughter who was standing near, +“bring Miss Peel another cup of tea— and some cake, Helen— +some of that nice cake you made yesterday. Now, my love, I insist. You +don’t look at all strong. You really must eat plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +Helen Marshall supplied Prissie’s wants, was introduced to her, and, +standing near, joined in the talk. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so glad you know Miss Oliphant,” said Mrs. Marshall. +“She will make a delightful friend for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And isn’t she lovely?” said Helen Marshall. “I +don’t think I know any one with such a beautiful face. You ought to be +very proud to have her as a friend. Aren’t you very proud?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Prissie, “I don’t know that I am. I am not +even sure that she is my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course she is— she wrote most affectionately of you to +grandmother. You can’t think how nicely she spoke. We were glad, we were +delighted, because Maggie— dear Maggie— has had no great friends +lately. Now, if you have had your tea, Miss Peel, I’ll take you about the +room and introduce you to one or two people.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla rose from her seat at once, and the two girls began to move about the +crowded drawing-room. Helen Marshall was very slight and graceful; she piloted +Prissie here and there without disturbing any one’s arrangements. At last +the two girls found themselves in an immense conservatory, which opened into +the drawing-room at one end. +</p> + +<p> +A great many of the guests were strolling about here. Priscilla’s eyes +sparkled at the sight of the lovely flowers. She forgot herself and made eager +exclamations of ecstasy. Helen, who up to now had thought her a dull sort of +girl, began to take an interest in her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you into our fern-house, which is just beyond +here,” she said. “We have got such exquisite maidenhairs and such a +splendid Killarney fern. Come; you shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +The fern-house seemed to be deserted. Helen opened the door first and ran +forward. Prissie followed. The fern-house was not large; they had almost +reached the end when a girl stood up suddenly and confronted them. The girl was +Maggie Oliphant. She was sitting there alone. Her face was absolutely colorless +and tears were lying wet on her eyelashes. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie made a swift remark, a passing jest, and hurried past the two into the +conservatory. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla could scarcely tell why, but at that moment she lost all interest in +both ferns and flowers. The look of misery on Maggie’s face seemed to +strike her own heart like a chill. +</p> + +<p> +“You look tired,” said Helen Marshall, who had not noticed +Maggie’s tearful eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I am,” answered Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +They went back again into the drawing-room. Prissie still could see nothing but +Miss Oliphant’s eyes and the look of distress on her pale face. +</p> + +<p> +Helen suddenly made a remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Was there ever such a merry creature as Maggie?” she said. +“Do look at her now.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie raised her eyes. Miss Oliphant was the center of a gay group, among +whom Geoffrey Hammond stood. Her laugh rang out clear and joyous; her smile was +like sunshine, her cheeks had roses in them and her eyes were as bright as +stars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +CONSPIRATORS</h2> + +<p> +Annie Day and her friend Rosalind ceased to laugh as soon as they turned the +corner. Annie now turned her eyes and fixed them on Rosalind, who blushed and +looked uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Annie, “you are a humbug, Rose! What a story you +told me about Mr. Hammond— how he looked at you and was so anxious to +make use of you. Oh, you know all you said. You told me a charming story about +your position as gooseberry.’ You expected a little fun for yourself, +didn’t you, my friend? Well, it seems to me that if any one is to have +the fun, it is Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind had rather a nervous manner. She bit her lips now; her baby-blue eyes +looked angry, her innocent face wore a frown. She dropped her hold of Annie +Day’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day was one of the most commonplace girls at Heath Hall. She had neither +good looks nor talent; she had no refinement of nature nor had she those rugged +but sterling qualities of honesty and integrity of purpose which go far to +cover a multitude of other defects. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t speak to me in that way,” said Rosalind +with a little gasp. “I hate people to laugh at me, and I can’t +stand sneers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! you’re such a dear little innocent baby. Of course, I can +quite understand. And does she suppose I’ll ruffle her pretty little +feathers? No, not I. I’d rather invent a new cradle song for you, Rosie, +dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, don’t!” said Rosalind. “Look here, Annie, +I must say something— yes, I must. I <i>hate</i> Maggie Oliphant!” +</p> + +<p> +“You hate Miss Oliphant?” Annie Day stood still, turned round and +stared at her companion. “When did this revolution take place, my dear? +What about Rose and Maggie sitting side by side at dinner? And Rose creeping +away all by herself to Maggie’s room and angling for an invitation to +cocoa, and trying hard, very hard, to become a member of the Dramatic Society, +just because Maggie acts so splendidly. Has it not been <i>Maggie— +Maggie—</i> ever since the term began, until we girls, who were not in +love with this quite too charming piece of perfection, absolutely hated the +sound of her name? Oh, Rose, what a fickle baby you are. I am ashamed of +you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t!” said Rose again. She linked her hand half timidly in +Miss Day’s arm. Miss Day was almost a head and shoulders above the +little, delicate, fairy-like creature. “I suppose I can’t help +changing my mind,” she said. “I <i>did</i> love Maggie, of course I +loved her— she fascinated me; but I don’t care for her— no, I +<i>hate</i> her now!” +</p> + +<p> +“How vehemently you pronounce that naughty word, my fair Rosalind. You +must give me some reasons for this grievous change in your feelings.” +</p> + +<p> +“She snubbed me,” said Rosalind; “she made little of me. I +offered to do her a kindness and she repulsed me. Who cares to be made little +of and repulsed?” +</p> + +<p> +Who, truly, Rosie?— not even an innocent baby. Now then, my love, let me +whisper a little secret to you. I have never loved Miss Oliphant. I have never +been a victim to her charms. Time was when she and Miss Lee— poor +Annabel!— ruled the whole of our hall. Those two girls carried everything +before them. That was before your day, Rose. Then Miss Lee died. She caught a +chill, and had a fever, and was dead in a couple of days. Yes, of course, it +was shocking. They moved her to the hospital, and she died there. Oh, there was +such excitement, and such grief— even <i>I</i> was sorry; for Annabel had +a way about her, I can’t describe it, but she <i>could</i> fascinate you. +It was awfully interesting to talk to her, and even to look at her was a +pleasure. We usedn’t to think much about Maggie when Annabel was by; but +now, what with Maggie and her mystery, and Maggie and her love affair, and +Maggie and her handsome face, and her wealth, and her expectations, why she +bids fair to be more popular even than the two were when they were together. +Yes, little Rose, I don’t want her to be popular any more than you do. I +think it’s a very unhealthy sign of any place to have all the girls +sighing and groaning about one or two— dying to possess their autographs, +and kissing their photographs, and framing them, and putting them up in their +rooms. I hate that mawkish kind of nonsense,” continued Miss Day, looking +very virtuous, “and I think Miss Heath ought to know about it, and put a +stop to it. I do, really.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind was glad that the gathering darkness prevented her sharp companion +from seeing the blush on her face, for among her own sacred possessions she +kept an autograph letter of Maggie’s, and she had passionately kissed +Maggie’s beautiful face as it looked at her out of a photograph, and, +until the moment when all her feelings had undergone such a change, was +secretly saving up her pence to buy a frame for it. Now she inquired eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +“What is the mystery about Miss Oliphant? So many people hint about it, I +do wish you would tell me, Annie.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I told you, pet, it would cease to be a mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you might say what you know. <i>Do,</i> Annie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it isn’t much— it’s really nothing; and yet— +and yet—” +</p> + +<p> +“You know it isn’t nothing, Annie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, when Annabel died, people said that Maggie had more cause than any +one else to be sorry. I never could find out what that cause was; but the +servants spread some reports. They said they had found Maggie and Annabel +together; Annabel had fainted; and Maggie was in an awful state of +misery— in quite an unnatural state, they said; she went into hysterics, +and Miss Heath was sent for, and was a long time soothing her. There was no +apparent reason for this, although, somehow or other, little whispers got +abroad that the mystery of Annabel’s illness and Maggie’s distress +was connected with Geoffrey Hammond. Of course, nothing was known, and nothing +is known; but, certainly, the little whisper got into the air. Dear me, +Rosalind, you need not eat me with your eyes. I am repeating mere conjectures, +and it is highly probable that not the slightest notice would have been taken +of this little rumor but for the tragedy which immediately followed. Annabel, +who had been as gay and well as any one at breakfast that morning, was never +seen in the college again. She was unconscious, the servants said, for a long +time, and when she awoke was in high fever. She was removed to the hospital, +and Maggie had seen the last of her friend. Poor Annabel died in two days, and +afterward Maggie took the fever. Yes, she has been quite changed since then. +She always had moods, as she called them, but not like now. Sometimes I think +she is almost flighty.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind was silent. After a while she said in a prim little voice, which she +adopted now and then when she wanted to conceal her real feelings: +</p> + +<p> +“But I do wonder what the quarrel was about— I mean, what really +happened between Annabel and Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Rosalind, have I said anything about a quarrel? Please +remember that the whole thing is conjecture from beginning to end, and +don’t go all over the place spreading stories and making mischief. I have +told you this in confidence, so don’t forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t forget,” replied Rosalind. “I don’t know +why you should accuse me of wanting to make mischief, Annie. I can’t help +being curious, of course, and, of course, I’d like to know more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for that matter, so would I,” replied Annie. “Where +there is a mystery it’s much more satisfactory to get to the bottom of +it. Of course, something dreadful must have happened to account for the change +in Miss Oliphant. It would be a comfort to know the truth, and, of course, one +need never talk of it. By the way, Rosie, you are just the person to ferret +this little secret out; you are the right sort of person for spying and +peeping.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” replied Rosalind; “if that’s your +opinion of me I’m not inclined to do anything to please you. Spying and +peeping, indeed! What next?” +</p> + +<p> +Annie Day patted her companion’s small white hand. +</p> + +<p> +“And so I’ve hurt the dear little baby’s feelings!” she +said. “But I didn’t mean to— no, that I didn’t. And she +such a pretty, sweet little pet as she is! Well, Rosie, you know what I mean. +If we can find out the truth about Miss Maggie we’ll just have a quiet +little crow over her all to ourselves. I don’t suppose we shall find out, +but the opportunities may arise— who knows? Now I want to speak to you +about another person, and that is Maggie’s new friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“What new friend?” Rosalind blushed brightly. +</p> + +<p> +“That ugly Priscilla Peel. She has taken her up. Any one can see +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I do— I am sure of it. Now I have good reason not to like Miss +Priscilla. You know what a virtuous parade she made of herself a few nights +ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Horrid, set-up minx! Just the sort of girl who ought to be suppressed +and crushed out of a college like ours. Vaunting her poverty in our very faces +and refusing to make herself pleasant or one with us in any sort of way. Lucy +Marsh and I had a long talk over her that night, and we put our heads together +to concoct a nice little bit of punishment for her. You know she’s +horridly shy, and as <i>gauche</i> as if she lived in the backwoods, and we +meant to ‘send her to Coventry.’ We had it all arranged, and a +whole lot of girls would have joined us, for it’s contrary to the spirit +of a place like this to allow girls of the Priscilla Peel type to become +popular or liked in any way. But, most unluckily, poor, dear, good, but stupid, +Nancy Banister was in the room when Prissie made her little oration, and Nancy +took her up as if she were a heroine and spoke of her as if she had done +something magnificent, and, of course, Nancy told Maggie, and now Maggie is as +thick as possible with Prissie. So you see, my dear Rosalind, our virtuous +little scheme is completely knocked on the head.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see—” began Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“You little goose, before a week is out Prissie will be the fashion. All +the girls will flock around her when Maggie takes her part. Bare, ugly rooms +will be the rage; poverty will be the height of the fashion, and it will be +considered wrong even to go in for the recognized college recreations. Rosie, +my love, we must nip this growing mischief in the bud.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” asked Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“We must separate Maggie Oliphant and Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” asked Rose again. “I’m sure,” she added in +a vehement voice, “I’m willing— I’m more than +willing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Well, we’re at home now, and I absolutely must have a cup of +tea. No time for it in my room to-night— let’s come into the hall +and have some there. Look here, Rosalind, I’ll ask Lucy Marsh to have +cocoa to-night in my room, and you can come too. Now keep a silent tongue in +your head, Baby.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +A GOOD THING TO BE YOUNG</h2> + +<p> +It was long past the tea-hour at Heath Hall when Maggie Oliphant and Priscilla +started on their walk home. The brightness and gaiety of the merry party at the +Marshalls’ had increased as the moments flew on. Even Priscilla had +caught something of the charm. The kindly spirit which animated every one +seemed to get into her. She first became interested, then she forgot herself. +Prissie was no longer awkward; she began to talk, and when she liked she could +talk well. +</p> + +<p> +As the two girls were leaving the house Geoffrey Hammond put in a sudden +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“I will see you home,” he said to Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, you mustn’t,” she answered; her tone was vehement. +She forgot Prissie’s presence and half turned her back on her. +</p> + +<p> +“How unkind you are!” said the young man in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Geoffrey, but I am struggling— you don’t know how hard I +am struggling— to be true to myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are altogether mistaken in your idea of truth,” said Hammond, +turning and walking a little way by her side. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not mistaken— I am right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at least allow me to explain my side of the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it cannot be; there shall be no explanations, I am resolved. Good +night, you must not come any further.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand. Hammond took it limply between his own. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very cruel,” he murmured in the lowest of voices. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hat, forgot even to bow to Priscilla, and hurried off down a side +street. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie walked on a little way. Then she turned and looked down the street where +he had vanished. Suddenly she raised her hand to her lips, kissed it and blew +the kiss after the figure which had already disappeared. She laughed excitedly +when she did this, and her whole face was glowing with a beautiful color. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie, standing miserable and forgotten by the tall, handsome girl’s +side, could see the light in her eyes and the glow on her cheeks in the +lamplight. +</p> + +<p> +“I am here,” said Priscilla at last in a low, half-frightened +voice. “I am sorry I am here, but I am. I heard what you said to Mr. +Hammond. I am sorry I heard.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned slowly and looked at her. Prissie returned her gaze. Then, as if +further words were wrung from her against her will, she continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the tears in your eyes in the fern-house at the Marshalls’. +I am very sorry, but I did see them.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Prissie!” said Maggie. She went up suddenly to the girl, +put her arm round her neck and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come home now,” she said, drawing Prissie’s hand through her +arm. “I don’t think I greatly mind your knowing,” she said +after a pause. “You are true; I see it in your face. You would never tell +again— you would never make mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell again! Of course not.” Prissie’s words came out with +great vigor. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you would not, Priscilla; may I call you Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you be my friend and shall I be your friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you would,” said Prissie. “But you don’t mean it. +It is impossible that you can mean it. I’m not a bit like you— +and— and— you only say these things to be kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must tell you,” said Prissie, turning very pale. “I heard +what you said to Miss Banister the night I came to the college.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I said to Miss Banister? What did I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, can’t you remember? The words seemed burnt into me: I shall +never forget them. I had left my purse in the dining-hall, and I was going to +fetch it. Your door was a little open. I heard my name, and I stopped— +yes, I did stop to listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a naughty, mean little Prissie! You stopped to listen. And what +did you hear? Nothing good, of course? The bad thing was said to punish you for +listening.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard,” said Priscilla, her own cheeks crimson now, “I +heard you say that it gave you an aesthetic pleasure to be kind, and that was +why you were good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie felt her own color rising. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear,” she said, “it still gives me an aesthetic +pleasure to be kind. You could not expect me to fall in love with you the +moment I saw you. I was kind to you then, perhaps, for the reason I stated. It +is very different now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was wrong of you to be kind to me for that reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wrong of me? What an extraordinary girl you are, Priscilla— why +was it wrong of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I learned to love you. You were gentle to me and spoke +courteously when others were rude and only laughed; my whole heart went out to +you when you were so sweet and gentle and kind. I did not think— I could +not possibly think— that you were good just because it gave you a sort of +selfish pleasure. When I heard your words I felt dreadful. I hated St. +Benet’s; I wished I had never come. Your words turned everything to +bitterness for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they really, Priscilla? Oh, Prissie! what a thoughtless, wild, +impulsive creature I am. Well, I don’t feel now as I did that night. If +those words were cruel, forgive me. Forget those words, Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? I have forgotten them utterly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll be friends— real friends; true friends?” +</p> + +<p> +Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must say Yes, Maggie.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is right. Now keep your hand in my arm. Let’s walk fast. Is +it not glorious to walk in this semi-frosty sort of weather? Prissie, +you’ll see a vast lot that you don’t approve of in your new +friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t care,” said Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +She felt so joyous she could have skipped. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve as many sides,” continued Maggie, “as a chamelon +has colors. I am the gayest of the gay, as well as the saddest of the sad. When +I am gay you may laugh with me, but I warn you when I am sad you must never cry +with me. Leave me alone when I have my dark moods on, Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Maggie, I’ll remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’ll make a delightful friend,” said Miss +Oliphant, just glancing at her; “but I pity your side of the +bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’ll try you so fearfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, you won’t. I don’t want to have a perfect +friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect. No, child— Heaven forbid. But there are shades of +perfection. Now, when I get into my dark moods, I feel wicked as well as sad. +No, we won’t talk of them; we’ll keep them away. Prissie, I feel +good to-night— good— and glad: it’s such a nice +feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it,” said Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know about it, child? You have not tasted life yet. Wait +until you do. For instance— no, though— I won’t enlighten +you. Prissie, what do you think of Geoffrey Hammond?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think he loves you very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Geoffrey! Now, Prissie, you are to keep that little thought quite +dark in your mind— in fact, you are to put it out of your mind. You are +not to associate my name with Mr. Hammond’s— not even in your +thoughts. You will very likely hear us spoken of together, and some of the +stupid girls here will make little quizzing, senseless remarks. But there will +be no truth in them, Prissie. He is nothing to me nor I to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you blow a kiss after him?” asked Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie stood still. It was too dark for Priscilla to see her blush. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my many-sided nature!” she suddenly exclaimed. “It was a +wicked sprite made me blow that kiss. Prissie, my dear, I am cold: race me to +the house.” +</p> + +<p> +The two girls entered the wide hall, flushed and laughing. Other girls were +lingering about on the stairs. Some were just starting off to evening service +at Kingsdene; others were standing in groups, chatting. Nancy Banister came up +and spoke to Maggie. Maggie took her arm and walked away with her. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie found herself standing alone in the hall. It was as if the delightful +friendship cemented between herself and Miss Oliphant in the frosty air outside +had fallen to pieces like a castle of cards the moment they entered the house. +Prissie felt a chill. Her high spirits went down a very little. Then, resolving +to banish the ignoble spirit of distrust, she prepared to run upstairs to her +own room. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath called her name as she was passing an open door. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, my dear? Will you come to my room after supper +to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” said Prissie, her eyes sparkling. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath came to the threshold of her pretty room and smiled at the young +girl. +</p> + +<p> +“You look well and happy,” she said. “You are getting at home +here. You will love us all yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I love you now!” said Prissie with fervor. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath, prompted by the look of intense and sincere gladness on the young +face, bent and kissed Priscilla. A rather disagreeable voice said suddenly at +her back: +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” and Lucy Marsh ran down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +She had knocked against Prissie in passing; she had witnessed Miss +Heath’s kiss. The expression on Lucy’s face was unpleasant. Prissie +did not notice it, however. She went slowly up to her room. The electric light +was on, the fire was blazing merrily. Priscilla removed her hat and jacket, +threw herself into the one easy-chair the room contained, and gave herself up +to pleasant dreams. Many new aspects of life were opening before her. She felt +that it was a good thing to be young, and she was distinctly conscious of a +great, soft glow of happiness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +CAUGHT IN A TRAP</h2> + +<p> +College life is school life over again, but with wide differences. The +restraints which characterize the existence of a schoolgirl are scarcely felt +at all by the girl graduates. There are no punishments. Up to a certain point +she is free to be industrious or not as she pleases. Some rules there are for +her conduct and guidance, but they are neither many nor arbitrary. In short, +the young girl graduate is no longer thought of as a child. She is a woman, +with a woman’s responsibilities; she is treated accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day, Miss Marsh, Miss Merton and one or two other congenial spirits +entered heartily into the little plot which should deprive Priscilla of Maggie +Oliphant’s friendship. They were anxious to succeed in this, because +their characters were low, their natures jealous and mean. Prissie had set up a +higher standard than theirs, and they were determined to crush the little +aspirant for moral courage. If in crushing Prissie they could also bring +discredit upon Miss Oliphant, their sense of victory would have been +intensified; but it was one thing for these conspirators to plot and plan and +another thing for them to perform. It is possible that in school life they +might have found this easier; opportunities might have arisen for them, with +mistresses to be obeyed, punishments to be dreaded, rewards to be won. At St. +Benet’s there was no one especially to be obeyed, and neither rewards nor +punishments entered into the lives of the girls. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant did not care in the least what girls like Miss Day or Miss +Marsh said or thought about her, and Priscilla, who was very happy and +industrious just now, heard many innuendoes and sly little speeches without +taking in their meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Still, the conspirators did not despair. The term before Christmas was in some +ways rather a dull one, and they were glad of any excitement to break the +monotony. As difficulties increased their ardor also deepened, and they were +resolved not to leave a stone unturned to effect their object. Where there is a +will there is a way. This is true as regards evil and good things alike. +</p> + +<p> +One foggy morning, toward the end of November, Priscilla was standing by the +door of one of the lecture-rooms, a book of French history, a French grammar +and exercise-book and thick note-book in her hand. She was going to her French +lecture and was standing patiently by the lecture-room door, which had not yet +been opened. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla’s strongest bias was for Greek and Latin, but Mr. Hayes had +recommended her to take up modern languages as well, and she was steadily +plodding through the French and German, for which she had not so strong a +liking as for her beloved classics. Prissie was a very eager learner, and she +was busy now looking over her notes of the last lecture and standing close to +the door, so as to be one of the first to take her place in the lecture-room. +</p> + +<p> +The rustling of a dress caused her to look round, and Rosalind Merton stood by +her side. Rosalind was by no means one of the “students” of the +college. She attended as few lectures as were compatible with her remaining +there, but French happened to be one of the subjects which she thought it well +to take up, and she appeared now by Prissie’s side with the invariable +notebook, without which no girl went to lecture, in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it cold?” she said, shivering and raising her pretty +face to Priscilla’s. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie glanced at her for a moment, said Yes, she supposed it was cold, in an +abstracted voice, and bent her head once more over her note-book. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind was looking very pretty in a dress of dark blue velveteen. Her golden +curly hair lay in little tendrils all over her head and curled lovingly against +her soft white throat. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate Kingsdene in a fog,” she continued, “and I think +it’s very wrong to keep us in this draughty passage until the +lecture-room is opened. Don’t you, Miss Peel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we are before our time, so no one is to blame for that,” +answered Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, so we are.” Rosalind pulled out a small gold watch, +which she wore at her girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“How stupid of me to have mistaken the hour!” she exclaimed. Then +looking hard at Prissie, she continued in an anxious tone: +</p> + +<p> +“You are not going to attend any lectures this afternoon, are you, Miss +Peel?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Priscilla. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind’s blue eyes looked almost pathetic in their pleading. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder”— she began; “I am so worried, I +<i>wonder</i> if you’d do me a kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say until you ask me,” said Priscilla; “what +do you want me to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a girl at Kingsdene, a Miss Forbes. She makes my dresses +now and then; I had a letter from her last night, and she is going to London in +a hurry because her mother is ill. She made this dress for me. Isn’t it +pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Priscilla, just glancing at it. “But what +connection has that with my doing anything for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a great deal; I’m coming to that part. Miss Forbes wants me to +pay her for making this dress before she goes to London. I can only do this by +going to Kingsdene this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know if you will come with me. Miss Heath does not like our +going to the town alone, particularly at this time of year, when the evenings +are so short. Will you come with me, Miss Peel? It will be awfully good-natured +of you, and I really do want poor Miss Forbes to have her money before she goes +to London.” +</p> + +<p> +“But cannot some of your own friends go with you?” returned +Priscilla. “I don’t wish to refuse, of course, if it is necessary; +but I want to work up my Greek notes this afternoon. The next lecture is a very +stiff one, and I sha’n’t he ready for it without some hard +work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you can study when you come back. <i>Do</i> come with me. I +would not ask you, only I know you are so good-natured, and Annie Day and Lucy +Marsh have both to attend lectures this afternoon. I have no one to ask— +no one, really if you refuse. I have not half so many friends as you think, and +it would be quite too dreadful for poor Miss Forbes not to have her money when +she wants to spend it on her sick mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla hesitated for a moment. Two or three other girls were walking down +the corridor to the lecture-room; the door was flung open. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she said as she entered the room, followed by +Rosalind, “I will go with you. At what hour do you want to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“At three o’clock. I’m awfully grateful. A thousand thanks, +Miss Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie nodded, seated herself at the lecture-table and in the interest of the +work which lay before her soon forgot all about Rosalind and her troubles. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon of that day turned out not only foggy but wet. A drizzling rain +shrouded the landscape, and very few girls from St. Benet’s were +venturing abroad. +</p> + +<p> +At half-past two Nancy Banister came hastily into Priscilla’s room. +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie and I are going down to the library,” she said, “to +have a cozy read by the fire; we want you to come with us. Why, surely you are +never going out, Miss Peel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am,” answered Prissie in a resigned voice. “I +don’t like it a bit, but Miss Merton has asked me to go with her to +Kingsdene, and I promised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you sha’n’t keep your promise. This is not a fit day +for you to go out, and you have a cough, too. I heard you coughing last +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but that is nothing. I must go, Miss Banister,”, I must keep +my word. I dare say it won’t take Miss Merton and me very long to walk +into Kingsdene and back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I never knew that Rosalind Merton was one of your friends, +Prissie,” continued Nancy in a puzzled voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor is she— I scarcely know her; but when she asked me to go out +with her, I could not very well say no.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose not; but I am sorry, all the same, for it is not a fit day for +any one to be abroad, and Rosalind is such a giddy pate. Well, come back as +soon as you can. Maggie and I are going to have a jolly time, and we only wish +you were with us.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy nodded brightly and took her leave, and Priscilla, putting on her +waterproof and her shabbiest hat, went down into the hall to meet Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind was also in waterproof, but her hat was extremely pretty and becoming, +and Priscilla fancied she got a glimpse of a gay silk dress under the +waterproof cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how quite too sweet of you to be ready!” said Rosalind with +effusion. She took Prissie’s hand and squeezed it affectionately, and the +two girls set off. +</p> + +<p> +The walk was a dreary one, for Kingsdene, one of the most beautiful places in +England in fine weather, lies so low that in the winter months fogs are +frequent, and the rain is almost incessant, so that then the atmosphere is +always damp and chilly. By the time the two girls had got into the High Street +Prissie’s thick, sensible boots were covered with mud and +Rosalind’s thin ones felt very damp to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +They soon reached the quarter where the dressmaker, Miss Forbes, lived. Prissie +was asked to wait downstairs, and Rosalind ran up several flights of stairs to +fulfil her mission. She came back at the end of a few minutes, looking bright +and radiant. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Peel,” she said, +“but my boots were so muddy that Miss Forbes insisted on polishing them +up for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we can go home now, I suppose?” said Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye— es; only as we <i>are</i> here, would you greatly mind our +going round by Bouverie Street? I want to inquire for a friend of mine, Mrs. +Elliot-Smith. She has not been well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Priscilla. “Will it take us +much out of our way?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, only a step or two. Come, we have just to turn this corner, and here +we are. What a dear— quite too good-natured girl you are, Miss +Peel!” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie said nothing. The two started forth again in the drizzling mist and +fog, and presently found themselves in one of the most fashionable streets of +Kingsdene and standing before a ponderous hall-door, which stood back in a +portico. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind rang the bell, which made a loud peal. The door was opened almost +immediately; but, instead of a servant appearing in answer to the summons, a +showily dressed girl, with a tousled head of flaxen hair, light blue eyes and a +pale face, stood before Rosalind and Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you dear Rose!” she said, clasping her arms round Miss Merton +and dragging her into the house; “I had almost given you up. Do come +in— do come in, both of you. You are more than welcome. What a miserable, +horrid, too utterly depressing afternoon it is!” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Meta?” said Rosalind, when she could interrupt this +eager flow of words. “May I introduce my friend, Miss Peel? Miss Peel, +this is my very great and special friend and chum, Meta Elliot-Smith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you charming darling!” said Meta, giving Rose a fresh hug and +glancing in a supercilious but friendly way at Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“We came to inquire for your mother, dear Meta,” said Rose in a +demure tone. “Is she any better?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear darling, she’s much better.” Meta’s eyes +flashed interrogation into Rose’s: Rose’s returned back glances +which spoke whole volumes of meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” said Meta Elliot-Smith, “now that you two dear, +precious girls have come, you mustn’t go away. Oh, no, I couldn’t +hear of it. I have perfect oceans to say to you, Rose— and it is +absolutely centuries since we have met. Off with your waterproof and up you +come to the drawing-room for a cup of tea. One or two friends are dropping in +presently, and the Beechers and one or two more are upstairs now. You know the +Beechers, don’t you, Rosalind? Here, Miss Peel, let me help you to +unburden yourself. Little Rose is so nimble in her ways that she doesn’t +need any assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but indeed I can’t stay,” said Prissie. “It is +quite impossible! You know, Miss Merton, it is impossible. We are due at St. +Benet’s now. We ought to be going back at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton’s only answer was to slip off her waterproof cloak and +stand arrayed in a fascinating toilet of silk and lace— a little too +dressy, perhaps, even for an afternoon party at Kingsdene, but vastly becoming +to its small wearer. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla opened her eyes wide as she gazed at her companion. She saw at once +that she had been entrapped into her present false position, and that +Rosalind’s real object in coming to Kingsdene was not to pay her +dressmaker but to visit the Elliot-Smiths. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t possible stay,” she said in a cold, angry voice. +“I must go back to St. Benet’s at once.” +</p> + +<p> +She began to button up her waterproof as fast as Miss Elliot-Smith was +unbuttoning it. +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, you silly old dear!” said Rosalind, who, having gained +her way, was now in the best of spirits. “You mustn’t listen to +her, Meta; she studies a great deal too hard, and a little relaxation will do +her all the good in the world. My dear Miss Peel, you can’t be so rude as +to refuse a cup of tea, and I know I shall catch an awful cold if I don’t +have one. Do come upstairs for half an hour; <i>do,</i> there’s a dear +Prissie!” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla hesitated. She had no knowledge of so-called “society.” +Her instincts told her it was very wrong to humor Rose. She disliked Miss +Elliot-Smith and felt wild at the trick which had been played on her. +Nevertheless, on an occasion of this kind, she was no match for Rose, who knew +perfectly what she was about, and stood smiling and pretty before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Just for a few moments,” said Rosalind, coming up and whispering +to her. “I really won’t keep you long. You <i>will</i> just oblige +me for a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but I’m not fit to be seen in this old dress!” +whispered back poor Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you are; you’re not bad at all, and I am sure Meta will +find you a secluded corner if you want it— won’t you, Meta?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, if Miss Peel wants it,” answered Meta. “But +she looks all right, so deliciously quaint— I simply <i>adore</i> quaint +people! Quite the sweet girl graduate, I do declare. You don’t at all +answer to the <i>role,</i> you naughty Rosalind!” +</p> + +<p> +So Prissie, in her ill-made brown dress, her shabbiest hat and her muddy boots, +had to follow in the wake of Rosalind Merton and her friend. At first she had +been too angry to think much about her attire, but she was painfully conscious +of it when she entered a crowded drawing-room, where every one else was in a +suitable afternoon toilet. She was glad to shrink away out of sight into the +most remote corner she could find; her muddy boots were pushed far in under her +chair and hidden as much as possible by her rather short dress; her cheeks +burnt unbecomingly; she felt miserable, self-conscious, ill at ease and very +cross with every one. It was in vain for poor Priscilla to whisper to herself +that Greek and Latin were glorious and great and dress and fashion were things +of no moment whatever. At this instant she knew all too well that dress and +fashion were reigning supreme. +</p> + +<p> +Meta Elliot-Smith was elusive, loud and vulgar, but she was also good-natured. +She admired Rosalind, but in her heart of hearts she thought that her friend +had played Prissie a very shabby trick. She brought Prissie some tea, +therefore, and stood for a moment or two by her side, trying to make things a +little more comfortable for her. Some one soon claimed her attention, however, +and poor Prissie found herself alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +IN THE ELLIOT-SMITH’S DRAWING-ROOM</h2> + +<p> +The fun and talk rose fast and furious. More and more guests arrived; the large +drawing-rooms were soon almost as full as they could hold. Priscilla, from her +corner, half-hidden by a sheltering window curtain, looked in vain for +Rosalind. Where had she hidden herself? When were they going away? Surely +Rosalind would come to fetch her soon? They had to walk home and be ready for +dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner at St. Benet’s was at half-past six, and Prissie reflected with a +great sensation of thankfulness that Rosalind and she must go back in good time +for this meal, as it was one of the rules of the college that no girl should +absent herself from late dinner without getting permission from the principal. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie looked in agony at the clock which stood on a mantel-piece not far from +where she had ensconced herself. Presently it struck five; no one heard its +silver note in the babel of sound, but Priscilla watched its slowly moving +hands in an agony. +</p> + +<p> +Rose must come to fetch her presently. Prissie knew— she reflected to her +horror that she had not the moral courage to walk about those drawing-rooms +hunting for Rose. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three exquisitely dressed but frivolous-looking women stood in a group +not far from the window where Priscilla sat forlorn. They talked about the cut +of their mantles and the price they had given for their new winter bonnets. +Their shrill laughter reached Prissie’s ears, also their words. They +complimented one another, but talked scandal of their neighbors. They called +somebody— who Prissie could not imagine—“a certain +lady,” and spoke of how she was angling to get a footing in society, and +how the good set at Kingsdene would certainly never have anything to do with +her or hers. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s taking up those wretched girl graduates,” said one of +these gossips to her neighbor. Then her eye fell upon Prissie. She said +“Hush!” in an audible tone, and the little party moved away out of +earshot. +</p> + +<p> +The minute hand of the clock on the mantel-piece pointed to nearly half-past +five. Poor Prissie felt her miseries grow almost intolerable. Tears of +mortification and anguish were forcing themselves to her eyes. She felt that, +in addition to having lost so many hours of study, she would get into a serious +scrape at St. Benet’s for breaking one of the known rules of the college. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a quiet voice said, “How do you do?” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her tearful eyes. Geoffrey Hammond was standing by her side. He gave +her a kind glance, shook hands with her and stood by her window uttering +commonplaces until Priscilla had recovered her self-possession. Then, dropping +into a chair near, he said abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you from the other end of the room. I was surprised. I did not +suppose you knew our hostess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor do I really,” said Priscilla with sudden vehemence. “Oh, +it’s a shame!” she added, her face reddening up woefully; “I +have been entrapped!” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not let the people who are near us hear you say words of that +kind,” said Hammond; “they will crowd around to hear your story. +Now, I want it all to myself. Do you think you can tell it to me in a low +voice?” +</p> + +<p> +To poor Hammond’s horror Prissie began to whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” he said, interrupting her, “but do you +know that the buzzing noise caused by a whisper carries sound a long way? That +is a well authenticated fact. Now, if you will try to speak low.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you; yes, I will,” said Prissie. She began a garbled +account. Hammond looked at her face and guessed the truth. The miseries of her +present position were depriving the poor girl of the full use of her intellect. +At last he ascertained that Priscilla’s all-absorbing present anxiety was +to be in time for the half-past six dinner at St. Benet’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I know we’ll be late,” she said, “and I’ll have +broken the rules, and Miss Heath will be so much annoyed with me.” +</p> + +<p> +Hammond volunteered to look for Miss Merton. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” said Prissie, the tears springing to her eyes. +“How very, very kind you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t speak of it,” said Hammond. “Stay where +you are. I’ll soon bring the young truant to your side.” +</p> + +<p> +He began to move about the drawing-rooms, and Prissie from her hiding-place +watched him with a world of gratitude in her face. “Talk of my stirring +from this corner,” she said to herself, “why, I feel glued to the +spot! Oh, my awful muddy boots. I daren’t even think of them. Now I do +hope Mr. Hammond will find Miss Merton quickly. How kind he is! I wonder Maggie +does not care for him as much as he cares for her. I do not feel half as shy +with him as I do with every one else in this dreadful— dreadful room. Oh, +I do trust he’ll soon come back and bring Miss Merton with him. Then, if +we run all the way, we may, perhaps, be in time for dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +Hammond was absent about ten minutes; they seemed like so many hours to anxious +Prissie. To her horror she saw him returning alone, and now she so far forgot +her muddy boots as to run two or three steps to meet him. She knocked over a +footstool as she did so, and one or two people looked round and shrugged their +shoulders at the poor <i>gauche</i> girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” exclaimed Prissie, again speaking in a loud voice. +“Oh, haven’t you brought her? What shall I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, I assure you, Miss Peel. Let me conduct you back +to that snug seat in the window. I have seen Miss Merton, and she says you are +to make yourself happy. She asked Miss Heath’s permission for you both to +be absent from dinner to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“She did? I never heard of anything so outrageous. <i>I</i> +won’t stay. I shall go away at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you not better just think calmly over it? If you return to St. +Benet’s without Miss Merton, you will get her into a scrape.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I care for that? Oh, she has behaved disgracefully! She has +told Miss Heath a lie. I shall explain matters the very moment I go +back.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was not often in a passion, but she felt in one now. She lost her +shyness and her voice rose without constraint. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not supposed to know the ways of society,” she said, +“but I don’t think I want to know much about this sort of +society.” And she got up, prepared to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies, who had been gossiping at her side, turned at the sound of her +agitation. They saw a plain, badly dressed girl, with a frock conveniently +short for the muddy streets, but by no means in tone with her present elegant +surroundings, standing up and contradicting, or at least appearing to +contradict, Geoffrey Hammond, one of the best known men at St. Hilda’s, a +Senior Wrangler, too. What did this <i>gauche</i> girl mean? Most people were +deferential to Hammond, but she seemed to be scolding him. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie for the time being became more interesting even than the winter +fashions. The ladies drew a step or two nearer to enjoy the little comedy. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla noticed no one, but Hammond felt these good ladies in the air. His +cheeks burned and he wished himself well out of his present position. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will sit down, Miss Peel,” he said in a low, firm voice, +“I think I can give you good reasons for not rushing away in this +headlong fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what are they?” said Prissie. Hammond’s voice had a +sufficiently compelling power to make her sit down once more on her +window-ledge. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think,” he said, seating himself in front of her, +“that we may as well keep this discussion to ourselves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; was I speaking too loud? I wouldn’t vex <i>you</i> for +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me; you are still speaking a little loud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Poor Prissie fell back, her face crimson. “Please say +anything you wish,” she presently piped in a voice as low as a little +mouse might have used. +</p> + +<p> +“What I have to say is simply this,” said Hammond: “You will +gain nothing now by rushing off to St. Benet’s. However hard you +struggle, you cannot get there in time for dinner. Would it not be best, then, +to remain here quietly until Miss Merton asks you to accompany her back to the +college? Then, of course, it will remain with you to pay her out in any way you +think well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you; perhaps that is best. It is quite hopeless now to think of +getting back in time for dinner. I only hope Miss Merton won’t keep me +waiting very long, for it is very, very dull sitting here and seeing people +staring at you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not look at them if I were you, Miss Peel; and, if you will +permit me, I shall be only too pleased to keep you company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” said Prissie. “Then I sha’n’t +mind staying at all.” +</p> + +<p> +The next half-hour seemed to pass on the wings of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was engaged in an animated discussion with Hammond on the relative +attractions of the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey;” her +opinion differed from his, and she was well able to hold her ground. Her face +was now both eloquent and attractive, her eyes were bright, her words terse and +epigrammatic. She looked so different a girl from the cowed and miserable +little Prissie of an hour ago that Rosalind Merton as she came up and tapped +her on the shoulder, felt a pang of envy. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to interrupt you,” she said, “but it is time for +us to be going home. Have you given Mr. Hammond his message?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Priscilla. “I have not any message +for Mr. Hammond.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have forgotten. Did not Miss Oliphant give you a letter for +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not. What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt sure I saw her,” said Rosalind. “I suppose I was +mistaken. Well, sorry as I am to interrupt a pleasant talk, I fear I must ask +you to come home with me now.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her pretty baby eyes to Hammond’s face as she spoke. He +absolutely scowled down at her, shook hands warmly with Priscilla and turned +away. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and bid Mrs. Elliot-Smith good-by,” said Rosalind, her eyes +still dancing. “She is at the other end of the drawing-room; come, you +can follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How disgracefully you have behaved, Miss Merton!” began Priscilla +at once. “You cannot expect me ever to speak to you again, and I shall +certainly tell Miss Heath.” +</p> + +<p> +They were walking across the crowded drawing-room now. Rosalind turned and let +her laughing eyes look full at Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Miss Peel, pray reserve any little scolding you intend to bestow +upon me until we get out into the street, and please do not tread upon my +dress!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV<br/> +POLLY SINGLETON</h2> + +<p> +Miss Day was having quite a large party for cocoa in her room. She had invited +not only her own chosen friends from Heath Hall, but also two or three +congenial spirits from Katharine Hall. Five or six merry-looking girls were now +assembled in her room. Miss Day’s room was one of the largest in the +college; it was showily furnished, with an intention to produce a Japanese +effect. Several paper lanterns hung from the ceiling and were suspended to wire +supports, which were fastened to different articles of furniture. +</p> + +<p> +In honor of Miss Day’s cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and the +effect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of color, were grotesque and +almost <i>bizarre.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day thought her room lovely. It was dazzling, but the reverse of +reposeful. +</p> + +<p> +The girls were lounging about, chatting and laughing; they were having a good +time and were absolutely at their ease. One, a red-haired girl, with frank, +open blue eyes and a freckled face, an inmate of Katharine Hall, was sending +her companions into fits of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she was saying in a high, gay voice, “I’m not a +bit ashamed of it; there’s never the least use in not owning the truth. +I’m used up, girls: I haven’t a pennypiece to bless myself with, +and this letter came from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he’ll see Miss +Eccleston if I didn’t pay up. Madame Clarice wrote two nights ago, +declaring <i>her</i> intention of visiting Miss Eccleston if I didn’t +send her some money. I shall have no money until next term. There’s a +state of affairs!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean to do, Polly?” asked Lucy Marsh in a sympathizing +tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Do? My dear creature, there’s only one thing to be done. I must +have an auction on the quiet. I shall sell my worldly all. I can buy things +again, you know, after dad sends me his next allowance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Polly, but you cannot really mean it!” Miss Marsh, Miss Day +and two or three more crowded around Polly Singleton as they spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t mean to have an auction,” began Miss Day; +“no one ever heard of such a thing at St. Benet’s. Why, it would be +simply disgraceful!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it wouldn’t— don’t turn cross, Annie. I’ll +have an auction first and then a great feed in the empty room. I can go on tick +for the feed; Jones, the confectioner, knows better than not to oblige me. +He’s not like that horrid Spilman and that mean Madame Clarice.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Polly, if you write to your father, he’ll be sure to send you +what you want to clear off those two debts. You have often told us he has lots +of money.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dears, he has more tin than he knows what to do with; but do you +think I am going to have the poor old dear worried? When I was coming here he +said, Polly, you shall have thirty pounds every term to spend as pocket money; +not a penny more, not a penny less. And you must keep out of debt on it; mind +that, Polly Singleton.’ I gave the dear old dad a hug. He’s the +image of me— only with redder hair and more freckles. And I said, +I’ll do my best, dad, and, anyhow, you sha’n’t be put out +whatever happens.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you didn’t tell him you’d keep out of debt?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, for I knew I’d break my word. I’ve always been in debt +ever since I could remember. I wouldn’t know how it felt not to owe a lot +of money. It’s habit, and I don’t mind it a bit. But I don’t +want dad to know, and I don’t want Miss Eccleston to know, for perhaps +she would write to him. If those old horrors won’t wait for their money +till next term, why there’s nothing for it but an auction. I have some +nice things and they’ll go very cheap, so there’s a chance for you +all, girls.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if Miss Eccleston finds out?” said Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +“What if she does? There’s no rule against auctions, and, as I +don’t suppose any of you will have one, it isn’t worth making a +rule for me alone. Anyhow, I’m resolved to risk it. My auction will be on +Monday, and I shall make out an inventory of my goods tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you advertise it on the notice-board in your hall, dear?” +asked Lucy Marsh. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? A good idea! <i>The great A. will be held in Miss +Singleton’s room, from eight to ten o’clock on the evening of +Monday next. Great Bargains! Enormous Sacrifice! Things absolutely given +away!</i> Oh, what fun! I’ll be my own auctioneer.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly lay back in her armchair and laughed loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“What is all this noise about?” asked a refined little voice, and +Rosalind Merton entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three girls jumped up at once to greet her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Rosie; you’re just in time. What <i>do</i> you think Miss +Singleton is going to do now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell; what?” asked Rosalind. “Something +<i>outre’,</i> I feel certain.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly made a wry face and winked her eyes at her companions. +</p> + +<p> +“I know I’m not refined enough for you, Miss Merton,” she +drawled. “I’m rough, like my dad, rough and ready; but, at any +rate, I’m honest— at least, I think I’m honest. When I owe +money, I don’t leave a stone unturned to pay what I owe. Having sinned, I +repent. I enter the Valley of Humiliation and give up all. Who can do +more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, Polly, I don’t think I’d call owing a little money +sinning,” said Lucy Marsh, whose ideas were known to be somewhat lax. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear, there’s nothing for those in debt but to sell their +possessions. My auction is on Monday. Will you come, Rosalind?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean it,” said Rose, her blue eyes beginning to +sparkle. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do, absolutely and truly mean it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will sell your things— your lovely things?” +</p> + +<p> +“My things, my lovely, lovely things must be sold.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not your clothes? Your new sealskin jacket, for instance?” +</p> + +<p> +Polly made a wry face for a moment. Putting her hand into her pocket, she +pulled out Spilman’s and Madame Clarice’s two bills. +</p> + +<p> +“I owe a lot,” she said, looking with a rueful countenance at the +sum total. “Yes, I even fear the sealskin must go. I don’t want to +part with it. Dad gave it me just before I came here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lovely seal,” said Annie Day, “and it seems a +sin to part with it; it’s cut in the most stylish way too, with those +high shoulders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t praise it, please,” said Polly, lying back in her +chair and covering her eyes with her hand. “It cuts like a knife to part +with dad’s last present. Well, I’m rightly punished. What a fool I +was to get all those Japanese things from Spilman and that fancy ball-dress for +the theatricals. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you won’t want to part with your seal, dear,” said +Lucy, who was not so greedy as some of the other girls and really pitied Polly. +“You have so many beautiful things without that, that you will be sure to +realize a good bit of money.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Lucy, I owe such a lot; the seal must go. Oh, what a worry it +is!” +</p> + +<p> +“And at auctions of this kind,” said Rosalind in her low voice, +“even beautiful things don’t realize much. How can they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rosalind is after that seal,” whispered Lucy to Annie Day. +</p> + +<p> +“The seal would swallow you up, Rosie,” said Annie in a loud voice. +“Don’t aspire to it; you’d never come out alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“The seal can be brought to know good manners,” retorted Rose +angrily. “His size can be diminished and his strength abated. But I have +not said that I want him at all. You do so jump to conclusions, Miss +Day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what I want,” said a girl called Hetty Jones who had not +yet spoken. “I’m going in for some of Polly’s ornaments. You +won’t put too big a price upon your corals, will you, Poll?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall bid for your American rocking-chair, Polly,” exclaimed +Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you what you must do, Miss Singleton,” shouted another +girl, “you must get those inventories ready as soon as possible, and send +them around the college for every one to read, for you have got such nice +things that there will be sure to be a great rush at your auction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t sell any of the college possessions by mistake, my +dear,” said Lucy Marsh. “You would get into trouble then. Indeed, +as it is, I don’t see how you are to keep out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly pushed her hands impatiently through her bright red hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s afraid?” she said, and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“When are we to see your things, Polly?” asked Miss Jones. +“If the auction is on Monday, there must be a show day, when we can all +go round and inspect. I know that’s always done at auctions, for +I’ve been at several in the country. The show day is the best fun of all. +The farmers’ wives come and pinch the feather-beds between their thumbs +and forefingers and hold the blankets up to the light to see if the moths have +got in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hetty, how vulgar!” interposed Miss Day. “What has +Polly’s auction of her <i>recherche’</i> things to do with blankets +and feather-beds? Now the cocoa is ready. Who will help me to carry the cups +round?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had some fun to-day?” said Rosalind, when each of the girls, +provided with their cups of cocoa, sat round and began to sip. “I took +Miss Propriety to town with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, did you, darling? Do tell us all about it!” said Annie Day, +running up to Rosalind and taking her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t much to tell. She behaved as I expected; her manners +are not graceful, but she’s a deep one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anybody can see that who looks at her,” remarked Lucy Marsh. +</p> + +<p> +“We went to the Elliot-Smiths’,” continued Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious, Rosie!” interrupted Hetty Jones. “You +don’t mean to say you took Propriety to <i>that</i> house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; why not? It’s the jolliest house in Kingsdene.” +</p> + +<p> +“But fancy taking poor Propriety there. What did she say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Say? She scolded a good deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Scolded! Poor little proper thing! How I should have liked to have seen +her. Did she open her purse and exhibit its emptiness to the company at large? +Did she stand on a chair and lecture the frivolous people who assemble in that +house on the emptiness of life? Oh, how I wish I could have looked on at the +fun!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have beheld an edifying sight then, my dear,” said +Rosalind. “Prissie’s whole behavior was one to be copied. No words +can describe her tact and grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what did she do, Rosie? I wish you would speak out and tell us. You +know you are keeping something back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever she saw me she scolded me, and she tripped over my dress +several times.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you dear, good, patient Rosalind, what a bore she must have +been.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she wasn’t, for I scarcely saw anything of her. She amused +herself capitally without me, I can tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amused herself? Propriety amused herself? How diverting! Could she stoop +to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“She did. She stooped and— conquered. She secured for herself an +adorer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rosalind, how absurd you are! Poor, Plain Propriety!” +</p> + +<p> +“As long as I live I shall hate the letter P,” suddenly interrupted +Annie Day, “for since that disagreeable girl has got into the house we +are always using it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Rosalind; go on with your story,” said Miss Jones. +“What did Plain Propriety do?” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind threw up her hands, rolled her eyes skyward and uttered the terse +remark: +</p> + +<p> +“She flirted!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Rosie! who would flirt with her? I suppose she got hold of some old +rusty, musty don. But then I do not suppose you’d find that sort of man +at the Elliot-Smiths’.” +</p> + +<p> +This remark came from Lucy Marsh. Rosalind Merton, who was leaning her fair +head against a dark velvet cushion, looked as if she enjoyed the situation +immensely. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say to a Senior Wrangler?” she asked in a gentle +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosalind, what— not <i>the</i> Senior Wrangler?” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! oh! oh! what could he see— Geoffrey Hammond, of all people! +He’s so exclusive too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Hetty Jones, standing up reluctantly, for she felt it +was time to return to her neglected studies, “wonders will never cease! I +could not have supposed that Mr. Hammond would condescend to go near the +Elliot-Smiths’, and most certainly I should never have guessed that he +would look at a girl like Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he flirted with her,” said Rosalind, “and she with +him. They were so delighted with one another that I could scarcely get Prissie +away when it was time to leave. They looked quite engrossed— you know the +kind of air— there was no mistaking it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Peel must have thanked you for taking her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanked me? That’s not Miss Prissie’s style. I could see she +was awfully vexed at being disturbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s rather shabby,” said Polly Singleton, speaking +for the first time. “Every one at St. Benet’s know whom Mr. Hammond +belongs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, of course, of course,” cried several voices. +</p> + +<p> +“And Maggie has been so kind to Miss Peel,” continued Polly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes— shame!— how mean of little Propriety!” the voices +echoed again. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind gave a meaning glance at Annie Day. Annie raised her eyebrows, looked +interrogative, then her face subsided into a satisfied expression. She asked no +further questions, but she gave Rosalind an affectionate pat on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Soon the other girls came up one by one to say good night. Rosalind, Annie and +Lucy were alone. They drew their chairs together and began to talk. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +PRETTY LITTLE ROSALIND</h2> + +<p> +“I have done it now,” said Rosalind; “the estrangement will +come about naturally. Propriety won’t head a party at this college, for +she will not have Miss Oliphant’s support. My dear girls, we need do +nothing further. The friendship we regretted is at an end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you take Priscilla Peel to the Elliot-Smiths’ on purpose, +then?” asked Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +“I took her there for my own purposes,” replied Rosalind. “I +wanted to go. I could not go alone, as it is against our precious rules. It was +not convenient for any of my own special friends to come with me, so I thought +I’d play Prissie a nice little trick. Oh, wasn’t she angry! My dear +girls, it was as good as a play to watch her face.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind lay back in her chair and laughed heartily. Her laughter was as +melodious as the sound of silver bells. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Miss Marsh after a pause, “I wish you would stop +laughing and go on with your story, Rose.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind resumed her grave deportment. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all,” she said; “there’s nothing more to +tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know, then, that Mr. Hammond would be there?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I had not the least idea that piece of luck would fall in my way. +Meta managed that for me most delightfully. You know, girls, how earnestly the +poor dear Elliot-Smiths aspire, and how vain are their efforts, to get into +what we are pleased to call the ‘good set’ here. It isn’t +their fault, poor things, for, though they really have no talent nor the +smallest literary desires, they would give their eyes to be +‘hail-fellows-well-met’ with some of our intellectual giants. Well, +Meta got to know Mr. Hammond at a tennis party in the summer, and when she met +him last week she asked him to come to her house to-day. She told me she was +dying to have him, of course, but when she asked him she could see by his face +and manner that he was searching his brains for an excuse to get out of it. All +of a sudden it flashed into her head to say, ‘Some of our friends from +St. Benet’s will be present.’ The moment she said this he changed +and got very polite and said he would certainly look in for a little while. +Poor Meta was so delighted! You can fancy her chagrin when he devoted himself +all the time to Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +“He thought he’d meet Maggie Oliphant,” said Annie Day; +“it was a shame to lure him on with a falsehood. I don’t wonder at +people not respecting the Elliot-Smiths.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” responded Rosalind, “Meta did not tell a lie. I +never could have guessed that you were straight-laced, Annie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor am I,” responded Annie with a sigh, which she quickly +suppressed. +</p> + +<p> +“The whole thing fitted in admirably with our wishes,” continued +Rose, “and now we need not do anything further in the matter. Rumor, in +the shape of Hetty Jones’ tongue and Polly Singleton’s hints, will +do the rest for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really think that Maggie Oliphant cares for Mr. Hammond?” +asked Lucy Marsh. +</p> + +<p> +“Cares for him!” said Rosalind. “Does a duck swim? Does a +baby like sweet things? Maggie is so much in love with Mr. Hammond that +she’s almost ill about it— there!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” exclaimed the other two girls. +</p> + +<p> +“She is, I know she is. She treats him shamefully, because of some whim +of hers. I only wish she may never get him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’d do nicely for you, wouldn’t he, Rose?” said Annie +Day. +</p> + +<p> +A delicate pink came into Rosalind’s cheeks. She rose to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Hammond is not in my style,” she said. “Much too severe +and too learned. Good night, girls. I must look over the notes of that wretched +French lecture before I go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind sought her own room, which was in another corridor. It was late +now— past eleven o’clock. The electric light had been put out. She +was well supplied with candles, however, and lighting two on the mantel-piece +and two on her bureau, she proceeded to stir up her fire and to make her room +warm and cozy. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind still wore the pretty light silk which had given her such an elegant +appearance at the Elliot-Smiths’ that afternoon. Securing the bolt of her +door, she pushed aside a heavy curtain, which concealed the part of her room +devoted to her wardrobe, washing apparatus, etc. Rosalind’s wardrobe had +a glass door, and she could see her <i>petite</i> figure in it from head to +foot. It was a very small figure, but exquisitely proportioned. Its owner +admired it much. She turned herself round, took up a hand-glass and surveyed +herself in profile and many other positions. Then, taking off her pretty dress, +she arrayed herself in a long white muslin dressing-robe, and letting down her +golden hair, combed out the glittering masses. They fell in showers below her +waist. Her face looked more babyish and innocent than ever as it smiled to its +own fair image in the glass. +</p> + +<p> +“How he did scowl at me!” said Rosalind, suddenly speaking aloud. +“But I had to say it. I was determined to find out for myself how much or +how little he cares for Maggie Oliphant, and, alas! there’s nothing of +the ‘little’ in his affection. Well, well! I did not do badly +to-day. I enjoyed myself and I took a nice rise out of that disagreeable Miss +Peel. Now <i>must</i> I look through those horrid French notes? Need I?” +She pirouetted on one toe in front of the glass. The motion exhilarated her, +and, raising her white wrapper so as to get a peep at her small, pretty feet, +she waltzed slowly and gracefully in front of the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t and won’t study to-night,” she said again. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate study, and I will not spoil my looks by burning the midnight +oil.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she clasped her hands and the color rushed into her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“How fortunate that I remembered! I must write to mother this very night. +This is Thursday. The auction is on Monday. I have not a post to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +Hastily seating herself in front of her bureau, Rosalind scribbled a few lines: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +D<small>EAREST</small>, P<small>RECIOUS</small> M<small>AMSIE</small>:<br/> +Whatever happens, please send me a postal order for +£10 by return. One of the richest girls in the place is going to have an +auction, and I shall pick up some <i>treasures.</i> If you could spare +£15, or even £20, the money would be well spent, but ten at least I +must have. There is a sealskin jacket, which cost at least eighty pounds, and +<i>such</i> coral ornaments— you know, that lovely pink shade. Send me +all you can, precious mamsie, and make your Baby happy. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your own little R<small>OSE</small>. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“P. S.— Oh, mamsie, <i>such</i> a sealskin! and <i>such</i> +coral!” +</p> + +<p> +This artless epistle was quickly enclosed in an envelope, addressed and +deposited in the post-box. Afterward pretty little Rosalind spent a night of +dreamless slumber and awoke in the morning as fresh and innocent-looking as the +fairest of the babies she compared herself to. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br/> +SEALSKIN AND PINK CORAL</h2> + +<p> +Monday arrived. It wanted now less than three weeks to the end of the term. A +good many of the girls were talking about home and Christmas, and already the +hard-worked, the studious, the industrious were owning to the first symptoms of +that pleasant fatigue which would entitle them to the full enjoyment of their +merited holiday. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was now a happy girl. She had found her niche in the college; her +work was delightful. Under Maggie’s advice she became a member of the +Debating Society and rather reluctantly allowed her name to be entered in the +Dramatic Club. She felt very shy about this, but that was because she did not +know her own power. To her astonishment, Priscilla found that she could act. If +the part suited her she could throw herself into it so that she ceased to be +awkward, ungainly Priscilla Peel. Out of herself she was no longer awkward, no +longer ungainly. She could only personate certain characters; light and airy +parts she could not attempt, but where much depended on passion and emotion +Priscilla could do splendidly. Every day her friends found fresh points of +interest in this queer girl. Nancy Banister was really attached to her, Maggie +was most faithful in her declared friendship and Miss Heath took more notice of +Priscilla than of any other girl in the hall. The different lecturers spoke +highly of Miss Peel’s comprehension, knowledge and ability. In short, +things were going well with her, and she owned to her own heart that she had +never felt happier in her life. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie, too, was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. She was to return +home then, and her letters to her three little sisters, to Aunt Raby and to Mr. +Hayes were full of the delights of her college life. +</p> + +<p> +No one could have been more angry than poor Prissie during that miserable time +at the Elliot-Smiths’. Many complaints did she resolve to make, and dire +was the vengeance which she hoped would fall on Rose’s devoted head. But, +during her talk with Mr. Hammond, some of her anger had cooled down. He had +touched on great subjects, and Prissie’s soul had responded like a +musical instrument to the light and skilled finger of the musician. All her +intellectual powers were aroused to their utmost, keenest life during this +brief little talk. She found that Hammond could say better and more +comprehensive things than even her dear old tutor, Mr. Hayes. Hammond was +abreast of the present-day aspect of those things in which Prissie delighted. +Her short talk with him made up for all the tedium of the rest of that wretched +afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +On her walk home Priscilla made up her mind to have nothing further to say to +Rose, but also not to make a complaint about her. She would pass the matter +over in silence. If questioned, she would tell her own friends where she had +been; if not questioned, she would volunteer no information. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie and Nancy did ask her casually what had kept her out so long. +</p> + +<p> +“I was at the Elliot-Smiths’ with Miss Merton,” replied +Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +They both started when she said this and looked at her hard. They were too +well-bred, however, to give utterance to the many comments which crowded to +their lips. Prissie read their thoughts like a book. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not like it at all,” she said; “but I’d rather +say nothing about it, please. After Mr. Hammond came I was happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Hammond was there?” said Nancy in an eager voice. +“Geoffrey Hammond was at the Elliot-Smiths’? Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“He was there,” repeated Prissie. She glanced nervously at Maggie, +who had taken up a book and was pretending to read. “He came and he spoke +to me. He was very, very kind, and he made me so happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Prissie,” said Maggie suddenly. She got up, went over to the +young girl, tapped her affectionately on the shoulder and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie sat, looking thoughtfully before her. After a time she bade Nancy +Banister “good night” and went off to her own room to study the +notes she had taken that morning at the French lecture. +</p> + +<p> +The next few days passed without anything special occurring. If a little rumor +were already beginning to swell in the air, it scarcely reached the ears of +those principally concerned. Maggie Oliphant continued to make a special +favorite of Miss Peel. She sat near her at breakfast and at the meetings of the +Dramatic Society was particularly anxious to secure a good part for Prissie. +The members of the society intended to act <i>The Princess</i> before the end +of the term, and as there was a great deal to work up and many rehearsals were +necessary, they met in the little theater on most evenings. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant had been unanimously selected to take the part of the Princess. +She electrified every one by drawing Miss Peel toward her and saying in an +emphatic voice: +</p> + +<p> +“You must be the Prince, Priscilla.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of dismay crept over several faces. One or two made different proposals. +</p> + +<p> +“Would not Nancy Banister take the part better, Maggie?” said Miss +Claydon, a tall, graceful girl, who was to be Psyche. +</p> + +<p> +“No; Nancy is to be Cyril. She sings well and can do the part admirably. +Miss Peel must be the Prince: I will have no other lover. What do you say, Miss +Peel?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot; it is impossible,” almost whispered Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Cannot’ is a word which must not be listened to in our +Dramatic Society,” responded Maggie. “I promise to turn you out a +most accomplished Prince, my friend; no one shall be disappointed in you. +Girls, do you leave this matter in my hands? Do you leave the Prince to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We cannot refuse you the privilege of choosing your own Prince, +Princess,” said Miss Claydon with a graceful curtsy. +</p> + +<p> +The others assented, but unwillingly. Miss Oliphant was known to be more full +of whims than any one else in the college. Her extraordinary and sudden +friendship for Prissie was regarded as her latest caprice. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton was not a particularly good actress, but her face was too +pretty not to be called into requisition. She was to take the part of Melissa. +</p> + +<p> +The society had a grand meeting on the day of Polly Singleton’s auction. +Matters were still very much in a state of chaos, but the rehearsal of some of +the parts was got through with credit under the directions of the clever +stage-manager, one of the nicest and best girls in the college, Constance +Field. She had a knack of putting each girl at her ease— of discovering +the faintest sparks of genius and fanning them into flame. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had learned her speeches accurately: her turn came; she stood up +trembling and began. Gradually the stony (or was it yearning?) look in +Maggie’s face moved her. She fancied herself Hammond, not the Prince. +When she spoke to Maggie she felt no longer like a feeble schoolgirl acting a +part. She thought she was pleading for Hammond, and enthusiasm got into her +voice, and a light filled her eyes. There was a little cheer when Priscilla got +through her first rehearsal. Nancy Banister came up to Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“I do believe Maggie is right,” she said, “and that Miss Peel +will take the part capitally.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Oliphant is well known for her magnanimity,” retorted +Rosalind, an ugly look spoiling the expression of her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Her magnanimity? What do you mean, Rose?” +</p> + +<p> +“To choose <i>that</i> girl for her Prince!” retorted Rosalind. +“Ask Mr. Hammond what I mean. Ask the Elliot-Smiths.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know the Elliot-Smiths,” said Nancy in a cold voice. +She turned away; she felt displeased and annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +Rose glanced after her. Then she ran up to Maggie Oliphant, who was preparing +to leave the little theater. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you want to see the auction?” she said in a gay voice. +“It’s going to be the best fun we have had for many a long +day.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“The auction? What auction do you mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Polly Singleton’s, of course. You’ve not heard of it? +It’s <i>the</i> event of the term!” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be talking nonsense, Rose,” she said. “An auction +at St. Benet’s! A real auction? Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s not impossible. It’s true. Polly owes for a lot of +things, and she’s going to pay for them in that way. Did you not get a +notice? Polly declared she would send one without fail to every girl in the +college.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I remember,” said Miss Oliphant, laughing. “I got an +extraordinary type-written production. I regarded it as a hoax and consigned it +to the wastepaper basket.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it wasn’t a hoax; it was true. Come away, Miss Oliphant, do. +Polly has got some lovely things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I even know who Polly is,” said Maggie. +“She surely is not an inmate of Heath Hall?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no— of Katharine Hall. You must know her by sight, at least. A +great big, fat girl, with red hair and freckles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, now I remember. I think she has rather a pleasant face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you really? Isn’t she awfully common and +vulgar-looking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Common and vulgar-looking people are often pleasant, +nevertheless,” retorted Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll come to her auction?” insisted Rose. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. She has no right to have an auction. Such a +proceeding would give great displeasure to our principals.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you tell that? There never was an auction at the college +before.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I tell, Rose? Instinct is my guide in a matter of this +sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie stepped back and looked haughty. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Rose, “the principals won’t ever know; we +are taking good care of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I hope you may be successful. Good night.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned to walk away. She saw Priscilla standing not far off. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Prissie,” she said affectionately, “you did admirably +to-night, but you must have another lesson. You missed two of the best points +in that last speech. Come back with me into the theater at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Rose bit her lips with vexation. She was wildly anxious to be at the auction. +The sealskin might be put up for sale, and she not present. The corals might go +to some other happy girl; but she had made a resolve to bring some of the very +best girls in the college to this scene of rioting. Her reckless companions had +dared her to do this, and she felt what she called “her honor” at +stake. Nancy Banister had declined her invitation with decision; Constance +Field had withered her with a look. Now she <i>must</i> secure Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d come,” she said, following Maggie and Prissie +to the door of the theater. “It will be an awful disappointment if you +don’t! We all reckoned on having you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>do</i> you mean, Rose?” +</p> + +<p> +“We thought you wouldn’t be above a bit of fun. You never used to +be, you know. You never used to be strict and proper and over-righteous, used +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was startled to see the queer change these few words made on Maggie. +Her cheeks lost their roses; her eyes grew big, pathetic, miserable. Then a +defiant expression filled them. +</p> + +<p> +“If you put it in that way,” she said, “I’ll go and +peep at the thing. It isn’t my taste nor my style, but goodness knows +I’m no better than the rest of you. Come, Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie seized Priscilla’s hand; her clasp was so tight as to be almost +painful. She hurried Prissie along so fast that Rose could scarcely keep up +with them. +</p> + +<p> +They entered the hall. Maggie seized a hat for herself and another for Prissie +from the hat-stand; then the three girls crossed the garden to Katharine Hall. +A moment or two later they had reached the scene of the evening’s +amusement +</p> + +<p> +Loud voices and laughter greeted them; they entered a large room crowded to +overflowing. The atmosphere here was hot and stifling and chaos reigned +supreme. Pictures, ornaments of all kinds had been removed roughly and hastily +from the walls; clothes and even jewels were piled on the tables, and a tall +girl, standing on a chair, was declaiming volubly for the benefit of her +companions. +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie, Rose and Priscilla entered the room Polly was exhibiting the +charms of a yellow silk dress somewhat the worse for wear. Laughter choked her +voice; her bright blue eyes shone with excitement and amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’ll try this?” she began. “It has a double charm. +Not only has it reposed round this fair and lovely form, but the silk of which +it is made was given to me by my mother’s aunt, who had it from her +mother before her. When I part with this, I part with a relic. Those who +purchase it secure for themselves a piece of history. Who will buy, who will +buy, who will buy? An historical dress going— such a bargain! Who, who +will buy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you five shillings, Polly,” screamed a darkeyed +girl who stood near. +</p> + +<p> +“Five shillings! This lovely dress going for five shillings!” +proceeded Polly. +</p> + +<p> +“And sixpence,” added another voice. +</p> + +<p> +“This beautiful, historical robe going for five-and-sixpence,” said +Miss Singleton in her gay voice. “Oh, it’s a bargain— +it’s dirt cheap! Who will buy? who will buy?” +</p> + +<p> +The bids went up, and finally the yellow dress was knocked down to a rosy-faced +country girl for the sum of thirteen shillings and ninepence. +</p> + +<p> +Polly’s various other possessions were one by one brought to the hammer, +some of them fetching fairly large sums, for they were most of them good and +worth having, and there were wealthy girls at the college who were not above +securing a bargain when it came in their way. +</p> + +<p> +At last the prize on which all Rose’s hopes were set was put up for sale. +Polly’s magnificent sealskin jacket was held aloft and displayed to the +admiring and coveteous gaze of many. Rose’s face brightened; an eager, +greedy look filled her eyes. She actually trembled in her anxiety to secure +this prize of prizes. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant, who was standing in a listless, indifferent attitude near the +door, not taking the smallest part in the active proceedings which were going +forward, was for the first time aroused to interest by the expression on +Rosalind’s face. She moved a step or two into the crowd, and when one or +two timid bids were heard for the coveted treasure, she raised her own voice +and for the first time appeared eager to secure something for herself. +</p> + +<p> +Rose bid against her, an angry flush filling her blue eyes as she did so. +Maggie nonchalantly made her next bid a little higher— Rose raised hers. +Soon they were the only two in the field; other girls had come to the limit of +their purses and withdrew vanquished. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind’s face grew very white. Could she have knock Maggie Oliphant +down with a blow she would have done so at that moment. Maggie calmly and +quietly continued her bids, raising them gradually higher and higher. Five, +six, seven, eight, nine, ten pounds: Rose had come to the end of her resources. +She stepped away with a bitter smile on her face. The sealskin jacket was +Maggie Oliphant’s property for ten guineas. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie laid it carelessly on a table near, and returning once more to her +position near the door, watched the sale proceed. One by one Polly Singleton +parted with her dresses, her pictures, her furniture. At last, opening a case, +she proceeded to dispose of some trinkets, none of which, with the exception of +the pink coral set, was of very high value. This, which consisted of necklace, +bracelets, and earrings, and some pretty pins for the hair, was most eagerly +coveted by many. Several girls bid for the coral, and Maggie, who had not +raised her voice since she secured the sealskin jacket, once more noticed the +greedy glitter in Rosalind’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it,” she said, turning and speaking in a low +voice to Priscilla, who stood by her side— “I can’t help it, +Prissie; I don’t want that coral a bit— coral doesn’t suit +me: I dislike it as an ornament. But something inside of me says Rose Merton +shall not wear it. Stay here, Prissie, I’ll be back in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant moved forward; she was so tall that her head could be seen above +those of most of the other girls. +</p> + +<p> +The bids for the coral had now risen to three pounds ten. Maggie at one bound +raised them ten shillings. Rose bid against her, and for a short time one or +two other girls raised their previous offers. The price for the coral rose and +rose. Soon a large sum was offered for it, and still the bids kept rising. +Rosalind and Maggie were once more alone in the field, and now any onlooker +could perceive that it was not the desire to obtain the pretty ornaments, but +the wish for victory which animated both girls. +</p> + +<p> +When the bids rose above ten guineas Rosalind’s face assumed a ghastly +hue, but she was now far too angry with Maggie to pause or consider the fact +that she was offering more money for the pink coral than she possessed in the +world. The bids still went higher and higher. There was intense excitement in +the room; all the noisy babel ceased. No sound was heard but the eager voices +of the two who were cruelly fighting each other and the astonished tones of the +young auctioneer. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen pounds were reached. +Maggie’s bid was fourteen pounds. +</p> + +<p> +“Guineas!” screamed Rose with a weak sort of gasp. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned and looked at her, then walked slowly back to her place by +Priscilla’s side. +</p> + +<p> +The coral belonged to Rose Merton, and she had four guineas too little to pay +for it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> +A BLACK SELF AND A WHITE SELF</h2> + +<p> +“It is quite true, Maggie,” said Nancy Banister. “It +<i>is</i> about the auction. Yes, there is no doubt about that. What possessed +you to go?” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant was standing in the center of her own room with an open letter +in her hand. Nancy was reading it over her shoulder: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +K<small>ATHARINE</small> H<small>ALL</small>,<br/> +“<i>Dec</i>. 2. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Miss Eccleston and Miss Heath request Miss Oliphant and Miss Peel to +present themselves in Miss Eccleston’s private sitting-room this evening +at seven o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is all,” said Maggie. “It sounds as solemn and +unfriendly as if one were about to be tried for some capital offense.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the auction, of course,” repeated Nancy. “Those +girls thought they had kept it so quiet, but some one must have +‘peached,’ I suppose, to curry favor. Whatever made you go, Maggie? +You know you have never mixed yourself up with that Day, and Merton, and Marsh +set. As to that poor Polly Singleton, there’s no harm in her, but +she’s a perfect madcap. What could have possessed you to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“My evil genius,” repeated Maggie in a gloomy tone. “You +don’t suppose I <i>wished</i> to be there, Nancy; but that horrid little +Merton girl said something taunting, and then I forgot myself. Oh, dear, Nancy! +what shall I ever do with that other self of mine? It will ruin me in the end. +It gets stronger every day.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie sat down on the sofa. Nancy suddenly knelt by her side. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Meg,” she said caressingly, “you’re the noblest, +and the sweetest, and the most beautiful girl at St. Benet’s! Why +can’t you live up to your true self?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are two selfs in me,” replied Maggie. “And if one even +approaches the faintest semblance of angel-hood, the other is black as pitch. +There, it only wastes time to talk the thing over. I’m in for the sort of +scrape I hate most. See, Nancy, I bought this at the auction.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her wardrobe, and taking out Polly Singleton’s magnificent +eighty-guinea sealskin jacket, slipped it on. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I look superb?” said Maggie. She shut the +wardrobe-door and surveyed herself in its long glass. Brown was Maggie +Oliphant’s color. It harmonized with the soft tints of her delicately +rounded face, with the rich color in her hair, with the light in her eyes. It +added to all these charms, softening them, giving to them a more perfect +luster. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie!” said Nancy, clasping her hands, “you ought +always to be dressed as you are now.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie dropped her arms suddenly to her sides. The jacket, a little too large +for her, slid off her shoulders and lay in a heap on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” she said suddenly. “Am I never to show my true and +real self? Am I always to be disguised in sham beauty and sham goodness? Oh, +Nancy, Nancy! if there is a creature I hate— I <i>hate—</i> her +name is Maggie Oliphant!” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy picked up the sealskin jacket and put it back into the wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry you went to the auction, Maggie,” she repeated, +“and I’m sorry still to find you bought poor Polly +Singleton’s sealskin. Well, it’s done now, and we have to consider +how to get you out of this scrape. +</p> + +<p> +There’s no time for you to indulge in that morbid talk of yours to-day, +Maggie, darling. Let us consider what’s best to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” retorted Maggie. “I shall simply go to Miss Heath +and Miss Eccleston and tell them the truth. There’s nothing else to be +done. No hope whatever of getting out of the affair. I went to Polly +Singleton’s auction because Rosalind Merton raised the demon in me. I +tried to become the possessor of the sealskin jacket because her heart was set +on it. I won an eighty-guinea jacket for ten guineas. You see how ignoble my +motives were, also how unworthy the results. I did worse even than that— +for I will out with the truth to you, Nancy— I revenged myself still +further upon that spiteful little gnat, Rosalind, and raised the price of her +coveted coral to such an extent that I know by her face she is pounds in debt +for it. Now, my dear, what have you to say to me? Nothing good, I know that. +Let me read Aristotle for the next hour just to calm my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie turned away, seated herself by her writing bureau and tried to lose both +the past and the present in her beloved Greek. +</p> + +<p> +“She will do it, too,” whispered Nancy as she left the room. +“No one ever was made quite like Maggie. She can feel tortures and yet +the next moment she can be in ecstasy. She is so tantalizing that at times you +are almost brought to believe her own stories about herself. You are almost +sure that she has got the black self as well as the white self. But through it +all, yes, through it all, you love her. Dear Maggie! Whatever happens, I must +always— always love her.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy was walking slowly down the corridor when a room-door was gently opened +and the sweet, childish, innocent face of Rosalind peeped out. +</p> + +<p> +“Nancy, is that you? Do, for Heaven’s sake, come in and speak to me +for a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about, Rosalind? I have only a minute or two to spare. My German +lecture is to begin immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what does that signify? You don’t know the awful trouble +we’ve got into.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean about the auction?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes— yes; so you have heard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I’ve heard. If that is all, Rosalind, I cannot wait to +discuss the matter now. I am very sorry for you, of course, but as I said to +Maggie, why did you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’ve been talking to Miss Oliphant? Thank goodness +she’ll have to answer for her sins as well as the rest of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie is my friend, so you need not abuse her, Rosalind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucky for her that she has got one true friend!” retorted +Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean what I say. Maggie is making such a fool of herself that we are +all laughing at her behind her back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? I fail to understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are being made a fool of, too, Nancy. Oh, I did think you’d +have had more sense.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? Speak. Say at once what you want to say, Rosalind, and stop talking +riddles, for I must fly to my work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fly then,” retorted Rosalind, “only think twice before you +give your confidence to a <i>certain person.</i> A person who makes a fine +parade of poverty and so-called honesty of purpose, but who can, and who does, +betray her kindest and best friend behind her back. It is my private belief we +have to thank this virtuous being for getting us into the pleasant scrape we +are in. I am convinced she has tried to curry favor by telling Miss Heath all +about poor Polly’s auction.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean Priscilla Peel?” said Nancy in a firm voice. She forgot +her German lecture now. “You have no right to say words of that kind. You +have taken a dislike to Prissie, no one knows why. She is not as interesting +nor as beautiful as Maggie, but she is good, and you should respect her.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind laughed bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good? Is she? Ask Mr. Hammond. You say she is not beautiful nor +interesting. Perhaps he finds her both. Ask him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rosalind, I shall tell Maggie what you say. This is not the first time +you have hinted unkind things about Priscilla. It is better to sift a matter of +this kind to the bottom than to hint it all over the college as you are doing. +Maggie shall take it in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her! I shall only be too delighted! What a jolly time the saintly +Priscilla will have.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t stay any longer, Rosalind.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Nancy, just one moment. I want to put accounts right with Polly +before to-night. Mother sent me ten pounds to buy something at the auction. The +coral cost fourteen guineas. I have written to mother for the balance, and it +may come by any post. <i>Do</i> lend it to me until it comes! <i>Do,</i> kind +Nancy!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not got so much in the world, I have not really, Rosalind. +Good-by; my lecture will have begun.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy ran out of the room and Miss Merton turned to survey ruefully her empty +purse and to read again a letter which had already arrived from her mother: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> R<small>OSALIND</small>:<br/> +I have not the additional money to spare you, my poor child. The ten pounds +which I weakly yielded at your first earnest request was, in reality, taken +from the money which is to buy your sisters their winter dresses. I dare not +encroach any further on it, or your father would certainly ask me why the girls +were dressed so shabbily. Fourteen guineas for coral! You know, my dear child, +we cannot afford this extravagance. My advice is to return it to your friend +and to ask her to let you have the ten guineas back. You might return it to me +in a postal order, for I want it badly. It was one thing to struggle to let you +have it in the hopes that you would secure a really valuable garment like a +sealskin jacket and another to give it to you for some rather useless +ornaments. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your affectionate mother,<br/> +“A<small>LICE</small> M<small>ERTON</small>.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br/> +IN MISS ECCLESTON’S SITTING-ROOM</h2> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston was a dark, heavy-looking person; she was not as attractive +either in appearance or manner as Miss Heath. She was estimable, and the +college authorities thought most highly of her, but her character possessed +more hardness than softness, and she was not as popular with the girls and +young lecturers who lived in Katharine Hall as was Miss Heath with her girls. +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie entered Miss Eccleston’s sitting-room that evening she found +the room about half-full of eager, excited-looking girls. Miss Eccleston was +standing up and speaking; Miss Heath was leaning against the wall; a velvet +curtain made a background which brought out her massive and grand figure in +full relief. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston looked excited and angry; Miss Heath’s expression was a +little perplexed, and a kind of sorrowful mirth brought smiles to her lips now +and then, which she was most careful to suppress instantly. +</p> + +<p> +As Maggie made her way to the front of the room she recognized several of the +girls. Rosalind Merton, Annie Day, Lucy Marsh were all present. She saw them, +although they were standing hidden behind many other girls. Prissie, too, was +there— she had squeezed herself into a corner. She looked awkward, plain +and wretched. She was clasping and unclasping her hands and trying to subdue +the nervous tremors which she could not conceal. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie, as she walked across the room, singled Prissie out. She gave her a +swift glance, a brilliant and affectionate smile and then stood in such a +position that neither Miss Eccleston nor Miss Heath could catch a glimpse of +her. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston, who had been speaking when Maggie entered the room, was now +silent. She had a note-book in her hand and was rapidly writing something in it +with a pencil. Some one gave Maggie a rather severe prod on her elbow. Polly +Singleton, tall, flushed and heavy, stood close to her side. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll stand up for me, won’t you, Miss Oliphant?” +whispered Polly. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie raised her eyes, looked at the girl, who was even taller than herself, +and began to reply in her usual voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence,” said Miss Eccleston. She put down her note-book. +“I wish for no conversation between you at the present moment, young +ladies. Good evening, Miss Oliphant; I am pleased to see you here. I shall have +a few questions to ask you in a minute. Now, Miss Singleton, if you please, we +will resume our conversation. You have confessed to the fact of the auction. I +wish now to ascertain what your motive was.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Polly stammered and reddened, twisted her hands as badly as Prissie +herself could have done and looked to right and left of her in the most +bewildered and unhappy manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you hear me, Miss Singleton? I wish to know what your motive +was in having an auction in Katharine Hall,” repeated Miss Eccleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her the truth,” whispered Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +Polly, who was in a condition to catch even at a straw for support, said +falteringly: +</p> + +<p> +“I had the auction in my room because of dad.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston raised her brows. The amused smile of sorrow round Miss +Heath’s mouth became more marked. She came forward a few steps and stood +near Miss Eccleston. +</p> + +<p> +“You must explain yourself, Miss Singleton,” repeated the latter +lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Do tell everything,” said Maggie again. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad is about the only person I hate vexing,” began Polly once +more. “He is awfully rich, but he hates me to get into debt, and— +and— there was no other way to raise money. I couldn’t tell +dad— I— <i>couldn’t</i> keep out of debt, so I had to sell my +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have made a very lame excuse, Miss Singleton,” said Miss +Eccleston after a pause. “You did something which was extremely irregular +and improper. Your reason for doing it was even worse than the thing itself. +You were in debt. The students of St. Benet’s are not expected to be in +debt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there’s no rule against it,” suddenly interrupted +Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! your turn to speak will come presently. You know, Miss +Singleton— all the right-minded girls in this college know— that we +deal in principles, not rules. Now, please go on with your story.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly’s broken and confused narrative continued for the next five +minutes. There were some titters from the girls behind her— even Miss +Heath smiled faintly. Miss Eccleston alone remained grave and displeased. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” she said at last. “You are a silly and rash +girl, and your only possible defense is your desire to keep the knowledge of +your extravagance from your father. Your love for him, however, has never +taught you true nobility. Had you that even in the most shadowy degree, you +would abstain from the things which he detests. He gives you an ample +allowance. Were you a schoolgirl and I your mistress, I should punish you +severely for your conduct.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston paused. Polly put her handkerchief up to her eyes and began to +sob loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Oliphant,” said Miss Eccleston, “will you please +account for the fact that you, who are looked up to in this college, you who +are one of our senior students, and for whom Miss Heath has a high regard, took +part in the disgraceful scenes which occurred in Miss Singleton’s room on +Monday evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall certainly tell you the truth,” retorted Maggie. She paused +for a moment. Then, the color flooding her cheeks, and her eyes looking +straight before her, she began: +</p> + +<p> +“I went to Miss Singleton’s room knowing that I was doing wrong. I +hated to go and did not take the smallest interest in the proceedings which +were being enacted there.” She paused again. Her voice, which had been +slightly faltering, grew a little firmer. Her eyes met Miss Heath’s, +which were gazing at her in sorrowful and amazed surprise. Then she continued: +“I did not go alone. I took another and perfectly innocent girl with me. +She is a newcomer, and this is her first term. She would naturally be led by +me, and I wish therefore to exonerate her completely. Her name is Priscilla +Peel. She did not buy anything, and she hated being there even more than I did, +but I took her hand and absolutely forced her to come with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you buy anything at the auction, Miss Oliphant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a sealskin jacket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind telling me what you paid for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten guineas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that, in your opinion, a fair price for the jacket?” +</p> + +<p> +“The jacket was worth a great deal more. The price I paid for it was much +below its value.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston made some further notes in her book. Then she looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you anything more to say, Miss Oliphant?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could say more. I could make you think even worse of me than you now +think, but as any further disclosures of mine would bring another girl into +trouble I would rather not speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are certainly not forced to speak. I am obliged to you for the +candor with which you have treated me.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Eccleston then turned to Miss Heath and said a few words to her in a low +voice. Her words were not heard by the anxiously listening girls, but they +seemed to displease Miss Heath, who shook her head; but Miss Eccleston held +very firmly to her own opinion. After a pause of a few minutes, Miss Heath came +forward and addressed the young girls who were assembled before her. +</p> + +<p> +“The leading spirit of this college,” she said, “is almost +perfect immunity from the bondage of rules. The principals of these halls have +fully trusted the students who reside in them and relied on their honor, their +rectitude, their sense of sound principle. Hitherto we have had no reason to +complain that the spirit of absolute trust which we have shown has been abused; +but the circumstance which has just occurred has given Miss Eccleston and +myself some pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has surprised us; it has given us a blow,” interrupted Miss +Eccleston. +</p> + +<p> +“And Miss Eccleston feels,” proceeded Miss Heath, “and +perhaps she is right, that the matter ought to be laid before the college +authorities, who will decide what are the best steps to be taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not agree with that view, do you, Miss Heath?” asked Maggie +Oliphant suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“At first I did not. I leaned to the side of mercy. I thought you might +all have learned a lesson in the distress which you have caused us, and that +such an occurrence could not happen again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t Miss Eccleston adopt your views?” questioned Maggie. +She glanced round at her fellow-students as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“No— no,” interrupted Miss Eccleston. “I cannot accept +the responsibility. The college authorities must decide the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember,” said Maggie, stepping forward a pace or two, +“that we are no children. If we were at school you ought to punish us, +and, of course, you would. I <i>hate</i> what I have done, and I own it +frankly. But you cannot forget, Miss Eccleston, that no girl here has broken a +rule when she attended the auction and bought Miss Singleton’s things; +and that even Miss Singleton has broken no rule when she went in debt.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a buzz of applause and even a cheer from the girls in the background. +Miss Eccleston looked angry, but perplexed. Miss Heath again turned and spoke +to her. She replied in a low tone. Miss Heath said something further. At last +Miss Eccleston sat down and Miss Heath came forward and addressed Maggie +Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +“Your words have been scarcely respectful, Miss Oliphant,” she +said, “but there is a certain justice in them which my friend, Miss +Eccleston, is the first to admit. She has consented, therefore, to defer her +final decision for twenty-four hours; at the end of that time the students of +Katharine Hall and Heath Hall will know what we finally decide to do.” +</p> + +<p> +After the meeting in Miss Eccleston’s drawing-room the affair of the +auction assumed enormous proportions. There was no other topic of conversation. +The students took sides vigorously in the matter: the gay, giddy and careless +ones voting the auction a rare bit of fun and upholding those who had taken +part in it with all their might and main. The more sober and high-minded girls, +on the other hand, took Miss Heath’s and Miss Eccleston’s views of +the matter. The principles of the college had been disregarded, the spirit of +order had been broken; debt, which was disgraceful, was made light of. These +girls felt that the tone of St. Benet’s was lowered. Even Maggie Oliphant +sank in their estimation. A few went to the length of saying that they could no +longer include her in their set. +</p> + +<p> +Katharine Hall, the scene of the auction itself, was, of course, now the place +of special interest. Heath Hall was also implicated in it, but Seymour Hall, +which stood a little apart from its sister halls, had sent no student to the +scene of dissipation. Seymour Hall was the smallest of the three. It was +completely isolated from the others, standing in its own lovely grounds on the +other side of the road. It now held its head high, and the girls who belonged +to the other halls, but had taken no part in the auction, felt that their own +beloved halls were lowered, and their resentment was all the keener because the +Seymour Hall girls gave themselves airs. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never live through it,” said Ida Mason, a Heath Hall girl +to her favorite chum, Constance Field. “Nothing can ever be the same +again. If my mother knew, Constance, I feel almost sure she would remove me. +The whole thing is so small and shabby and horrid, and then to think of Maggie +taking part in it! Aren’t you awfully shocked, Constance? What is your +true opinion?” +</p> + +<p> +“My true opinion,” said Constance, “is this: it is our duty +to uphold our own hall and our own chums. As to the best of us, if we are the +best, going away because a thing of this sort has occurred, it is not to be +thought of for a moment. Why, Ida,” Constance laughed as she spoke, +“you might as well expect one of the leading officers to desert his +regiment when going into battle. You know what Maggie Oliphant is, Ida. As to +deserting her because she has had one of her bad half hours, which she frankly +confessed to, like the brave girl she is, I would as soon cut off my right +hand. Now, Ida, my dear, don’t be a little goose. Your part, instead of +grumbling and growling and hinting at the place not being fit for you, is to go +round to every friend you have in Heath Hall and get them to rally round Maggie +and Miss Heath.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s that poor Miss Peel, too,” said Ida, +“Maggie’s new friend— that queer, plain girl; she’s +sure to be frightfully bullied. I suppose I’d better stick up for her as +well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, dear, you certainly ought. But as to Miss Peel being plain, +Ida, I don’t think I quite agree with you. Her face is too clever for +that. Have you watched her when she acts?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think I have. She seems to be very +uninteresting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at her next time, and tell me if you think her uninteresting +afterward. Now I’m off to find Maggie. She is sure to be having one of +her bad times, poor darling.” +</p> + +<p> +Constance Field was a girl whose opinion was always received with respect. Ida +went off obediently to fulfil her behests; and Constance, after searching in +Maggie’s room and wandering in different parts of the grounds, found the +truant at last, comfortably established with a pile of new books and magazines +in the library. The library was the most comfortable room in the house, and +Maggie was leaning back luxuriously in an easy-chair, reading some notes from a +lecture on Aristotle aloud to Prissie, who sat at her feet and took down notes +of her own from Maggie’s lips. +</p> + +<p> +The two looked up anything but gratefully when Constance approached. Miss +Field, however, was not a person to be dismissed with a light and airy word, +and Maggie sighed and closed her book when Constance sat down in an armchair, +which she pulled close to her. There were no other girls in the library, and +Prissie, seeing that Miss Field intended to be confidential, looked at Maggie +with a disconsolate air. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I had better go up to my own room,” she said timidly. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie raised her brows and spoke in an impatient voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You are in no one’s way, Priscilla,” she said. “Here +are my notes from the lecture. I read to the end of this page; you can make out +the rest for yourself. Well, Constance, have you anything to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless you want to hear me,” said Miss Field in her dignified +manner. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie tried to stifle a yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear Connie, I’m always charmed, you know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I thought I’d like to tell you that I admired the way you +spoke last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you present?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but some friends of mine were. They repeated the whole thing +verbatim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you heard it second-hand. Highly colored, no doubt, and not the +least like its poor original.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie spoke with a kind of bitter, defiant sarcasm, and a delicate color came +into Miss Field’s cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“At least, I heard enough to assure me that you spoke the truth and +concealed nothing,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the case that I spoke the truth, as far as it went; but it is not +the case that I concealed nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Maggie, I have come to offer you my sincere sympathy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Maggie. She leaned back in her chair, folded her +hands and a tired look came over her expressive face. “The fact +is,” she said suddenly, “I am sick of the whole thing. I am sorry I +went; I made a public confession of my sorrow last night; now I wish to forget +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you possibly forget it until you know Miss Heath’s and +Miss Eccleston’s decision?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly, Constance, I don’t care what decision they come +to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t care? You don’t mind the college authorities +knowing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care if every college authority in England knows. I have +been humbled in the eyes of Miss Heath, whom I love; nothing else +matters.” +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie said these words Prissie rose to her feet, looked at her with a +queer, earnest glance, suddenly bent forward, kissed her frantically and rushed +out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“And I love that dear, true-hearted child, too,” said Maggie. +“Now, Constance, do let us talk of something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll talk about Miss Peel. I don’t know her as you do, but +I’m interested in her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pray don’t; I want to keep her to myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Is she such a <i>rara avis?”</i> +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care what she is. She suits me because she loves me +without question. She is absolutely sincere; she could not say an untrue thing; +she is so clever that I could not talk frivolities when I am with her; and so +good, so really, simply good that she keeps at bay my bad half-hours and my +reckless moods.” +</p> + +<p> +Constance smiled. She believed part of Maggie’s speech; not the whole of +it, for she knew the enthusiasm of the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to Kingsdene,” said Maggie suddenly. “Prissie is +coming with me. Will you come, too, Constance? I wish you would.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Constance. She hesitated for a moment. “It +is the best thing in the world for Heath Hall,” she thought, “that +the girls should see me walking with Maggie to-day.” Aloud she said, +“All right, Maggie, I’ll go upstairs and put on my hat and jacket +and meet you and Miss Peel in the porch.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to tea at the Marshalls’,” said Maggie. +“You don’t mind that, do you? You know them, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Know them? I should think so. Isn’t old Mrs. Marshall a picture? +And Helen is one of my best friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall make Helen happy this afternoon, dear Constance.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie ran gaily out of the room as she spoke, and a few minutes later the +three girls, in excellent spirits, started for Kingsdene. +</p> + +<p> +As they entered the town they saw Rosalind Merton coming to meet them. There +was nothing in this, for Rosalind was a gay young person and had many friends +in Kingsdene. Few days passed that did not see her in the old town on her way +to visit this friend or that, or to perpetrate some little piece of +extravagance at Spilman’s or at her dressmaker’s. +</p> + +<p> +On this occasion, however, Rosalind was neither at Spilman’s or the +dressmaker’s. She was walking demurely down the High Street, daintily +dressed and charming to look at, in Hammond’s company. Rosalind was +talking eagerly and earnestly, and Hammond, who was very tall, was bending down +to catch her words, when the other three girls came briskly round a corner and +in full view of the pair. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Priscilla aloud in her abrupt, startled way. Her +face became suffused with a flood of the deepest crimson, and Maggie, who felt +a little annoyed at seeing Hammond in Rosalind’s company, could not help +noticing Priscilla’s almost uncontrollable agitation. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind, too, blushed, but prettily, when she saw the other three girls come +up. +</p> + +<p> +“I will say good-by now, Mr. Hammond,” she said, “for I must +get back to St. Benet’s in good time tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand, which the young man took and shook cordially. +</p> + +<p> +“I am extremely obliged to you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie was near enough to hear his words. Rosalind tripped past her three +fellow-students with an airy little nod and the faint beginning of a mocking +curtsy. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond came up to the three girls and joined them at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to the Marshalls’?” he said to Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I. What a lucky <i>rencontre.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +He said another word or two and then the four turned to walk down the High +Street. Maggie walked on in front with Constance. Hammond fell to +Priscilla’s share. +</p> + +<p> +“I am delighted to see you again,” she said in her eager, agitated, +abrupt way. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you?” he replied in some astonishment. Then he hastened to say +something polite. “I forgot, we had not ended our discussion. You almost +convinced me with regard to the superior merits of the Odyssey, but not quite. +Shall we renew the subject now?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, please don’t. That’s not why I’m glad to see you. +It’s for something quite, quite different. I want to say something to +you, and it’s most important. Can’t we just keep back a little from +the others? I don’t want Maggie to hear.” +</p> + +<p> +Now why were Miss Oliphant’s ears so sharp that afternoon? Why, even in +the midst of her gay chatter to Constance, did she hear every word of +Priscilla’s queer, garbled speech? And why did astonishment and even +anger steal into her heart? +</p> + +<p> +What she did, however, was to gratify Prissie immensely by hurrying on with her +companion, so that she and Hammond were left comfortably in the background. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know what you mean,” he said stiffly. +“What can you possibly have of importance to say to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want Maggie to hear,” repeated Prissie in her +earnest voice. She knew far too little of the world to be in the least alarmed +at Hammond’s stately tones. +</p> + +<p> +“What I want to say is about Maggie, and yet it isn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“About Miss Oliphant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, but she’s Maggie to me. She’s the dearest, the +best— there’s no one like her, no one. I didn’t understand +her at first, but now I know how noble she is. I had no idea until I knew +Maggie that a person could have faults and yet be noble. It’s a new sort +of experience to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie’s eyes, in which even in her worst moments there always sat the +soul of a far-reaching sort of intelligence, were shining now through tears. +Hammond saw the tears, and the lovely expression in the eyes, and said to +himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, could I ever have regarded that dear child as +plain?” Aloud he said in a softened voice, “I’m awfully +obliged to you for saying these sorts of things of Miss— Miss Oliphant, +but you must know, at least you must guess, that I— I have thought them +for myself long, long ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, I know that. But have you much faith? Do you keep to +what you believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is a most extraordinary girl!” murmured Hammond. Then he said +aloud, “I fail to understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +They had now nearly reached the Marshalls’ door. The other two were +waiting for them. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s this,” said Prissie, clasping her hands hard and +speaking in her most emphatic and distressful way. “There are unkind +things being said of Maggie, and there’s one girl who is horrid to +her— horrid! I want you not to believe a word that girl says.” +</p> + +<p> +“What girl do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“You were walking with her just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Miss Peel, you are the most extraordinary—” +</p> + +<p> +But Maggie Oliphant’s clear, sweet voice interrupted them. +</p> + +<p> +“Had we not better come into the house?” she said. “The door +has been open for quite half a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Prissie rushed in first, covered with shame; Miss Field hastened after, to +bear her company; and Hammond and Maggie brought up the rear. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX<br/> +A PAINTER</h2> + +<p> +The Marshalls were always at home to their friend on Friday afternoons, and +there were already several guests in the beautiful, quaint old drawing-room +when the quartet entered. Mrs. Marshall, her white hair looking lovely under +her soft lace cap, came forward to meet her visitors. Her kind eyes looked with +appreciation and welcome at one and all. Blushing and shame-faced Prissie +received a pleasant word of greeting, which seemed in some wonderful way to +steady her nerves. Hammond and Maggie were received as special and very dear +friends, and Helen Marshall, the old lady’s pretty grand-daughter, rushed +forward to embrace her particular friend, Constance Field. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie felt sore; she scarcely knew why. Her voice was bright, her eyes +shining, her cheeks radiant in their rich and lovely bloom. But there was a +quality in her voice which Hammond recognized— a certain ring which meant +defiance and which prophesied to those who knew her well that one of her bad +half-hours was not very far off. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie seated herself near a girl who was a comparative stranger and began to +talk. Hammond drew near and made a third in the conversation. Maggie talked in +the brilliant, somewhat reckless fashion which she occasionally adopted. +Hammond listened, now and then uttered a short sentence, now and then was +silent, with disapproval in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie read their expression like a book. +</p> + +<p> +“He shall be angry with me,” she said to herself. Her words became +a little wilder. The sentiments she uttered were the reverse of those Hammond +held. +</p> + +<p> +Soon a few old friends came up. They were jolly, merry, good-humored girls, who +were all prepared to look up to Maggie Oliphant and to worship her beauty and +cleverness if she would allow them. Maggie welcomed the girls with effusion, +let them metaphorically sit at her feet and proceeded to disenchant them as +hard as she could. +</p> + +<p> +Some garbled accounts of the auction at St. Benet’s had reached them, and +they were anxious to get a full report from Miss Oliphant. Did she not think it +a scandalous sort of thing to have occurred? +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” answered Maggie in her sweetest tones; “it was +capital fun, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you really there?” asked Miss Duncan, the eldest of the +girls. “We heard it, of course, bur could scarcely believe it +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I was there,” replied Maggie. “Whenever there is +something really amusing going on, I am always in the thick of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Emily Duncan looked at her sister Susan. Susan raised her +brows. Hammond took a photograph from a table which stood near and pretended to +examine it. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell you about the auction?” asked Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please, if you would be so kind. I suppose, as you were present, +such a thing could not really lower the standard of the college?” These +words came from Susan Duncan, who looked at Hammond as she spoke. She was his +cousin and very fond of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Please tell us about the auction,” he said, looking full at +Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” she replied, answering his gaze with a flash of repressed +irritation. “The auction was splendid fun! One of our girls was in debt, +and she had to sell her things. Oh, it was capital! I wish you could have seen +her acting as her own auctioneer. Some of us were greedy and wanted her best +things. I was one of those. She sold a sealskin jacket, an expensive one, quite +new. There is a legend in the college that eighty guineas were expended on it. +Well, I bid for the sealskin and it was knocked down to me for ten. It is a +little too big for me, of course, but when it is cut to my figure, it will make +a superb winter garment.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie was clothed now in velvet and sable; nothing could be richer than her +attire; nothing more mocking than her words. +</p> + +<p> +“You were fortunate,” said Susan Duncan. “You got your +sealskin at a great bargain. Didn’t she, Geoffrey?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so,” replied Hammond. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? Oh, do tell us why not,” cried the sisters eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +He bowed to them, laughed as lightly as Maggie would have done and said in a +careless tone: “My reasons are complex and too many to mention. I will +only say now that what is objectionable to possess can never be a bargain to +obtain. In my opinion, sealskin jackets are detestable.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words he strode across the room and seated himself with a sigh of +relief by Priscilla’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing all by yourself?” he said cheerfully. “Is +no one attending to you? Are you always to be left like a poor little forsaken +mouse in the background?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not at all lonely,” said Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you hated to be alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did, the other day, in that drawing-room; but not in this. People are +all kind in this.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right. Our hostess is most genial and sympathetic.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the guests are nice, too,” said Prissie; “at least, they +look nice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, but you must not be taken in by appearances. Some of them only look +nice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean—” began Prissie in her abrupt, anxious voice. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond took alarm. He remembered her peculiar outspokenness. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mean anything,” he said hastily. “By the way, +are you fond of pictures?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have scarcely ever seen any.” +</p> + +<p> +“That does not matter. I know by your face that you can appreciate some +pictures.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, really, I know nothing of art.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. If the painter who paints knows you——” +</p> + +<p> +“The painter knows me? I have never seen an artist in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, there are some artists in the world who have conceived of +characters like yours. There are some good pictures in this house. Shall I show +you one or two?” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie sprang to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You are most kind,” she said elusively. “I really +don’t know how to thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not thank me at all; or, at any rate, not in such a loud voice, +not so impressively. Our neighbors will think I have bestowed half a kingdom +upon you.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie blushed and looked down. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be shocked, with me,” said Hammond. “I can read +your grateful heart. Come this way” +</p> + +<p> +They passed Maggie Oliphant and her two or three remaining satellites. Prissie +looked at her with longing and tripped awkwardly against her chair. Hammond +walked past Maggie as if she did not exist to him. Maggie nodded affectionately +to Priscilla and followed the back of Hammond’s head and shoulders with a +supercilious, amused smile. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond opened the outer drawing-room door. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going?” asked Priscilla. “Are not the pictures +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some are here, but the best are in the picture gallery— here to +the left and down these steps. Now, I’m going to introduce you to a new +world.” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed aside a heavy curtain, and Prissie found herself in a rather small +room, lighted from the roof. It contained in all about six or eight pictures, +each the work of a master. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond walked straight across the gallery to a picture which occupied a wall +by itself at the further end. It represented a summer scene of deep repose. +There was water in the foreground, in the back tall forest trees in the fresh, +rich foliage of June. Overhead was a sunset sky, its saffron and rosy tints +reflected in the water below. The master who painted the picture was Corot. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond motioned Priscilla to sit down opposite to it. +</p> + +<p> +“There is summer.” he said; “peace, absolute repose. You have +not to go to it; it comes to you.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not say any more, but walked away to look at another picture in a +different part of the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie clasped her hands; all the agitation and eagerness went out of her +face. She leaned back in her chair. Her attitude partook of the quality of the +picture and became restful. Hammond did not disturb her for several moments. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to show you something different now,” he said, coming +up to her almost with reluctance. “There is one sort of rest; I will now +show you a higher. Here stand so. The light falls well from this angle. Now, +what do you see?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand it,” said Prissie after a long, deep +gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, you see something. Tell me what you see.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla looked again at the picture. +</p> + +<p> +“I see a woman,” she said at last in a slow, pained kind of voice. +“I can’t see her face very well, but I know by the way she lies +back in that chair that she is old and dreadfully tired. Oh, yes, I know well +that she is tired— see her hand stretched out there— her hand and +her arm— how thin they are— how worn— +and——” +</p> + +<p> +“Hard worked,” interrupted Hammond. “Any one can see by the +attitude of that hand, by the starting veins and the wrinkles that the woman +has gone through a life of labor. Well, she does not occupy the whole of the +picture. You see before you a tired-out worker. Don’t be so unhappy about +her. Look up a little higher in the picture. Observe for yourself that her +toils are ended.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that other figure?” said Priscilla. “A woman too, but +young and strong. How glad she looks and how kind. She is carrying a little +child in her arms. Who is she? What does she mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“That woman, so grand and strong, represents Death, but not under the old +metaphor. She comes with renewed life— the child is the type of +that— she comes as a deliverer. See, she is touching that poor worn-out +creature, who is so tired that she can scarcely hold her head up again. Death, +with a new aspect and a new, grand strength in her face is saying to this +woman, ‘Come with me now to your rest. It is all over,’ Death says: +all the trouble and perplexity and strife. Come away with me and rest. The name +of that picture is ‘The Deliverer.’ It is the work of a painter who +can preach a sermon, write a book, deliver an oration and sing a song all +through the medium of his brush. I won’t trouble you with his name just +now. You will hear plenty of him and his wonderful, great pictures by and by, +if you love art as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Prissie simply. Some tears stole down her cheeks. +She did not know she was crying; she did not attempt to wipe them away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br/> +“I DETEST IT”</h2> + +<p> +Shortly after the girls got home that evening they received letters in their +rooms to inform them that Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston had come to the +resolution not to report the affair of the auction to the college authorities. +They would trust to the honor of the students at St. Benet’s not to allow +such a proceeding to occur again and would say nothing further on the matter. +Prissie’s eyes again filled with tears as she read the carefully worded +note. Holding it open in her hand she rushed to Maggie’s room and +knocked. To her surprise, instead of the usual cheerful “Come in,” +with which Miss Oliphant always assured her young friend of a welcome, Maggie +said from the other side of the locked door: +</p> + +<p> +“I am very busy just now— I cannot see any one.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla felt a curious sense of being chilled; her whole afternoon had been +one of elation, and Maggie’s words came as a kind of cold <i>douche.</i> +She went back to her room, tried not to mind and occupied herself looking over +her beloved Greek until the dinner-gong sounded. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner Priscilla again looked with anxious, loving eyes at Maggie. Maggie +did not stop, as was her custom, to say a kind word or two as she passed. She +was talking to another girl and laughing gaily. Her dress was as picturesque as +her face and figure were beautiful. But was Priscilla mistaken, or was her +anxious observation too close? She felt sure as Miss Oliphant brushed past her +that her eyelids were slightly reddened, as if she had been weeping. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie put out a timid hand and touched Maggie on the arm. She turned +abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot,” she said to her companion. “Please wait for me +outside, Hester; I’ll join you in a moment. I have just a word to say to +Miss Peel. What is it, Prissie” said Maggie then, when the other girl had +walked out of hearing. “Why did you touch me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for nothing much,” replied Prissie, half frightened at her +manner, which was sweet enough but had an intangible hardness about it, which +Priscilla felt, but could not fathom. “I thought you’d be so glad +about the decision Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston have come to.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not particularly glad. I can’t stay now to talk it over, +however; Hester Stuart wants me to practise a duet with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I come to your room later on, Maggie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-night, I think; I shall be very busy.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant nodded brightly and disappeared out of the dining-hall. +</p> + +<p> +Two girls were standing not far off. They had watched this little scene, and +they now observed that Prissie clasped her hands and that a woe-begone +expression crossed her face. +</p> + +<p> +“The spell is beginning to work,” whispered one to the other. +“When the knight proves unfaithful the most gracious lady must suffer +resentment.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla did not hear these words. She went slowly upstairs and back to her +own room, where she wrote letters home, and made copious notes from her last +lectures, and tried not to think of the little cloud which seemed to have come +between her and Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +Late, on that same evening, Polly Singleton, who had just been entertaining a +chosen bevy of friends in her own room, after the last had bidden her an +affectionate “good night,” was startled at hearing a low knock at +her door. She opened it at once. Miss Oliphant stood without. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come in?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course. I’m delighted to see you. How kind of you to come. +Where will you sit? I’m afraid you won’t find things very +comfortable, for most of my furniture is gone. But there’s the bed; do +you mind sitting on the bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I want to sit at all the bed is as snug a place as any,” +replied Maggie. “But I’m not going to stay a moment, for it is very +late. See, I have brought you this back.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly looked, and for the first time observed that her own sealskin jacket hung +on Maggie’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” she said. “My sealskin jacket! Oh, my +beauty! But it isn’t mine, it’s yours now. Why do you worry +me— showing it to me again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to worry you, Miss Singleton. I mean what I say. I +have brought your jacket back.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is yours— you bought it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave a nominal price for it, but that doesn’t make it mine. +Anyhow, I have no use for it. Please take it back again.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Polly blushed very red all over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could,” she said. “If there has been anything I +regretted in the auction, besides getting all you girls into a mess, it has +been my sealskin jacket. Dad is almost certain to ask me about it, for he never +made me such a handsome present before. Poor dad! he was so proud the night he +brought it home. He said, ‘Look here, Poll, I paid a whole sheaf of +fivers for this, and although it cost me a good round eighty guineas, I’m +told it’s cheap at the price. Put it on and let me see how you look in +it,’ he said. And when I had it on he twisted me round, and chucked me +under the chin, and said I was a ‘bouncer.’ Poor old dad! He was as +proud as Punch of me in that jacket. I never saw anything like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he can be as proud as Punch of you again. Here is the jacket for +your very own once more. Good night.” +</p> + +<p> +She walked to the door, but Miss Singleton ran after her. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t take it back,” she said. “I’m not as +mean as all that comes to. It’s yours now; you got it as fair as +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Miss Singleton,” said Maggie. “If I keep that jacket +I shall never wear it. I detest sealskin jackets. It won’t be the least +scrap of use to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You detest sealskin jackets? How can you? Oh, the lovely things they +are. Let me stroke the beauty down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stroke your beauty and pet it as much as you like, only let me say +‘Good night’ now.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, please, Miss Oliphant, please, I’d do anything in the world +to get the jacket back, of course. But I’ve ten guineas of yours, and +honestly I can’t pay them back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me to lend them to you until next term. You can return me the +money then, can you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Polly’s face became on the instant a show of shining eyes, gleaming white +teeth and glowing cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I could pay you back, you— <i>darling,”</i> she +said with enthusiasm. “Oh, what a relief this is to me; I’d have +done anything in all the world to have my jacket back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a bargain, then. Good night, Miss Singleton.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie tossed the jacket on Polly’s bed, touched her hand lightly with +one of her own and left the room. She went quickly back to her own pretty +sitting-room, locked her door, threw herself on her knees by her bureau and +sobbed long and passionately. +</p> + +<p> +During the few days which now remained before the end of the term no one quite +knew what was wrong with Miss Oliphant. She worked hard in preparation for her +lectures and when seen in public was always very merry. But there was a certain +hardness about her mirth which her best friends detected and which caused Nancy +Banister a good deal of puzzled pain. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla was treated very kindly by Maggie; she still helped her willingly +with her Greek and even invited her into her room once or twice. But all the +little half-beginnings of confidence which, now and then, used to burst from +Maggie’s lips, the allusions to old times, the sentences which revealed +deep thoughts and high aspirations, all these, which made the essence of true +friendship, vanished out of her conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla said to herself over and over that there was really no +difference— that Miss Oliphant was still as kind to her, as valued a +friend as ever— but in her heart she knew that this was not the case. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie startled all her friends by making one request. Might they postpone the +acting of <i>The Princess</i> until the middle of the following term?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot do it justice now,” she said. “I cannot throw my +heart and soul into my part. If you act the play now you must allow me to +withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +The other girls, Constance Field in particular, were astonished. They even felt +resentful. All arrangements had been made for this special play. Maggie was to +be the Princess herself; no one could possibly take her place. It was most +unreasonable of her to withdraw now. +</p> + +<p> +But it was one of the facts well known at St. Benet’s that, fascinating +as Miss Oliphant was, she was also unreasonable. On certain occasions she could +even be disobliging. In short, when Maggie “took the bit between her +teeth,” to employ an old metaphor, she could neither be led nor driven. +After a great deal of heated discussion and indignant words, she had her will. +The play was deferred till the following term, and one or two slight comedies, +which had been acted before, were revived in a hurry to take its place. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br/> +A BLACK SATIN JACKET</h2> + +<p> +Very active preparations were being made in a certain rather humble little +cottage in the country for the heroine’s return. Three small girls were +making themselves busy with holly and ivy, with badly cut paper flowers, with +enormous texts coarsely illustrated, to render the home gay and festive in its +greeting. A little worn old woman lay on a sofa and superintended these active +measures. +</p> + +<p> +“How soon will she be here now?” said Hattie the vigorous. +</p> + +<p> +“Do stay still, Hattie, and don’t fidget. Don’t you see how +tired Aunt Raby looks?” exclaimed Rose. “Prissie can’t be +here yet, and you are such a worry when you jump up and down like that, +Hattie.” +</p> + +<p> +Rose’s words were quite severe, and Hattie planted herself on the edge of +a chair, folded her plump hands, managed to get a demure look into her laughing +eyes and dimpled mouth and sat motionless for about half a minute. At the end +of that time she tumbled on the floor with a loud crash and Aunt Raby sprang to +her feet with some alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious, child! are you hurt? What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +Hattie was sitting on the floor in convulsions of mirth. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not hurt,” she exclaimed. “I slipped off the +chair. I didn’t mean to; I couldn’t help it, really. I’m +sorry I woke you, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t asleep, child.” Miss Peel walked across the room +and vanished into the kitchen, from which very savory smells issued. +</p> + +<p> +Hattie and Rose began to quarrel and argue, and Katie, who was more or less of +a little peacemaker, suggested that they should draw up the blind and all three +get into the window to watch for Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder how she will look?” said Rose when they were all +comfortably established. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope she won’t talk in Latin,” exclaimed Hattie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is nice to think of seeing Prissie so soon,” murmured Katie +in an ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” began Rose in her practical voice, “how soon +Prissie will begin to earn money. We want money even more than when she went +away. Aunt Raby isn’t as well as she was then, and since the cows were +sold——” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Hattie. “You know we promised we wouldn’t +tell Prissie about the cows.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then a distant sound of wheels was heard. The little girls began to jump +and shout; a moment later and Priscilla stood in the midst of her family. A +great excitement followed her arrival. There were kisses and hugs and wild, +rapturous words from the affectionate little sisters. Aunt Raby put her arms +round Priscilla and gave her a solemn sort of kiss, and then the whole party +adjourned into the supper-room. +</p> + +<p> +The feast which was spread was so dainty and abundant that Katie asked in a +puzzled sort of way if Aunt Raby considered Prissie like the Prodigal Son. +</p> + +<p> +“What fancies you have, child!” said Aunt Raby. “The Prodigal +Son, indeed! Thank Heaven, I’ve never had to do with that sort! As to +Priscilla here, she’s as steady as Old Time. Well, child, and are you +getting up your learning very fast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty well, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you like your grand college and all those fine young-lady friends of +yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t any fine young-lady friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m! I dare say they are like other girls; a little bit of +learning and a great deal of dress, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla colored. +</p> + +<p> +“There are all sorts of girls at St. Benet’s,” she said after +a pause. “Some are real students, earnest, devoted to their work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you earned any money yet, Prissie?” exclaimed Hattie. +“For if you have, I do want— look——” She thrust a +small foot, encased in a broken shoe, prominently into view. +</p> + +<p> +“Hattie, go to bed this minute!” exclaimed Aunt Raby. “Go up +to your room all three of you little girls. No more words— off at once, +all of you. Prissie, you and I will go into the drawing-room, and I’ll +lie on the sofa while you tell me a little of your college life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Raby always lies on the sofa in the evenings now,” burst from +Hattie the irrepressible. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Peel rushed after the plump little girl and pushed her out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“To bed, all of you!” she exclaimed. “To bed and to sleep! +Now, Prissie, you are not to mind a word that child says. Come into the +drawing-room and let us have a few words quietly. Oh, yes, I’ll lie on +the sofa, my dear, if you wish it. But Hattie is wrong; I don’t do it +every night. I suffer no pain either, Prissie. Many a woman of my age is racked +with rheumatics.” +</p> + +<p> +The last words were said with a little gasp. The elder woman lay back on the +sofa with a sigh of relief. She turned her face so that the light from the lamp +should not reveal the deathly tired lines round it. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby was dressed in a rough homespun garment. Her feet were clad in +unbleached cotton stockings, also made at home; her little, iron-gray curls lay +flat at each side of her hollow cheeks. She wore list slippers, very coarse and +common in texture. Her whole appearance was the essence of the homely, the +old-fashioned, even the ungainly. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla had seen elegance and beauty since she went away; she had entered +into the life of the cultivated, the intellectually great. In spite of her deep +affection for Aunt Raby, she came back to the ugliness and the sordid +surroundings of home with a pang which she hated herself for feeling. She +forgot Aunt Raby’s sufferings for a moment in her uncouthness. She longed +to shower riches, refinement, beauty upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“How has your dress worn, Prissie?” said the elder woman after a +pause. “My sakes, child, you have got your best brown cashmere on! A +beautiful fine bit of cashmere it was, too. I bought it out of the money I got +for the lambs’ wool.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby stretched out her hand, and, taking up a fold of the cashmere, she +rubbed it softly between her finger and thumb. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s as fine as velvet,” she said, “and I put strong +work into it, too. It isn’t a bit worn, is it, Prissie?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Aunt Raby, except just round the tail. I got it very wet one day and +the color went a trifle, but nothing to signify.” +</p> + +<p> +A vivid picture rose up before Priscilla’s eyes as she spoke of Mrs. +Elliot-Smith’s drawing-room, and the dainty, disdainful ladies in their +gay attire, and her own poor, little forlorn figure in her muddy cashmere +dress— the same dress Aunt Raby considered soft and beautiful as velvet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt Raby,” she said with sudden impulse, “a great many +things have happened to me since I went away. On the whole I have had a very +good time.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby opened her mouth to emit a prodigious yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how it is,” she said, “but I’m a +bit drowsy to-night. I suppose it’s the weather. The day was quite a +muggy one. I’ll hear your news another time, Priscilla; but don’t +you be turned with the vanities of the world, Priscilla. Life’s but a +passing day: you mind that when you’re young, and it won’t come on +you as a shock when you are old. I’m glad the cashmere has worn +well— aye, that I am, Prissie. But don’t put it on in the morning, +my love, for it’s a sin to wear through beautiful fine stuff like that. +And, even if the color is gone a bit round the hem, the stuff itself +isn’t worn, and looks don’t signify. You’ll have to make up +your mind to wear the cashmere for best again next term, Prissie, for, though +I’m not pinched in any way, I’m not overflush either, my +love.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla, who had been sitting in a low chair near her aunt, now rose to her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Ought we not to come to bed?” she said. “If you don’t +feel tired, you look it, Aunt Raby. Come upstairs, do, and let me help you to +take your things off and put you into bed. Come, Aunt Raby, it will be like old +times to help you, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl knelt by the old woman, took one of her withered hands, raised it +suddenly to her lips and kissed it. Aunt Raby’s face was still turned +from the light. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you keep kneeling on your cashmere,” she said. +“You’ll crease it awfully, and I don’t see my way to another +best dress this term.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t, Aunt Raby,” said Priscilla in a steady voice. +“The cashmere is quite neat still. I can manage well with it.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby rose slowly and feebly from the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +“You may help me to get into bed if you like,” she said. “The +muggy day has made me wonderfully drowsy, and I’ll be glad to lie down. +It’s only that. I’ll be as pert as a cricket in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman leaned on the girl’s strong, young arm and stumbled a bit +as she went up the narrow stairs. +</p> + +<p> +When they entered the tiny bedroom Aunt Raby spoke again: +</p> + +<p> +“Your dress will do, but I have been fretting about your winter jacket, +Prissie. There’s my best one, though— you know, the quilted satin +which my mother left me; it’s loose and full, and you shall have +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you want it to go to church in yourself, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t often go to church lately, child. I take a power of +comfort lying on the sofa, reading my Bible, and Mr. Hayes doesn’t see +anything contrary to Scripture in it, for I asked him. Yes, you shall have my +quilted satin jacket to take back to college with you, Prissie, and then +you’ll be set up fine.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla bent forward and kissed Aunt Raby. She made no other response, but +that night before she went to sleep she saw distinctly a vision of herself. +Prissie was as little vain as a girl could be, but the vision of her own figure +in Aunt Raby’s black satin quilted jacket was not a particularly +inspiriting one. The jacket, full in the skirts, long in the shoulders, wide in +the sleeves and enormous round the neck, would scarcely bear comparison with +the neat, tight-fitting garments which the other girl graduates of St. +Benet’s were wont to patronize. Prissie felt glad she was not attired in +it that unfortunate day when she sat in Mrs. Elliot-Smith’s drawing-room; +and yet— and yet— she knew that the poor, quaint, old-world jacket +meant love and self-renunciation. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Aunt Raby!” whispered the girl. +</p> + +<p> +Tears lay heavily on her eyelashes as she dropped asleep, with one arm thrown +protectingly round her little sister Katie. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br/> +THE FASHION OF THE DAY</h2> + +<p> +A thick mist lay over everything. Christmas had come and gone, and +Priscilla’s trunk was packed once more— Aunt Raby’s old-world +jacket between folds of tissue-paper, lying on the top of other homely +garments. +</p> + +<p> +The little sisters were in bed and asleep and Aunt Raby lay on the sofa. +Prissie was accustomed to her face now, so she did not turn it away from the +light. The white lips, the chalky gray tint under the eyes, the deep furrows +round the sunken temples were all familiar to the younger “Miss +Peel.” She had fitted once more into the old sordid life. She saw Hattie +in her slipshod feet and Katie and Rose in their thin winter jackets, which did +not half keep out the cold. She saw and partook of the scanty meals and tried +to keep warm by the wretched fires. Once more she was part and parcel of the +household. The children were so accustomed to her that they forgot she was +going away again. +</p> + +<p> +To-night, however, the fact was brought back to her. Katie cried when she saw +the packed trunk. Hattie pouted and flopped herself about and became +unmanageable. Rose put on her most discontented manner and voice, and finding +that Prissie had earned no money during the past term, gave utterance to +skeptical thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Prissie just went away to have a good time, and she never meant to earn +money, and she forgot all about them,” grumbled the naughty little girl. +</p> + +<p> +Hattie came up and pummeled Rose for her bad words. Katie cried afresh, and +altogether the scene was most dismal. +</p> + +<p> +Now, however, it was over. The children were in the land of happy dreams. They +were eating their Christmas dinner over again and looking with ecstasy at their +tiny, tiny Christmas gifts and listening once more to Prissie, who had a low, +sweet voice and who was singing to them the old and beloved words: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Peace and goodwill to men.” +</p> + +<p> +The children were happy in their dreams, and Prissie was standing by Aunt +Raby’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you sit down, child? You have done nothing but fidget, +fidget for the last half-hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go out, Aunt Raby.” +</p> + +<p> +“To go out? Sakes! what for? And on such a night, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Mr. Hayes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prissie, I think you have got a bee in your bonnet. You’ll be lost +in this mist.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t. I missed Mr. Hayes to-day when he called, and I must +see him before I go back to St. Benet’s. I have a question or two to ask +him, and I know every step of the way. Let me go, auntie, please, do!” +</p> + +<p> +“You always were a wilful girl, Priscilla, and I think that college has +made you more obstinate than ever. I suppose the half-mannish ways of all those +girls tell upon you. There, if you must go— do. I’m in no mood for +arguing. I’ll have a bit of a sleep while you are out: the muggy weather +always makes me so drowsy.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby uttered a very weary yawn and turned her face from the light. +Priscilla stepped into the hall, put on her waterproof and oldest hat and went +out. She knew her way well to the little vicarage, built of gray stone and +lying something like a small, daring fly against the brow of the hill. The +little house looked as if any storm must detach it from its resting-place, but +to-night there was no wind, only clinging mist and damp and thick fog. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla mounted the rough road which led to the vicarage, opened the white +gate, walked up the gravel path and entered the little porch. Her knock was +answered by the vicar himself. He drew her into the house with an affectionate +word of welcome, and soon she was sitting by his study fire, with hat and +jacket removed. +</p> + +<p> +In the vicar’s eyes Priscilla was not at all a plain girl. He liked the +rugged power which her face displayed; he admired the sensible lines of her +mouth, and he prophesied great things from that brow, so calm, so broad, so +full. Mr. Hayes had but a small respect for the roses and lilies of mere +beauty. Mind was always more to him than matter. Some of the girls at St. +Benet’s, who thought very little of poor Priscilla, would have felt no +small surprise had they known the high regard and even admiration this good man +felt for her. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you have called, Prissie,” he said. “I was +disappointed in not seeing you to-day. Well, my dear, do as well in the coming +term as you did in the past. You have my best wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“You are happy in your new life, are you not, my dear child?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am interested,” said Priscilla in a low voice. Her eyes rested +on her shabby dress as she spoke. She laid one hand over the other. She seemed +to be weighing her words. “I am interested; sometimes I am absorbed. My +new life fills my heart; it crowds into all my thoughts. I have no room for +Aunt Raby— no room for my little sisters. Everything is new to me— +everything fresh and broad. There are some trials, of course, and some +unpleasantness; but, oh, the difference between here and there! Here it is so +narrow, there one cannot help getting enlightenment, daily and hourly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mr. Hayes when Priscilla paused, “I expected you +to say something of this kind. I knew you could not but feel the immense, the +immeasurable change. But why do you speak in that complaining voice, +Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +Prissies’ eyes were raised to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Because Aunt Raby is ill, and it is wicked of me to forget her. It is +mean and cowardly. I hate myself for it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hayes looked puzzled for a moment. Then his face cleared. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Prissie,” he said, “I always knew there were depths +of morbidness in you, but I did not suppose that you would sound them so +quickly. If you are to grow up to be a wise and useful and helpful woman by and +by, you must check this intense self-examination. Your feelings are the natural +feelings of a girl who has entered upon a very charming life. You are meant to +lead that life for the present; you are meant to do your duty in it. +Don’t worry, my dear. Go back to St. Benet’s, and study well, and +learn much, and gather plenty of experience for the future. If you fret about +what cannot be helped, you will weaken your intellect and tire your heart. +After all, Prissie, though you give much thought to St. Benet’s, and +though its ways are delightful to you, your love is still with the old friends, +is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even there I have failed,” said Priscilla sadly. “There is a +girl at St. Benet’s who has a strange power over me. I love her. I have a +very great love for her. She is not a happy girl, she is not a perfect girl, +but I would do anything— anything in the wide world for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would do anything for us, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, though you don’t think it, your love for us is stronger than +your love for her. There is a freshness about the new love which fascinates +you, but the old is the stronger. Keep both loves, my dear: both are of value. +Now I must go out to visit poor Peters, who is ill, so I can see you home. Is +there anything more you want to say to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, Mr. Hayes, Aunt Raby is very ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is, Prissie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she know it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ought I to be away from her now— is it right” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, do you want to break her heart? She worked so hard to get this +time at college for you. No, Prissie, don’t get that idea into your head. +Aunt Raby is most anxious that you should have every advantage. She +knows— she and I both know— that she cannot live more than a year +or two longer, and her greatest hope is that you may be able to support your +little sisters when she is gone. No, Prissie, whatever happens, you must on no +account give up your life at St. Benet’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then please let me say something else. I must not go on with my +classics.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child, you are managing to crush me with all kinds of queer, +disappointing sayings to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I? But I mean what I say now. I love Greek better than anything +almost in the world. But I know enough of it already for the mere purposes of +rudimentary teaching. My German is faulty— my French not what it might +he.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, my dear; Peters is waiting to settle for the night. Can we +not talk on our way down to the cottage?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby was fast asleep when Priscilla re-entered the little sitting-room. +The girl knelt down by the slight, old figure, and, stooping, pressed a light +kiss on the forehead. Light as it was it awoke the sleeper. +</p> + +<p> +“You are there still, child?” said Aunt Raby. “I dreamt you +were away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like me to stay with you, auntie?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear; you help me upstairs and I’ll get into bed. You ought +to be in your own bed, too, Prissie. Young creatures ought never to sit up +late, and you have a journey before you to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but would you like me not to take the journey? I am strong, and +could do all the work, and you might rest not only at night, but in the day. +You might rest always, if I stayed here.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby was wide awake now, and her eyes were very bright. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean what you say, Priscilla?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do. You have the first right to me. If you want me, I’ll +stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll give up that outlandish Greek, and all that babel of +foreign tongues, and your fine friends, and your grand college, and you hopes +of being a famous woman by and by? Do you mean this, Prissie, seriously?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you want me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you say I have the first claim on you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’re wrong; I haven’t the first claim on you.” +Aunt Raby tumbled off the sofa and managed to stand on her trembling old legs. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your arm, child,” she said; “and— and give me +a kiss, Prissie. You’re a good girl and worthy of your poor father. He +was a bookworm, and you are another. But he was an excellent man, and you +resemble him. I’m glad I took you home and did my best for you. +I’ll tell him about you when I get to heaven. He’ll be right +pleased, I know. My sakes, child! I don’t want the little bit of +earth’s rest. I’m going to have a better sort than that. And you +think I’ve the first claim on you? A poor old body like me. There, help +me up to bed, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Raby did not say any more as the two scrambled up the narrow stairs in +silence. When they got into the little bedroom, however, she put her arms round +Priscilla’s neck and gave her quite a hug. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for offering yourself to me, my love,” she said, +“but I wouldn’t have you on any terms whatever. Go and learn all +you can at your fine college, Prissie. It’s the fashion of the day for +the young folk to learn a lot, and there’s no going against the times. In +my young life sewing was the great thing. Now it’s Latin and Greek. +Don’t you forget that I taught you to sew, Prissie, and always put a back +stitch when you’re running a seam; it keeps the stuff together +wonderfully. Now go to bed.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> +TWO EXTREMES</h2> + +<p> +“Have you heard the news?” said Rosalind Merton. She skipped into +Miss Day’s room as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“No; what?” asked that untidy person, turning round and dropping a +lot of ribbon which she was converting into bows. “What’s your +news, Rose? Out with it. I expect it’s a case of ‘great cry and +little wool.’ However, if you want a plain opinion from +me——” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t ask for your opinion, Annie. I’m quite accustomed to +the scornful way in which you have received all my words lately. I need not +tell <i>you</i> what I have heard at all, unless you wish to hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, of course, I wish to hear it, Rosie; you know that as well as I do. +Now sit down and make yourself at home; there’s a dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Rose allowed herself to be mollified. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, sinking back into Miss Day’s most +comfortable chair, “the feud between a certain small person and a certain +great person grows apace.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day’s small eyes began to dance. +</p> + +<p> +“You know I am interested in that subject,” she said. She flopped +down on the floor by Rosalind Merton’s side. “Go on, my +love,” she murmured; “describe the development of the +enmity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Little things show the way the wind is blowing,” pursued Rose. +“I was coming along the corridor just now, and I met the angelic and +unworldly Priscilla. Her eyelids were red as if she had been crying. She passed +me without a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rose, you really are too provoking. I thought you had something very +fine to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“The feud grows,” pursued Rose. “I know it by many signs. +Prissie is not half so often with Maggie as she used to be. Maggie means to get +out of this friendship, but she is too proud not to do it gradually. There is +not a more jealous girl in this college than Maggie, but neither is there a +prouder. Do you suppose that anything under the sun would allow her to show her +feelings because that little upstart dared to raise her eyes to Maggie’s +adorable beau, Mr. Hammond? But oh, she feels it; she feels it down in her +secret soul. She hates Prissie; she hates this beautiful, handsome lover of +hers for being civil to so commonplace a person. She is only waiting for a +decent pretext to drop Prissie altogether. I wish with all my heart I could +give her one.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke Rosalind shaded her eyes with her hand; her face looked full of +sweet and thoughtful contemplation. +</p> + +<p> +“Get your charming Prissie to flirt a little bit more,” said Miss +Day with her harsh laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I can. I must not carry that brilliant idea to +extremities, or I shall be found out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what are you going to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Bide my time.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day gave a listless sort of yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s talk of something else,” she said impatiently. +“What are you going to wear at the Elliot-Smith’s party next week, +Rose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have got a new white dress,” said Rose in that voice of strong +animation and interest which the mere mention of dress always arouses in +certain people. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you? What a lot of dresses you get!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, you are mistaken, Annie. I have the greatest difficulty in +managing my wardrobe at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is that? I thought your people not only belonged to the county, but +were as rich as Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are county people, of course,” said Rose in her most affected +manner, “but county people need not invariably be rich. The fact is my +father has had some losses lately, and mother says she must be careful. I +wanted a great many things, and she said she simply could not give them. Oh, if +only that spiteful Miss Oliphant had not prevented my getting the sealskin +jacket, and if she had not raised the price of Polly’s pink coral!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t begin that old story again, Rose. When all is said and done, +you have got the lovely coral. By the way, it will come in beautifully for the +Elliot-Smith’s party. You’ll wear it, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? Of course you’ll wear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. The fact is I have not paid the whole price for it +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you really? You said you’d bring the money when you +returned this term.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I thought I could, but I was absolutely afraid to tell mother +what a lot the coral cost; and as she was so woefully short of funds, I had +just to come away without the money. I never for a moment supposed I should +have such ill luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is awkward. What are you going to say to Polly Singleton?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I suppose you could not help me, Annie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly couldn’t. I never have a penny to bless myself with. I +don’t know how I scrape along.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind sighed. Her pretty face looked absolutely careworn. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t fret, Rose,” said Miss Day after a pause; +“whether you have paid for the coral or not, you can wear it at the +Elliot-Smith’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, alas! that’s just what I can’t do. The fact is Polly is +turning out awfully mean. She has come back this time with apparently an +unlimited supply of pocket money, and she has been doing her best to induce me +to sell her the coral back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why don’t you? I’m sure I would, rather than be +worried about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Merton’s face flushed angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing will induce me to give up the coral,” she said. “I +bought my new white dress to wear with it. I have looked forward all during the +holidays to showing it to Meta Elliot-Smith. It’s the sort of thing to +subdue Meta, and I want to subdue her. No, nothing will induce me to part with +my lovely coral now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear, keep it, of course, and pay for it how you can. +It’s your own affair. You have not yet explained to me, however, why, +when it is in your possession, you can’t wear it with your new dress at +the Elliot-Smiths’ next week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because that wretched Polly has been invited also; and she is quite mean +enough and underbred enough to walk up to me before every one and ask me to +give her back her property.” +</p> + +<p> +“What fun if she did!” laughed Miss Day. +</p> + +<p> +“Annie, you are unkind!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, of course I don’t mean what I say, but I can’t help +seeing the whole picture: you, so fine and so self-conscious and so— so +<i>perfect</i> in all your appointments— and looking— for all you +are a little thing, Rose— a good inch above every one else— and +then our poor, good-natured, downright Polly catching sight of her unpaid-for +ornaments round your sweet baby throat— all the John Bull in her +instantly coming to the fore, and she demanding her rights in no measured +terms. Oh, your face, Rosie! your face! and Meta Elliot-Smith’s +enjoyment— oh, how delicious the picture is! Dear Rosalind, do wear the +coral, and please— please get me an invitation to the +Elliot-Smiths’. I’ll love you all my life if you give me leave to +witness so lovely a spectacle!” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Merton’s face changed color several times while Annie Day was +speaking. She clenched her small hands and tried hard to keep back such a +torrent of angry words as would have severed this so-called friendship once and +for all, but Rose’s sense of prudence was greater even now than her angry +passions. Miss Day was a useful ally— a dangerous foe. +</p> + +<p> +With a forced laugh, which concealed none of her real feelings, she stood up +and prepared to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very witty at my expense, Annie,” she said. Her lips +trembled. She found herself the next moment alone in the brightly lighted +corridor. +</p> + +<p> +It was over a week now since the beginning of the term. Lectures were once more +in full swing, and all the inmates of St. Benet’s were trying, each after +her kind, for the several prizes which the life they were leading held out to +them. Girls of all kinds were living under these roofs— the idle as well +as the busy. Both the clever and the stupid were here, both the good and the +bad. Rosalind Merton was a fairly clever girl. She had that smart sort of +cleverness which often passes for wide knowledge. She was liked by many of her +girl friends; she had the character of being rather good-natured; her pretty +face and innocent manner, too, helped to win her golden opinions among the +lecturers and dons. +</p> + +<p> +Those who knew her well soon detected her want of sincerity, but then it was +Rose’s endeavor to prevent many people becoming intimately acquainted +with her. She had all the caution which accompanies a deceitful character and +had little doubt that she could pursue those pettinesses in which her soul +delighted and yet retain a position as a good, innocent and fairly clever girl +before the heads of the college. +</p> + +<p> +Rose generally kept her angry passions in check, but, although she had managed +not to betray herself while in Miss Day’s room, now as she stood alone in +the brilliantly lighted corridor, she simply danced with rage. Her small hands +were clenched until the nails pierced the flesh and her delicately colored face +became livid with passion. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment she hated Annie Day— she hated Polly Singleton— she +hated, perhaps, most of all Maggie Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +She walked down the corridor, her heart beating fast. Her own room was on +another floor; to reach it she had to pass Miss Peel’s and Miss +Oliphant’s rooms. As Rose was walking slowly down the corridor she saw a +girl come out of Miss Oliphant’s room, turn quickly in the opposite +direction to the one from which she was coming, and, quickening her pace to a +run, disappear from view. Rose recognized this girl: she was Priscilla Peel. +Rose hastened her own steps and peeped into Maggie’s room. To her +surprise, it was empty; the door had swung wide open and the excited, perturbed +girl could see into every corner. Scarcely knowing why she did it, she entered +the room. Maggie’s room was acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful +in the college, and Rose said to herself that she was glad to have an +opportunity to examine it unobserved. +</p> + +<p> +She went and stood on the hearthrug and gazed around her; then she walked over +to the bureau. Some Greek books were lying open here— also a pile of +manuscript, several note-books, a few envelopes and sheets of letter-paper. +Still, scarcely knowing why, Rose lifted the note-paper and looked under it. +The heap of paper concealed a purse. +</p> + +<p> +A sealskin purse with gold clasps. Rose snatched her hands away, flung down the +note-paper as if she had been stung and walked back again to the hearthrug. +Once more the color rushed into her cheeks, once more it retreated, leaving her +small, young, pretty face white as marble. +</p> + +<p> +She was assailed by a frightful temptation and she was scarcely the girl to +resist it long. In cold blood she might have shrunk from the siren voice which +bade her release herself from all her present troubles by theft, but at this +moment she was excited, worried, scarcely capable of calm thought. Here was her +unexpected opportunity. It lay in her power now to revenge herself on Miss +Oliphant, on Prissie, on Polly Singleton and also to get out of her own +difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +How tempting was Maggie’s purse! how rich its contents were likely to +prove! Maggie was so rich and so careless that it was quite possible she might +never miss the small sum which Rose meant to take. If she did, it would be +absolutely impossible for her to trace the theft to innocent baby Rose Merton. +No; if Maggie missed her money and suspected any one, she would be almost +forced to lay the crime to the door of the girl she no longer, in her heart, +cared about— Priscilla Peel. +</p> + +<p> +A very rich flood of crimson covered Rose’s cheeks as this consequence of +her sin flashed before her vision. Less even than before was she capable of +seeing right from wrong. The opportunity was far too good to lose; by one small +act she would not only free herself, but accomplish the object on which she had +set her mean little heart: she would effectually destroy the friendship of +Maggie and Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +Stealthily, with her cheeks burning and her eyes bright with agitation, she +once more approached the bureau, took from under the pile of papers the little +sealskin purse, opened it, removed a five-pound note, clasped the purse again +and restored it to its hiding-place, then flew on the wings of the wind from +the room. +</p> + +<p> +A moment or two later Priscilla came back, sat calmly down in one of +Maggie’s comfortable chairs, and, taking up her Greek edition of +Euripides, began to read and translate with eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +As Prissie read she made notes with a pencil in a small book which lay in her +lap. The splendid thoughts appealed to her powerfully; her face glowed with +pleasure. She lived in the noble past; she was a Greek with the old Greeks; she +forgot the nineteenth century, with its smallness, its money worries— +above all, she forgot her own cares. +</p> + +<p> +At last in her reading she came to a difficult sentence, which, try as she +would, she could not render into English to her own satisfaction. She was a +very careful student and always disliked shirking difficulties; the pleasure of +her reading would be lost if she did not do full justice to the lines which +puzzled her. She resolved to read no further until Maggie appeared. Maggie +Oliphant, with her superior information, would soon cut the knot for her. She +closed the copy of Euripides with reluctance, and, putting her hand into her +pocket, took out a note she had just received, to mark the place. +</p> + +<p> +A moment or two later Maggie came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Still here, Prissie!” she exclaimed in her somewhat indifferent +but good-natured voice. “What a bookworm you are turning into!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been waiting for you to help me, if you will, Maggie,” said +Priscilla. “I have lost the right clew to the full sense of this +passage— see! Can you give it to me?” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie sat down at once, took up the book, glanced her eyes over the difficult +words and translated them with ease. +</p> + +<p> +“How lovely!” said Prissie, clasping her hands and giving herself +up to a feeling of enjoyment. “Don’t stop, Maggie, please; do read +some more!” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Enthusiast!” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +She translated with brilliancy to the end of the page; then, throwing the book +on her knee, repeated the whole passage aloud in Greek. +</p> + +<p> +The note that Prissie put in as a mark fell on the floor. She was so lost in +delighted listening that she did not notice it, but, when Maggie at last +stopped for want of breath, Priscilla saw the little note, stooped forward to +pick it up, glanced at the handwriting, and a shadow swept over her expressive +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! thank you, Maggie, thank you,” she exclaimed; “it is +beautiful, entrancing! It made me forget everything for a short time, but I +must not listen to any more; it is, indeed, most beautiful, but not for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, you little goose? You will soon read Euripides as well +as I do. What is more, you will surpass me, Priscilla; your talent is greater +than mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say that, Maggie; I can scarcely bear it when you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say you can scarcely bear it? Do you love me so well that you +hate to excel me? Silly child, as if I cared!” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, I know you are really too great to be possessed by petty +weaknesses. If I ever did excel you, which is most unlikely, I know you would +be glad both for me and for yourself. No, it is not that; I am unhappy because +of no fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What worries you then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, do you see this note?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it is from Miss Heath, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is. I am to see her to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Prissie, you must be quick with your revelation, for I have some +notes to look over.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t keep you a moment. I am to see Miss Heath to tell +her—— Prissie paused. Her face grew deadly white. “I am to +see Miss Heath to tell her— to tell her— that I— oh, Maggie! +I must give up my classics. I must; it’s all settled. Don’t say +anything. Don’t tempt me to reconsider the question. It can’t be +reconsidered, and my mind is made up. That’s it; it’s a trouble, +but I must go through with it. Good night, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie held out her long, unformed hand; Miss Oliphant clasped it between both +her own. +</p> + +<p> +“You are trembling,” she said, standing up and drawing the girl +toward her. “I don’t want to argue the point if you so firmly +forbid me. I think you quite mad, of course. It is absolutely impossible for me +to sympathize with such wild folly. Still, if your mind is made up, I +won’t interfere. But, seeing that at one time we were very firm friends, +you might give me your reasons, Priscilla.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla slowly and stiffly withdrew her hands; her lips moved. She was +repeating Miss Oliphant’s words under her breath: +</p> + +<p> +“At one time we were friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you speak?” said Maggie impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I’ll speak, I’ll tell you the reason. You +won’t understand, but you had better know—” Prissie paused +again; she seemed to swallow something; her next words came out slowly with +great difficulty: “When I went home for the Christmas recess I found Aunt +Raby worse. You don’t know what my home is like, Miss Oliphant; it is +small and poor. At home we are often cold and often hungry. I have three little +sisters, and they want clothes and education; they want training, they want +love, they want care. Aunt Raby is too weak to do much for them now; she is +very, very ill. You have not an idea— not an idea— Miss Oliphant, +in your wealth and your luxury, what the poverty of Penywern Cottage is like. +What does such poverty mean? How shall I describe it to you? We are sometimes +glad of a piece of bread; butter is a luxury; meat we scarcely taste.” +Prissie again broke off to think and consider her next words. Maggie, whose +sympathies were always keenly aroused by any real emotion, tried once again to +take her hands; Prissie put them behind her. “Aunt Raby is a good +woman,” continued Priscilla; “she is brave, she is a heroine. +Although she is just a commonplace old woman, no one has ever led a grander +life in its way. She wears poor clothes— oh, the poorest; she has an +uncouth appearance, worse even than I have, but I am quite sure that God— +<i>God</i> respects her— God thinks her worthy. When my father and mother +died (I was fourteen when my dear mother died) Aunt Raby came and took me home +and my three little sisters. She gave us bread to eat. Oh, yes, we never quite +wanted food, but before we came Aunt Raby had enough money to feed herself and +no more. She took us all in and supported us, because she worked so very, very +hard. Ever since I was fourteen— I am eighteen now— Aunt Raby has +done this. Well,” continued Priscilla, slow tears coming to her eyes and +making themselves felt in her voice, “this hard work is killing her; Aunt +Raby is dying because she has worked so hard for us. Before my three years have +come to an end here, she will be far, far away: she will be at rest +forever— God will be making up to her for all she has done here. Her hard +life which God will have thought beautiful will be having its reward. Afterward +I have to support and educate the three little girls. I spoke to Mr. +Hayes— my dear clergyman, about whom I have told you, and who taught me +all I know— and he agrees with me that I know enough of Greek and Latin +now for rudimentary teaching, and that I shall be better qualified to take a +good paying situation if I devote the whole of my time while at St. +Benet’s to learning and perfecting myself in modern languages. It’s +the end of a lovely dream, of course, but there is no doubt— no doubt +whatever— what is right for me to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie stopped speaking. Maggie went up again and tried to take her hand; she +drew back a step or two, pretending not to see. +</p> + +<p> +“It has been very kind of you to listen,” she said; “I am +very grateful to you, for now, whatever we may be to each other in future, you +will understand that I don’t give up what I love lightly. Thank you, you +have helped me much. Now I must go and tell Miss Heath what I have said to you. +I have had a happy reading of Euripides and have enjoyed listening to you. I +meant to give myself that one last treat— now it is over. Good +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla left the room— she did not even kiss Maggie as she generally +did at parting for the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br/> +A MYSTERIOUS EPISODE</h2> + +<p> +When she was alone, Maggie Oliphant sat down in her favorite chair and covered +her face with her hands. “It is horrible to listen to stories like +that,” she murmured under her breath. “Such stories get on the +nerves. I shall not sleep to-night. Fancy any people calling themselves ladies +wanting meat, wanting clothes, wanting warmth. Oh, my God! this is horrible. +Poor Prissie! Poor, brave Prissie!” Maggie started from her chair and +paced the length of her room once or twice. “I must help these +people,” she said; “I must help this Aunt Raby and those three +little sisters. Penywern Cottage shall no longer be without coal, and food, and +warmth. How shall I do this? One thing is quite evident— Prissie must not +know. Prissie is as proud as I am. How shall I manage this?” She clasped +her hands, her brow was contracted with the fulness of her thought. After a +long while she left her room, and, going to the other end of the long corridor, +knocked at Nancy Banister’s door. Nancy was within. It did not take +Maggie long to tell the tale which she had just heard from Priscilla’s +lips. Prissie had told her simple story with force, but it lost nothing in +Maggie’s hands. She had a fine command of language, and she drew a +picture of such pathos that Nancy’s honest blue eyes filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“That dear little Prissie!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that she is dear,” said Maggie. “I +don’t profess quite to understand her; however, that is not the point. +The poverty at Penywern Cottage is an undoubted fact. It is also a fact that +Prissie is forced to give up her classical education. She shall not! she has a +genius for the old tongues. Now, Nancy, help me; use your common sense on my +behalf. How am I to send money to Penywern Cottage?” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy thought for several minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“I have an idea,” she exclaimed at last. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe Mr. Hammond could help us.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie colored. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” she asked. “Why should Geoffrey Hammond be dragged +into Priscilla’s affairs? What can he possibly know about Penywern +Cottage and the people who live in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only this,” said Nancy: “I remember his once talking about +that part of Devonshire where Prissie’s home is and saying that his uncle +has a parish there. Mr. Hammond’s uncle is the man to help us.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant was silent for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she said; “will you write to Mr. Hammond and ask +him for his uncle’s address?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I do this, Maggie? Geoffrey Hammond is your friend; he would +think it strange for me to write.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s tone grew as cold as her expressive face had suddenly become. +“I can write if you think it best,” she said; “but you are +mistaken in supposing that Mr. Hammond is any longer a person of special +interest to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie, Maggie, if you only would—” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Nancy,” interrupted Maggie. She kissed her friend and +went back to her room. There she sat down before her bureau and prepared to +write a letter. “I must not lose any time,” she said to herself; +“I must help these people substantially; I must do something to rescue +poor Prissie from a life of drudgery. Fancy Prissie, with her genius, living +the life of an ordinary underpaid teacher: it is not to be thought of for a +moment! Something must be done to put the whole family on a different footing, +but that, of course, is for the future. From Priscilla’s account they +want immediate aid. I have two five-pound notes in my purse: Geoffrey shall +have them and enclose them to the clergyman who is his relation and who lives +near Priscilla’s home.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie wrote her letter rapidly. She thought it cold; she meant it to be a +purely business note; she did not intend Hammond to see even the glimpse of her +warm heart under the carefully studied words. “I am sick of money,” +she said to him, “but to some people it is as the bread of life. Ask your +friend to provide food and warmth without a moment’s delay for these poor +people out of the trifle I enclose. Ask him also to write directly to me, for +the ten pounds I now send is only the beginning of what I mean really to do to +help them.” +</p> + +<p> +When her letter was finished, Maggie put her hand in her pocket to take out her +purse. It was not there. She searched on the table, looked under piles of books +and papers and presently found it. She unclasped the purse and opened an inner +pocket for the purpose of taking out two five-pound notes which she had placed +there this morning. To her astonishment and perplexity, this portion of the +purse now contained only one of the notes. Maggie felt her face turning +crimson. Quick as a flash of lightning a horrible thought assailed her— +Priscilla had been alone in her room for nearly an hour— +Priscilla’s people were starving: had Priscilla taken the note? +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hateful!” said Maggie to herself; “what am I coming to, +to suspect the brave, the noble— I won’t, I can’t. Oh, how +shall I look her in the face and feel that I ever, even for a second, thought +of her so dreadfully.” Maggie searched through her purse again. +“Perhaps I dreamt that I put two notes here this morning,” she said +to herself. “But no, it is no dream; I put two notes into this division +of my purse, I put four sovereigns here; the sovereigns are safe— one of +the notes is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +She thought deeply for a few moments longer, then added a postscript to her +letter: +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, but I can only send you one note for five pounds +to-night. Even this, however, is better than nothing. I will give further help +as soon as I hear from your friend.” Maggie then folded her letter, +addressed, stamped it and took it downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Oliphant was an heiress; she was also an orphan; her father and mother +were mere memories to her; she had neither brothers nor sisters; she did not +particularly like her guardian, who was old and worldly wise, as different as +possible from the bright, enthusiastic, impulsive girl. Mr. Oliphant thought +money the aim and object of life: when he spoke to Maggie about it, she +professed to hate it. In reality she was indifferent to it; money was valueless +to her because she had never felt its want. +</p> + +<p> +She lay awake for a long time that night, thinking of Penywern Cottage, of +tired Aunt Raby, of the little girls who wanted food, and education, and care, +and love. After a time she fell asleep. In her sleep she ceased to think of +Priscilla’s relations: all her thoughts were with Priscilla herself. She +dreamt that she saw Priscilla move stealthily in her room, take up her purse +with wary fingers, open it, remove a note for five pounds and hide the purse +once more under books and papers. +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie awoke she professed not to believe in her dream; but, nevertheless, +she had a headache, and her heart was heavy within her. +</p> + +<p> +At breakfast that morning Miss Oliphant made a rather startling announcement. +“I wish to say something,” she remarked in her full, rich voice. +“A strange thing happened to me last night. I am not accounting for it; I +am casting no aspersions on any one; I don’t even intend to investigate +the matter; still, I wish publicly to state a fact— a five-pound note has +been taken out of my purse!” +</p> + +<p> +There were no dons or lecturers present when Miss Oliphant made this startling +announcement, but Nancy Banister, Rosalind Merton, Priscilla Peel, Miss Day, +Miss Marsh and several other girls were all in the room; they, each of them, +looked at the speaker with startled and anxious inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie herself did not return the glances; she was lazily helping herself to +some marmalade. +</p> + +<p> +“How perfectly shameful!” burst at last from the lips of Miss Day. +“You have lost five pounds, Miss Oliphant; you are positively certain +that five pounds have been taken out of your purse. Where was your +purse?” Maggie was spreading the marmalade on her bread and butter; her +eyes were still fixed on her plate. “I don’t wish a fuss +made,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s all very fine!” continued Miss Day, “but if +five pounds are lost out of your purse, some one has taken them! Some one, +therefore, whether servant or student, is a thief. I am not narrow-minded or +prudish, but I confess I draw the line at thieves.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” said Maggie in an icy tone; “still, I don’t +mean to make a fuss.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where was your purse, Maggie, dear?” asked Nancy Banister; +“was it in your pocket?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I found it last night in my bureau, under some books and +papers.” Maggie rose from the table as she spoke. With a swift flash her +brown eyes sought Priscilla’s face; she had not meant to look at her, she +did not want to; but a fascination she could not control obliged her to dart +this one glance of inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie’s eyes met hers. Their expression was anxious, puzzled, but there +was not a trace of guilt or confusion in them. “I don’t know how +that money could have been taken, Maggie,” she said, “for I was in +your room. studying my Greek.” Prissie sighed when she mentioned her +Greek. “I was in your room studying Greek all the evening; no one could +have come to take the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is gone, however,” said Maggie. She spoke with new +cheerfulness. The look on Prissie’s face, the tone in her voice made +Maggie blush at ever having suspected her. “It is gone,” she said +in quite a light and cheerful way, “but I am really sorry I mentioned it. +As I said just now, I don’t intend to investigate the matter. I may have +fallen asleep and taken the five-pound note out in a dream and torn it up or +put it on the fire. Anyhow, it has vanished, and that is all I have to say. +Come, Prissie, I want to hear what Miss Heath said to you last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” suddenly exclaimed Annie Day, “Miss Peel, you must not +leave the room just now. You have made a statement, Miss Oliphant, which I for +one do not intend to pass over without at least asking a few questions. You did +not tear up that note in a dream. If it is lost, some one took it. We are St. +Benet’s girls, and we don’t choose to have this kind of thing said +to us. The thief must confess and the note must be returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Maggie, “I sha’n’t object to +recovering my property. Priscilla, I shall be walking in the grounds; you can +come to me when your council of war is over.” +</p> + +<p> +The moment Maggie left the room Rosalind Merton made a remark. “Miss Peel +is the only person who can explain the mystery,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you confess yourself that you were in Miss Oliphant’s room +the greater part of the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess it?” remarked Priscilla; “that is a curious phrase +to apply to a statement. I confess nothing. I was in Maggie’s room, but +what of that? When people confess things,” she added with a naivete which +touched one or two of the girls, “they generally have done something +wrong. Now, what was there wrong in my sitting in my friend’s +room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miss Oliphant is your friend’?” said Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, of course.” But here a memory came over Priscilla; she +remembered Maggie’s words the night before— “You <i>were</i> +my friend.” For the first time her voice faltered and the crimson flush +of distress covered her face. Rosalind’s cruel eyes were fixed on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me speak now,” interrupted Miss Day. She gave Rosalind a +piercing glance which caused her, in her turn, to color violently. “It is +just this, Miss Peel,” said Annie Day: “you will excuse my speaking +bluntly, but you are placed in a very unpleasant position.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? How?” asked Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you great baby!” burst from Rosalind again. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t speak to me in that tone, Miss Merton,” said +Priscilla with a new dignity which became her well. “Now, Miss Day, what +have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +To Prissie’s surprise, at this juncture, Nancy Banister suddenly left her +seat and came and stood at the back of her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I am on your side whatever happens,” she remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, please, Miss Day.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must know who took the note,” said Annie Day. +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you I don’t; I can’t imagine how it has +disappeared. Not a soul came into the room while I was there. I did go away +once for about three minutes to fetch my Lexicon; but I don’t suppose any +one came into Miss Oliphant’s room during those few minutes— there +was no one about to come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you left the room for about three minutes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps three— perhaps not so many. I had left my Lexicon in the +library; I went to fetch it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Rosalind, suddenly taking the words out of Miss +Day’s mouth, “when did you invent this little fiction?” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie’s eyes seemed suddenly to blaze fire. For the first time she +perceived the drift of the cruel suspicion which her fellow-students were +seeking to cast upon her. “How wicked you are!” she said to +Rosalind. “Why do you look at me like that? Miss Day, why do you smile? +Why do you all smile? Oh, Nancy,” added poor Prissie, springing to her +feet and looking full into Nancy’s troubled eyes, “what is the +matter?— am I in a dream?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very fine to be theatrical,” said Miss Day, “but +the fact is, Miss Peel, you are not at all popular enough at St. Benet’s +to induce any of us to consent to live under a ban for your sake. Miss Oliphant +has lost her money. You say that you spent some time in her room; the purse was +on her bureau. Miss Oliphant is rich, she is also generous; she says openly +that she does not intend to investigate the matter. No doubt, if you confess +your weakness and return the money, she will forgive you and not report this +disgraceful proceeding to the college authorities.” +</p> + +<p> +While Miss Day was speaking some heavy panting breaths came two or three times +from Priscilla’s lips. Her face had turned cold and white, but her eyes +blazed like living coals. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I understand,” she said slowly, “you think— you +think that I— I stole a five-pound note from my friend; you think that I +went into her room and opened her purse and took away her money; you think that +of me— you! I scorn you all, I defy you, I dare you to prove your +dreadful words! I am going to Miss Heath this moment; she shall protect me from +this dishonor.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br/> +IN THE ANTE-CHAPEL OF ST. HILDA’S</h2> + +<p> +Priscilla ran blindly down the corridor which opened into the wide +entrance-hall. Groups of girls were standing about. They stared as the +wild-looking apparition rushed past them: Prissie was blind to their puzzled +and curious glances. She wanted to see Miss Heath. She had a queer kind of +instinct, rather than any distinct impression, that in Miss Heath’s +presence she would be protected, that Miss Heath would know what to say, would +know how to dispel the cloud of disgrace which had suddenly been cast over her +like a cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything wrong, Miss Peel?” said gentle little Ada Hardy, +coming up and speaking to her affectionately. Miss Hardy stood right in +Prissie’s path, barring her way for a moment and causing her, in spite of +herself, to stop her headlong rush to the vice-principal’s room. +Priscilla put up her hand to her brow. She looked in a dazed sort of way at the +kindhearted girl. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter— can I help you?” repeated Ada Hardy. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t help me,” said Prissie. “I want to see Miss +Heath; let me pass.” She ran forward again, and some other girls, coming +out of the dining-hall, now came up to Ada and distracted her attention. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath’s private sitting-room was on the ground floor. This lovely +room has been described before. It was open now, and Prissie went in without +knocking; she thought she would see Miss Heath sitting as she usually was at +this hour, either reading or answering letters. She was not in the room. +Priscilla felt too wild and impetuous to consider any action carefully just +then. She ran up at once to the electric bell and pressed the button for quite +a quarter of a minute. A maid servant came quickly to answer the summons. She +thought Miss Heath had sent for her and stared at the excited girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Miss Heath,” said Priscilla. “Please ask her +to come to me here. Say Miss Peel wants to see her— Priscilla Peel wants +to see her, very, <i>very</i> badly, in her own sitting-room at once. Ask her +to come to me at once.” +</p> + +<p> +The presence of real tragedy always inspires respect. There was no question +with regard to the genuineness of Priscilla’s sorrow just then. +</p> + +<p> +“I will try and find Miss Heath, miss, and ask her to come to you without +delay,” answered the maid. She softly withdrew, closing the door after +her. Priscilla went and stood on the hearthrug. Raising her eyes for a moment, +they rested on a large and beautiful platinotype of G. F. Watts’ picture +of “Hope.” The last time she had visited Miss Heath in that room +Prissie had been taken by the kind vice-principal to look at the picture, and +some of its symbolism was explained to her. “That globe on which the +figure of Hope sits,” Miss Heath had said, “is meant to represent +the world. Hope is blindfolded in order more effectually to shut out the sights +which might distract her. See the harp in her hand, observe her rapt +attitude— she is listening to melody— she hears, she rejoices, and +yet the harp out of which she makes music only possesses one string— all +the rest are broken.” Miss Heath said nothing further, and Prissie +scarcely took in the full meaning of the picture that evening. Now she looked +again, and a passionate agony swept over her. “Hope has one string still +left to her harp with which she can play music,” murmured the young girl; +“but oh! there are times when all the strings of the harp are broken. +Then Hope dies.” +</p> + +<p> +The room door was opened and the servant reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, miss,” she said, “but Miss Heath has gone +out for the morning. Would you like to see any one else?” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla gazed at the messenger in a dull sort of way. “I can’t +see Miss Heath?” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“No, miss, she is out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can I do anything for you, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant went away with a puzzled expression on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“That plain young lady, who is so awful poor— Miss Peel, I +mean— seems in a sad taking,” she said by and by to her +fellow-servants. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla, left alone in Miss Heath’s sitting-room, stood still for a +moment, then running usptairs to her room, she put on her hat and jacket and +went out. She was expected to attend two lectures that morning and the hour for +the first had almost arrived. Maggie Oliphant was coming into the house when +Prissie ran past her. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear!” she exclaimed, shocked at the look on Priscilla’s +face, “come here; I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t— don’t stop me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where are you going? Mr. Kenyon has just arrived. I am on my way to +the lecture-hall now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you coming?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +This last word reached Miss Oliphant from a distance. Prissie had already +almost reached the gates. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie stood still for a moment, half inclined to follow the excited, +frantic-looking girl, but that queer inertia, which was part of her complex +character, came over her. She shrugged her shoulders, the interest died out of +her face; she walked slowly through the entrance-hall and down one of the side +corridors to the lecture-room. +</p> + +<p> +When the Greek lecture had come to an end Nancy Banister came up and slipped +her hand through Maggie’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, Maggie?” she asked, “you look very white +and tired.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a headache,” answered Maggie. “If it does not get +better, I shall send for a carriage and take a drive.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I come with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear Nancy, when I have these bad headaches it is almost necessary +to me to be alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would it not be better for you to go and lie down in your room?” +</p> + +<p> +“I to lie down in my room with a headache like this? No, thank +you.” Maggie shuddered as she spoke. Nancy felt her friend’s arm +shiver as she leaned on it. +</p> + +<p> +“You are really ill, darling!” she said in a tone of sympathy and +fondness. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not felt right for a week and am worse today, but I dare say a +drive in this nice frosty air will set me up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to Kingsdene. Shall I order a carriage for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, did you notice that Priscilla was not at her lecture?” +</p> + +<p> +“She was not. I met her rushing away, I think, to Kingsdene; she seemed +put out about something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little thing. No wonder— those horrid girls!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Nancy, if there’s anything unpleasant, don’t tell me +just now; my head aches so dreadfully, I could scarcely hear bad news.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are working too hard, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not; it is the only thing left to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know that we are to have a rehearsal of <i>The Princess</i> +to-night? If you are as ill as you look now, you can’t be present.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be present. Do you think I can’t force myself to do what is +necessary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am well acquainted with the owner of your will,” answered +Nancy with a laugh. “Well, good-by, dear, I am off. You may expect the +carriage to arrive in half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Priscilla, still blind, deaf and dumb with misery, ran, rather than +walked, along the road which leads to Kingsdene. The day was lovely, with +little faint wafts of spring in the air; the sky was pale blue and cloudless; +there was a slight hoar frost on the grass. Priscilla chose to walk on it, +rather than on the dusty road; it felt crisp under her tread. +</p> + +<p> +She had not the least idea why she was going to Kingsdene. Her wish was to +walk, and walk, and walk until sheer fatigue, caused by long-continued motion, +brought to her temporary ease and forgetfulness. +</p> + +<p> +Prissie was a very strong girl, and she knew she must walk for a long time; her +feet must traverse many miles before she effected her object. Just as she was +passing St. Hilda’s College she came face to face with Hammond. He was in +his college cap and gown and was on his way to morning prayers in the chapel. +Hammond had received Maggie’s letter that morning, and this fact caused +him to look at Priscilla with new interest. On another occasion he would have +passed her with a hurried bow. Now he stopped to speak. The moment he caught +sight of her face, he forgot everything else in his distress at the expression +of misery which it wore. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going, Miss Peel?” he asked; “you appear to be +flying from something, or, perhaps, it is <i>to</i> something. Must you run? +See, you have almost knocked me down.” He chose light words on purpose, +hoping to make Prissie smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going for a walk,” she said. “Please let me +pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid you are in trouble,” he replied then, seeing that +Priscilla’s mood must be taken seriously. +</p> + +<p> +His sympathy gave the poor girl a momentary thrill of comfort. She raised her +eyes to his face and spoke huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“A dreadful thing has happened to me,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The chapel bell stopped as she spoke. Groups of men, all in their caps and +gowns, hurried by. Several of them looked from Hammond to Priscilla and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I must go to chapel now,” he said; “but I should like to +speak to you. Can I not see you after morning prayers? Would you not come to +the service. You might sit in the ante-chapel, if you did not want to come into +the chapel itself. You had much better do that. Whatever your trouble is, the +service at St. Hilda’s ought to sustain you. Please wait for me in the +ante-chapel. I shall look for you there after prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +He ran off just in time to take his own place in the chapel before the doors +were shut and curtains drawn. +</p> + +<p> +Without a moment’s hesitation, Priscilla followed him. She entered the +ante-chapel, sat down on a bench not far from the entrance door, and when the +service began she dropped on her knees and covered her face with her hands. +</p> + +<p> +The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony. The doors which divided +the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound, as if it were miles +away; each note, however, was distinct; no sound was lost. The boys’ +voices rose high in the air; they were angelic in their sweetness. Prissie was +incapable, at that moment, of taking in the meaning of the words she heard, but +the lovely sounds comforted her. The dreadful weight was lifted, or, at least, +partially lifted, from her brain; she felt as if a hand had been laid on her +hot, angry heart; as if a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrow +there. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready now,” said Hammond when the service was over. +“Will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +She rose without a word and went out with him into the quadrangle. They walked +down the High Street. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going back to St. Benet’s?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no— oh, no!” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ you mean. I will walk with you as far as the +gates.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not going back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” said Hammond, “you <i>must</i> go back. So young +a girl cannot take long walks alone. If one of your fellow-students were with +you, it would be different.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not walk with one of them now for the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not with Miss Oliphant?” +</p> + +<p> +“With her least of all.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a pity,” said Hammond gravely, “for no one can feel +more kindly toward you.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie made no response. +</p> + +<p> +They walked to the end of the High Street. +</p> + +<p> +“This is your way,” said Hammond, “down this quiet lane. We +shall get to St. Benet’s in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not going there. Good-by, Mr. Hammond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Peel, you must forgive my appearing to interfere with you, but it +is absolutely wrong for a young girl, such as you are, to wander about alone in +the vicinity of a large university town. Let me treat you as my sister for once +and insist on accompanying you to the gates of the college.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie looked up at him. “It is very good of you to take any notice of +me,” she said after a pause. “You won’t ever again +after— after you know what I have been accused of. If you wish me to go +back to St. Benet’s, I will; after all, it does not matter, for I can go +out by and by somewhere else.” +</p> + +<p> +Hammond smiled to himself at Prissie’s very qualified submission. Just +then a carriage came up and drove slowly past them. Miss Oliphant, in her +velvet and sables, was seated in it. Hammond sprang forward with heightened +color and an eager exclamation on his lips. She did not motion to the coachman +to stop, however, but gave the young man a careless, cold bow. She did not +notice Priscilla at all. The carriage quickly drove out of sight, and Hammond, +after a pause, said gravely; +</p> + +<p> +“You must tell me your troubles, Miss Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” said Prissie. “Some one has stolen a five pound +note out of Maggie Oliphant’s purse. She missed it late at night and +spoke about it at breakfast this morning. I said that I did not know how it +could have been taken, for I had been studying my Greek in her room during the +whole afternoon. Maggie spoke about her loss in the dining-hall, and after she +left the room Miss Day and Miss Merton accused me of having stolen the +money.” Priscilla stopped speaking abruptly; she turned her head away; a +dull red suffused her face and neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Hammond. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all. The girls at St. Benet’s think I am a thief. They +think I took my kindest friend’s money. I have nothing more to say: +nothing possibly could be more dreadful to me. I shall speak to Miss Heath and +ask leave to go away from the college at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly ought not to do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you went from St. Benet’s now, people might be induced to think +that you really were guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they think that now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite certain that those students whose friendship is worth +retaining think nothing of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you certain?” asked Prissie, turning swiftly round and a +sudden ray of sunshine illuminating her whole face. “Do <i>you</i> think +that I am not a thief?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am as certain of that fact as I am of my own identity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the girl with a gasp. She made a sudden dart forward, +and seizing Hammond’s hand, squeezed it passionately between both her +own. +</p> + +<p> +“And Miss Oliphant does not think of you as a thief,” continued +Hammond. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know— I can’t say.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have no right to be so unjust to her,” he replied with fervor. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care so much for the opinion of the others now,” +said Prissie; “<i>you</i> believe in me.” She walked erect again; +her footsteps were light as if she trod on air. “You are a very good +man,” she said. “I would do anything for you— +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Hammond smiled. Her innocence, her enthusiasm, her childishness were too +apparent for him to take her words for more than they were worth. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” he said after a pause, “that I am in a certain +measure entitled to help you? In the first place, Miss Oliphant takes a great +interest in you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, she does not— not now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not mistaken; she takes a great interest in you. Priscilla, you +must have guessed— you <i>have</i> guessed— what Maggie Oliphant is +to me; I should like, therefore, to help her friend. That is one tie between +us, but there is another— Mr. Hayes, your parish +clergyman——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Prissie, “do you know Mr. Hayes?” +</p> + +<p> +“I not only know him,” replied Hammond, smiling, “but he is +my uncle. I am going to see him this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I shall tell him nothing of this, but I shall probably talk +of you. Have you a message for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can send him no message to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +They had now reached the college gates. Hammond took Priscilla’s hand. +“Good-by,” he said; “I believe in you and so does Miss +Oliphant. If her money was stolen, the thief was certainly not the most +upright, the most sincere girl in the college. My advice to you, Miss Peel, is +to hold your head up bravely, to confront this charge by that sense of absolute +innocence which you possess. In the meanwhile I have not the least doubt that +the real thief will be found. Don’t make a fuss; don’t go about in +wild despair— have faith in God.” He pressed her hand and turned +away. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla took her usual place that day at the luncheon table. The girls who +had witnessed her wild behavior in the morning watched her in perplexity and +astonishment. She ate her food with appetite; her face looked serene— all +the passion and agony had left it. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton ventured on a sly allusion to the scene of the morning. +Priscilla did not make the smallest comment. Her face remained pale, her eyes +untroubled. There was a new dignity about her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up now?” said Rosalind to her friend, Miss Day. +“Is the little Puritan going to defy us all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t worry any more about her,” said Annie, who, for +some reason, was in a particularly bad humor. “I only wish, for my part, +Miss Peel had never come to St. Benet’s; I don’t like anything +about her, Her heroics are as unpleasant to me as her stoicisms. But I may as +well say frankly, Rosalind, before I drop this detestable subject, that I am +quite sure she never stole that five-pound note: she was as little likely to do +it as you, so there!” +</p> + +<p> +There came a knock at the door. Rosalind flew to open it. By so doing she hoped +that Miss Day would not notice the sudden color which filled her cheeks. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br/> +BEAUTIFUL ANNABEL LEE</h2> + +<p> +Circumstances seem to combine to spoil some people. Maggie Oliphant was one of +the victims of fortune, which, while appearing to favor her, gave her in +reality the worst training which was possible for a nature such as hers. She +was impulsive, generous, affectionate, but she was also perverse, and, so to +speak, uncertain. She was a creature of moods and she was almost absolutely +without self-control; and yet nature had been kind to Maggie, giving her great +beauty of form and face and a character which a right training would have +rendered noble. +</p> + +<p> +Up to the present, however, this training had scarcely come to Miss Oliphant. +She was almost without relations and she was possessed of more money than she +knew what to do with. She had great abilities and loved learning for the sake +of learning, but till she came to St. Benet’s, her education had been as +desultory as her life. She had never been to school; her governess only taught +her what she chose to learn. As a child she was very fickle in this respect, +working hard from morning till night one day but idling the whole of the next. +When she was fifteen her guardian took her to Rome. The next two years were +spent in traveling, and Maggie, who knew nothing properly, picked up that kind +of superficial miscellaneous knowledge which made her conversation brilliant +and added to her many charms. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall be brought out early,” her guardian had said to her. +“You are not educated in the stereotyped fashion, but you know enough. +After you are seventeen I will get you a suitable chaperon and you shall live +in London.” +</p> + +<p> +This scheme, however, was not carried out. For, shortly after her seventeenth +birthday, Maggie Oliphant met a girl whose beauty and brilliance were equal to +her own, whose nature was stronger and who had been carefully trained in heart +and mind while Maggie had been neglected. Miss Lee was going through a course +of training at St. Benet’s College for Women at Kingsdene. She was an +uncommon girl in every sense of the word. The expression of her lovely face was +as piquant as its features were beautiful; her eyes were dark as night; they +also possessed the depth of the tenderest, sweetest summer night, subjugating +all those who came in contact with her. Annabel Lee won Maggie’s warmest +affections at once; she determined to join her friend at St. Benet’s. She +spoke with ineffable scorn of her London season and resolved, with that +enthusiasm which was the strongest part of her nature, to become a student in +reality. Under Annabel’s guidance she took up the course of study which +was necessary to enable her to pass her entrance examination. She acquitted +herself well, for her abilities were of the highest order, and entered the +college with <i>éclat.</i> Miss Lee was a student in Heath Hall, and Maggie +thought herself supremely happy when she was given a room next to her friend. +</p> + +<p> +Those were brilliant days at the hall. Some girls resided there at this time +whose names were destined to be known in the world by and by. The workers were +earnest; the tone which pervaded the life at Heath Hall was distinctly high. +Shallow girls there must always be where any number are to be found together, +but, during Maggie Oliphant’s first year, these girls had little chance +of coming to the front. Maggie, who was as easily influenced as a wave is +tossed by the wind, rose quickly to the heights with her companions. Her +splendid intellect developed each day. She was merry with the merry, glad with +the glad, studious with the studious. She was also generous, kind and unselfish +in company with those girls who observed the precepts of the higher life. Next +to Miss Lee, Maggie was one of the most popular girls in the college. Annabel +Lee had the kindest of hearts, as well as the most fascinating of ways. She was +an extraordinary girl; there was a great deal of the exotic about her; in many +ways she was old for her years. No one ever thought or spoke of her as a prig, +but all her influence was brought to bear in the right direction. The girl who +could do or think meanly avoided the expression of Annabel’s beautiful +eyes. It was impossible for her to think badly of her fellow-creatures, but +meanness and sin made her sorrowful. There was not a girl in Heath Hall who +would willingly give Annabel Lee sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +In the days that followed people knew that she was one of those rare and +brilliant creatures who, like a lovely but too ethereal flower, must quickly +bloom into perfection and then pass away. Annabel was destined to a short life, +and after her death the high tone of Heath Hall deteriorated considerably. +</p> + +<p> +This girl was a born leader. When she died no other girl in the college could +take her place, and for many a long day those who had loved her were conscious +of a sense which meant a loss of headship. In short, they were without their +leader. +</p> + +<p> +If Annabel in her gaiety and brightness could influence girls who were scarcely +more than acquaintances, the effect of her strong personality on Maggie was +supreme. Maggie often said that she never knew what love meant until she met +Annabel. The two girls were inseparable; their love for each other was compared +to that of Jonathan and David of Bible story and of Orestes and Pylades of +Greek legend. The society of each gave the other the warmest pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Annabel and Maggie were both so beautiful in appearance, so far above the +average girl in their pose, their walk, their manner that people noticed these +friends wherever they went. A young and rising artist, who saw them once at St. +Hilda’s, begged permission to make a picture of the pair. It was done +during the summer recess before Annabel died and made a sensation in the next +year’s Academy. Many of the visitors who went there stopped and looked at +the two faces, both in the perfection of their youthful bloom and beauty. Few +guessed that one even now had gone to the Home best fitted for so ardent and +high a spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Annabel Lee died a year before Priscilla came to the college. Whatever Maggie +inwardly felt, she had got over her first grief; her smile was again as +brilliant as when Annabel Lee was by her side, her laugh was as merry; but the +very few who could look a little way into Maggie’s perverse and +passionate heart knew well that something had died in her which could never +live again, that her laugh was often hollow and her brilliant smile had only a +foundation in bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie did not only grieve for her friend when she mourned for Annabel. She had +loved her most deeply, and love alone would have caused her agony in such a +loss; but Maggie’s keenest and most terrible feelings were caused by an +unavailing regret. +</p> + +<p> +This regret was connected with Geoffrey Hammond. +</p> + +<p> +He had known Annabel from her childhood. He was an old friend of some of her +friends, and during those last, long summer holidays, which the two girls spent +together under the roof of Maggie’s guardian, Hammond, who was staying +with relations not far away, came to see them almost daily. He was the kind of +man who could win both respect and admiration; he was grave in his nature and +his aspirations, aims and ambitions were high. In their conversations during +this lovely summer weather these young people dreamt happy dreams together and +planned a future which meant good to all mankind. Maggie, to all appearance, +was heart and soul with Annabel and Geoffrey in what they thought and said. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could have been simpler or more unconventional than the intercourse +between these young people. Miss Lee had known Hammond all her life; Maggie +always spoke and thought of herself as second to Annabel in Geoffrey +Hammond’s regard. One brilliant autumn day, however, he surprised Maggie +by asking her to take a long walk alone with him. No words were said during +this ramble to open Maggie Oliphant’s eyes to the true state of +Hammond’s feelings for her, but when she returned from her walk she could +not help noticing Annabel Lee’s unaccountable depression. It was not +until later, however, that Maggie attributed a certain pathetic, almost +heart-broken, look in her friend’s lovely eyes to its true cause. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond was a graduate of St. Hilda’s College at Kingsdene, and the three +friends often talked of the happy meetings they would have during the coming +winter. He was a man of large property, and the favorite amusement of these +young people was in talking over the brilliant life which lay before Hammond +when he took possession of his estates. He would be the ideal landlord of his +age; the people who lived on his property would, when he attained his majority, +enter into a millennium of bliss. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie returned to St. Benet’s, imagining herself quite heart-whole, but +happiness shone out of her eyes, and there was a new, tender ring in her voice +for which she could not account to herself and which added a new fascination to +her beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the commencement of the term Hammond met Miss Oliphant by +accident just outside Kingsdene. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to post a letter to you,” he said. His face was +unusually pale, his eyes full of joy and yet of solicitude. +</p> + +<p> +“You can tell me what you have written,” replied Maggie in her +gayest voice. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I would rather you read my letter.” +</p> + +<p> +He thrust it into her hand and immediately, to her astonishment, left her. +</p> + +<p> +As she walked home through the frosty air she opened Hammond’s letter and +read its contents. It contained an earnest appeal for her love and an assurance +that all the happiness of the writer’s future life depended on her +consenting to marry him. Would she be his wife when her three years’ term +at St. Benet’s came to an end? +</p> + +<p> +No letter could be more manly, more simple. Its contents went straight to the +depths of a heart easily swayed and full of strong affection. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I love him,” whispered the girl; “I did not know it +until I read this letter, but I am sure of myself now. Yes, I love him better +than any one else in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +A joyous light filled Maggie’s brown eyes; her heart was gay. She rushed +to Annabel’s room to tell her news and to claim the sympathy which had +never hitherto been denied her and which was essential to the completion of her +happiness. +</p> + +<p> +When Maggie entered her friend’s room she saw, to her surprise, that +Annabel was lying on her bed with flushed cheeks. Two hours before she had +been, to all appearance, in brilliant health; now her face burned with fever +and her beautiful dark eyes were glazed with pain. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie rushed up and kissed her. “What is it; darling,” she asked; +“what is wrong? You look ill; your eyes have a strange expression.” +</p> + +<p> +Annabel’s reply was scarcely audible. The pain and torpor of her last +short illness were already overmastering her. Maggie was alarmed at the burning +touch of her hand, but she had no experience to guide her and her own great joy +to make her selfish. +</p> + +<p> +“Annabel, look at me for a moment. I have wonderful news to give +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Annabel’s eyes were closed, She opened them wide at this appeal for +sympathy, stretched out her hand and pushed back a tangle of bright hair from +Maggie’s brow. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, Maggie,” she said in that voice which had always power +to thrill its listeners. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie kissed her friend’s hand and pressed it to her own beating heart. +“I met Geoffrey Hammond today,” she said. “He gave me a +letter; I have read it. Oh, Annabel, Annabel! I can be good now. No more bad +half-hours, no more struggles with myself. I can be very good now.” +</p> + +<p> +With some slight difficulty Annabel Lee drew her hot hand away from +Maggie’s fervent clasp; her eyes, slightly distended, were fixed on her +friend’s face; the flush of fever left her cheeks; a hot flood of emotion +seemed to press against her beating heart; she looked at Maggie with passionate +longing. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked in a husky whisper. “Why are you so +glad, Maggie? Why can you be good now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I love Geoffrey Hammond,” answered Maggie; “I love +him with all my heart, all my life, all my strength, and he loves me. He has +asked me to be his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie paused. She expected to feel Annabel’s arms round her neck; she +waited impatiently for this last crowning moment of bliss. Her own happiness +caused her to lower her eyes; her joy was so dazzling that for a moment she +felt she must shade their brilliance even from Annabel’s gaze. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of the pressure of loving arms, however, and the warm kiss of sympathy, +there came a low cry from the lips of the sick girl. She made an effort to say +something, but words failed her: the next moment she was unconscious. Maggie +rushed to the bell and gave an alarm, which brought Miss Heath and one or two +servants to the room. +</p> + +<p> +A doctor was speedily sent for, and Maggie Oliphant was banished from the room. +She never saw Annabel Lee again. That night the sick girl was removed to the +hospital, which was in a building apart from the halls, and two days afterward +she was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Typhus fever was raging at Kingsdene at this time, and Annabel Lee had taken it +in its most virulent form. The doctors (and two or three were summoned) gave up +all hope of saving her life from the first. Maggie also gave up hope. She +accused herself of having caused her friend’s death. She believed that +the shock of her tidings had killed Annabel, who, already suffering from fever, +had not strength to bear the agony of knowing that Hammond’s love was +given to Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +On the night of Annabel’s death Maggie wrote to Hammond refusing his +offer of marriage, but giving no reason for doing so. After posting her letter +she lay down on her own sick bed and nearly died of the fever which had taken +Annabel away. +</p> + +<p> +All these things happened a year ago. The agitation caused by the death of one +so young, beautiful and beloved had subsided. People could talk calmly of +Annabel, and although for a long time her room had remained vacant, it was now +occupied by a girl in all respects her opposite. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing would induce Maggie to enter this room, and no words would persuade her +to speak of Annabel. She was merry and bright once more, and few gave her +credit for secret hours of misery, which were seriously undermining her health +and ruining what was best of her character. +</p> + +<p> +On this particular day, as she lay back in her carriage, wrapped in costly +furs, a great wave of misery and bitterness was sweeping over her heart. In the +first agony caused by Annabel’s death Maggie had vowed a vow to her own +heart never, under any circumstances, to consent to be Hammond’s wife. In +the first misery of regret and compunction it had been easy to Maggie Oliphant +to make such a vow; but she knew well, as the days and months went by, that its +weight was crushing her life, was destroying her chance of ever becoming a +really strong and good woman. If she had loved Hammond a year ago her +sufferings made her love him fifty times better now. With all her outward +coldness and apparent indifference, his presence gave her the keenest pain. Her +heart beat fast when she caught sight of his face; if he spoke to another, she +was conscious of being overcome by a spirit of jealousy. The thought of him +mingled with her waking and sleeping hours; but the sacrifice she owed to the +memory of her dead friend must be made at all hazards. Maggie consulted no one +on this subject. Annabel’s unhappy story lay buried with her in her early +grave; Maggie would have died rather than reveal it. Now, as she lay back in +her carriage, the tears filled her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am too weak for this to go on any longer,” she said to herself. +“I shall leave St. Benet’s at the end of the present term. What is +the winning of a tripos to me? What do I want with honors and distinctions? +Everything is barren to me. My life has no flavor in it. I loved Annabel, and +she is gone. Without meaning it, I broke Annabel’s heart. Without meaning +it, I caused my darling’s death, and now my own heart is broken, for I +love Geoffrey— I love him, and I can never, under any circumstances, be +his wife. He misunderstands me— he thinks me cold, wicked, +heartless— and I can never, never set myself right with him. Soon he will +grow tired of me and give his heart to some one else, and perhaps marry some +one else. When he does, I too shall die. Yes, whatever happens, I must go away +from St. Benet’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s tears always came slowly; she put up her handkerchief to wipe +them away. It was little wonder that when she returned from her drive her head +was no better. +</p> + +<p> +“We must put off the rehearsal,” said Nancy Banister, She came into +Maggie’s room and spoke vehemently. “I saw you at lunch, Maggie: +you ate nothing— you spoke with an effort. I know your head is worse. You +must lie down, and, unless you are better soon, I will ask Miss Heath to send +for a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doctor will cure me,” said Maggie. “Give me a kiss, +Nance; let me rest my head against yours for a moment. Oh, how earnestly I wish +I was like you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so? What have I got? I have no beauty; I am not clever; I am neither +romantically poor, like Prissie, nor romantically rich, like you. In short, the +fairies were not invited to my christening.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of two fairies came, however,” replied Maggie, “and they +gave you an honest soul, and a warm heart, and— and happiness, Nancy. My +dear, I need only look into your eyes to know that you are happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Nancy’s blue eyes glowed with pleasure. “Yes,” she said, +“I don’t know anything about dumps and low spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are unselfish, Nancy; you are never seeking your own +pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not obliged to: I have all I want. And now to turn to a more +important subject. I will see the members of our Dramatic Society and put off +the rehearsal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not; the excitement will do me good.” +</p> + +<p> +“For the time, perhaps,” replied Nancy, shaking her wise head, +“but you will be worse afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Now, Nancy, don’t let us argue the point. If you are +<i>truly</i> my friend, you will sit by me for an hour and read aloud the +dullest book you can find, then perhaps I shall go to sleep.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> +“COME AND KILL THE BOGIE”</h2> + +<p> +Notwithstanding Nancy’s dismal prognostications, Maggie Oliphant played +her part brilliantly that night. Her low spirits were succeeded by gay ones; +the Princess had never looked more truly regal, nor had the Prince ever more +passionately wooed her. Girls who did not belong to the society always flocked +into the theater to see the rehearsals. Maggie’s mood scarcely puzzled +them. She was so erratic that no one expected anything from her but the +unexpected: if she looked like a drooping flower one moment, her head was erect +the next, her eyes sparkling, her voice gay. The flower no longer drooped, but +blossomed with renewed vigor. After reading for an hour Nancy had left her +friend asleep. She went downstairs, and, in reply to several anxious inquiries, +pronounced it as her opinion that Maggie, with all the good will in the world, +could scarcely take part in the rehearsals that night. +</p> + +<p> +“I know Maggie is going to be ill,” said Nancy with tears in her +eyes. Miss Banister was so sensible and so little given to undue alarms that +her words had effect, and a little rumor spread in the college that Miss +Oliphant could not take her part in the important rehearsals which were to take +place that evening. Her appearance, therefore, in more than her usual beauty, +with more vigor in her voice, more energy and brightness in her eyes, gave at +once a pleasing sense of satisfaction. She was cheered when she entered the +little theater, but, if there was a brief surprise, it was quickly succeeded by +the comment which generally followed all her doings: “This is just like +Maggie; no one can depend on how she will act for a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +At that rehearsal, however, people were taken by surprise. If the Princess did +well, the young Prince did better. Priscilla had completely dropped her +<i>role</i> of the awkward and <i>gauche</i> girl. From the first there had +been vigor and promise in her acting. To-night there was not only vigor, but +tenderness— there was a passion in her voice which arose now and then to +power. She was so completely in sympathy with her part that she ceased to be +Priscilla: she was the Prince who must win this wayward Princess or die. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie came up to her when the rehearsals were over. +</p> + +<p> +“I congratulate you,” she said. “Prissie, you might do well +on the stage.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla smiled. “No,” she said, “for I need inspiration to +forget myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, genius would supply that.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Maggie, no. The motive that seems to turn me into the Prince himself +cannot come again. Oh, Maggie, if I succeed! If I succeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, you strange child?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you with my voice: don’t you guess?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say. You move me strangely; you remind me of— I quite +forget that you are Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla laughed joyously. +</p> + +<p> +“How gay you look to-night, Prissie, and yet I am told you were miserable +this morning. Have you forgotten your woes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Completely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose because I am happy and hopeful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nancy tells me that you were quite in despair to-day. She said that some +of those cruel girls insulted you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was very silly; I got a shock.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have got over it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I know you don’t believe badly of me. You know that I am +honest and— and true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear,” said Maggie with fervor, “I believe in you as +I believe in myself. Now, have you quite disrobed? Shall we go into the library +for a little?” +</p> + +<p> +The moment they entered this cheerful room, which was bright with two blazing +fires and numerous electric lights, Miss Day and Miss Marsh came up eagerly to +Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” they said, “have you made up your mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“About what?” she asked, raising her eyes in a puzzled way. +</p> + +<p> +“You will come with us to the Elliot-Smiths’? You know how anxious +Meta is to have you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, but am I anxious to go to Meta?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you are, you must be; you cannot be so cruel as to refuse.” +</p> + +<p> +After the emotion she had gone through in the morning, Maggie’s heart was +in that softened, half-tired state when it could be most easily influenced. She +was in no mood for arguing or for defiance of any sort. “Peace at all +hazards” was her motto just now. She was also in so reckless a mood as to +be indifferent to what any one thought of her. The Elliot-Smiths were not in +her “set.” She disliked them and their ways, but she had met Meta +at a friend’s house a week ago. Meta had been introduced to Miss Oliphant +and had pressed her invitation vigorously. It would be a triumph of triumphs to +Meta Elliot-Smith to introduce the beautiful heiress to her own set. +Maggie’s refusal was not listened to. She was begged to reconsider the +question; implored to be merciful, to be kind; assured of undying gratitude if +she would consent to come even for one short hour. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Day and Miss Marsh were commissioned by Meta to secure Maggie at all +costs. +</p> + +<p> +“You will come?” said Miss Day; “you must come.” Then +coming up close to Maggie, she whispered in an eager voice: “Would not +you like to find out who has taken your five-pound note? Miss Peel is your +friend. Would it not gratify you to clear her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I clear one who can never possibly be suspected?” +replied Miss Oliphant in a voice of anger. Her words were spoken aloud and so +vehemently that Annie Day drew back a step or two in alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but you would <i>like</i> to know who really took your +money?” she reiterated, again speaking in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Maggie was standing by one of the bookcases; she stretched up her hand to take +down a volume. As she did so her eyes rested for a moment on Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“I would as soon suspect myself as her,” she thought, “and +yet last night, for a moment, even I was guilty of an unworthy thought of you, +Prissie, and if I could doubt, why should I blame others? If going to the +Elliot-Smiths’ will establish your innocence, I will go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Miss Day, who was watching her face, “I am to +see Meta to-morrow morning; am I to tell her to expect you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Maggie, “but I wish to say at once, with +regard to that five-pound note, that I am not interested in it. I am so +careless about my money matters, that it is quite possible l may have been +mistaken when I thought I put it into my purse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! oh! but you spoke <i>so</i> confidently this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of my impulses. I wish I had not done it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Having done it, however,” retorted Miss Day, “it is your +duty to take any steps which may be necessary to clear the college of so +unpleasant and disgraceful a charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I can do this by going to the Elliot-Smiths’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! you will spoil all by speaking so loud. Yes, I fully believe we +shall make a discovery on Friday night.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t suppose I would go to act the spy?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, nothing of the sort; only come— only come!” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie opened her book and glanced at some of its contents before replying. +</p> + +<p> +“Only come,” repeated Annie in an imploring voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I said I would come,” answered Maggie. “Must I reiterate my +assurance? Tell Miss Elliot-Smith to expect me.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie read for a little in the library; then, feeling tired, she rose from her +seat and crossed the large room, intending to go up at once to her own chamber. +In the hall, however, she was attracted by seeing Miss Heath’s door +slightly open. Her heart was full of compunction for having, even for a moment, +suspected Priscilla of theft. She thought she would go and speak to Miss Heath +about her. +</p> + +<p> +She knocked at the vice-principal’s door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” answered the kind voice, and Maggie found herself a +moment later seated by the fire: the door of Miss Heath’s room shut, and +Miss Heath herself standing over her, using words of commiseration. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” she said, “you look very ill.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie raised her eyes. Miss Heath had seen many moods on that charming face; +now the expression in the wide-open, brown eyes caused her own to fill with +sudden tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I would do anything to help you, my love,” she said tenderly, and, +stooping down, she kissed Maggie on her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, another time,” answered Miss Oliphant. +</p> + +<p> +“You are all that is good, Miss Heath, and I may as well own frankly that +I am neither well nor happy, but I have not come to speak of myself just now. I +want to say something about Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, what about her?” +</p> + +<p> +“She came to you last night. I know what she came about.” +</p> + +<p> +“She told me she had confided in you,” answered the vice-principal +gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Well, I have come to say that she must not be allowed to give up +her Greek and Latin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Heath, how can you say, why not’? Prissie is a genius; her +inclination lies in that direction. It is in her power to become one of the +most brilliant classical scholars of her day.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath smiled. “Well, Maggie,” she said slowly, “even +suppose that is the case— and you must own that, clever as Priscilla is, +you make an extreme statement when you say such words— she may do well, +very well, and yet turn her attention to other subjects for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is cruel!” said Maggie, rising and stamping her foot +impatiently. “Priscilla has it in her to shed honor on our college. She +will take a first-class when she goes for her tripos, if her present studies +are not interfered with.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath smiled at Maggie in a pitying sort of way. “I admit,” +she said, “that first-class honors would be a very graceful crown of bay +to encircle that young head; and yet, Maggie, yet— surely Priscilla can +do better?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? How can she possibly do better?” +</p> + +<p> +“She can wear a nobler crown. You know, Maggie, there are crowns to be +worn which cannot fade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Maggie’s lips trembled. She looked down. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause, she said, “Priscilla told me something of her home and her +family. I suppose she has also confided in you, Miss Heath?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I have come to-night to say that it is in my power to use some of +that money which I detest in helping Prissie— in helping her family. I +mean to help them; I mean to put them all in such a position that Priscilla +shall not need to spend her youth in uncongenial drudgery. I have come to say +this to you, Miss Heath, and I beg of you— yes, I beg of you— to +induce my dear Prissie to go on with her classical studies. It will now be in +your power to assure her that the necessity which made her obliged to give them +up no longer exists.” +</p> + +<p> +“In short,” said Miss Heath, “you will give Miss Peel of your +charity and take her independence away?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put yourself in her place, Maggie. Would you take money for yourself and +those dear to you from a comparative stranger?” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s face grew very red. “I think I would oblige my friend, my +dear friend,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Prissie really your dear friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you doubt me? I love her very much. Since— since Annabel +died, no one has come so close to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of that,” replied Miss Heath. She went up to Maggie and +kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“You will do what I wish?” asked the girl eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear: that matter lies in your hands alone. It is a case in which +it is absolutely impossible for me to interfere. If you can induce Priscilla to +accept money from you, I shall not say a word; and, for the sake of our +college, I shall, perhaps, be glad, for there is not the least doubt that +Prissie has it in her to win distinction for St. Benet’s. But, on the +other hand, if she comes to me for advice, it will be impossible for me not to +say to her: ‘My dear, character ranks higher than intellect. You may win +the greatest prizes and yet keep a poor and servile soul. You may never get +this great earthly distinction, and yet you may be crowned with honor— +the honor which comes of uprightness, of independence, of integrity.’ +Prissie may never consult me, of course, Maggie; but, if she does, I must say +words something like these. To tell the truth, my dear, I never admired +Priscilla more than I did last night. I encouraged her to give up her classics +for the present and to devote herself to modern languages and to those +accomplishments which are considered more essentially feminine. As I did so I +had a picture before me, in which I saw Priscilla crowned with love, the +support and blessing of her three little sisters. The picture was a very bright +one, Maggie, and your crown of bay looks quite tawdry beside the other crown +which I hope to see on Prissie’s brow.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie rose from her chair. “Good night,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to disappoint you, my love.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt you are right,” said Maggie, “but,” +she added, “I have not made up my mind, and I still long for Priscilla to +wear the crown of bay.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will win that crown yourself, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, it is not for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very anxious about you, Maggie. Why do you speak in that reckless +tone? Your position and Prissie’s are not the least alike: it is your +duty to do your very utmost with those talents which have been bestowed upon +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” answered Maggie, shrugging her shoulders, “but I +am tired of stretching out my hand like a baby to catch soap-bubbles. I cannot +speak of myself at all to-night, Miss Heath. Thank you for what you have said, +and again good night.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie had scarcely left the room before Priscilla appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you too tired to see me to-night, Miss Heath?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my love; come in and sit down. I was sorry to miss you this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am glad as it turned out,” replied Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +“You were in great trouble, Prissie. The servant told me how terribly +upset you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was. I felt nearly mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you look very happy now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am; my trouble has all vanished away. It was a great bogie. As soon as +I came boldly up to it, it vanished into smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to hear the name of the bogie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I would rather not tell you— at least not now. If Maggie +thinks it right, she will speak to you about it; but, as far as I am concerned, +it cannot touch me again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why have you come to see me then to-night, Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to speak about Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about her? She has just been here to speak of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has she?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible that she may make you a proposition which will affect +your whole future, but I am not at liberty to say any more. Have you a +proposition to make about her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have, and it will affect all Maggie’s life. It will make her so +good— so very, very happy. Oh, Miss Heath! you ought to do it: you ought +to make her marry Mr. Hammond at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Priscilla!” Miss Heath’s face turned crimson. +“Are you alluding to Geoffrey Hammond? I know great friends of his; he is +one of the cleverest men at St. Hilda’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and one of the best,” pursued Prissie, clasping her hands and +speaking in that excited way which she always did when quite carried out of +herself. “You don’t know how good he is, Miss Heath. I think he is +one of the best of men. I would do anything in the world for him— +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where have you met him, Priscilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the Marshalls’, and once at the Elliot-Smiths’, and +to-day, when I was so miserable, when the bogie ran after me, you know, at St. +Hilda’s, just outside the chapel. Mr. Hammond asked me to come to the +service, and I went, and afterward he chased the bogie away. Oh, he is good, he +is kind and he loves Maggie with all his heart. He has loved her for a long +time, I am sure, but she is never nice to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, of course,” said Miss Heath, “if Miss Oliphant does +not care for Mr. Hammond, there is an end of the matter. You are a very +innocent and very young girl, Priscilla; but this is a subject in which you +have no right to interfere. Far from me to say that I disapprove of marriage +for our students, but, while at St. Benet’s, it is certainly best for +them to give their attention to other matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“For most of us,” replied Prissie, “but not for Maggie. No +one in the college thinks Maggie happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” replied Miss Heath thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“And every one knows,” pursued Prissie, “that Mr. Hammond +loves her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do they? I was not aware that such reports had got abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes: all Maggie’s friends know that, but they are so +dreadfully stupid they cannot guess the other thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What other thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“That dear Maggie is breaking her heart on account of Mr. Hammond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you think she loves him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do— I know it. Oh, won’t you do something to get them to +marry each other?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child, these are subjects in which neither you nor I can +interefere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Prissie’s eyes filled with sudden tears. “If you +won’t do anything, I must.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see what you can do, Priscilla; I don’t know what +you have a right to do. We do not care that our students should think of love +and courtship while here, but we have never limited their freedom in the +matter. If Miss Oliphant cares for Mr. Hammond, and he cares for her, they know +perfectly that they can become engaged. Miss Oliphant will be leaving St. +Benet’s at the end of the summer term. She is completely, in every sense +of the word, her own mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, she is not her own mistress, she is oppressed by a bogie. I +don’t know the name of the bogie, or anything about it; but it is +shadowing all Maggie’s life; it is taking the sunshine away from her, and +it is making it impossible for her to marry Mr. Hammond. They are both so fond +of each other; they have both noble hearts, but the dreadful bogie spoils +everything— it keeps them apart. Dear Miss Heath, I want you to come and +kill the bogie.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must find out its name first,” said Miss Heath. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br/> +AT THE ELLIOT-SMITHS PARTY</h2> + +<p> +Rosalind Merton had been in the wildest spirits all day; she had laughed with +the gayest, joined in all the games, thrown herself heart and soul into every +project which promised fun, which gave a possibility for enjoyment. +Rosalind’s mood might have been described as reckless. This was not her +invariable condition. She was a girl who, with all her gay spirits, took life +with coolness. She was not given to over-excitement; her nerves were too well +balanced for anything of this kind. +</p> + +<p> +To-day, however, something seemed wrong with these equable nerves of hers: she +could not keep still; her voice was never quiet; her laugh was constant. Once +or twice she saw Annie Day’s eyes fixed upon her; she turned from their +glance; a more brilliant red than usual dyed her cheeks; her laugh grew louder +and more insolent. +</p> + +<p> +On this evening the Elliot-Smiths would give their long-promised party. The +wish of Annie Day’s heart was gratified; she had angled for an invitation +to this merry-making and obtained it. Lucy Marsh was also going, and several +other St. Benet’s girls would be present. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the evening Rosalind retired to her own room, locked her door, and, +taking out her new white dress, laid it across the bed. It was a very pretty +dress, made of soft silk, which did not rustle, but lay in graceful puffs and +folds on body and skirt. It was just the dress to make this young, slight +figure of Rosalind’s look absolutely charming. She stood over it now and +regarded it lovingly. The dress had been obtained, like most of +Rosalind’s possessions, by manoeuvres. She had made up a piteous story, +and her adoring mother had listened and contrived to deny herself and some of +Rosalind’s younger sisters to purchase the white robe on which the young +girl’s heart was set. +</p> + +<p> +Deliberately and slowly Rosalind made her toilet, her golden, curling hair was +brushed out and then carefully coiled round her head. Rosalind had no trouble +with her hair: a touch or two, a pin stuck here, a curl arranged there, and the +arrangement became perfect— the glistening mass lay in natural waves over +the small, graceful head. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind’s hair arranged to her satisfaction, she put on her lovely white +dress. She stood before her long glass, a white-robed little figure, smiles +round her lips, a sweet, bright color in her cheeks, a dewy look in her +baby-blue eyes. Rosalind’s toilet was all but finished; she stood before +her glass now and hesitated. Should she go to the Elliot-Smiths’ as she +was or should she give the last finishing touch to render herself perfect? +Should she wear her beautiful coral ornaments? +</p> + +<p> +The coral was now her own, paid for to the uttermost farthing; Polly Singleton +could not come up to Rosalind now and disgrace her in public by demanding her +coral back again. The coral was no longer Polly’s; it was +Rosalind’s. The debt was cleared off; the exquisite ornaments were her +own. Unlocking a drawer in her bureau, she took out a case, which contained her +treasures; she touched the spring of the case, opened it and looked at them +lovingly. The necklace, the bracelets, the earings and pins for the hair looked +beautiful on their velvet pillow. For the sake of the pink coral, Rosalind had +manoeuvred for her white dress; for its sake she had knowingly stinted her +mother and sisters; for its sake she had also stolen a five-pound note from +Maggie Oliphant. She dreamt many times of the triumphs which would be hers when +she appeared at the Elliot-Smiths’ in her white silk dress, just tipped +with the slight color which the pink coral ornaments would bestow. Rosalind had +likened herself to all kinds of lovely things in this beautiful yet simple +toilet— to a daisy in the field, to a briar rose: in short, to every +flower which denoted the perfection of baby innocence. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, as she held the coral necklace in her hand tonight, she hesitated deeply +whether it would be wise to appear at the Elliot-Smiths’ in her treasured +ornaments. +</p> + +<p> +Rose had not felt comfortable all day. She had banished thought with the usual +device of extra hilarity: she had crushed the little voice in her heart which +would persistently cry, “Shame! shame!” which would go on telling +her, “You are the meanest, the most wicked girl in St. Benet’s; you +have done something for which you could be put in prison.” The voice had +little opportunity of making itself heard that day, and, as Maggie Oliphant +evidently did not intend to investigate the matter, Rosalind had every hope +that her sin would never be found out. Nevertheless, she could not help feeling +uneasy; for why did Annie Day, her own chosen and particular friend, so +persistently avoid her? Why had Lucy Marsh refused to walk with her yesterday? +and why did Annie so often look at her with meaning and inquiry in her eyes? +These glances of Annie’s caused Rosalind’s heart to beat too +quickly; they gave her an undefined sense of uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +She felt as she stood now before her glass that, after all, she was doing a +rash thing in wearing her coral. Annie Day knew of her money difficulties; +Annie knew how badly Rosalind had wanted four guineas to pay the debt she still +owed for the ornaments. If Rosalind wore them to-night, Annie would ask +numerous questions. Oh, yes, there was a risk— there was a decided +risk— but Rosalind’s vanity was greater than her fears. +</p> + +<p> +There came a knock at her room door. To Rosalind’s surprise, Annie +Day’s voice, with an extremely friendly tone in it, was heard outside. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready, Rosie?” she cried; “for, if you are, there is +just room for you in the fly with Lucy Marsh and Miss Singleton and +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you!” cried Rosalind from the other side of the door; +“just wait one moment, Annie, and I will be with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Both fear and hesitation vanished at the friendly tones of Annie’s voice. +She hastily fastened on her necklace and earrings, slipped on her bracelets and +stuck the coral pins in her hair. She saw a dazzling little image in the glass +and turned away with a glad, proud smile. +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t be kept waiting. Are you ready?” called Miss +Day’s voice in the passage. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; in one moment, Annie, dear,” replied Rosalind. She +wrapped herself from head to foot in a long white opera cloak, pulled the hood +over her head, seized her gloves and fan and opened the door. The coral could +not be seen now, and Annie, who was also in white, took her hand and ran with +her down the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments later the four girls arrived at the Elliot-Smiths’ and were +shown into a dressing-room on the ground floor to divest themselves of their +wraps. They were among the earliest of the arrivals, and Annie Day had both +space and opportunity to rush up to Rosalind and exclaim at the perfect +combination of white silk and pink coral. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy, Lucy!” she said, “do come and look at Rosalind’s +coral! Oh, poor Polly! you must miss your ornaments; but I am obliged frankly +to confess, my dear, that they are more becoming to this little cherub than +they ever were to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Polly was loudly dressed in blue silk. She came up and turned Rosalind round, +and, putting her hand on her neck, lifted the necklace and looked at it +affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +“I did love those ornaments,” she said; “but, of course, I +can’t grudge them to you, Rose. You paid a good sum for them— +didn’t you, dear?— although nothing like what they were worth, so, +of course, they are yours by every right.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have paid off the debt? I congratulate you, Rose,” said Annie +Day. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Rosalind, blushing. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you were able to get the money, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I wish she hadn’t got it,” retorted Polly. “Money +is of no moment to me now. Dad is just rolling in wealth, and I have, in +consequence, more money than I know what to do with. I confess I never felt +crosser in my life than when you brought me that five-pounds note last Monday +night, Miss Merton.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind colored, then grew very pale; she saw Annie Day’s eyes blaze and +darken. She felt that her friend was putting two and two together and drawing a +conclusion in her own mind. Annie turned abruptly from Rosalind, and, touching +Lucy Marsh on the arm, walked with her out of the dressing-room. The +unsuspecting Polly brought up the rear with Rosalind. +</p> + +<p> +The four girls entered the drawing-room, and Rosalind tried to forget the sick +fear which was creeping round her heart in the excitement of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly an hour later Maggie Oliphant arrived. She was also in white, but +without any ornament, except a solitary diamond star which blazed in the rich +coils of her hair. The beautiful Miss Oliphant was received with enthusiasm. +Until her arrival Rose had been the undoubted <i>belle</i> of the evening, but +beside Maggie the <i>petite</i> charms which Rose possessed sank out of sight. +Maggie herself never felt less conscious of beauty; the heaviness of her heart +made her cheeks look pale and gave her brown eyes a languid expression; she was +indifferent to the admiration which greeted her. The admiration which greeted +her gave her a momentary feeling of surprise— almost of displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +Meta Elliot-Smith and her mother buzzed round Maggie and expressed their +gratitude to her for coming. +</p> + +<p> +“We expect a friend of yours to arrive presently,” said Meta— +“Mr. Hammond. You know Mr. Hammond, don’t you? I have had a note +from him. He says he will look in as soon after ten as possible. I am so glad; +I was dreadfully afraid he couldn’t come, for he had to go suddenly into +the country at the beginning of this week. You know Mr. Hammond very well, +don’t you, Miss Oliphant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Maggie in her careless voice; “he is quite an +old friend of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be glad to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very glad.” +</p> + +<p> +Meta looked at her in a puzzled way. Reports of Hammond’s love affair had +reached her ears. She had expected to see emotion and confusion on +Maggie’s face; it looked bright and pleased. Her “very glad” +had a genuine ring about it. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so delighted he is coming!” repeated Meta. “I do trust +he will be here in good time.” +</p> + +<p> +She led Miss Oliphant to a prominent seat at the top of the room as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to leave soon after ten,” replied Maggie, “so, +if Mr. Hammond cannot arrive until after that hour, I shall not have the +pleasure of seeing him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you must really stay later than that; it would be too cruel to +leave us so early.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I cannot. The gates are closed at St. Benet’s at +eleven o’clock, and I do not care to remain out until the last +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +Meta was obliged, with great reluctance, to leave her guest, and a moment later +Annie Day came up eagerly to Maggie’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right,” she said, drawing Miss Oliphant into the +shelter of a window; “I have found out all I want to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” asked Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosalind Merton is the thief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Day, how can you say such dreadful things?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can Rosalind do them? I am awfully sorry— indeed, I am +disgusted— but the facts are too plain.” Miss Day then in a few +eager whispers, which Maggie in vain endeavored to suppress, gave her chain of +evidence. Rosalind’s distress; her passionate desire to keep the coral; +her entreaties that Miss Day would lend her four guineas; her assurances that +she had not a penny in the world to pay her debt; her fears that it was utterly +useless for her to expect the money from her mother. Then the curious fact +that, on the very same evening, Polly Singleton should have been given a +five-pound note by her. “There is not the least doubt,” concluded +Miss Day, “that Rosalind must have gone into your room, Miss Oliphant, +and stolen the note while Priscilla was absent. You know Miss Peel said that +she did leave your room for a moment or two to fetch her Lexicon. Rosalind must +have seized the opportunity; there cannot be a doubt of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s face turned white; her eyes were full of indignation and horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Something must be done,” continued Annie. “I am no prude, +but I draw the line at thieves. Miss Merton ought to be expelled; she is not +fit to speak to one of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“The affair is mine,” said Maggie after a pause. “You must +let me deal with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly will.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say. I must think. The whole thing is terrible, it upsets +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you would feel it. I am a good bit upset myself and so is Lucy +Marsh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Miss Marsh know, too? In that case, Miss Day, it will, I fear, be +my duty to consult Miss Heath. Oh, I must think; I can do nothing hastily. +Please, Miss Day, keep your own counsel for the present, and ask Miss Marsh to +do the same.” +</p> + +<p> +Annie Day ran off, and Maggie stood by the open window looking out at the +starry night. Her head ached; her pulses beat; she felt sick and tired. The +noise and laughter which filled the gaily thronged rooms were all discordant to +her— she wished she had not come. A voice close by made her start— +a hand not only clasped hers, but held it firmly for a moment. She looked up +and said with a sudden impulse, “Oh, Geoffrey! I am glad you are +here.” Then, with a burning blush, she withdrew her hand from +Hammond’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I help you?” he asked. His heart was beating fast; her words +were tingling in his ears, but his tone was quiet. “Can I help +you?” he repeated. “Here is a seat.” He pulled a chair from +behind a curtain, and Maggie dropped into it. +</p> + +<p> +“Something is wrong,” she said; “something dreadful has +happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I know what it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I have any right to tell you. It is connected with +the college; but it has given me a blow, and I was tired beforehand. I came +here against my will, and now I don’t want to talk to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“That can be easily managed. I will stand here and keep off all +intruders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you.” Maggie put her hand to her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +The headache, which had scarcely left her for a fortnight, was now so acute +that all her thoughts were confused; she felt as if she were walking in a +dream. It seemed perfectly right and natural that Hammond should stand by her +side and protect her from the crowd; it seemed natural to her at that moment, +natural and even right to appeal to him. +</p> + +<p> +After a long pause he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I also have bad news!” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“I went to see my uncle, Mr. Hayes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it was good of you— I remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“I failed in my mission. Mr. Hayes says that Miss Peel, our +Prissie’s aunt, would rather die than accept help from any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how obstinate some people are!” replied Maggie wearily. +“Happiness, help and succor come to their very door and they turn these +good things away.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” replied Hammond. “I am firmly +convinced,” he added, “that the good angel of happiness is within +the reach of most of us once at least in our lives, but for a whim— often +for a mere whim— we tell him to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s face grew very white. “I must say ‘good-by’: I +am going home,” she said, rising. Then she added, looking full at +Hammond, “Sometimes it is necessary to reject happiness; and necessity +ought not to be spoken of as a whim.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br/> +“IF I HAD KNOWN YOU SOONER”</h2> + +<p> +As Maggie was leaving the crowded drawing-room she came face to face with +Rosalind. One of those impulses which always guided her, more or less, made her +stop suddenly and put her hand on the young girl’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come home with me?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind was talking gaily at the moment to a very young undergraduate. +</p> + +<p> +“I am obliged to you,” she began; “you are kind, but I have +arranged to return to St. Benet’s with Miss Day and Miss Marsh.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like you to come now with me,” persisted Maggie in a +grave voice. +</p> + +<p> +Something in her tone caused Rosalind to turn pale. The sick fear, which had +never been absent from her heart during the evening, became on the instant +intolerable. She turned to the young lad with whom she had been flirting, bade +him a hasty and indifferent “good night” and followed Maggie out of +the room. +</p> + +<p> +Hammond accompanied the two girls downstairs, got their cab for them and helped +them in. +</p> + +<p> +After Rosalind consented to come home Miss Oliphant did not address another +word to her. Rosalind sat huddled up in a corner of the cab; Maggie kept the +window open and looked out. The clear moonlight shone on her white face and +glistened on her dress. Rosalind kept glancing at her. The guilty girl’s +terror of the silent figure by her side grew greater each moment. +</p> + +<p> +The girls reached Heath Hall and Maggie again touched Rosalind on her arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to my room,” she said; “I want to say something to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for a reply she went on herself in front. Rosalind followed +abjectly; she was shaking in every limb. +</p> + +<p> +The moment Maggie closed her room door Rosalind flung her cloak off her +shoulders, and, falling on her knees, caught the hem of Maggie’s dress +and covered her face with it. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, Rosalind; get up,” said Miss Oliphant in a tone of +disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie, Maggie, do be merciful! Do forgive me! Don’t send me +to prison, Maggie— don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get off your knees at once, or I don’t know what I shall +do,” replied Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind sprang to her feet; she crouched up against the door; her eyes were +wide open. Maggie came and, faced her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t!” said Miss Merton with a little shriek, +“don’t look at me like that!” She put up her hand to her neck +and began to unfasten her coral necklace. She took it off, slipped her +bracelets from her arms, took her earrings out and removed her pins. +</p> + +<p> +“You can have them all,” she said, holding out the coral; +“they are worth a great deal more— a great deal more than the money +I— <i>took!”</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Lay them down,” said Maggie. “Do you think I could touch +that coral? Oh, Rosalind,” she added, a sudden rush of intense feeling +coming into her voice, “I pity you! I pity any girl who has so base a +soul.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind began to sob freely. “You don’t know how I was +tempted,” she said. “I went through a dreadful time, and you were +the cause— you know you were, Maggie. You raised the price of that coral +so wickedly, you excited my feelings. I felt as if there was a fiend in me. You +did not want the sealskin jacket, but you bid against me and won it. Then I +felt mad, and, whatever you had offered for the coral, I should have bidden +higher. It was all your fault; it was you who got me into debt. I would not be +in the awful, awful plight I am in to-night but for you, Maggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Maggie. The pupils of her eyes dilated curiously; she +put her hand before them. +</p> + +<p> +“The fruits of my bad half-hours,” she murmured under her breath. +After a long pause, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“There is some truth in your words, Rosalind; I did help you to get into +this false position. I am sorry; and when I tell Miss Heath the whole +circumstance— as I must to-morrow— you may be sure I shall not +exonerate myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Maggie, Maggie, you won’t tell Miss Heath! If you do, I am +certain to be expelled, and my mother— my mother will die; she is not +over strong just now, and this will kill her. You cannot be so cruel as to kill +my mother, Maggie Oliphant, particularly when you yourself got me into +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not get you into this,” retorted Maggie. “I know I am +not blameless in the matter; but could I imagine for a moment that any girl, +any girl who belonged to this college, could debase herself to steal and then +throw the blame on another. Nancy Banister has told me, Rose, how cruelly you +spoke to Priscilla— what agony your cruel words cost her. I did wrong, I +own, but no act of mine would have tempted another girl to do what you have +done. Now, stop crying; I have not brought you here to discuss your wickedness +with you. I shall tell the whole circumstance to Miss Heath in the morning. It +is my plain duty to do so, and no words of yours can prevent me.” +</p> + +<p> +With a stifled cry Rosalind Merton again fell on her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Get up,” said Maggie, “get up at once, or I shall bring Miss +Heath here now. Your crime, Rosalind, is known to Miss Day and to Miss Marsh. +Even without consulting Miss Heath, I think I can take it upon me to say that +you had better leave St. Benet’s by the first train in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes— yes! that would be much the best thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are to go home, remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will certainly go home. But, Maggie, I have no money— I +have literally no money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will ask Priscilla Peel to go with you to the railway station, and I +will give her sufficient money to pay your fare to London— you live in +London, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, at Bayswater.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your address” +</p> + +<p> +“19 Queen Street, Bayswater.” +</p> + +<p> +“Priscilla shall telegraph to your mother, when you start, and ask her to +meet you at King’s Cross.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind’s face grew paler and paler. “What excuse am I to give to +mother?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That is your own affair; I have no doubt you will find something to say. +I should advise you, Rosalind, to tell your poor mother the truth, for she is +certain to hear all about it from Miss Heath the following morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a miserable, miserable girl I am, Maggie!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a very miserable and sinful girl; It was a wretched day for St. +Benet’s when a girl such as you are came to live here. But I don’t +want to speak of that now, Rosalind; there is something you must do before you +leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must go to Priscilla Peel and humbly beg her pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I cannot, I cannot! You have no idea how I hate Priscilla.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not surprised; the children of darkness generally hate those who +walk in the light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie, I <i>can’t</i> beg her pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can please yourself about that: I certainly shall not force you; +but, unless you beg Priscilla’s pardon and confess to her the wicked deed +you have done, I shall lend you no money to go home. You can go to your room +now, Rosalind; I am tired and wish to go to bed. You will be able to let me +know your decision in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosalind turned slowly away. She reached her room before the other girls had +arrived home, and tossing the coral ornaments on her dressing-table, she flung +herself across her bed and gave way to the most passionate, heart-broken sobs +that had ever rent her baby frame. +</p> + +<p> +She was still sobbing, but more quietly, for the force of her passion had +exhausted her, when a very light touch on her shoulder caused her to raise +herself and look up wildly. Prissie was bending over her. +</p> + +<p> +“I knocked several times,” she said, “but you did not hear +me, so I came in. You will be sick if you cry like this, Rose. Let me help you +go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; please don’t touch me. I don’t want you, of all +people, to do anything for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would let me undress you. I have often helped Aunt Raby to go +to bed when she was very tired. Come, Rose, don’t turn away from me. Why +should you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Priscilla, you are the last person in the world who ought to be kind to +me just now; you don’t know, you can never, never guess, what I did to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I can partly guess, but I don’t want to think of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Prissie: when I stole that money, I hoped people would accuse +you of the theft.” +</p> + +<p> +Prissie’s eyes filled with tears. “It was a dreadful thing to +do,” she said faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I knew you could never forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do forgive you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! aren’t you angry? Aren’t you frantic with rage and +passion?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wish to think of myself at all: I want to think of you. +You are the one to be pitied.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? Who could pity me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Rosalind, I do,” answered Priscilla in a slow voice; +“you have sunk so low, you have done such a dreadful thing, the kind of +thing that the angels in heaven would grieve over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please don’t talk to me of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, Rosalind,” continued Prissie, “you look so unlike +a girl who would do this sort of thing. I have a little sister at home— a +dear, little innocent sister, and her eyes are blue like yours, and she is +fair, too, as you are fair. I love her, and I think all good things of her. +Rosalind, I fancy that your mother thinks good things of you. I imagine that +she is proud of you, and that she loves to look at your pretty face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t— don’t!” sobbed Rosalind. “Oh, +poor mother, poor mother!” she burst into softened and sorrowful weeping. +The hardness of her heart had melted for the time under the influence of +Priscilla’s tender words. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had known you sooner,” whispered Rose when Prissie bent +down and kissed her before leaving her for the night. “Perhaps I might +have been a good girl if I had really known you sooner, Priscilla Peel.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br/> +A MESSAGE</h2> + +<p> +Early the next morning Rosalind Merton left St. Benet’s College never to +come back. She took all her possessions with her, even the pink coral, which, +to their credit be it spoken, not a girl in the college would have accepted at +her hands. Annie Day and Lucy Marsh were not the sort of people to keep their +secret long, and before the day of her departure had expired nearly everyone at +Heath Hall knew of Rosalind’s crime. Miss Heath was made acquainted with +the whole story at an early hour that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“I may have done very wrong to let her go without obtaining your +permission, Miss Heath,” said Maggie, when the story was finished. +“If so, please forgive me, and also allow me to say that, were the same +thing to occur again, I fear I should act in the same way. I think my primary +object in giving Rosalind money to go home this morning was to save the college +from any open slur being cast upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath’s face had grown very pale while Maggie was speaking. She was +quite silent for a moment or two after the story was finished; then, going up +to Miss Oliphant, she took her hand and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“On the whole, my dear,” she said, “I am obliged to you. Had +this story been told me while Miss Merton, was in the house I should have been +obliged to detain her until all the facts of this disgraceful case were laid +before the college authorities, and then, of course, there would have been no +course open but to publicly expel her. This, at least, you have spared St. +Benet’s, and I am relieved from the terrible responsibility. I’ll +say nothing now about the rule you have broken, for, of course, you had no +<i>right</i> to assist Rosalind to go home without permission. It lies within +my discretion to forgive you, Maggie, however, so take my kiss, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +The vice-principal and Miss Oliphant talked for some little time longer over +Rosalind’s terrible fall, and, as Miss Heath felt confident that the +story would get abroad in the college, she said she would be forced to mention +the circumstances to their principal, Miss Vincent, and also to say something +in public to the girls of Heath Hall on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“And now we will turn to something else,” she said. “I am +concerned at those pale cheeks, Maggie. My dear,” as the young girl +colored brightly, “your low spirits weigh on my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Maggie hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“It is scarcely kind to say this to one who loves you. I have been many +years vice-principal of this hall, and no girl, except Annabel Lee, has come so +close to my heart as you have, Maggie. Some girls come here, spend the required +three years and go away again without making much impression on any one. In +your case this will not be so. I have not the least doubt that you will pass +your tripos examination with credit in the summer; you will then leave us, but +not to be forgotten. I, for one, Maggie can never forget you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How good you are!” said Maggie. +</p> + +<p> +Tears trembled in the eyes which were far too proud to weep except in private. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath looked attentively at the young student, for whom she felt so strong +an interest. Priscilla’s words had scarcely been absent from her night or +day since they were spoken. +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie ought to marry Mr. Hammond. Maggie loves him and he loves her, +but a bogie stands in the way.” Night and day Miss Heath had pondered +these words. Now, looking at the fair face, whose roundness of outline was +slightly worn, at the eyes which had looked at her for a moment through a veil +of sudden tears, she resolved to take the initiative in a matter which she +considered quite outside her province. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, Maggie,” she said. “I think the time has come for +me to tell you something which has lain as a secret on my heart for over a +year.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie looked up in surprise, then dropped into a chair and folded her hands in +her lap. She was slightly surprised at Miss Heath’s tone, but not as yet +intensely interested. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, my dear,” she said, “that I never interfere with +the life a student lives <i>outside</i> this hall. Provided she obeys the rules +and mentions the names of the friends she visits, she is at liberty, +practically, to do as she pleases in those hours which are not devoted to +lectures. A girl at St. Benet’s may have a great, a very great friend at +Kingsdene or elsewhere of whom the principals of the college know nothing. I +think I may add with truth that were the girl to confide in the principal of +her college in case of any friendship developing into— into love, she +would receive the deepest sympathy and the tenderest counsels that the case +would admit of. The principal who was confided in would regard herself for the +time being as the young girl’s mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie’s eyes were lowered now; her lips trembled; she played nervously +with a flower which she held in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I must apologize,” continued Miss Heath, “for having alluded +to a subject which may not in the least concern you, my dear. My excuse for +doing so is that what I have to tell you directly bears on the question of +marriage. I would have spoken to you long ago, but, until lately, until a few +days ago, I had not the faintest idea that such a subject had even distantly +visited your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you that it had?” questioned Maggie. She spoke with +anger. “Who has dared to interfere— to spread rumors? I am not +going to marry. I shall never marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not in my power at present to tell you how the rumor has reached +me,” continued Miss Heath, “but, having reached me, I want to say a +few words about— about Annabel Lee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t!” said Maggie, rising to her feet, her face pale +as death. She put her hand to her heart as she spoke. A pang, not so much +mental as bodily, had gone through it. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I think you must listen to me while I give you a message from +one whom you dearly loved, whose death has changed you, Maggie, whose death we +have all deeply mourned.” +</p> + +<p> +“A message?” said Maggie; “a message from Annabel! What +message?” +</p> + +<p> +“I regarded it as the effects of delirium at the time,” continued +Miss Heath, “and as you had fever immediately afterward, dreaded +referring to the subject. Now I blame myself for not having told you sooner, +for I believe that Annabel was conscious and that she had a distinct meaning in +her words.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she say? Please don’t keep me in suspense.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was shortly before she died,” continued Miss Heath; “the +fever had run very high, and she was weak, and I could scarcely catch her +words. She looked at me. You know how Annabel could look, Maggie; you know how +expressive those eyes could be, how that voice could move one.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie had sunk back again in her chair; her face was covered with her +trembling hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Annabel said,” continued Miss Heath, “‘tell Maggie not +to mistake me. I am happy. I am glad she will marry’— I think she +tried to say a name, but I could not catch it— tell her to marry him, and +that I am <i>very</i> glad.’” +</p> + +<p> +A sob broke from Maggie Oliphant’s lips. “You might have told me +before!” she said in a choked voice. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br/> +“THE PRINCESS”</h2> + +<p> +The great event of the term was to take place that evening. <i>The Princess</i> +was to be acted by the girls of St. Benet’s, and, by the kind permission +of Miss Vincent, the principal of the entire college, several visitors were +invited to witness the entertainment. The members of the Dramatic Society had +taken immense pains; the rehearsals had been many, the dresses all carefully +chosen, the scenery appropriate— in short, no pains had been spared to +render this lovely poem of Tennyson’s a dramatic success. The absence of +Rosalind Merton had, for a short time, caused a little dismay among the actors. +She had been cast for the part of Melissa: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A rosy blonde, and in a college gown<br/> +That clad her like an April daffodilly.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +But now it must be taken my some one else. +</p> + +<p> +Little Ada Hardy, who was about Rosalind’s height, and had the real +innocence which, alas! poor Rosalind lacked, was sent for in a hurry, and, +carefully drilled by Constance Field and Maggie Oliphant, by the time the night +arrived she was sufficiently prepared to act the character, slight in itself, +which was assigned to her. The other actors were, of course, fully prepared to +take their several parts, and a number of girls were invested in the +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “Academic silks, in hue<br/> + The lilac, with a silken hood to each,<br/> + And zoned with gold.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could have been more picturesque, and there was a buzz of hearty +applause from the many spectators who crowded the galleries and front seats of +the little theater when the curtain rose on the well-known garden scene, where +the Prince, Florian and Cyril saw the maidens of that first college for +women— that poet’s vision, so amply fulfilled in the happy life at +St. Benet’s. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + There<br/> + One walk’d, reciting by herself, and one<br/> + In this hand held a volume as to read,<br/> + And smoothed a petted peacock down with that:<br/> + Some to a low song oar’d a shallop by,<br/> + Or under arches of the marble bridge<br/> + Hung, shadow’d from the heat: some hid and sought<br/> + In the orange thickets: others tost a ball<br/> + Above the fountain jets, and back again<br/> + With laughter: others lay about the lawns,<br/> + Of the older sort, and murmur’d that their May<br/> + Was passing: what was learning unto them?<br/> + They wish’d to marry: they could rule a house;<br/> + Men hated learned women. . . .” +</p> + +<p> +The girls walked slowly about among the orange groves and by the fountain jets. +In the distance the chapel bells tolled faint and sweet. More maidens appeared, +and Tennyson’s lovely lines were again represented with such skill, the +effect of multitude was so skilfully managed that the +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Six hundred maidens, clad in purest white,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +appeared really to fill the gardens, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“While the great organ almost burst his pipes,<br/> +Groaning for power, and rolling thro’ the court<br/> +A long melodious thunder to the sound<br/> +Of solemn psalms, and silver litanies.” +</p> + +<p> +The curtain fell, to rise in a few moments amid a burst of applause. The +Princess herself now appeared for the first time on the little stage. Nothing +could have been more admirable than the grouping of this tableau. All the pride +of mien, of race, of indomitable purpose was visible on the face of the young +girl who acted the part of the Princess Ida. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “She stood<br/> +Among her maidens, higher by the head,<br/> +Her back against a pillar.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible, of course, to represent the tame leopards, but the maidens +who gathered round the Princess prevented this want being apparent, and Maggie +Oliphant’s attitude and the expression which filled her bright eyes left +nothing to be desired. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect!” exclaimed the spectators: the interest of every one +present was more than aroused; each individual in the little theater felt, +though no one could exactly tell why, that Maggie was not merely acting her +part, she was living it. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she raised her head and looked steadily at the visitors in the +gallery: a wave of rosy red swept over the whitness of her face. It was evident +that she had encountered a glance which disturbed her composure. +</p> + +<p> +The play proceeded brilliantly, and now the power and originality of +Priscilla’s acting divided the attention of the house. Surely there never +was a more impassioned Prince. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla could sing; her voice was not powerful, but it was low and rather +deeply set. The well-known and familiar song with which the Prince tried to woo +Ida lost little at her hands. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,<br/> +Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,<br/> +And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee.<br/> +<br/> +“O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,<br/> +That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,<br/> +And dark and true and tender is the North.<br/> +<br/> +“Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,<br/> +Delaying as the tender ash delays<br/> +To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?<br/> +<br/> +“O tell her, brief is life but love is long,<br/> +And brief the sun of summer in the North,<br/> +And brief the moon of beauty in the South.<br/> +<br/> +“O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,<br/> +Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,<br/> +And tell her, tell her that I follow thee.”<br/> +</p> + +<p> +The wooing which followed made a curious impression; this impression was not +only produced upon the house, but upon both Prince and Princess. +</p> + +<p> +Priscilla, too, had encountered Hammond’s earnest gaze. That gaze fired +her heart, and she became once again not herself but he; poor, awkward and +<i>gauche</i> little Prissie sank out of sight; she was Hammond pleading his +own cause, she was wooing Maggie for him in the words of Tennyson’s +Prince. This fact was the secret of Priscilla’s power; she had felt it +more or less whenever she acted the part of the Prince; but, on this occasion, +she communicated the sensations which animated her own breast to Maggie. +Maggie, too, felt that Hammond was speaking to her through Priscilla’s +voice. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I cannot cease to follow you, as they say<br/> +The seal does music; who desire you more<br/> +Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips,<br/> +With many thousand matters left to do,<br/> +The breath of life; O more than poor men wealth,<br/> +Than sick men health— yours, yours, not mine— but half<br/> +Without you; with you, whole; and of those halves<br/> +You worthiest, and howe’er you block and bar<br/> +Your heart with system out from mine, I hold<br/> +That it becomes no man to nurse despair,<br/> +But in the teeth of clench’d antagonisms<br/> +To follow up the worthiest till he die.” +</p> + +<p> +In the impassioned reply which followed this address it was noticed for the +first time by the spectators that Maggie scarcely did herself justice. Her +exclamation— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“<i>I</i> wed with thee! <i>I,</i> bound by precontract<br/> +Your bride, your bondslave!” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +was scarcely uttered with the scorn which such a girl would throw into the +words if her heart went with them. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the play proceeded well, the Prince following up his advantage +until his last words— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Accomplish thou my mandhood and thyself;<br/> +Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +brought down the house with ringing applause. +</p> + +<p> +The curtain fell and rose again. The Prince and Princess stood with hands +clasped. The eyes of the conquered Princess looked again at the people in the +gallery, but the eyes she wanted to see did not meet hers. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later Maggie Oliphant had occasion to go back to the forsaken +green-room to fetch a bracelet she had left there. Priscilla was standing in +the corridor when she passed. Quick as lightning Prissie disappeared, and, +making her way into the library, which was thrown open for a general reception +that evening, sought out Hammond, and, taking his hand, said abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +“I want you; come with me.” +</p> + +<p> +In surprise he followed her into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Maggie is in the green-room. Go to her,” said Priscilla. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his brows; his eyes seemed to lighten and then grow dark. They asked +Priscilla a thousand questions; his lips refused to ask one. +</p> + +<p> +Replying to the look in his eyes, Priscilla said again: “It is cruel of +you to leave her alone. Go to her; she is waiting for you— and oh, I know +that her heart has been waiting for you for a long, long time.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I thought that,” said Hammond’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He turned without a word and went down the long corridor which led to the +little theater. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Late that evening, after all the bustle and excitement were over and most of +the guests had left, Miss Heath was standing in her own sitting-room talking to +Prissie. +</p> + +<p> +“And you have quite made up your mind, Prissie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Priscilla. “I heard from Aunt Raby to-day; +she told me all about Mr. Hammond’s visit, for Mr. Hayes went to see her +and told her everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Prissie,” said Miss Heath, “what have you decided? It +is a great chance for you, and there is nothing wrong in it; indeed, for aught +we can tell, this may be the direct guiding of Providence.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t think it is,” said Priscilla in a slow voice. +“I have thought it all over very carefully, and I don’t think the +chance offered by dear Maggie would be a good one for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, my dear? Your reasons must be strong when you say this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know if they are strong,” answered Priscilla, +“but they are at least decided. My father and mother were poor and +independent. Aunt Raby is very poor and also independent. I fancy that were I +rich in comparison, I might cease to be independent. The strong motive power +might go. Something might be taken out of me which I could never get back, so +I——” Her lips trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Pause a minute, Prissie; remember what Maggie offers, a sufficient +income to support your aunt, to educate your sisters and to enable you to +pursue those studies at St. Benet’s for which you have the greatest +talent. Think of the honors that lie before you; think how brilliantly you may +pass your tripos examination with your mind at rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not the point,” said Priscilla. There was a ring in +her voice which she must have inherited from a long line of rugged, proud but +worthy ancestors. “In a question of this kind, I ought never to content +myself with looking at the brilliant and tempting side. Forgive me, Miss Heath. +I may have done wrong after all; but, right or wrong, I have made my resolve. I +will keep my independence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you considered your Aunt Raby in this?” +</p> + +<p> +“She has put herself absolutely out of the question by declining all aid +as far as she is concerned. She says such assistance would kill her in a week. +If I can earn money to help her before she dies, she will accept it from me +with thankfulness, but from no one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will give up your Latin and Greek?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the present, I must.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are quite happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Maggie and Mr. Hammond will only marry one another, I shall be one of +the happiest girls in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +There came a knock at the door. Priscilla opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Prissie, darling!” said Maggie Oliphant’s voice. She flung +her arms round the young girl’s neck and kissed her several times. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, Priscilla,” said Hammond. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Heath made a step or two forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and tell Miss Heath,” said Prissie. “Miss Heath, here +is Maggie! Here is dear Maggie and here is Mr. Hammond, and it is all +right.” Tears of gladness filled Priscilla’s eyes. She went up to +Hammond, took one of his hands in both her own and said in a voice of rapture, +“I did help you to-night, didn’t I? You know I said I would do +anything in the world for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have done everything for me, Priscilla,” replied Hammond. +“I shall bless you while I live.” +</p> + +<p> +Maggie Oliphant’s arms were round Miss Heath’s neck; her head +rested against her breast. “We have come straight to you,” she +said; “you told me that if such an occasion came, you would act as a +mother to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I can and so I will, dear child. God bless you. You are happy +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Happy!” Maggie’s eyes were glistening through the softest +rainbow of tears. Hammond came and took the hand which she had suddenly thrown +at her side. +</p> + +<p> +“We both owe everything to Priscilla,” he said. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p> +Before Maggie Oliphant left St. Benet’s she brought some of the honor +which had long been expected from her to the dearly loved halls: she took a +first class in her tripos examination. With her mind at rest, a great deal of +the morbidness of her character disappeared, and her last term at St. +Benet’s reminded the students who had known her in Annabel Lee’s +time of the old, brilliant and happy Maggie. Miss Oliphant’s bad +half-hours became rarer and rarer, and Hammond laughed when she spoke to him of +them and said that she could not expect him to believe in their existence. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the conclusion of the summer term Maggie and Hammond were +married, and her little world at St. Benet’s had to get on without the +presence which had always exerted the influence of a strong personality and +which had been potent both for good and evil. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, however, a girl whose personal charms were few, whose poverty was +apparent and whose <i>gaucherie</i> was even now often extreme, was more than +filling the place left vacant by Maggie. Extreme earnestness, the sincerity of +a noble purpose, the truthfulness of a nature which could not stoop to deceit, +was spreading an influence on the side of all that was good and noble. No girl +did more honor to Heath Hall than she who, at one time, was held up to derision +and laughed at as odd, prudish and uninteresting. +</p> + +<p> +Every one prophesied well for Priscilla in the future which lay before her; her +feet were set in the right direction; the aim of her life was to become— +not learned, but wise; not to build up a reputation, but to gain character; to +put blessedness before happiness— duty before inclination. +</p> + +<p> +Women like Priscilla live at the root of the true life of a worthy nation. +Maggie Oliphant had brilliance, beauty, wealth; she had also strong personal +influence and the power of creating love wherever she went; but, when Priscilla +Peel leaves St. Benet’s, she will be more missed than was Maggie. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SWEET GIRL GRADUATE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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