During the first month at Newnham Darsie and Hannah fell gradually and
happily into the routine of college life. They grew to recognise their
companions by name, and to place them according to their several
"shops"; they entertained cocoa parties in their rooms; picked up slang
terms, and talked condescendingly of "townees"; they paid up
subscriptions to "Hall," "Games," "Flowers," and "Fic"; slept, played,
and laughed and talked, and, above all, _worked_, with heart and mind,
and with every day that passed were more convinced that to be a student
at Cambridge was the most glorious fate that any girl could desire.
A week after the beginning of term Helen Ross, the fortunate possessor
of a double room, gave a tea-party, with one of the younger Dons as
chaperon, to which Dan Vernon and a companion were invited. Ostensibly
the party was given in Hannah's honour, but to her astonishment and
dismay Hannah's friend was not favoured with an invitation, and felt her
first real twinge of loneliness in the knowledge that two old friends
were making merry together but a few yards away, while she sat solitary
and alone. What she had done to incur Helen Ross's dislike Darsie could
not imagine, and, fortunately for herself, she was too large-hearted to
suspect that it arose simply from an unattractive girl's jealousy of one
whom all had combined to love and admire. Be that as it may, Darsie was
left out of the tea-party, and her subsequent cross-questionings of
Hannah were far from comforting.
"Had a good time?"
"Top hole."
"Nice people there?"
"Topping."
"Good cakes?"
"Scrum!"
"Dan ask for me?"
"No."
"Then he ought to have done!" Darsie told herself indignantly, and her
thoughts flew off to Ralph Percival, wondering when she would see him
next, and recalling with pleasure his promise to "see her through."
The approach of the Freshers' hockey match banished less important
topics, for Hannah was on edge with anxiety to be at her best, and
disport herself sufficiently well to be included in after-team
practices, while Darsie was scarcely less eager on her behalf.
When the afternoon arrived and the match began, the second and third
year girls crowded to look on, while the Captain stood apart surrounded
by a few satellites from the Committee, as truly the monarch of all she
surveyed as any king who ever graced a throne. The thoughts of each
Fresher turned with an anguish of appeal towards this figure; a smile on
her face raised them to the seventh heaven; a frown laid them in the
dust! Extraordinary to think that two short years ago this oracle had
been a Fresher like themselves! Inconceivable to imagine that in two
years to come they themselves might occupy that same magnificent
altitude!
The eyes of the Oracle fell upon Hannah and approved what she saw, and
henceforth Hannah took part in team practices, and lorded it over
Darsie, who in her turn affected a growing antagonism to the game.
"You can have too much of a good thing--even of games--and I seem to
have _eaten_ hockey every meal since I arrived!" she announced
impatiently; and in truth, since an unwritten law forbade the discussion
of "shop" at table, the conversation was largely limited to
dissertations on this the most popular of games.
On Sundays the two girls went together to King's College Chapel and
gazed with admiration at the vaulted stone roof, with its marvellous fan
tracery; at its towering stained-glass windows, and the screen bearing
the monogram of Anne Boleyn; at the delicate carving of the stalls. It
was so wonderfully different from the dreary town edifice in which they
had been accustomed to worship, with its painted walls, heavy gallery,
and wheezy organ played by an indifferent musician--so wonderfully,
gloriously different that Darsie felt a pricking at the back of her eyes
as though she were ready to cry for sheer pleasure and admiration. The
music and the sermon seemed alike perfect, and Darsie ardently followed
each stage of the service.
Some people are inclined to grow frivolous and forgetful when the world
goes well with them and the desire of their hearts is accomplished;
others are filled with a passion of gratitude and thanksgiving, and
Darsie Garnett belonged to the latter category. Prosperity made her
more humble, more kindly, more overflowing with love to God and man. A
portrait of Lady Hayes stood on her study mantelpiece, and every morning
and evening she bent her sunny head to kiss the stern old face. Dear
old Aunt Maria! she had so loved being kissed--_really_ kissed, as if
one meant it. If in that higher life to which she had gone she knew
what was happening on earth, Darsie felt sure that she would like to
know that her portrait was still cherished. Her thoughts hovered
gratefully about the dead woman as she sat in this wonderful old church,
and pictured with awe the succeeding generations who had worshipped
within its walls. It was only when the sermon was at an end that,
turning her head, Darsie met the gaze of a girl sitting a few seats
away, and after a moment of bewilderment recognised the widely set eyes
and curling lips of Margaret France.
In her dark hat and coat she looked less attractive than in evening
dress, but the fact made no difference in the thrill of pleasure with
which Darsie realised her presence. Some quality in this girl appealed
to the deep places of her heart; she realised instinctively that if the
attraction were mutual the tie between them would be close and firm, but
it must be all or nothing--she could never dally with friendship with
Margaret France!
Walking home slowly along Silver Street, she found herself answering
absently to Hannah's remarks, her whole attention riveted on watching
the passers-by, wondering if by any possibility Margaret France would
stop to speak to her once more, and her heart leaped with exultation as
a footstep paused by her side, and the clear, crisp tones addressed her
by name.
"Morning, Miss Garnett! Morning, Miss Vernon! Ripping day, isn't it?
Glad to see you in King's. Saw you long before you spotted me, and
enjoyed your enjoyment. Never forgot my first services. Good to be
there, isn't it?"
"Oh-h!" Darsie's deep-drawn breath of rapture was an eloquent response.
"I _have_ been happy! I've never in my life seen anything so wonderful
before. It seems almost too good to be true that I can go there every
Sunday for years to come. Cambridge is wonderful. I am more enchanted
every day. Even to walk along the streets is a joy."
"Good!" cried Margaret heartily. "Drop in to five o'clock service
sometimes when you're feeling tired, and tied up with your work. It's a
grand soother. How goes the work so far? Enjoying the lectures?
Finding the literature interesting?"
The two Modern Languages discussed work together eagerly, while
mathematical Hannah marched on a few feet ahead. Darsie felt a pang of
remorse, because she could not help wishing that she would _stay_ ahead,
and so give the chance of a prolonged _tete-a-tete_ with Margaret
France. The feeling of attraction was so strong now that they were face
to face that it was only by an effort of will that she could resist
slipping her hand through the black serge arm, but the expression of her
face was eloquent, and Margaret smiled back well pleased. When they
parted a few minutes later to go to their different halls, the older
girl said casually, but in a lowered voice which showed that the
invitation was meant for Darsie alone--
"By the way, I'm at home for cocoa on Tuesday evenings at ten. Bring
your milk, and come along, will you! I'd like to have you."
"Rather!" cried Darsie eloquently, and ran up to her room aglow with
delight and pride, which grew still deeper at lunch when a casual
reference to the invitation (it was really impossible to keep silent on
so thrilling a point!) evoked a wide stare of surprise.
"To her Tuesdays! Are you sure? Nobody goes to those but her very boon
companions. You _are_ honoured!"
"Didn't ask _me_, I notice!" sniffed Hannah huffily. "No twin soul
here. Recognised an affinity in you, I suppose."
"Well, _I_ wasn't asked to play in team matches! Don't grudge me my
little score!" returned Darsie, knowing well that an honour in sport was
more to her companion than many cocoas. "Besides, you must remember you
have Helen Ross!"
"Oh, ah, yes! Helen Ross dotes on me. Disinterested, of course. No
connection with the brother over the way!" commented Hannah with a grin.
"By the way, I hear from Dan that your friend Ralph Percival is in
trouble already, playing cards, getting into debt, and staying out after
hours. Seems to be a poor-spirited sort of fellow from all accounts!"
"He saved my life, anyway, when I was a youngster, and very nearly
drowned myself, paddling up a mill-stream. There's no want of spirit
about Ralph. Life has been made too easy for him, that's the mischief!"
said Darsie in her most elderly and judicial manner. "It's difficult to
keep to the grind when you know that you will never need to work. He
needs an object in life. Until he finds that, he will be content to
drift."
"He'll drift into being sent down at this rate. That will be the end of
him!" croaked Hannah gloomily; whereupon Darsie knitted her brows and
collapsed into silence for the rest of the meal.
Poor, dear, handsome Ralph! At the bottom of her heart Darsie was
hardly surprised to hear Hannah's report. The indifference with which
he had entered upon his college life had not developed into any more
earnest spirit, as had been abundantly proved by his conversation when
the two had last met, during the long vacation, while the hesitating
manner of his mother and sisters seemed to hint at a hidden anxiety. In
the depths of her heart Darsie was feeling considerably piqued by the
fact that though she had now been over a month in Cambridge Ralph had
shown no anxiety to meet her, or to fulfil his promise of "showing the
ropes." Other girls had been invited to merry tea-parties in the
different colleges, and almost daily she had expected such an invitation
for herself, but neither of her two men friends had paid her this mark
of attention; but for the fact of an occasional meeting in the streets
they might as well have been at the other end of the land. Pride
forbade her commenting on the fact even to Hannah; but inwardly she had
determined to be very proud and haughty when the deferred meeting came
about. Dan was too wrapped up in himself to care for outsiders; Ralph
was a slacker--not worth a thought. Darsie dismissed them both with a
shrug. Margaret France was worth a dozen men put together!
Ten o'clock on Tuesday evening seemed long in coming, but the moment
that the clock pointed to the hour Darsie hastened to her new friend's
study, and to her satisfaction found her still alone. The room looked
delightfully cosy with pink shades over the lights, a clear blaze upon
the grate, and Margaret herself, in a pink rest-gown curled up in a
wicker-chair, was the very embodiment of ease. She did not rise as
Darsie entered, but pointed to a chair close at hand, with an eagerness
which was in itself the best welcome.
"That's right. Come along! I'm glad you're the first. Sit down and
look around. How do you like my den?"
Darsie stared to right and left with curious eyes, and came to the
instant conclusion that Margaret's room was like herself. From floor to
ceiling, from window to door, there was not one single article which did
not give back a cheering impression. If the article were composed of
metal, it shone and glittered until it could shine no farther; if of
oak, every leaf and moulding spoke of elbow-grease, and clean, fresh-
smelling polish; if it were a fabric of wool or cotton, it was
invariably of some shade of rose, shedding, as it were, an aspect of
summer in the midst of November gloom.
Over the fireplace was fastened a long brown-paper scroll, on which some
words were painted in big ornamental letters. Darsie read them with a
thrill of appreciation--
"Two men looked out through prison bars,
One saw mud, the other stars!"