THE COMMEMORATION WEEK.
Brightly shone the sun over the towers and pinnacles of the glorious old
city as the train sped along between Didcot and Oxford. Down the High
Street towards the railway station two gentlemen were walking slowly,
one of them wearing the Master of Arts gown and the trencher cap; the
other, though in plain clothes, had the bearing and gait of a soldier.
Except the bright dark eyes and the clear olive skin there is very
little in the tall manly figure and whiskered face to recall the Charley
Herbert whom Edward Armstrong saved from an untimely death. His
companion, who scarcely reaches to his shoulder, has no such personal
attractions as his friend, but the keen eye, broad forehead, and
intellectual, studious face, command at once respect and attention.
"At what time is the train due?" asked Charles Herbert, taking out his
watch.
"12.30," was the reply.
"Oh, then we have plenty of time to drop in at Queen's and asked Maurice
about the boatrace. Hollo, old fellow, where are you going?" and the
young officer looked at the offered hand of his friend with surprise.
"I ought not to intrude upon your friends on the very moment of their
arrival, Herbert, so I'll say good-by now."
"Nonsense! I want you to know them; come, along, Wilton; you are not
going to escape me in this way; and here comes Maurice, the very man I
want. Who is that tall fellow with him?" he added hastily, in a low
tone, as the two undergraduates approached, one of them with a pleased
recognition of Charles and his friend.
"I'll introduce you if you like," had been Mr. Wilton's reply, and as
the four gentlemen met and exchanged a friendly greeting, Charles found
himself returning the bow of the stranger, who was being named to him as
"Mr. Henry Halford, of Queen's."
"I think we have met before, Mr. Herbert," said Henry, with a smile, "we
were fellow pupils at Dr. Mason's."
"To be sure, I thought the name was familiar," exclaimed Charles,
holding out his hand, "but how was I to recognise our famous Grecian as
a tall undergrad. with whiskers; but I remember the face now." And then
the two gentlemen stood talking over olden times until Horace Wilton
reminded Charles Herbert that he had but a few minutes to spare if he
wished to reach the station in time to meet his friends, and persisting
in wishing him "Good-by," started him off.
Hasty promises were made to meet on the morrow, hasty farewells uttered,
and then Charles Herbert found himself proceeding alone at a rapid rate
towards the station.
He had, however, several minutes to wait on the platform before the
train slowly drew up, and then from a window of a first-class carriage
he recognised the bright, intelligent face of his cousin Mary.
In a few moments the door of the carriage was opened, and a proud, fond
welcome from the son whom the mother had not seen for so many months
almost brought tears in Mary's eyes.
"Are you tired? Shall we walk to the hotel, and leave the boxes for a
porter to bring?" were the eager questions readily assented to at last,
and then Charles Herbert, taking possession of his cousin's arm, led the
way to his hotel.
Perhaps, to a stranger, no period of time at Oxford can be more fraught
with interest than the week in which the yearly commemoration is held.
The town no doubt appears more dull by contrast during the long
vacation, but in full term time the streets seem redolent of learning;
the grave don walking with stately step, as if conscious how far above
all other is the power conferred by knowledge and mental superiority;
the severe-looking proctor, with his black velvet-trimmed gown adding to
his appearance of stern, gloomy determination to be the punisher of
evildoers; the youthful freshman, who wears his new honours with shy
pride, contrasted with the careless indifference of his more experienced
companion, who, carrying a number of musty-looking volumes under his
arm, seems quite unconscious that his gown is in rags, or that the cane
is visible at one or more corners of his cap.
The yearly commemoration at Oxford certainly presents a scene of
excitement scarcely equalled, from the peculiar features of the place,
the period, and the principal actors.
It is preceded by that terrible time when the aspirants for honours,
shivering and pale, sit writing answers to questions of alarming
difficulty, or replying with painful nervousness to their seemingly
stern examiners, who sit or stand before them with covered heads.
This is followed by sickening suspense till the list of names decides
their fate. Then the scene changes; books are laid aside, learning seems
for a time ignored. The long vacation is about to commence; all is
pleasure and gaiety.
Happy fathers, proud mothers, brothers, sisters, and cousins, occupy
every habitable part of Oxford outside the college walls, submitting to
any inconvenience that they may be present during the exciting week.
On the day of Mary's arrival with her aunt and uncle, several of the men
who had been going through a terrible ordeal in the schools might be
seen with pale and anxious faces wending their way to different
colleges. But as Mary entered the High Street at Magdalen Bridge, the
colleges on either side of the road, and the steeples in the distance so
occupied her attention that she scarcely noticed any other object.
"What college is that?" she asked, as the beautiful but antique outline
of Magdalen first met her view.
"I am not quite up in the wonders of Oxford yet," he replied, "although
I have been here a week; but I can tell you the names of those before
you. This is Magdalen College. A little higher on the right is Queen's;
the one opposite is University. That church with the spire is St.
Mary's, the University Church; close to it All Soul's College, and----"
"Oh, stop," cried Mary, "if you have whole streets of colleges and
churches in Oxford to describe, you must let me learn their names a few
at a time, or I shall mix them all up together. Are those young men with
caps and gowns clergymen?" she asked, suddenly.
"No, but what made you think so, Mary?"
"Because they have white ties, and others in the same dress have not."
"I am glad to be able to explain so far," he replied, laughing; "they
have been passing their examination in the schools, and at such an
occasion, I am told, the white tie is a customary appendage. But, Mary,
if you are bent upon understanding all the unusual things you see at
Oxford, I must provide you with a more experienced guide than myself.
And here we are at the hotel," he added, as he stopped to wait for his
parents, who were examining the buildings they passed with almost as
much eagerness and interest as Mary.
They turned into the hotel together, and in a very short time, after
taking a hasty lunch, they sallied forth in the bright sunshine, bent
upon exploring the wonders of a city so famed in ancient lore.
"We may as well begin with Magdalen College," said Charles, as they
walked down the High Street, but on reaching Queen's, he suddenly
paused, and saying, "Wait for me a moment," darted into the quadrangle,
and disappeared among the cloisters.
In a few moments he returned in the company of a gentlemanly-looking
man, in cap and gown, whom he introduced to the colonel and Mrs.
Herbert. Then turning to his cousin, he said--
"Mr. Maurice, my cousin Miss Armstrong has been already asking me so
many questions about the manners, customs, and buildings of your famous
university, that I shall be glad to place her in the charge of a more
well-informed guide than myself."
The young man, who wore a bachelor's gown with its large sleeves, gladly
but modestly accepted the charge so pleasantly made over to him. And
Mary, though at first a little reserved, soon found it pleasant to have
a companion who could answer her questions and give her unasked many
interesting particulars. In the course of the afternoon they were joined
by Mr. Wilton, Charles Herbert's friend, who proved himself a very
valuable addition to the party.
And so Friday and Saturday passed away in sight-seeing, visits to the
colleges, or attending afternoon service at New College and Magdalen;
and yet Mary showed no signs of fatigue. Never in her life had she been
more deeply interested; and although as _Show Sunday_ approached, the
streets were filled with well-dressed people, her attention was not
easily diverted. Sunday arrived, a bright June day, and in the evening a
gathering took place in Christ Church meadows, singularly styled _Vanity
Fair_. Fair ladies are certainly present on these occasions, but who
would apply to them the term vanity, although they have literally come
out to see and to be seen?
Show Sunday, as the Sunday before commemoration is termed, certainly
presents a show very seldom seen in any other locality in England.
The most dignified of Oxford's learned magnates are there, accompanied
by the ladies of their families and distinguished visitors.
Strings of gownsmen, arm-in-arm, parade the Long Walk, observing with a
sort of good-natured envy their more favoured fellows, on whose arms
lean some of the fairest and noblest of England's daughters. And in
almost every instance the promenaders of the gentler sex are attired in
that simple elegance of style which marks the well-bred woman of
polished society. Into this novel and attractive scene Mary Armstrong
was led by her cousin and Frank Maurice, upon whose arm she leaned.
Her uncle and aunt had continued their walk to the water side, but
Charles and his friend detained her after the second turn in the Long
Walk for another stroll through the broad promenade beneath the lofty
elm trees.
Charles Herbert felt proud of the slight, graceful figure, so becomingly
attired, by whom he walked. The simple, white dress, lace mantle, and
blue silk bonnet were attractive from their simplicity, and more than
one gownsman, who raised his cap to Frank Maurice, cast admiring eyes on
the fair, intellectual face and noble features of the young lady by his
side. Presently two gownsmen turned into the walk, and as they
approached, one of them said to the other--
"Why, Halford, here comes Wilton's tall friend with Maurice, and a lady
on his arm."
The young man thus addressed started as his companion spoke; he had
quickly recognised the young lady whom he had twice met, and now as they
drew near, and Charles Herbert advanced to claim his acquaintance in a
friendly manner, his face became pale as death. It flushed, however, and
the consciousness of this restored his self-possession as Charles
introduced his cousin, Miss Armstrong.
"I have met Miss Armstrong before," he said, with an effort; "my father
resides at Kilburn, at a very short distance from the Limes."
For once Mary was at fault, so great was her surprise to see her
dinner-table friend, and her little brother's tutor, at Oxford, in the
costume of an undergraduate. But as the new-comers joined them in their
walk, and entered into conversation, with her companions, she recovered
herself, and took the first opportunity to address a few words to him.
The bells began to toll for evening service, and Frank Maurice, excusing
himself to Mary and her cousin, wished them good evening and joined the
gownsmen with whom Henry Halford had a few minutes before made his
appearance.
"Whither shall we go this evening, Mary?" asked her cousin.
"I have no choice," she replied; "aunt talked of going to St. Mary's,
but where are uncle and aunt gone?" she exclaimed, looking round in
surprise.
Charles Herbert hesitated for a moment, and then, as the sudden thought
occurred that Mary had met an old acquaintance, he said--
"Mr. Halford, if you will kindly take care of my cousin, I will go in
search of my runaway relatives."
Henry Halford bowed, and as Charles quickly disappeared he offered his
arm to Mary, and led her slowly on in the direction taken by her cousin.
For some minutes conflicting thoughts filled the minds of these two
young people so suddenly thrown into each other's society.
"How very pale Mr. Halford looked when he met us just now!" said Mary
Armstrong to herself. "What could be the cause? How strange that I
should meet him here! and yet I remember now that mamma said Dr.
Halford's son was going to Oxford. How nervous he seems! and so
different from his manner at the dinner-table at Mr. Drummond's. Ah, how
clever I thought him then! and after a university education I should
feel absolutely afraid to talk with him. I expect he will end by taking
a fellowship like Mr. Wilton. These clever men never marry;" and then a
quick flash of thought that crimsoned the young girl's face passed
through her mind: "yet I should like my husband to be even more clever
and well informed than papa." The silence was becoming painful, and Mary
was glad enough to be able to say--
"Oh, here they come at last; do you know my uncle and aunt, Mr.
Halford?"
Before he could reply, the colonel and his wife drew near, and Charles
quickly introduced the young gownsman, whom he had seen more than once,
and of whom he had heard favourable accounts.
After a while Charles Herbert offered his arm to Mary, leaving his young
friend to make his own way with his elders, which he did so successfully
that they invited him to their hotel to dine on the following day.
Charles made the most of his time during the walk home with his cousin.
He had a kind of brotherly affection for Mary, and her regard for him
had all the elements of sisterly love; there was therefore perfect ease
on both sides in their association with each other, which perhaps
induced him to say to her on this evening words which created in her
mind new ideas, and led to results he little anticipated.
Charles Herbert himself had no thought of marriage at present, and
therefore never suspected that the trifling questions he put to Mary in
a joking way would lead to serious thoughts on her part.
"So you and Mr. Halford are old friends. Mary?"
"No, Charles, I have only met him twice; the second time, three months
ago at a dinner party."
"Well, he appeared considerably discomposed when he met you. Do you
think uncle Armstrong would consider the future parson a suitable match
for his daughter?"
"Oh, Charles, don't say such foolish things; does every young man want
to marry a young lady when he talks pleasantly to her? if I thought so,
I would never speak to any of them again."
The young officer laughed heartily as he replied, "Well, Mary, I wont
tease you any more, but if Mr. Halford does take advantage of pleasant
talk with you, and should make you an offer, remember I warned you."
Mary did not reply, and the conversation drifted into another subject.
But her cousin's playful remarks had excited new ideas, and when alone
in her room that night she almost decided to avoid the society of the
young man in whom she felt herself already interested. In about two
years he would finish his terms, and with his acknowledged talents was
it likely he would fail to pass for his degree, and obtain ordination?
And then--he would be a clergyman, a curate perhaps with a hundred a
year,--would her father consent to such a match for her? Some such
thoughts as these for a time perplexed her, till at last she dismissed
them as absurd. Mr. Henry Halford had never by word or look given her a
right to imagine any such nonsense; and after all why should she allow
herself to be influenced by the jokes of her cousin Charles?
But to dismiss thoughts of persons with whom we are constantly
associated is not an easy matter, as Mary quickly discovered. In an
early walk next day with her cousin and his friends they again
encountered Henry Halford. He accompanied them to the afternoon service
at New College, and soon proved himself as efficient a guide as Frank
Maurice. At dinner he completely won the good opinion of Colonel
Herbert, by making sensible remarks on various subjects with a modest
unobtrusiveness so pleasing in a young man to his elders; and when they
separated on that evening it was quite understood that Henry Halford was
to consider himself one of their party during this visit to Oxford.
Charles Herbert looked however in vain for any signs that these two
young people, Henry Halford and Mary Armstrong, were, as he called it,
"falling in love" with each other.
They appeared on most friendly terms; Henry rather reserved, but kind,
attentive, and polite to the young lady, who treated him with easy
familiarity totally unmixed with self-consciousness. There was no
scheming to separate from the rest of the party, and Charles Herbert was
at length forced to admit that his joking remarks to Mary had been
ill-timed.
And yet in the heart of Henry Halford a struggle had commenced, which he
could with difficulty maintain when in Mary's society. He also had
secretly communed with himself after meeting her so suddenly on the
Sunday evening in Christchurch meadows. His first impulse was to leave
Oxford and return home at once, rather than again meet the girl whose
presence had aroused all the former emotions which he had supposed were
completely crushed. He tried to reason with himself on the folly of
supposing that he could form a just estimate of a young lady's character
in scarcely two interviews; and even if he had now the opportunity
placed in his way of seeing her more frequently, could he venture to
offer himself to Mr. Armstrong as a suitor for his only daughter? But
this very hopelessness nerved him to remain in her society; he was not
coxcomb enough to suppose such a sensible girl as Mary Armstrong in any
danger from this association with him; and so he remained, firmly
guarding his words and actions, that not one might be mistaken as a wish
to gain her affections.
Yet the days passed pleasantly: very frequently the three young people
sallied forth alone, Mrs. Herbert and the colonel not being able to
endure so much fatigue; at other times they were punted up the river to
Iffley, passing water-lilies and banks of forget-me-nots, while the
gaudy dragon-fly, with its green and gold feathers glittering in the
sun, flitted across from bank to bank.