CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
AFTER THREE YEARS.
"Is your trunk ready, Darsie? Are you ready to come down? Lunch is onthe table and we're all waiting. Have you fitted everything in? Ohdear, oh dear, how bleak and bare the room does look! I shall neverhave the heart to enter it after you're gone."
Clemence Garnett, aged twenty years, gave a pitiful glance round thedismantled room, which a few hours before had been decorated with themany and varied objects which were Darsie's treasures. She looked atthe wooden wardrobe, the doors of which swung wide, showing a row ofempty pegs, at the scattering of paper and rejected ends of ribbon andlace which littered the floor, and finally back at the figure of Darsieherself, kneeling before the great black trunk, with her golden hairruffling round a flushed, eager face.
"Sit on it, Clemence, like a lamb. It's _got_ to meet, but it's inchesapart still. Sit down with a flop, and be your heaviest, while I fightwith the lock."
"Better take something out. If you make it so full, it may burst half-way. How would you like that?"
"Not much; but better than leaving anything behind. It wouldn't dare toburst after costing so much money. There! It's done. You're a prettysubstantial weight, my dear. Now then for lunch and a rest; I've had aterrific morning."
Darsie rose to her feet and stood for a moment before the mirror,putting a tidying touch to hair and dress. She was a tall, slim girl,nearly a head taller than the more substantial Clemence, and the easygrace which characterised her movements was the first thing whichattracted an unaccustomed eye. Even Clemence, with perceptions dulledby custom, felt dimly that it was an agreeable thing to watch Darsiebrush her hair and shake out her skirts, though in another person suchacts would be prosaic and tiresome. The crisp hair needed nothing but abrush and a pat to settle itself into a becoming halo of waves, and thesmall face on the long white neck had a quaint, kitten-like charm.Clemence looked from the real Darsie to the reflected Darsie in theglass, and felt a sudden knife-like pang.
"Oh, how I _hate_ you going! How dull it will be. Why _couldn't_ yoube content to stay at home instead of taking up this Newnham craze? Ishall miss you hideously, Darsie!"
Darsie smiled involuntarily, then nobly tried to look sad.
"I expect you will, but one grown-up at home is as much as we canafford, and there'll be lovely long vacs. You must think of those, andthe letters, and coming up to see me sometimes, and term time will passin a flash. I'll be back before you realise that I'm gone."
Clemence pouted in sulky denial.
"Nothing of the sort. It will seem an age. It's easy to talk! Peoplewho go away have all the fun and excitement and novelty; it's the poorstay-at-homes who are to be pitied. How would you like to be me,sitting down to-morrow morning to darn the socks?"
"Poor old Clem!" said Darsie lightly. A moment later, with relentingcandour, she added: "You'll like it a lot better than being examined bya Cambridge coach! So don't grouse, my dear; we've both got the work welike best--come down to lunch, and let's see what mother has providedfor my go-away meal!"
Darsie slid a hand through Clemence's arm as she spoke and the twosisters squeezed down the narrow staircase, glad in their English,undemonstrative fashion of the close contact which an inherent shynesswould have forbidden except in this accidental fashion. Across the oil-clothed passage they went, into the red-walled dining-room, where theother members of the family waited their arrival.
Mrs Garnett smiled at the traveller with a tinge of wistfulness on herface; the four young people stared, with a curiosity oddly infused withrespect. A girl who was on the eve of starting for college had soaredhigh above the level of ordinary school. Lavender, at "nearlyseventeen," wore her fair locks tied back with a broad black ribbon; herskirts reached to her ankles; she was thin and angular; her head wasperpetually thrust forward, and a pair of spectacles were wornperpetually over the bridge of her pointed little nose. The descriptiondoes not sound attractive, yet in some mysterious manner, and despiteall drawbacks, Lavender _did_ manage to be attractive, and had a selectband of followers at school who practised stoops and poked-out heads outof sheer admiration of her defects.
Harry's voice was beginning to croak, which, taken together with adawning passion for socks, ties, and brilliantine, was an unmistakablesign of growing up; Russell was preternaturally thin and looked all armsand legs; while Tim had forsaken knickers for full-fledged trousers, andresented any attempt at petting as an insufferable offence.
One and all were on their best company manners on the occasion ofDarsie's last lunch, and the most honeyed replies took the place of theusual somewhat stormy skirmish of wits; nevertheless, there was auniversal feeling of relief when the meal was over, and a peal at thebell announced the arrival of the cab which was to convey Darsie and agirl companion on the first stage of their journey.
If anything could have added to Darsie's joy in the fulfilment of alifelong ambition, it would have been the fact that Hannah Vernon was tobe her companion at Newnham, as she had been through the earlierschooldays. All the Vernon family were dears of the first water, andmight have been specially created to meet the needs of their neighbours,the Garnetts. It is true that the Vernons possessed the enviableadvantage of a big grown-up brother, but when the Garnetts feltparticularly tried on this score, they sought comfort from thereflection that a brother so solemn and scholarly, so reserved andunresponsive, hardly counted as a brother at all. Dan was already inthe second year of his Cambridge course, and was expected to do greatthings before he left. So far as such a sober person could be madeuseful, Darsie Garnett intended to use him towards the furtherance ofher own enjoyment of the new life.
For the rest, Vie, the eldest daughter of the Vernon household, was thesworn ally and confidante of Clemence, and John, the younger son, was inhimself such a tower of mischievous strength that the Garnett trio satat his feet. Last, but certainly not least, came Hannah, and Hannahwas--Darsie would have found it an almost impossible task to describe"plain Hannah" to an unfortunate who had not the honour of heracquaintance. Hannah was Hannah, a being distinct by herself--absolutely different from any one else. To begin with, she wasextraordinarily plain; but, so far from grieving over the fact, Hannahwore it proudly as the foremost feather in her cap.
It was she herself who had originated and sanctioned the continued useof the sobriquet, which had its origin in a juvenile answer given byherself to a stranger who inquired her name.
Now Hannah was the only member of the family who was limited to onecognomen, so she answered unthinkingly, "Hannah; _plain_ Hannah!" andinstantly descrying the twinkling appreciation in that stranger's eyes,she twinkled herself, and henceforth led the adoption of the title.Long use had almost deadened its meaning in the ears of the family, butstrangers still suffered at the hearing.
Plain Hannah's face peered cheerily out of the cab window, her littleeyes twinkled merrily, her preposterous eyebrows arched in derision ofthe melancholy group upon the doorsteps. No one dared shed a tear whenshe was so evidently on the watch for any sign of weakness, sentimentalfarewells were checked upon the speaker's lips, and the whole businessof parting assumed a lighter, a more matter-of-fact air.
A second big box was hoisted on to the cab roof, a few kissesshamefacedly exchanged, and then the travellers were off, and nothingremained to the watchers but to trail drearily back into a house fromwhich half the brightness seemed to have departed.
Well might Clemence say that the worst pain of a parting fell on thosewho were left behind! While the stay-at-homes struggled heavily througha long afternoon, in every moment of which the feeling of loss becameeven more acute, Darsie and plain Hannah were enjoying one of the mostexciting experiences of their lives.
In spite of an almost lifelong interest in Cambridge, neither girl hadas yet visited the town itself, so that each incident of the journey wasfull of interest and excitement. The station was disappointingly likeother stations, and they had abundant opportunity of examining i
t atleisure, since the porters rushed in a body to attend to the malestudents who had arrived at the same time, and who could be trusted togive larger tips than their female companions. The drive through thestreets also fell short of expectations; but, after all, Cambridge meantNewnham, and there could be no disappointment there! Peered at throughthe cab window, the building appeared unexpectedly large and imposing.It gave one a thrill of importance to realise that for the next threeyears one would be part and parcel of its life, an inhabitant of itsgreat halls.
The cabman descended from the box and rang a peal at the bell, and itcame as something as a shock to see an ordinary-looking maid throw openthe door, though what exactly they had imagined the girls would havefound it difficult to say. The maid inquired their names, led themforward through a long corridor, and flung open the door of a sitting-room where a lady sat before a desk. It was a pretty, cheerful-lookingapartment, full of flowers, books, pictures, and quaint old-worldfurniture, and the lady herself looked so much like other middle-agedladies, that if you had not known it you would never have suspected herof being the Vice-President of a Women's College.
She was kind and agreeable. She shook hands, and hoped you were well;hoped you had had a pleasant journey, hoped you would be happy inCollege, hoped you would like your rooms; but there was a certainmechanical quality in her voice which betrayed the fact that she hadsaid the same thing over and over again on innumerable occasions, wouldsay it twenty times or more this very afternoon, and that your ownpersonal arrival left her perfectly calm and cool.
The girls stuttered and stammered in response, felt vaguely crestfallen,and worried as to what they should do next, but the Vice herself was inno doubt. "She hoped they were ready for tea," and with a wave of thehand summoned the maid to lead them a stage forward on their journey.
The second stage deposited the new-comers in the dining-hall, where teawas already in progress, and about a dozen disconsolate-looking Fresherswere munching at bread-and-butter and cake in a silence which could befelt. Apparently Darsie and Hannah were the only ones of the numberlucky enough to have come up in pairs, but even their tried powers ofspeech were paralysed beneath the spell of that terrible silence, andstill more so by the relentless scrutiny of those twelve pairs of eyes.And how those Freshers _did_ stare! The whites of their eyes positivelyshone, as with one accord the pupils turned towards the opening door.They had been stared at themselves, had come through the ordeal of beingthe last arrival; now, with thanksgiving, they were revenging themselvesupon fresh victims! Darsie felt a horrible certainty that she woulddrop her cup, and spill the tea over the floor; plain Hannah munched andmunched, and looked plainer than ever, with her shoulders half-way up toher ears and her chin burrowed in her necktie.
Presently the door opened again, and another Fresher entered, cast afrightened glance around, and subsided on to the nearest chair, whileevery eye turned to gaze upon her, in her turn. This programme wasenacted several times over before Darsie and Hannah had finished tea,and were ready to be escorted to the upstairs apartments, which were toact as bedroom and study combined.
Mercifully the rooms were close together, so that, leaving Darsie half-way along the corridor, the maid could point to a door near at hand,where she could join her friend when her inspection was complete. Sheentered with the feeling of one on the threshold of a new life, andstood gazing around in mingled disappointment and delight. The firstimpression was of bareness and severity, an effect caused by the absenceof picture or ornament of any kind. A small white bed stood in onecorner; a curtain draped another, acting as a substitute for a wardrobe;a very inadequate screen essayed unsuccessfully to conceal a woodenwashstand, and a small square of glass discouraged vanity on the part ofan occupant. So far, bad! but, on the other hand, the room containedinexpensive luxuries, in the shape of an old oak chest, a bureau, astanding bookcase, and a really comfortable wicker chair.
Darsie could hardly believe that these treasures were meant for her ownuse; it seemed more likely that they had belonged to a former student,who would presently demand their return. She was sorrowfully resigningherself to this contingency when the door burst open, and in rushedHannah, aglow with excitement.
"I've got a chest, and a bookcase, and a bu--"
Her eyes rounded with surprise. "I say! So have you--I thought I _was_swag! Do you suppose it's the usual thing?"
"Can't say. Topping for us if it is. But the screen's a wretch, andthe walls will need a _lot_ of covering. My few mites of pictures willgo nowhere. There's not _too_ much room for our clothes, either. We'dbetter unpack, I suppose, and get out things for dinner. What are yougoing to wear?"
"Oh, something--whatever comes handy," replied plain Hannah in her mostcasual manner.
The subject seemed to her of infinitesimal importance; but Darsie wentthrough many agitations of mind before she decided on a high-neckedsummer frock, and then suffered still keener pangs because, ondescending to Hall, several Freshers were discovered in full eveningdress, and, in her imagination at least, eyed her lace yoke withdisdain.
Dinner was almost as silent as tea--an ordeal of curious, appraisingeyes, as each Fresher continued to stare at every other Fresher,condemning her mentally for want of frankness and kindliness, whileutterly neglecting to practise these virtues on her own account. Thenone by one the girls slunk upstairs, tired, shy, and homesick, and creptgratefully into their narrow beds.
Sleep was long in coming to Darsie Garnett that night: she lay awakehour after hour, living over again in thought the events of the lastthree years.
First and foremost her thoughts went back to the old great-aunt to whosegenerosity she owed the present fulfilment of her ambition. Until LadyHayes's death, a year ago, Darsie had spent the major part of herholidays at The Towers, and the friendship between the old woman and thegirl had developed into a very real affection.
It had been a wonderful experience, Darsie reflected, to watch thegradual mellowing of character, the patient endurance of suffering, thepeaceful death which was so truly a "falling asleep." Until that timeDarsie had felt all a girl's natural shrinking from death, but the sightof Aunt Maria's peaceful face had dissipated that fear once for all. Asshe knelt by the bedside looking at the still, majestic features, sheoffered the most fervent prayer of her life--a prayer that she, too,might be enabled to "submit her way," and so in the end find peace inher soul!
Her acquaintance with the Percival family had ripened into friendship,so that, though Noreen and Ida could never by any chance supplant theVernon sisters, there were moments when she actually felt more at homewith Ralph than with queer, silent Dan.
Ralph, at twenty-one, had outgrown many of his boyish failings--orrather, as Darsie shrewdly surmised, had attained the art of screeningthem from _view_. Instead of snubbing his sisters' friends and adoptingairs of haughty superiority, he was now all deference and attention,transparently eager for her society. Dan, on the contrary, was absorbedin work; he had taken the Longs in summer, so that Darsie had no chanceof meeting him before starting on her annual visits to Lady Hayes. Inthe Easter vac. he had visited France and Germany to study languages,while at Christmas-times he was at once too shy and too busy to takepart in the daily excursions indulged in by his brothers and sisters.He was doing brilliantly at College, and as a better preparation for hislife's work had decided on a four-years course--taking the Tripos in twoparts, in both of which it was a foregone conclusion that he would takea first-class.
Ralph Percival was contentedly slacking it in preparation for a passdegree. "What did it matter?" he demanded serenely. One came toCambridge, don't you know, because all one's people had been there,because it was the thing to do, and a rattling old place for sport andhaving a good time. He would be confoundedly sorry when it was over.Only wished he could slack it out for twice as long!
Darsie first frowned, and then smiled to herself in the dark as sherecalled those utterances, and the actions fitly symbolised hersentiments towards the he
ir of the Percivals. Her head had no mercy forsuch an utter want of ambition and energy, but the heart plays often abigger part than the head in an estimate of a fellow-creature, andDarsie's heart had a way of making excuses for the handsome truant, whosmiled with such beguiling eyes, had such a pretty knack of compliment,and was--generally!--ready to play knight-errant in her service. Shefelt herself lucky in possessing so charming a friend to act the part ofgallant, and to be at her service when she chose to call. And thenquite suddenly she drew a sharp breath and said aloud in a tremblingvoice, "Oh, Aunt Maria, dear Aunt Maria!" and her pillow was wet withtears; for Aunt Maria was dead, had died too soon to hear of her grand-niece's experiences at Newnham, to which she had looked forward withsuch interest, but not before evoking a real love and gratitude inDarsie's heart. How thankful the girl was to remember that she had beenable to cheer the last year of that lonely life, to recall every lovingword and action, every tiny scrap of self-denial on her own part whichhad repaid in some small way the great gift to herself. Thankful andgrateful she would be to the end of her life, but she was not, and hadnot even pretended to be, _sorry_ that Aunt Maria was dead.
"She was old, and she was lonely, and she was ill. I'm _glad_, notsorry," she had declared to the scandalised Lavender. "I'm glad she'llnever come hobbling downstairs again, and sit all the long, long day inone chair, waiting for it to end. I'm _glad_ she's forgotten all abouther back, and her feet, and her head, and her joints, and all thethousand parts that ached, and could not rest. I'm _glad_ she doesn'tneed any more spectacles, and sticks, and false teeth, nor to havepeople shouting into her ear to make her hear. I'm thankful! If I'dhated her I might have liked her to live on here, but I loved her, soI'm glad. She has gone somewhere else, where she is happy, andcheerful, and _whole_, and I hope her husband has met her, and that theyare having a lovely, lovely time together..."
Darsie was glad, too, in quite an open, unconcealed fashion, when alegacy of a few thousand pounds lifted a little of the strain from herfather's busy shoulders, made it possible to send Harry and Russell to agood boarding-school, continue Clemence's beloved music lessons, andprovide many needfuls for household use. It was not only pleasant butabsolutely thrilling to know that as long as she herself lived shewould, in addition, possess fifty pounds a year--practically a pound aweek--of her very, very own, so that even when she grew too old toteach, she could retire to a tiny cottage in the country, and live thesimple life. In the meantime, however, she was young, and lifestretched ahead full of delicious possibilities and excitements.
Her great ambition had been achieved. She was a student at Cambridge;the historic colleges whose names had so long been familiar on her lipslay but a few streets away, while in her own college, close at hand,along the very same corridor, lay other girls with whom she must work,with whom she must play, whose lives must of a surety touch her own.
What would happen? How would she fare? When the last night of herthree-years course arrived, and she lay as now in this narrow white bed,staring across the darkened room which had been her home, what would herdreams be then? What pictures would arise in the gallery of her mind?What faces smile at her out of the mist?
"Oh, God," sighed Darsie in a soft, involuntary appeal, "help me to begood!"