hat and jacket removed.
In the vicar's eyes Priscilla was not at all a plain girl. He liked therugged power which her face displayed; he admired the sensible lines ofher mouth, and he prophesied great things from that brow, so calm, sobroad, so full. Mr Hayes had but a small respect for the roses andlilies of mere beauty. Mind was always more to him than matter. Someof 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 andeven admiration this good man felt for her.
"I am glad you have called, Prissie," he said. "I was disappointed innot seeing you to-day. Well, my dear, do as well in the coming term asyou did in the past. You have my best wishes."
"Thank you," said Prissie.
"You are happy in your new life, are you not, my dear child?"
"I am interested," said Priscilla, in a low voice. Her eyes rested onher shabby dress as she spoke. She laid one hand over the other. Sheseemed to be weighing her words. "I am interested; sometimes I amabsorbed. 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. Everythingis new to me--everything fresh and broad. There are some trials, ofcourse, and some unpleasantness; but, oh, the difference between hereand there! Here it is so narrow; there, one cannot help gettingenlightenment, daily and hourly."
"Yes," said Mr Hayes, when Priscilla paused, "I expected you to saysomething of this kind. I knew you could not but feel the immense, theimmeasurable change. But why do you speak in that complaining voice,Priscilla?"
Prissie's eyes were raised to his.
"Because Aunt Raby is ill, and it is wicked of me to forget her. It ismean and cowardly. I hate myself for it!"
Mr Hayes looked puzzled for a moment; then his face cleared.
"My dear Prissie," he said, "I always knew there were depths ofmorbidness in you, but I did not suppose that you would sound them soquickly. If you are to grow up to be a wise and useful and helpfulwoman by-and-by, you must check this intense self-examination. Yourfeelings are the natural feelings of a girl who has entered upon a verycharming life. You are meant to lead that life for the present; you aremeant to do your duty in it. Don't worry, my dear. Go back to StBenet's, and study well, and learn much, and gather plenty of experiencefor the future. If you fret about what cannot be helped, you willweaken your intellect and tire your heart. After all, Prissie, thoughyou give much thought to St Benet's, and though its ways are delightfulto you, your love is still with the old friends, is it not?"
"Even there I have failed," said Priscilla, sadly. "There is a girl atSt Benet's who has a strange power over me. I love her--I have a verygreat 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."
"And you would do anything for us, too?"
"Oh, yes, yes."
"And, though you don't think it, your love for us is stronger than yourlove for her. There is a freshness about the new love which fascinatesyou, but the old is the stronger. Keep both loves, my dear: both are ofvalue. Now I must go out to visit poor Peters, who is ill, so I can seeyou home. Is there anything more you want to say to me?"
"Oh, yes, Mr Hayes, Aunt Raby is very ill."
"She is, Prissie."
"Does she know it?"
"Yes."
"Ought I to be away from her now?--is it right?"
"My dear, do you want to break her heart? She worked so hard to getthis time at college for you. No, Prissie, don't get that idea intoyour head. Aunt Raby is most anxious that you should have everyadvantage. She knows--she and I both know--that she cannot live morethan a year or two longer, and her greatest hope is that you may be ableto support your little sisters when she is gone. No, Prissie, whateverhappens, you must on no account give up your life at St Benet's."
"Then please let me say something else. I must not go on with myclassics."
"My dear child, you are managing to crush me with all kinds of queer,disappointing sayings to-night."
"Am I? But I mean what I say now. I love Greek better than anythingalmost in the world. But I know enough of it already for the merepurposes of rudimentary teaching. My German is faulty--my French notwhat it might be."
"Come, come, my dear, Peters is waiting to settle for the night. Can wenot talk on our way down to the cottage?"
Aunt Raby was fast asleep when Priscilla reentered the littlesitting-room. The girl knelt down by the slight, old figure, and,stooping, pressed a light kiss on the forehead. Light as it was itawoke the sleeper.
"You are there still, child?" said Aunt Raby. "I dreamt you were away."
"Would you like me to stay with you, auntie?"
"No, my dear; you help me upstairs, and I'll get into bed. You ought tobe in your own bed, too, Prissie. Young creatures ought never to sit uplate, and you have a journey before you to-morrow."
"Yes; but would you like me not to take the journey? I am strong, andcould do all the work, and you might rest not only at night, but in theday. You might rest always, if I stayed here."
Aunt Raby was wide-awake now, and her eyes were very bright.
"Do you mean what you say, Priscilla?" she asked.
"Yes, I do. You have the first right to me. If you want me, I'llstay."
"You'll give up that outlandish Greek, and all that babel of foreigntongues, and your fine friends, and your grand college, and your hopesof being a famous woman by-and-by? Do you mean this, Prissie,seriously?"
"Yes, if you want me."
"And you say I have the first claim on you?"
"I do."
"Then you're wrong; I haven't the first claim on you." Aunt Rabytumbled off the sofa, and managed to stand on her trembling old legs.
"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 aboutyou 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 havea better sort than that. And you think I've the first claim on you? Apoor old body like me. There, help me up to bed, my dear."
Aunt Raby did not say any more as the two scrambled up the narrow stairsin silence. When they got into the little bedroom, however, she put herarms round Priscilla's neck, and gave her quite a hug.
"Thank you for offering yourself to me, my love," she said, "but Iwouldn't have you on any terms whatever. Go and learn all you can atyour fine college, Prissie. It's the fashion of the day for the youngfolk to learn a lot, and there's no going against the times. In myyoung life sewing was the great thing. Now it's Latin and Greek. Don'tyou forget that I taught you to sew, Prissie, and always put a backstitch when you're running a seam; it keeps the stuff togetherwonderfully. Now go to bed."
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
TWO EXTREMES.
"Have you heard the news?" said Rosalind Merton. She skipped into MissDay's room as she spoke.
"No; what?" asked that untidy person, turning round and dropping a lotof 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--"
"I don't ask for your opinion, Annie. I'm quite accustomed to thescornful way in which you have received all my words lately. I need nottell you what I have heard at all, unless you wish to hear it."
"But, of course, I wish to hear it, Rosie; you know that as well as Ido. Now sit down and make yourself at home, there's a dear."
Rose allowed herself to be mollified.
"Well," she said, sinking back into Miss Day's most comfortable chair,"the feud between a certain small person and a certain great persongrows apace." Miss Day's small eyes began to dance.
"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."
"Little things show the way the wind is blowing," pursued Rose. "I wascoming along the corridor just now, and I met the angelic and unworldlyPriscilla. Her eyelids were red as if she had been crying. She passedme without a word."
"Well?"
"That's all."
"Rose, you really are too provoking. I thought you had something veryfine to tell."
"The feud grows," pursued Rose. "I know it by many signs. Prissie isnot half so often with Maggie as she used to be. Maggie means to getout 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, butneither is there a prouder. Do you suppose that anything under the sunwould allow her to show her feelings because that little upstart daredto raise her eyes to Maggie's adorable beau, Mr Hammond? But oh, shefeels it; she feels it down in her secret soul. She hates Prissie; shehates this beautiful handsome lover of hers for being civil to socommonplace a person. She is only waiting for a decent pretext to dropPrissie altogether. I wish with all my heart I could give her one."
As she spoke, Rosalind shaded her eyes with her hand; her face lookedfull of sweet and thoughtful contemplation.
"Get your charming Prissie to flirt a little bit more," said Miss Day,with her harsh laugh.
"I don't know that I can. I must not carry that brilliant idea toextremities, or I shall be found out."
"Well, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Bide my time."
Miss Day gave a listless sort of yawn.
"Let's talk of something else," she said, impatiently. "What are yougoing to wear at the Elliot-Smiths' party next week, Rose?"
"I have got a new white dress," said Rose, in that voice of stronganimation and interest which the mere mention of dress always arouses incertain people.
"Have you? What a lot of dresses you get!"
"Indeed, you are mistaken, Annie. I have the greatest difficulty inmanaging my wardrobe at all."
"Why is that? I thought your people not only belonged to the county,but were as rich as Jews."
"We are county people, of course," said Rose, in her most affectedmanner, "but county people need not invariably be rich. The fact is myfather 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 givethem. Oh, if only that spiteful Miss Oliphant had not prevented mygetting the sealskin jacket, and if she had not raised the price ofPolly's pink coral!"
"Don't begin that old story again, Rose. When all is said and done, youhave got the lovely coral. By the way, it will come in beautifully forthe Elliot-Smiths' party. You'll wear it, of course?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"What do you mean? Of course you'll wear it."
"I don't know. The fact is I have not paid the whole price for it yet."
"Haven't you, really? You said you'd bring the money when you returnedthis term."
"Of course I thought I could, but I was absolutely afraid to tell motherwhat a lot the coral cost; and as she was so woefully short of funds, Ihad just to come away without the money. I never for a moment supposedI should have such ill luck."
"It is awkward. What are you going to say to Polly Singleton?"
"I don't know. I suppose you could not help me, Annie?"
"I certainly couldn't. I never have a penny to bless myself with. Idon't know how I scrape along." Rosalind sighed. Her pretty facelooked absolutely careworn.
"Don't fret, Rose," said Miss Day, after a pause; "whether you have paidfor the coral or not, you can wear it at the Elliot-Smiths'."
"No, alas! that's just what I can't do. The fact is Polly is turningout awfully mean. She has come back this time with apparently anunlimited supply of pocket-money, and she has been doing her best toinduce me to sell her the coral back again."
"Well, why don't you? I'm sure I would, rather than be worried aboutit."
Miss Merton's face flushed angrily.
"Nothing will induce me to give up the coral," she said. "I bought mynew white dress to wear with it. I have looked forward all during theholidays to showing it to Meta Elliot-Smith. It's the sort of thing tosubdue Meta, and I want to subdue her; no, nothing will induce me topart with my lovely coral now."
"Well, my dear, keep it, of course, and pay for it how you can. It'syour own affair. You have not yet explained to me, however, why, whenit is in your possession, you can't wear it with your new dress at theElliot-Smiths' next week?"
"Because that wretched Polly has been invited also; and she is quitemean enough and underbred enough to walk up to me before everyone andask me to give her back her property."
"What fun if she did?" laughed Miss Day.
"Annie, you are unkind!"
"My dear, of course I don't mean what I say, but I can't help seeing thewhole picture: you, so fine and so self-conscious, and so--so _perfect_in all your appointments--and looking--for all you are a little thing,Rose--a good inch above everyone else--and then our poor, good-natured,downright Polly catching sight of her unpaid-for ornaments round yoursweet baby throat--all the John Bull in her instantly coming to thefore, and she demanding her rights in no measured terms. Oh, your face,Rosie! your face! and Meta Elliot-Smith's enjoyment--oh, how deliciousthe picture is! Dear Rosalind, do wear the coral, and please--pleaseget me an invitation to the Elliot-Smiths'. I'll love you all my lifeif you give me leave to witness so lovely a spectacle!"
Miss Merton's face changed colour several times while Annie Day wasspeaking. She clenched her small hands, and tried hard to keep backsuch a torrent of angry words as would have severed this so-calledfriendship once and for all; but Rose's sense of prudence was greatereven now than her angry passions. Miss Day was a useful ally--adangerous foe.
With a forced laugh, which concealed none of her real feelings, shestood up and prepared to leave the room.
"You are very witty at my expense, Annie," she said. Her lips trembled.She found herself the next moment alone in the brightly lightedcorridor.
It was over a week now since the beginning of the term; lectures wereonce 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 wereleading held out to them. Girls of all kinds were living under theseroofs--the idle as well as the busy. Both the clever and the stupidwere here, both the good and the bad. Rosalind Merton was a fairlyclever girl. She had that smart sort of cleverness which often passesfor wide knowledge. She was liked by many of her girl-friends; she hadthe character of being rather good-natured; her pretty face and innocentmanner, too, helped to win her golden opinions among the lecturers anddons.
Those who knew her well soon detected her want of sincerity; but then itwas Rose's endeavour to prevent many people becoming intimatelyacquainted with her. She had all the caution which accompanies adeceitful character, and had little doubt that she could pursue thosepettinesses in which her soul delighted, and yet retain a position as agood, innocent, and fairly clever girl before the heads of the college.
Rose generally kept her angry passions in check, but, although she hadmanaged not to betray herself while in Miss Day's room, now as she stoodalone in the brilliantly lighted corridor, she simply danced with rage.Her small hands were clenched until the nails pierced the flesh, and herdelicately coloured face became livid with passion.
At that moment she hated Annie Day--she hated Polly Singleton--shehated, perhaps, most of all Maggie Oliphant.
She walked down the corridor, her heart beating fast. Her own room wason another floor; to reach it she had to pass Miss Peel's and MissOliphant's rooms. As Rose was walking slowly down the corridor, she sawa girl come out of Miss Oliphant's room, turn quickly in the oppositedirection to the one from which she was coming, and, quickening her paceto a run, disappear from view. Rose recognised this girl: she wasPriscilla Peel. Rose
hastened her own steps, and peeped into Maggie'sroom. To her surprise, it was empty; the door had swung wide open, andthe excited, perturbed girl could see into every corner. Scarcelyknowing why she did it, she entered the room. Maggie's room wasacknowledged to be one of the most beautiful in the college, and Rosesaid to herself that she was glad to have an opportunity to examine itunobserved.
She went and stood on the hearthrug and gazed around her; then shewalked over to the bureau. Some Greek books were lying open here--alsoa pile of manuscript, several note-books, a few envelopes, and sheets ofletter-paper. Still scarcely knowing why, Rose lifted the note-paper,and looked under it. The heap of paper concealed a purse.
A sealskin purse with gold clasps. Rose snatched her hands away, flungdown the note-paper as if she had been stung, and walked back again tothe hearthrug. Once more the colour rushed into her cheeks; once moreit retreated, leaving her small, young, pretty face white as marble.
She was assailed by a frightful temptation, and she was scarcely thegirl to resist it long. In cold blood she might have shrunk from thesiren voice, which