A SWEET GIRL GRADUATE

by MRS. L. T. MEADE, 1891 _________________________________________________________________

 CHAPTER I

 GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD

PRISCILLA'S trunk was neatly packed. It was a new trunk and had a nicecanvas covering over it. The canvas was bound with red braid, andPriscilla's initials were worked on the top in large plain letters. Her initials were P. P. P. , and they stood for Priscilla PenywernPeel. The trunk was corded and strapped and put away, and Priscillastood by her aunt's side in the little parlor of Penywern Cottage. 

"Well, I think I've told you everything, " said the aunt. 

"Oh, yes, Aunt Raby, I sha'n't forget. I'm to write once a week, andI'm to try not to be nervous. I don't suppose I shall be-- I don't seewhy I should. Girls aren't nervous nowadays, are they?"

"I don't know, my dear. It seems to me that if they aren't they oughtto be. I can understand girls doing hard things if they must. I canunderstand any one doing anything that has to be done, but as to notbeing nervous-- well-- there! Sit down, Prissie, child, and take yourtea. "

Priscilla was tall and slight. Her figure was younger than her years, which were nearly nineteen, but her face was older. It was an almostcareworn face, thoughtful, grave, with anxious lines already deepeningthe seriousness of the too serious mouth. 

Priscilla cut some bread and butter and poured out some tea for heraunt and for herself. 

Miss Rachel Peel was not the least like her niece. She was short andrather dumpy. She had a sensible, downright sort of face, and she tooklife with a gravity which would have oppressed a less earnest spiritthan Priscilla's. 

"Well, I'm tired, " she said, when the meal was over. "I suppose I'vedone a great deal more than I thought I had all day. I think I'll goto bed early. We have said all our last words, haven't we, Priscilla?"

"Pretty nearly, Aunt Raby. "

"Oh, yes, that reminds me-- there's one thing more. Your fees will beall right, of course, and your traveling, and I have arranged aboutyour washing money. "

"Yes, Aunt Raby, oh, yes; everything is all right. "

Priscilla fidgeted, moved her position a little and looked longinglyout of the window. 

"You must have a little money over and above these things, " proceededMiss 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 forpocket-money, you understand, child. "

The girl's old-young face flushed painfully. 

"I'll want a few pence for stamps, of course, " she said. "But Isha'n't write a great many letters. I'll be a great deal too busystudying. You need not allow me anything like so large a sum as that, Aunt Raby. "

"Nonsense, child. You'll find it all too small when you go out intothe world. You are a clever girl, Prissie, and I'm going to be proudof 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 learnedenough, but you'll be a woman with it all. I wouldn't have you stintedfor the world, Prissie, my dear. Yes, I'll make it ten shillings amonth-- yes, I will. I can easily screw that sum out of the buttermoney. Now, not another word. I'm off to bed. Good night, my love. "

Priscilla kissed her aunt and went out. It was a lovely autumnevening. She stepped on to the green sward which surrounded the littlecottage, and with the moonlight casting its full radiance on her slimfigure, looked steadily out over the sea. The cottage was on the topof some high cliffs. The light of the moon made a bright path over thewater, and Priscilla had a good view of shining, silvered water anddark, deep blue sky. 

She stood perfectly still, gazing straight out before her. Some of thereflection and brightness of the moonlight seemed to get into heranxious eyes and the faint dawn of a new-born hope to tremble aroundher lips. She thought herself rich with ten shillings a monthpocket-money. She returned to the house, feeling overpowered at AuntRaby's goodness. 

Upstairs in Prissie's room there were two beds. One was small; in thisshe herself slept. The other had now three occupants. Three heads wereraised when Prissie entered the room and three shrill voicesexclaimed:

"Here we are, all wide awake, Prissie, darling!"

This remark, made simultaneously, was followed by prolonged peals oflaughter. 

"Three of you in that small bed!" said Priscilla. 

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 afervent hug-- "how did you slip out of Aunt Raby's room?"

"Oh, I managed to, " said Hattie in a stage whisper. "Aunt Raby cameupstairs half an hour ago, and she undressed very fast, and got intobed, and I heard her snoring in about a minute. It was then I slippedaway. She never heard. "

"Hop up on the bed now, Prissie, " exclaimed Rose, another of thechildren, "and let us all have a chat. Here, Katie, if you'll promisenot to cry, you may get into the middle, between Hattie and me, thenyou'll be very close to darling Prissie. "

Katie was the youngest of the three occupants of the bed; she wasabout eight years old; her small face was delicate in its outline, hermouth peevish; she did not look a strong child, and self-control couldscarcely be expected of her. 

Priscilla placed her candle on the chimney-piece, jumped on the bedaccording to orders and looked earnestly at her three small sisters. 

"Now, Prissie, " said Hattie in the important little voice which shealways used, "begin, go on-- tell us all about your grand collegelife. "

"How can I, Hattie, when I don't know what to say. I can't guess whatI am to do at college. "

"Oh, dear, " sighed Rose, "I only wish I were the one to go! It will bevery dull living with Aunt Raby when you are away, Priscilla. Shewon't let us take long walks, and if ever we go in for a real, jollylark we are sure to be punished. Oh, dear, oh, dear!"

"Even though it is for your good, I wish with all my heart you werenot going away, Prissie, " said Hattie in her blunt fashion. 

Katie burst into sudden loud wails. 

Priscilla colored. Then she spoke with firmness. "We have had enoughof 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 is the use of making things harder? You know, perfectly, you two elder ones, why I must go away, and you, Katie, youknow also, don't you, pet?"

"Yes, Prissie, " answered Katie, speaking in a broken, half-sobbingvoice, "only I am so lonely. "

"But you're not going to be selfish, darling. By and by I'll come backto you all. Once every year, at least, I'll come back. And then, afterI've gone through my course of study, I'll get a situation of somesort-- 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 ajolly time. Why, Katie will be only eleven then. "

Priscilla spoke in a remarkably cheerful voice, but the appallingmagnitude of three years could not be diminished, and the three littlesisters who were to stay behind with Aunt Raby were still disposed toview things dismally. 

"If she wasn't just what she is----" began Hattie. 

"If she didn't think the least tiny morsel of a lark wrong----"continued Rose. 

"Why, then we could pull along somehow, " sighed Hattie. 

"Oh, you'll pull along as it is, " said Priscilla "I'll write to you asoften as ever I can. If possible I'll keep a sort of journal and sendit to you. And perhaps there'll be stories and larks in it. Now youreally 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'tthat be a treat?"

"Oh, yes, Prissie. "

Katie's pale face was lit up by a radiant smile; Hattie and Rose laydown side by side and closed their eyes. In a few moments they weresound asleep. 

As they lay in the sound, happy sleep of healthy childhood Priscillabent over them and kissed them. Then before she lay down herself sheknelt by the window, looked up at the clear, dark sky in which themoon sailed in majesty, bent her head, murmured a few words of prayer, then crept into bed by her little sister's side. 

Prissie felt full of courage and good resolves. She was going out intothe world to-morrow, and she was quite determined that the worldshould not conquer her, although she knew that she was a very poormaiden with a specially heavy load of care on her young shoulders. 

 CHAPTER II

 THE DELIGHTS OF BEING A FRESHER

THE college was quite shut away in its own grounds, and only from theupper windows did the girls get a peep of the old university town ofKingsdene. From these, however, particularly in the winter, they couldsee the gabled colleges, the chapels with their rich glory ofarchitecture and the smooth lawns of the college gardens as theysloped gently down to the river. 

St. Benet's, the college for women, was approached by a private road, and high entrance gates obstructed the gaze of the curious. Insidethere were cheerful halls and pleasant gardens and gay, fresh, unrestrained life. But the passer-by got no peep of these thingsunless the high gates happened to be open. 

This was the first evening of term, and most of the girls were back. There was nothing very particular going on, and they were walkingabout the gardens, and greeting old friends, and telling each othertheir experiences, and more or less picking up the threads which hadbeen broken or loosened in the long vacation. 

The evenings were drawing in, but the pleasant twilight which was soonto be rendered brilliant by the full moon seemed to the girls evennicer than broad daylight to linger about in. They did not want to gointo the houses; they flitted about in groups here and there, chattingand laughing merrily. 

St. Benet's had three halls, each with its own vice-principal, and acertain number of resident students. Each hall stood in its owngrounds and was more or less a complete home in itself. There wereresident lecturers and demonstrators for the whole college and onelady principal, who took the lead and was virtually head of thecollege. 

Miss Vincent was the name of the present principal. She was an oldlady and had a vice-principal under her at Vincent Hall, the largestand newest of these spacious homes, where young women received theadvantages of university instruction to prepare them for the battle oflife. 

Priscilla was to live at Heath Hall-- a slightly smaller house, whichstood at a little distance away-- its grounds being divided from thegrounds of Vincent Hall by means of a rustic paling. Miss Heath wasthe very popular vice-principal of this hall, and Prissie wasconsidered a fortunate girl to obtain a home in her house. She sat nowa forlorn and rather scared young person, huddled up in one corner ofthe fly which turned in at the wide gates, and finally deposited herand her luggage at the back entrance of Heath Hall. 

Priscilla looked out in the darkness of the autumn night withfrightened eyes. She hated herself for feeling nervous. She had toldAunt Raby that, of course, she would have no silly tremors, yet hereshe was trembling and scarcely able to pay the cabman his fare. 

She heard a girl's laugh in the distance, and it caused her to startso violently that she dropped one of her few treasured sixpences, which went rolling about aimlessly almost under the horse's hoofs. 

"Stop a minute, I'll find it for you, " said a voice. A tall girl withbig, brown eyes suddenly darted into view, picked up the sixpence asif by magic, popped it into Priscilla's hand and then vanished. Priscilla knew that this was the girl who had laughed; she heard herlaughing again as she turned to join some one who was standing besidea laurel hedge. The two linked their arms together and walked off inthe darkness. 

"Such a frightened poor fresher!" said the girl who had picked up thesixpence to her companion. 

"Maggie, " said the other in a warning voice, "I know you, I know whatyou mean to do. "

"My dear, good Nancy, it is more than I know myself. What awfulindiscretion does your prophetic soul see me perpetrating?"

"Oh, Maggie, as if anything could change your nature! You know you'lltake up that miserable fresher for about a fortnight, and make herimagine that you are going to be excellent friends for the rest ofyour life, and then-- p---- f! you'll snuff her out as if she hadnever existed; I know you, Maggie, and I call it cruel. "

"Is not that Miss Banister I hear talking?" said a voice quite closeto the two girls. 

They both turned, and immediately with heightened color rushed upeagerly to shake hands with the vice-principal of their college. 

"How do you do, my dears?" she said in a hearty voice. "Are you quitewell, Maggie, and you, Nancy? Had you a pleasant holiday? And did youtwo great chums spend it together?"

The girls began answering eagerly; some other girls came up and joinedthe group, all anxious to shake hands with Miss Heath and to get aword of greeting from her. 

At this moment the dressing-gong for dinner sounded, and the littlegroup moved slowly toward the house. 

In the entrance hall numbers of girls who had recently arrived werestanding about; all had a nod, or a smile, or a kiss for MaggieOliphant. 

"How do you do, Miss Oliphant? Come and see me to-night in my room, won't you, dear?" issued from many throats. 

Maggie promised in her good-natured, affectionate, wholesale way. 

Nancy Banister was also greeted by several friends. She, too, was gayand bright, but quieter than Maggie. Her face was more reliable in itsexpression, but not nearly so beautiful. 

"If you accept all these invitations, Maggie, " she said as the twogirls walked down the corridor which led to their rooms, "you know youwill have to sit up until morning. Why will you say 'yes' to everyone? You know it only causes disappointment and jealousy. "

Maggie laughed. 

"My dear, good creature, don't worry your righteous soul, " sheanswered. "I'll call on all the girls I can, and the others must grinand 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. Whohave they dared to put into her room? It must be one of those wretchedfreshers. I don't think I can bear it. I shall have to go away intoanother corridor. "

"Maggie, dear-- you are far too sensitive. Could the college afford tokeep a room empty because poor, dear Annie Lee occupied it?"

"They could, they ought, " burst from Maggie. She stamped her foot withanger. "That room is a shrine to me. It will always be a shrine. Ishall hate the person who lives in it. " Tears filled her bright browneyes. Her arched, proud lips trembled. She opened her door, and goinginto her room, shut it with a bang, almost in Nancy Banister's face. 

Nancy stood still for a moment. A quick sigh came from her lips. 

"Maggie is the dearest girl in the college, " she said to herself; "thedearest, the sweetest, the prettiest, yet also the most tantalizing, the most provoking, the most inconsequent. It is the greatest wondershe has kept so long out of some serious scrape. She will never leavehere without doing something outrageous, and yet there isn't a girl inthe place to be named with her. I wish--" here Nancy sighed again andput her hand to her brow as if to chase away some perplexity. 

Then, after a moment's hesitation, she went up to the door of the roomnext to Maggie's and knocked. 

There was a moment's silence, then a constrained voice said:

"Come in. "

Nancy entered at once. 

Priscilla Peel was standing in the center of the room. The electriclight was turned on, revealing the bareness and absence of allornament of the apartment; a fire was laid in the grate but not lit, and Priscilla's ugly square trunk, its canvas covering removed, stoodin a prominent position, half on the hearthrug, half on the square ofcarpet which covered the center of the floor. Priscilla had taken offher jacket and hat. She had washed her hands, and removed her muddyboots, and smoothed out her straight, light brown hair. She lookedwhat she felt-- a very stiff and unformed specimen of girlhood. Therewas a great lump in her throat, brought there by mingled nervousnessand home-sickness, but that very fact only made her manner icy andrepellent. 

"Forgive me, " said Nancy, blushing all over her rosy face. "I thoughtperhaps you might like to know one or two things as you are quitestrange 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 areturning so chilly now, and a fire in one's room gives one a home-likefeeling, doesn't it? Shall I light it for you?"

"No, no, thank you, " said Priscilla stiffly. She longed to rush atNancy and smother her with kisses, but she could only stand in themiddle of her room, helpless and awkward, held in a terrible bondageof shyness. 

Nancy drew back a step, chilled in spite of herself. 

"I see there are matches on the chimney-piece, " she said, "so you canlight the fire yourself whenever you like. The gong that will sound ina minute will be for dinner, and Miss Heath always likes us to bepunctual for that meal. It does not matter about any other. Do youthink you can find your way to the dining-hall or shall I come andfetch you?"

"No-- thank you. I-- I can manage. "

"But I'll come with pleasure if you like me to. "

"No, I'd rather you didn't trouble, please. "

"Very well; if you're sure you know the way. You go down the broadstairs, then turn to the right, then to the left. Good-by. I must rushoff, or I shall be late. "

Nancy shut the door behind her. She did it gently, although she didnot feel gentle, for she had a distinct sensation of being irritated. 

Meanwhile Priscilla, clasping her hands together behind the closeddoor, looked yearningly in the direction where the bright face andtrim, neat girlish figure had stood. She was trembling slightly andher eyes slowly filled with tears. 

"I feel sick and lonely and horrid, " she said under her breath. "Talkof nerves; oh, if Aunt Raby could see me now! Why, I'm positivelyshaking, I can scarcely speak, I can scarcely think properly. Whatwould the children say if they saw their Prissie now? And I'm the girlwho is to fight the world, and kill the dragon, and make a home forthe nestlings. Don't I feel like it! Don't I look like it! Don't Ijust loathe myself! How hideously I do my hair, and what a frightfuldress I have on. Oh, I wish I weren't shaking so much. I know I shallget red all over at dinner. I wish I weren't going to dinner. I wish, oh, I wish I were at home again. "

Crash! bang! pealed the great gong through the house. Doors wereopened all along the corridor; light steps passed Priscilla's room. She heard the rustle of silk and the sweet, high tinkle of girlishlaughter. 

She stayed in her room till the last footsteps had died away, then indesperation made a rush for it, flew down the wide stairs in a bashfulagony, and, as a matter of course, entered the spacious dining-hall bythe door devoted to the dons. 

A girl's life at one of the women's colleges is supposed to be more orless an unfettered sort of existence. The broad rules guiding conductare few and little more than those which must be exercised in anywell-organized family. But there is the unspoken etiquette madechiefly by the students themselves, which fills the place like anatmosphere, and which can only be transgressed at the risk of surlyglances and muttered comments and even words of derision. 

No student was expected to enter the hall by the dons' entrance, andfor this enormity to be perpetrated by a fresher immediately made herthe cynosure of all eyes. Poor Priscilla was unconscious of anyoffense. She grew scarlet under the gaze of the merciless young eyesand further added to her sins by sitting down at one of the tables atthe top of the hall. 

No one reproved her in words or requested her to take a lower seat, but some rude giggles were not inaudible; and Priscilla, who wouldthankfully have taken her dinner in the scullery, heard hints about acertain young person's presumption, and about the cheek of thosewretched freshers, which must instantly be put down with a high hand. 

Priscilla had choked over her soup, and was making poor way with thefish that followed, when suddenly a sweet, low voice addressed her. 

"This is your first evening at St. Benet's, " said the voice. "I hopeyou will be happy. I know you will, after a little. "

Priscilla turned and met the full gaze of lovely eyes, brown like anut, soft and deep as the thick pile of velvet, and yet with a latentflash and glow in them which gave them a red, half-wild gleam now andthen. The lips that belonged to this face were slightly parted in asmile; the smile and the expression in the eyes stole straight downwith a glow of delicious comfort into Priscilla's heart. 

"Thank you, " she said in her stiff, wooden tone; but her eyes did notlook stiff, and the girl began to talk again. 

"I believe my room is next to yours. My name is Oliphant-- MargaretOliphant, but every one calls me Maggie. That is, of course, I mean myfriends do. Would you like to come into my room and let me tell yousome of the rules?"

"Thank you, " said Priscilla again. She longed to add, "I should lovebeyond words to come into your room"; but instead she remarked icily, "I think Miss Heath has given me printed rules. "

"Oh, you have seen our dear Dorothea-- I mean Miss Heath. Isn't shelovely?"

"I don't know, " answered Priscilla. "I think she's rather a plainperson. "

"My dear Miss"-- I have not caught your name-- "you really are toodeliciously prosaic. Stay here for a month, and then tell me if youthink 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 meanthe printed rules. We have, I assure you, at St. Benet's all kinds oflittle etiquettes which we expect each other to observe. We aresupposed to be democratic and inclined to go in for all that isadvanced in womanhood. But, oh dear, oh dear! let any student dare tobreak one of our own little pet proprieties, and you will see howconservative we can be. "

"Have I broken any of them?" asked Priscilla in alarm. "I did noticethat every one stared at me when I came into the hall, but I thoughtit was because my face was fresh, and I hoped people would getaccustomed to me by and by. "

"You poor, dear child, there are lots of fresh faces here besidesyours. You should have come down under the shelter of my wing, then itwould have been all right. "

"But what have I done? Do tell me. I'd much rather know. "

"Well, dear, you have only come into the hall by the dons' entrance, and you have only seated yourself at the top of the table, where thelearned students who are going in for a tripos take their augustmeals. That is pretty good for a fresher. Forgive me, we call the newgirls freshers for a week or two. Oh, you have done nothing wrong. Ofcourse not, how could you know any better? Only I think it would benice to put you up to our little rules, would it not?"

"I should be very much obliged, " said Priscilla. "And please tell menow where I ought to sit at dinner. "

Miss Oliphant's merry eyes twinkled. 

"Look down this long hall, " she said. "Observe that door at thefurther end-- that is the students' door; through that door you oughtto have entered. "

"Yes-- well, well?"

"What an impatient 'well, well. ' I shall make you quite anenthusiastic Benetite before dinner is over. "

Priscilla blushed. 

"I am sorry I spoke too eagerly, " she said. 

"Oh, no, not a bit too eagerly. "

"But please tell me where I ought to have seated myself. "

"There is a table near that lower entrance, Miss----"

"Peel, " interposed Priscilla. "My name is Priscilla Peel. "

"How quaint and great-grandmotherly. Quite delicious! Well, Miss Peel, by that entrance door is a table, a table rather in a draught, andconsecrated to the freshers-- there the freshers humbly partake ofnourishment. "

"I see. Then I am as far from the right place as I can be. "

"About as far as you can be. "

"And that is why all the girls have stared so at me. "

"Yes, of course; but let them stare. Who minds such a trifle?"

Priscilla sat silent for a few moments. One of the neat waiting-maidsremoved her plate; her almost untasted dinner lay upon it. MissOliphant turned to attack some roast mutton with truly British vigor. 

By and by Priscilla's voice, stiff but with a break in it, fell uponher ear. 

"I think the students at St. Benet's must be very cruel. "

"My dear Miss Peel, the honor of the most fascinating college inEngland is imperiled. Unsay those words. "

Maggie Oliphant was joking. Her voice was gay with badinage, her eyesbrimful of laughter. But Priscilla, unaccustomed to light repartee orchaff in any form, replied to her with heavy and pained seriousness. 

"I think the students here are cruel, " she repeated. "How can astranger know which is the dons' entrance and which is the right seatto take at table? If nobody shows her, how can a stranger know? I dothink the students are cruel, and I am sorry-- very sorry I came. "

 CHAPTER III

 AN UNWILLING AT HOME

MOST of the girls who sat at those dinner-tables had fringed ortousled or curled locks. Priscilla's were brushed simply away from herbroad forehead. After saying her last words, she bent her head lowover her plate and longed even for the protection of a fringe to hideher burning blushes. Her momentary courage had evaporated; she wasshocked at having betrayed herself to a stranger; her brief fit ofpassion left her stiffer and shyer than ever. Blinding tears rushed toPriscilla's eyes, and her terror was that they would drop on to herplate. Suppose some of those horrid girls saw her crying? Hatefulthought. She would rather die than show emotion before them. 

At this moment a soft, plump little hand was slipped into hers and thesweetest of voices said:

"I am so sorry anything has seemed unkind to you. Believe me, we arenot what you imagine. We have our fun and our prejudices, of course, but we are not what you think we are. "

Priscilla could not help smiling, nor could she resist slightlysqueezing the fingers which touched hers. 

"You are not unkind, I know, " she answered; and she ate the rest ofher dinner in a comforted frame of mind. 

After dinner one of the lecturers who resided at Heath Hall, apleasant, bright girl of two- or three-and-twenty, came and introducedherself, and presently took Priscilla with her to her own room, totalk over the line of study which the young girl proposed to take up. This conference lasted some little time, and then Priscilla, in thelecturer's company, returned to the hall for tea. 

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 themaway to partake of in their own private rooms. 

Maggie Oliphant and Nancy Banister presently rushed in for thispurpose. Maggie, seeing Priscilla, ran up to her. 

"How are you getting on?" she asked brightly. "Oh, by-the-by, will youcocoa with me to-night at half-past ten?"

"I don't know what you mean, " answered Priscilla. "But I'll do it, "she added, her eyes brightening. 

"All right, I'll explain the simple ceremony when you come. My room isnext to yours, so you'll have no difficulty in finding me out. I don'texpect to have any one present except Miss Banister, " nodding her headin Nancy's direction, "and perhaps one other girl. By-by, I'll see youat half-past ten. "

Maggie turned to leave the hall, but Nancy lingered for a moment byPriscilla's side. 

"Wouldn't you like to take your tea up to your room?" she asked. "Wemost of us do it. You may, you know. "

"I don't think I wish to, " answered Priscilla in an uncertain voice. 

Nancy half turned to go, then came back. 

"You are going to unpack by and by, aren't you?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes, when I get back to my room. "

"Perhaps you ought to know beforehand; the girls will be coming tocall. "

Priscilla raised her eyes. 

"What girls?" she asked, alarm in her tone. 

"Oh, most of the students in your corridor. They always call on afresher the first night in her room. You need not bother yourselfabout 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. "

"What you tell me sounds so very-- very formal. "

"But it isn't-- not really. Shall I come and help you to entertainthem?"

"I wish----" began Priscilla. She hesitated; the words seemed to stickin her throat. 

"What did you say?" Nancy bent forward a little impatiently. 

"I wish-- yes, do come, " with a violent effort. 

"All right, you may expect me. "

Nancy flew after Maggie Oliphant, and Priscilla went slowly up thewide, luxurious stairs. She turned down the corridor which led to herown room. There were doors leading out of this corridor at both sides, and Priscilla caught glimpses of luxurious rooms bright with flowersand electric light. Girls were laughing and chatting in them; she sawpictures on the walls and lounges and chairs scattered about. Her ownroom was at the far end of the corridor. The electric light was alsobrightening it, but the fire was unlit, and the presence of theunpacked trunk, taking up a position of prominence on the floor, gaveit a very unhomelike feel. In itself the room was particularlypicturesque. It had two charming lattice windows, set in deep squarebays. One window faced the fireplace, the other the door. The effectwas slightly irregular, but for that very reason all the morecharming. The walls of the room were painted light blue; there was alooking-glass over the mantel-piece set in a frame of the palest, mostdelicate blue. A picture-rail ran round the room about six feet fromthe ground, and the high frieze above had a scroll of wild rosespainted on it in bold, free relief. 

The panels of the doors were also decorated with sprays of wildflowers in picturesque confusion. Both the flowers and the scroll wereboldly designed, but were unfinished, the final and completing touchesremaining yet to be given. 

Priscilla looked hungrily at these unexpected trophies of art. Shecould have shouted with glee as she recognized some of her dear, wildDevonshire flowers, among the groups on the door panels. She wonderedif all the rest of the students were treated to these artisticdecorations and grew a little happier and less homesick at thethought. 

Priscilla could have been an artist herself had the opportunityarisen, but she was one of those girls all alive with aspiration andlonging who never up to the present had come in the way of specialculture in any style. 

She stood for some time gazing at the groups of wild flowers, thenremembering with horror that she was to receive visitors that night, she looked round the room to see if she could do anything to make itappear homelike and inviting. 

It was a nice room, certainly. Priscilla had never before in her wholelife occupied such a luxurious apartment, and yet it had a cold, dreary, uninhabited feel. She had an intuition that none of the otherstudents' rooms looked like hers. She rushed to light the fire, butcould not find the matches, which had been removed from their place onthe mantel-piece, and felt far too shy to ring the electric bell. Itwas Priscilla's fashion to clasp her hands together when she felt asense of dismay, and she did so now as she looked around the prettyroom, which yet with all its luxuries looked to her cold and dreary. 

The furniture was excellent of its kind. A Turkey carpet covered thecenter of the floor, the boards round the edge were stained andbrightly polished. In one corner of the room was a little bed, made tolook like a sofa by day, with a Liberty cretonne covering. A curtainof the same shut away the wardrobe and washing apparatus. Just underone of the bay windows stood a writing-table, so contrived as to forma writing-table, and a bookcase at the top, and a chest of drawers tohold linen below. Besides this there was a small square table for teain the room and a couple of chairs. The whole effect was undoubtedlybare. 

Priscilla was hesitating whether to begin to unpack her trunk or notwhen a light knock was heard at her door. She said "Come in, " and twogirls burst rather noisily into the apartment. 

"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 youclever?"

These queries issued rapidly from the lips of the tallest of thegirls. She had red hair, tousled and tossed about her head. Her facewas essentially commonplace; her small restless eyes now glanced atPriscilla, now wandered over the room. She did not wait for a reply toany of her queries, but turned rapidly to her companion. 

"I told you so, Polly, " she said. "I was quite sure that she was goingto be put into Miss Lee's room. You see, I'm right; this is AnnabelLee's old room; it has never been occupied since. "

"Hush!" said the other girl. 

The two walked across the apartment and seated themselves onPriscilla's bed. 

There came a fresh knock at the door, and this time three studentsentered. They barely nodded to Priscilla and then rushed across theroom with cries of rapture to greet the girls who were seated on thebed. 

"How do you do, Miss Atkins? How do you do, Miss Jones?"

Miss Jones and Miss Atkins exchanged kisses with Miss Phillips, MissMarsh and Miss Day. The babel of tongues rose high, and every one hadsomething to say with regard to the room which had been assigned toPriscilla. 

"Look, " said Miss Day, "it was in that corner she had herrocking-chair. Girls, do you remember Annabel's rocking-chair, and howshe used to sway herself backward and forward in it and half-shut herlovely eyes?"

"Oh, and don't I just seem to see that little red tea-table of hersnear the fire, " burst from Miss Marsh. "That Japanese table, with theJapanese tea-set-- oh dear, oh dear! those cups of tea-- those cakes!Well, the room was luxurious, was worth coming to see in Annabel'stime. "

"It's more than it is now, " laughed Miss Jones in a harsh voice. "Howbare the walls look without her pictures. It was in that recess thelarge figure of Hope by Burne-Jones used to hang, and there, thatqueer, wild, wonderful head looking out of clouds. You know she neverwould tell us the artist's name. Yes, she had pretty thingseverywhere! How the room is altered! I don't think I care for it a bitnow. "

"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, butit wore a wistful expression as she uttered these words. 

All this time Priscilla was standing, feeling utterly shy andmiserable. From time to time other girls came in; they nodded to herand then rushed upon their companions. The eager talk began afresh, and always there were looks of regret and allusions, accompanied bysighs, to the girl who had lived in the room last. 

"Well, " said one merry little girl, who was spoken to by the others asAda Hardy, "I have no doubt that by and by, when Miss----" She glancedtoward Priscilla. 

"Peel, " faltered Priscilla. 

"When Miss Peel unpacks her trunk, she'll make the room look verypretty, too. "

"She can't, " said Miss Day in a tragic voice; "she never could makethe room look at it used to-- not if she was to live till the age ofMethuselah. Of course you'll improve it, Miss Peel; you couldn'tpossibly exist in it as it is now. "

"I can tell you of a capital shop in Kingsdene, Miss Peel, " said MissMarsh, "where you can buy tables and chairs, and pretty artisticcloths, and little whatnots of all descriptions. I'd advise you to goto Rigg's. He's in the High Street, No. 48. "

"But Spilman has much the most recherche' articles, you know, Lucy, "interposed Miss Day. "I'll walk over to Spilman's to-morrow with you, if you like, Miss Peel. "

Before Priscilla had time to reply there was again a knock at thedoor, and this time Nancy Banister, looking flushed and pretty, camein. 

She took in the scene at a glance; numbers of girls making themselvesat home in Priscilla's room, some seated on her trunk, some on herbureau, several curled up in comfortable attitudes on her bed and sheherself standing, meek, awkward, depressed, near one of the windows. 

"How tired you look, Miss Peel!" said Nancy Banister. 

Priscilla smiled gratefully at her. 

"And your trunk is not unpacked yet?"

"Oh! there is time enough, " faltered Priscilla. 

"Are we in your way?" suddenly spoke Miss Marsh, springing to herfeet. "Good night. My name is Marsh, my room is thirty-eight. "

She swung herself lazily and carelessly out of the room, followed, atlonger or shorter intervals, by the other girls, who all nodded toPriscilla, told her their names and one or two the numbers of theirrooms. At last she was left alone with Nancy Banister. 

"Poor thing! How tired and white you look!" said Nancy. "But now thatdreadful martyrdom is over, you shall have a real cozy time. Don't youwant a nice hot cup of cocoa? It will be ready in a minute or two. Andplease may I help you to unpack?"

"Thank you, " said Priscilla; her teeth were chattering. "If I mighthave a fire?" she asked suddenly. 

"Oh, you poor, shivering darling! Of course. Are there no matcheshere? There were some on the mantel-piece before dinner. No, I declarethey have vanished. How careless of the maid. I'll run into Maggie'sroom and fetch some. "

Miss Banister was not a minute away. She returned with a box ofmatches, and, stooping down, set a light to the wood, and a pleasantfire was soon blazing and crackling merrily. 

"Now, isn't that better?" said Nancy. "Please sit down on your bed andgive me the key of your trunk. I'll soon have the things out and putall to rights for you. I'm a splendid unpacker. "

But Priscilla had no desire to have her small and meager wardrobeoverhauled even by the kindest of St. Benet's girls. 

"I will unpack presently myself, if you don't mind, " she said. Shefelt full of gratitude, but she could not help an almost surly tonecoming into her voice. 

Nancy drew back, repulsed and distressed. 

"Perhaps you would like me to go away?" she said. "I will go intoMaggie's room and let you know when cocoa is ready. "

"Thank you, " said Prissie. Miss Banister disappeared, and Priscillasat on by the fire, unconscious that she had given any pain orannoyance, thinking with gratitude of Nancy, and with feelings of loveof Maggie Oliphant, and wondering what her little sisters were doingwithout her at home to-night. 

By and by there came a tap at her door. Priscilla ran to open it. MissOliphant stood outside. 

"Won't you come in?" said Priscilla, throwing the door wide open andsmiling with joy. It was already delightful to her to look at Maggie. "Please come in, " she added in a tone almost of entreaty. 

Maggie Oliphant started and turned pale. "Into that room? No, no, Ican't, " she said in a queer voice. She rushed back to her own, leavingPriscilla standing in amazement by her open door. 

There was a moment's silence. Then Miss Oliphant's voice, rich, softand lazy, was heard within the shelter of her own apartment. 

"Please come in, Miss Peel; cocoa awaits you. Do not stand onceremony. "

Priscilla went timidly across the landing, and the instant foundherself in one of the prettiest of the students' rooms at St. Benet's. A few rare prints and some beautiful photogravures of well-knownpictures adorned the walls. The room was crowded with knick-knacks andrendered gay and sweet by many tall flowers in pots. A piano stoodopen by one of the walls and a violin lay carelessly on a chair notfar off. There were piles of new music and some tempting, small, neatly bound books lying about. A fire glowed on the hearth and alittle brass kettle sang merrily on the hob. The cocoa-table was drawnup in front of the fire and on a quaintly shaped tray stood the brightlittle cocoa-pot and the oddly devised cups and saucers. 

"Welcome to St. Benet's!" said Maggie, going up and taking Priscilla'shand cordially within her own. "Now you'll have to get into this lowchair and make yourself quite at home and happy. "

"How snug you are here, " said Prissie, her eyes brightening and a pinkcolor 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 momentshe said with a look of apparent regret:

"I thought Miss Banister was in your room?"

"No; Nancy has gone to her own room at the end of the corridor to dosome work for an hour. She will come back to say good night. Shealways does. Are you sorry to have me by myself?"

"Indeed I am not, " said Priscilla. The smile, which made her ratherplain face attractive, crept slowly back to it. Maggie poured out acup of cocoa and brought it to her. Then, drawing another chairforward, she seated herself in it, sipped her own cocoa and began totalk. 

Long afterward Priscilla remembered that talk. It was not what Maggiesaid, for her conversation in itself was not at all brilliant, but itwas the sound of her rich, calm, rather lazy voice, the differentlights which glanced and gleamed in her eyes, the dimples about hermouth, the attitude she put herself in. Maggie had a way of changingcolor, too, which added to her fascination. Sometimes the beautifuloval of her face would he almost ivory white, but then again a rosycloud would well up and up the cheeks and even slightly suffuse thebroad, low forehead. Her face was never long the same, never more thana moment in repose; eyes, mouth, brow, even the very waves of her hairseemed to Priscilla, this first night as she sat by her hearth, to beall speech. 

The girls grew cozy and confidential together. Priscilla told Maggieabout her home, a little also about her past history and her motive incoming to St. Benet's. Maggie sympathized with all the expression shewas 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. 

She had just reached the door of Maggie's room, and was about to turnthe handle, when a sudden thought arrested her. She came back a fewsteps. 

"May I ask you a question?" she said. 

"Certainly, " replied Miss Oliphant. 

"Who is the girl who used to live in my room? Annabel Lee, the othergirls call her. Who is she? What is there remarkable about her?"

To Priscilla's astonishment, Maggie started a step forward, her eyesblazed with an expression which was half frightened-- half angry. Sheinterlocked one soft hand inside the other, her face grew white, hardand strained. 

"You must not ask me about Annabel Lee, " she said in a whisper, "forI-- I can tell you nothing about her. I can never tell you about her--never. "

Then she rushed to her sofa-bed, flung herself upon it face downward, and burst into queer, silent, distressful tears. 

Some one touched Priscilla softly an her shoulder. 

"Let me take you to your room, Miss Peel, " said Nancy Banister. "Don'ttake any notice of Maggie; she will be all right by and by. "

Nancy took Priscilla's hand and walked with her across the corridor. 

"I am so sorry I said anything to hurt Miss Oliphant, " said Priscilla. 

"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. "

"But I don't know anything now. Please will you tell me who AnnabelLee is?"

"Hush! don't speak so loud. Annabel Lee" Nancy's eyes filled withtears-- "no girl in the college was so popular. "

"Why do you say was? and why do you cry?"

"I did not know that I cried. Annabel Lee is dead. "

"Oh!"

Priscilla walked into her room and Nancy went back to Maggie Oliphant. 

 CHAPTER IV

 AN EAVESDROPPER

THE students at St. Benet's were accustomed to unlimited license inthe matter of sitting up at night. At a certain hour the electriclight were put out, but each girl was well supplied with candles andcould sit up and pursue her studies into the small hours, if shewilled. 

It was late when Priscilla left Maggie Oliphant's room on this firstnight, but, long as her journey had been, and tired as she undoubtedlyfelt, the events of the evening had excited her, and she did not careto go to bed. Her fire was now burning well, and her room was warm andcozy. She drew the bolt of her door, and, unlocking her trunk, beganto unpack. She was a methodical girl and well trained. Miss RachelPeel had instilled order into Priscilla from her earliest days, andshe now quickly disposed of her small but neat wardrobe. Her linenwould just fit into the drawers of the bureau. Her two or threedresses and jackets were hung tidily away behind the curtain whichformed her wardrobe. 

Priscilla pushed her empty trunk against the wall, folded up the bitsof string and paper which lay scattered about, and then, slowlyundressing, she got into bed. 

She undressed with a certain sense of luxuriousness and pleasure. Herroom began to look charming to her now that her things were unpacked, and the first sharp pain of her homesickness was greatly softenedsince she had fallen in love with Maggie Oliphant. 

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 toher, new, exciting. Now she was really very tired, and the moment shelaid her head on her pillow would doubtless be asleep. 

She got into bed, and, putting out her candle, lay down. The firelightplayed on the pale blue walls and lit up the bold design of thebriar-roses which ran round the frieze at the top of the room. 

Priscilla wondered why she did not drop asleep at once. She felt vexedwith herself when she discovered that each instant the chance ofslumber was flying before her, that every moment her tired body becamemore restless and wide-awake. She could not help gazing at that scrollof briar-roses; she could not help thinking of the hand that hadpainted the flowers, of the girl whose presence had once made the roomin which she now lay so charming. 

Priscilla had not yet been twelve hours at St. Benet's, and yet almostevery student she had met had spoken of Annabel Lee-- had spoken ofher with interest, with regret. One girl had gone further than this;she had breathed her name with bitter sorrow. 

Priscilla wished she had not been put into this room. She feltabsolutely nervous; she had a sense of usurping some one else's place, of turning somebody else out into the cold. She did not believe inghosts, but she had an uncomfortable sensation, and it would not havegreatly surprised her if Annabel had come gliding back in the nightwatches to put the finishing touches to those scrolls of wild flowerswhich ornamented the panels of the doors, and to the design of thebriar-rose which ran round the frieze of the room. Annabel might comein, and pursue this work in stealthy spirit fashion, and then glide upto her, and ask her to get out of this little white bed, and let thestrange visitor, to whom it had once belonged, rest in it herself oncemore. 

Annabel Lee! It was a queer name-- a wild, bewitching sort of a name--the name of a girl in a song. 

Priscilla knew many of Poe's strange songs, and she found herself nowmurmuring some words which used to fascinate her long ago:

 "And the angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes! that was the reason (as all men know In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee! "But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we-- Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. "

Some ashes fell from the expiring fire; Priscilla jumped up in bedwith a start. Her heart was beating fast. She thought of Maggie'sexquisite face. She remembered it as she had seen it that night whenthey were sitting by the fire, as she had seen it last, when it turnedso white and the eyes blazed at her in anger. 

Priscilla stretched out her hand for a box of matches. She would lighther 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 toAunt Raby and to her little sisters. Such methodical work would calmnerves not often so highly strung. 

She rose, and fetching her neat little leather writing-case from whereshe had placed it on the top of her bureau, prepared to open it. 

The little case was locked. Priscilla went over to her curtainedwardrobe, pushed it aside and felt in the pocket of the dress she hadworn that day for her purse. It was not there. Within that purse thelittle key was safely hiding, but the purse itself was nowhere to befound. 

Priscilla looked all around the room. In vain; the neat brown-leatherpurse, which held the key, some very precious memoranda of differentsorts and her small store of worldly wealth, was nowhere to be found. 

She stood still for a moment in perplexity. All her nervous fears hadnow completely vanished; a real calamity and a grave one stared her inthe face. Suppose her purse were gone? Suppose it had been stolen? Thevery small supply of money which that purse contained was mostprecious to Priscilla. It seemed to her that nothing could well bemore terrible than for her now to have to apply to Aunt Raby for freshfunds. Aunt Raby had stinted herself dreadfully to get Priscilla'smodest little outfit together, and now-- oh, she would rather starvethan appeal to her again. 

Suddenly as she stood in the middle of her room a memory came back toher. It was the recollection of a very trivial incident. Sheremembered something dropping on the floor as she sat by Maggie's sideat dinner. She had felt too nervous and miserable at the time to takeany notice of the slight sound made by the fall, but now it returnedvividly to her memory. She was sure that her purse must have droppedout of her pocket at that moment, and was now convinced that it wasnow lying quietly under the table where she had sat. 

Priscilla felt far too excited to wait until the morning to makeherself sure on this point. No; happen what might, she would set herfears at rest now and find her way somehow through the strange andsleeping house until she discovered her lost treasure. 

Partly re-dressing, she took her candle in her hand and softlyunhasped her door. It was a well-oiled lock and made no click or noiseof any kind as she turned the handle. When she opened the door wide itdid not creak. The long corridor outside had a stone floor and wasrichly 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 MaggieOliphant's room. 

The electric lights were all extinguished, and this light alone shonelike a ray in the darkness. 

Prissie stood still, with a gasp of dismay. She did not want Maggie tohear her now. She would have been distressed at Maggie beingacquainted with her carelessness. She felt sure that a girl likeMaggie Oliphant could never understand what a little purse, which onlycontained a sovereign or two, would mean to her. 

On tiptoe, and shading the candle with her hand, she stole past thepartly open door. A rich tapestry curtain hung at the other side, andMaggie doubtless thought the door was shut. 

Priscilla had almost gone past the open door, when her steps wereagain arrested by the sound of voices. Some one said "Priscilla Peel, "and then some one else laughed. 

Priscilla stood perfectly still. Of course she had no right to listen, but she did. She waited breathless, in an agony of expectation, forthe next words. 

"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 akind of aesthetic pleasure to be good to people. You have no cause tobe jealous, sweet pet. "

Priscilla raised one trembling hand and noiselessly put out hercandle. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot. 

Nancy murmured something which Priscilla could not hear. Then therewas the sound of one girl kissing another, and Maggie's light laughwas heard again. 

"The unfortunate girl has fallen in love with you, there's no doubtabout that, Maggie, " said Nancy. 

"Well, my dear, she'll get over that little fever presently. When I'mkind to them, they all have it. I believe I am gracious to them justbecause I like to see that grateful, affectionate expression in theireyes. The fact is, Nance, I have a perfectly crazy desire to excitelove. "

"But do you give love, Maggie? Do you ever give it back in return?"

"Sometimes. I don't know, I believe I am rather fond of you, forinstance. "

"Maggie, was Geoffrey Hammond at St. Hilda's this afternoon?"

"I can't possibly say, " replied Maggie in a cold voice. Then she addedexcitedly, "I don't believe the door is shut! You are so careless, Nannie, so indifferent to the fact that there may be eavesdroppersabout. "

Priscilla crept back to her room. She had forgotten all about herpurse; every other feeling was completely swallowed up in a burning, choking sense of anger. 

 CHAPTER V

 WHY PRISCILLA PEEL WENT TO ST. BENET'S

PRISCILLA had received a shock, and hers was not the sort of nature totake such a blow easily. She was a reserved girl, but her feelingswere deep, her affections very strong. Priscilla had a rathercommonplace past, but it was the sort of past to foster and deepen thepeculiarities of her character. Her father had died when she wastwelve, her mother when she was fourteen. They were north-countryfolk, and they possessed all the best characteristics of their class. They were rigidly upright people, they never went in debt; theyconsidered luxuries bad for the soul and the smaller refinements oflife altogether unnecessary. 

Mr. Peel managed to save a little money out of his earnings. He tookyear by year these savings to the nearest county bank and investedthem to the best of his ability. The bank broke, and in one fellstroke 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 bodyagain. 

He died and two years afterward his wife followed him. Priscilla wasthen fourteen and there were three little sisters several yearsyounger. They were merry little children, strong, healthy, untouchedby care. Priscilla, on the contrary, was grave and looked much olderthan her years. 

On the night their mother was buried Aunt Rachel Peel, their father'ssister, came from her home far away on the borders of Devonshire, andtold the four desolate children that she was going to take them awayto live on her little farm with her. 

Aunt Raby spoke in a very frank manner. She concealed nothing. 

"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'sonly fair to tell you that hitherto I've just made two ends meet forone 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 thatAndrew Peel's children wanted bread while his sister, Rachel Peel, lived. "

"We have none of us big appetites, " said Priscilla after a long, solemn pause; "we can do with very little food-- very little. The onlyone who ever is really hungry is Hattie. "

Aunt Raby looked up at the pale face, for Prissie was taller than heraunt even then, and said in a shocked voice:

"Good gracious, child! do you think I'd stint one of you? You oughtall 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. "

"I don't want them, " answered Priscilla. 

The children all went to Devonshire, and Aunt Raby toiled, as perhapsno woman had ever toiled before, to put bread into their mouths. Katiehad a fever, which made her pale and thin and took away that look ofrobustness which had characterized the little Yorkshire maiden. Nobodythought about the children's education, and they might have grown upwithout any were it not for Priscilla, who taught them what she knewherself. Nobody thought Priscilla clever; she had no brilliance abouther 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 anew idea, and these she turned over and over in her active, strong, young brain until she assimilated them and made them part of herself. 

Among the few things that had been saved from her early home there wasa box of her father's old books, and as these comprised several of theearly poets and essayists, she might have gone further and faredworse. 

One day the old clergyman who lived at a small vicarage near called tosee Miss Peel. He discovered Priscilla deep over Carlyle's "History ofthe French Revolution. " The young girl had become absorbed in thefascination of the wild and terrible tale. Some of the horror of ithad got into her eyes as she raised them to return Mr. Hayes'courteous greeting. His attention was arrested by the look she gavehim. He questioned her about her reading, and presently offered tohelp her. From this hour Priscilla made rapid progress. She was nottaught in the ordinary fashion, but she was being really educated. Herlife was full now; she knew nothing about the world, nothing aboutsociety. She had no ambitions and she did not trouble herself to lookvery far ahead. The old classics which she studied from morning tillnight abundantly satisfied her really strong intellectual nature. 

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 herreally original ideas; he was proud of his pupil, and he grew fond ofher. It was not Priscilla's way to say a word about it, but she soonloved the old clergyman as if he were her father. 

Some time between her sixteenth and seventeenth birthday thatawakening came which altered the whole course of her life. It was asummer's day Priscilla was seated in the old wainscoted parlor of thecottage, devouring a book lent to her by Mr. Hayes on the origin ofthe Greek drama and occasionally bending to kiss little Katie, who satcurled up in her arms, when the two elder children rushed in with theinformation that Aunt Raby had suddenly lain flat down in thehayfield, and they thought she was asleep. 

Prissie tumbled her book in one direction and Katie in the other. In amoment she was kneeling by Miss Peel's side. 

"What is it, Aunt Raby?" she asked tenderly. "Are you ill?"

The tired woman opened her eyes slowly. 

"I think I fainted, dear love, " she said. "Perhaps it was the heat ofthe sun. "

Priscilla managed to get her back into the house. She grew betterpresently and seemed something like herself, but that evening the auntand niece had a long talk, and the next day Prissie went up to see Mr. Hayes. 

"I am interested, " he said when he saw her enter the room, "to see howyou have construed that passage in Cicero, Priscilla. You know Iwarned you of its difficulty. "

"Oh, please, sir, don't, " said Prissie, holding up her hand with animpatient 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 tospeak about him or think about him. His day is over, mine is-- oh, sir, I beg your pardon. "

"Granted, my dear child. Sit down, Prissie. I will forgive yourprofane words about Cicero, for I see you are excited. What is thematter?"

"I want you to help me, Mr. Hayes. Will you help me? You have alwaysbeen my dear friend, my good friend. "

"Of course I will help you. What is wrong? Speak to me fully. "

"Aunt Raby fainted in the hayfield yesterday. "

"Indeed? It was a warm day; I am truly concerned. Would she like tosee me? Is she better to-day?"

"She is quite well to-day-- quite well for the time. "

"My dear Priscilla, what a tragic face! Your Aunt Raby is not thefirst woman who has fainted and got out of her faint again and beennone the worse. "

"That is just the point, Mr. Hayes. Aunt Raby has got out of herfaint, but she is the worse. "

Mr. Hayes looked hard into his pupil's face. There was no beauty init. The mouth was wide, the complexion dull, the features irregular. Even her eyes-- and perhaps they were Prissie's best point-- wereneither large nor dark; but an expression now filled those eyes andlingered round that mouth which made the old rector feel solemn. 

He took one of the girl's thin unformed hands between his own. 

"My dear child, " he said, "something weighs on your mind. Tell yourold friend-- your almost father-- all that is in your heart. "

Thus begged to make a confidence, Priscilla did tell a commonplace, and yet tragic, story. Aunt Raby was affected with an incurableillness. It would not kill her soon; she might live for years, butevery year she would grow a little weaker and a little less capable oftoil. As long as she lived the little farm belonged to her, butwhenever she died it would pass to a distant cousin. Whenever AuntRaby died, Priscilla and her three sisters would be penniless. 

"So I have come to you, " continued Prissie, "to say that I must takesteps at once to enable me to earn money. I must support Hattie andRose and Katie whenever Aunt Raby goes. I must earn money as soon asit is possible for a girl to do so, and I must stop dreaming andthinking of nothing but books, for perhaps books and I will havelittle to say to each other in future. "

"That would be sad, " replied Mr. Hayes, "for that would be taking adirectly opposite direction to the path which Providence clearlyintends you to walk in. "

Priscilla raised her eyes and looked earnestly at the old rector. Then, clasping her hands tightly together, she said with suppressedpassion:

"Why do you encourage me to be selfish, Mr. Hayes?"

"I will not, " he replied, answering her look; "I will listen patientlyto all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourselfand your sisters?"

"I thought of dressmaking. "

"Um! Did you-- make-- the gown you have on?"

"Yes, " replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespungarment. 

The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet andbenevolent way. 

"I am no judge of such matters, " he said, "and I may be wrong. But myimpression is that the style and cut of that dress would scarcely havea large demand in fashionable quarters. "

"Oh, sir!" Prissie blushed all over. "You know I said I should have tolearn. "

"My dear child, " said Mr. Hayes firmly, "when it becomes a question ofa woman earning her bread, let her turn to that path where promiselies. There is no promise in the fit of that gown, Prissie. But here--here there is much. "

He touched her big forehead lightly with his hand. 

"You must not give up your books, my dear, " he said, "for, independently of the pleasure they afford, they will also give youbread and butter. Go home now and let me think over matters. Comeagain to-morrow. I may have important things to say to you. "

From this conversation came the results which, shortly after thecompletion of her eighteenth year, made Priscilla an inmate of St. Benet's far-famed college for women. Mr. Hayes left no stone unturnedto effect his object. He thought Priscilla could do brilliantly as ateacher, and he resolved that for this purpose she should have theadvantages which a collegiate life alone could offer to her. Hehimself prepared her for her entrance examination, and he and AuntRaby between them managed the necessary funds to give the girl athree-years' life as a student in these halls of learning. 

Prissie knew very little about the money part of the scheme. She onlyguessed what had become of Aunt Raby's watch and chain; and a spasmcrossed her face when one day she happened to see that Aunt Raby'spoor little jewel case was empty. The jewels and the watch couldcertainly not fetch much, but they provided Prissie with a modestlittle outfit, and Mr. Hayes had got a grant from a loan society, which further lightened expenses for all parties. 

Priscilla bade her sisters, her aunt and the old rector good-by andstarted on her new life with courage. 

 CHAPTER VI

 COLLEGE LIFE

THE routine of life at St. Benet's was something as follows:

The dressing-bell was rung at seven, and all the students wereexpected to meet in the chapel for prayers at eight. Nothing was saidif they did not appear; no reproofs were uttered and no inquiriesmade; but the good-fellowship between the students and the dons was soapparent in the three halls that known wishes were always regarded, and, as a rule, there were few absentees. 

The girls went to chapel in their white-straw sailor-hats, simplytrimmed with a broad band of ribbon of the college colors, green witha narrow stripe of gold. Breakfast immediately followed chapel; teaand coffee and different cold meats were placed on the side-tables, and the girls helped themselves to what they pleased. 

The great event at breakfast was the post. Each student, when sheentered the breakfast-hall, would make an eager rush to the side-tablewhere the letters were neatly placed. During breakfast these were readand chatted over. The whole meal was most informal and seldom lastedmore than a quarter of an hour. 

After breakfast the notice-board in the large entrance-hall wasvisited and eagerly scanned, for it contained a detailed account ofthe hours for the different lectures and the names of the lecturerswho would instruct the students during the day. By the side of thelarge official notice-board hung another, which was read with quite asdeep interest. This contained particulars of the meetings of thedifferent clubs and societies for pleasure or profit got up by thegirls themselves. 

On the morning after her arrival Priscilla, with the other students, read the contents of these two boards, and then, in the company of afresher nearly as shy as herself, she wandered about the lovelygrounds which surrounded Heath Hall until nine o'clock, when lecturesbegan. 

Lectures continued without interruption until lunchtime, a meal whichwas taken very much when the girls pleased. The time allowed for thislight midday refreshment was from half-past twelve to two. The-afternoons were mostly given up to games and gymnastics, althoughoccasionally there were more lectures, and the more studious of thegirls spent a considerable part of the time studying in their ownrooms. 

Tea was the convivial meal of the day. To this the girls invitedoutside friends and acquaintances, and, as a rule, they always took itin their own rooms. 

Dinner was at half-past six, and from half-past seven to half-pastnine was usually the time when the different clubs and societies met. 

There was a regularity and yet a freedom about the life; invisiblebounds were prescribed, beyond which no right-minded or conscientiousgirl cared to venture, but the rules were really very few. Studentsmight visit their friends in Kingsdene and receive them at thecollege. They might entertain them at luncheon or dinner or at tea intheir own rooms at a fixed charge, and provided the friends left at acertain hour, and the girls themselves asked for leave of absence whenthey wished to remain out, and mentioned the place to which theyproposed to go, no questions were asked and no objections offered. 

They were expected to return to the college not later than eleven atnight, and one invitation to go out in the week was, as a rule, themost they ever accepted. 

Into this life Priscilla came, fresh from the Devonshire farm and fromall 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 mentaldisquiet and so many nervous and queer sensations that her pain wasoften acute and her sense of awkwardness considerable. 

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 upthe line of study which she intended to pursue and was quicklyabsorbed in all the fascinations which it offered to a nature likehers. 

Her purse was restored to her on the morning after her arrival, andneither Maggie Oliphant nor Nancy Banister ever guessed that she hadoverheard some words of theirs on the night of her arrival, and thatthese had put bitterness into her heart and nearly destroyed her faithin her fellow-students. Both Maggie and Nance made several overturesof kindness to Prissie, but the cold manner which was more or lesshabitual to her never thawed, and, after a time, they left her alone. There is no saying what might have happened to Prissie had she neveroverheard this conversation. As it was, however, after the first shockit gave her courage. 

She said to herself:

"I should think very little of myself if I did not despise a girl likeMiss Oliphant. Is it likely I should care to imitate one whom Idespise? There was a brief, dreadful hour when I absolutely pined tohave pretty things in my room as she has in hers; now I can do withoutthem. My room shall remain bare and unadorned. In this state it willat least look unique. "

It did. The other students who lived in the same corridor came tovisit Priscilla in the free and easy manner which characterized themand made remarks the reverse of flattering. When was she going to puther pictures up? Miss Day would be delighted to help her whenever shechose to do it. When did she intend to go down to Kingsdene to orderher easy-chairs and little Japanese tables, and rugs, and the othersmall but necessary articles which would be required to make her roomhabitable?

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 herselffrom her tormentors. She did that remarkably brave thing whichsometimes very nervous people can brace themselves to do. 

It was evening and Miss Day, Miss Marsh and Nancy Banister had allcome in for a few minutes to see Priscilla on their way to their ownrooms. 

"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 deathbefore your first term is over. "

"I am accustomed to a very quiet life, " responded Priscilla, "and Iwant to work; I have come here to work. "

"Dear, dear! any one would suppose you were going in for a tripos. Ifthis were your last term I could understand it-- but your first!"

It was Miss Marsh who said these words. She was a bright-eyed, merry-looking girl, the reverse of over-studious herself. 

"Oh, come along, dear; I'll give you such a delicious cup of cocoa, "said Miss Day. 

She crossed the room and tried to link her hand affectionately inPrissie's arm. Miss Peel drew back a step. 

"Thank you, " she said, "but I-- I-- cannot come. "

"I must say you have a blunt way of refusing, " said Miss Day. She feltinclined to be offended, but Nancy Banister, who was standing by andhad not hitherto spoken, bestowed a quick glance of approval onPriscilla and then said something soothing to Miss Day. 

"May I cocoa with you instead, Annie?" she said. "I am afraid no onecan accuse me of killing myself with work, but we all respect earnestworkers-- we must. It is for them St. Benet's is really meant. It wasendowed for them, and built for them, and we poor drones must notthrow disparaging remarks on the busy bees. "

"Oh, nonsense!" said Miss Marsh; "St. Benet's was made for sociabilityas well as study, and I have no patience with the students who don'ttry to combine the two. By the way, " she added, turning round andspeaking in a rather impertinent voice to Priscilla, "I sent you amessage to say I was going down to Kingsdene this afternoon and wouldbe happy to take you with me if you would care to visit Spilman's. "

"Thank you, " said Priscilla, "I got your note just too late to answerit. I was going to speak to you about it, " she added. 

"Then you would have come?"

Priscilla's face grew very red. 

"No, I should not have come. "

It was Miss Marsh's turn to get red. 

"Come! Annie, " she exclaimed, turning to Miss Day, "we had betterwaste no more time here. Miss Banister, we'll see you presently, won'twe? Good night, Miss Peel. Perhaps you don't mind my saying somethingvery frank?"

"I do, " said Priscilla, "but that won't prevent your saying it, willit?"

"I don't think it will. After you have been at St. Benet's a littlelonger you will know that we not only appreciate cleverness andstudious ways, but also obliging and sociable and friendly manners;and-- and-- pretty rooms-- rooms with easy-chairs, and comfortablelounges, and the thousand and one things which give one a feeling ofhome. Take my advice, Miss Peel, there's no use fighting against thetide. You'll have to do as others do in the long run, and you may aswell do it at once. That is my plain opinion, and I should not havegiven it to you if I had not thought you needed it. Good night. "

"No, stop a minute, " said Priscilla. Every scrap of color had left herface, every trace of nervousness her manner. She walked before the twogirls to the door and closed it. "Please stay just for a minutelonger, Miss Day and Miss Marsh, and you too, Miss Banister, if youwill. "

She went across the room again, and, opening the top drawer of herbureau, took out her purse. Out of the purse she took a key. The keyfitted a small padlock and the padlock belonged to her trunk. Sheunlocked her empty trunk and opened it. 

"There, " she said, turning to the girls-- "there, " she continued, "youwill be good enough to notice that there are no photographs concealedin this trunk, no pictures, no prints. " She lifted the tray. "Empty, you see, " she added, pointing with her hand to the lower portion ofthe trunk-- "nothing here to make my room pretty, and cozy, andhome-like. " Then she shut the trunk again and locked it, and going upto where the three girls stood, gazing at her in bewilderment and somealarm, she unfastened her purse and turned all its contents into thepalm of her hand. 

"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 orthree shillings, some pence. Would this money go far at Spilman's, doyou think?"

Priscilla put it all slowly back again into her purse. Her face wasstill absolutely colorless. She laid the purse on the top of herbureau. 

"I do not suppose, " she said in a low, sad voice, "that I am the sortof girl who often comes to a place of this sort. I am poor, and I havegot to work hard, and I have no time for pleasure. Nevertheless, " sheadded-- and now a great wave of color swept over her face, and hereyes were lit up, and she had a sensation of feeling quite glad, andstrong, and happy-- "I am not going away because I am poor, and I amnot going to mind what any one thinks of me as long as I do right. Myroom must stay empty and bare, because I have no money to make it fulland beautiful. And do you think that I would ask those-- those whosent me here-- to add one feather's weight to their cares andexpenses, to give me money to buy beautiful things because I am afraidof you? No, I should be awfully afraid to do that; but I am not afraidof you. "

Priscilla opened the drawer of her bureau and put her little lightpurse back again in its hiding-place. 

"Good night, Miss Peel, " said Miss Day in a thin, small kind of voice. 

"Good night, Miss Peel, " said Miss Marsh. The girls went gently out ofthe room. They closed the door behind them, without making any noise. Nancy Banister remained behind. She came up to Priscilla and kissedher. 

"You are brave, " she said. "I admire you. I-- I-- am proud of you. Iam glad to know that a girl like you has come to live here. "

"Don't-- don't, " said poor Prissie. Her little burst of courage haddeserted her. She covered her face with her trembling hands. She didnot want Nancy Banister to see that her eyes were full of tears. 

 CHAPTER VII

 IN MISS OLIPHANT'S ROOM

"MY dear, " said Nancy Banister that same evening-- "my dear andbeloved Maggie, we have both been guilty of a huge mistake. "

"What is that?" asked Miss Oliphant. She was leaning back in a deepeasy-chair, and Nancy, who did not care for luxurious seats, hadperched herself on a little stool at her feet. Nancy was a small, nervous-looking person; she had a zealous face and eager, almost tooactive movements. Nancy was the soul of bustling good nature, ofbrightness and kindness. She often said that Maggie Oliphant'slaziness rested her. 

"What is it?" said Maggie again. "How are we in the wrong, Nance?"

She lifted her dimpled hand as she spoke and contemplated it with aslow, satisfied sort of smile. 

"We have made a mistake about Miss Peel, that is all; she is a verynoble girl. "

"Oh, my dear Nance! Poor little Puritan Prissie! What next?"

"It is all very fine to call her names, " replied Nancy-- here shesprang to her feet-- "but I couldn't do what she did. Do you know thatshe absolutely and completely turned the tables on that vulgar AnnieDay and that pushing, silly little Lucy Marsh. I never saw any twolook smaller or poorer than those two when they skedaddled out of herroom. Yes, that's the word-- they skedaddled to the door, both ofthem, looking as limp as a cotton dress when it has been worn for aweek, and one almost treading on the other's heels; and I do not thinkPrissie will be worried by them any more. "

"Really, Nancy, you look quite pretty when you are excited! Now, whatdid this wonderful Miss Peel do? Did she box the ears of those twodetestable girls? If so, she has my hearty congratulations. "

"More than that, Maggie-- that poor, little, meek, awkward, slimcreature absolutely demolished them. Oh! she did it in such a fine, simple, unworldly sort of way. I only wish you had seen her! They weretwitting her about not going in for all the fun here, and, aboveeverything, for keeping her room so bare and unattractive. You knowshe has been a fortnight here to-day, and she has not got an extrathing-- not one. There isn't a room in the hall like hers-- it's sobare and unhomelike. What's the matter, Maggie?"

"You needn't go on, Nancy; if it's about the room, I don't want tohear it. You know I can't-- I can't bear it. "

Maggie's lips were trembling, her face was white. She shaded her eyeswith her hand. 

"Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I forgot-- I really did! There, youmust 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 nicefortnight 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 reallycould have cried. It was such a poor, pathetic sort of receptacle tobe capable of holding all one's worldly goods, and she showed it tothem-- empty! 'You see, ' she said, 'that I have no pictures norornaments here!' Then she turned the contents of her purse into herhand. I think, Maggie, she had about thirty shillings in the world, and she asked Lucy Marsh to count her money, and inquired how manythings she thought it would purchase at Spilman's. Then, Maggie, Priscilla turned on them. Oh, she did not look plain then, nor awkwardeither. Her eyes had such a splendid good, brave sort of light inthem. 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 anythingelse. 'But, ' she said, 'I am not afraid of you, but I am afraid ofhurting those'-- whoever 'those' are-- 'those'-- oh, with such a ringon the word-- 'who have sent me here!'

"After that the two girls skedaddled; they had had enough of her, andI expect, Maggie, your little Puritan Prissie will be left in peace inthe future. "

"Don't call her my little Puritan, " said Maggie. "I have nothing tosay to her. "

Maggie was leaning back again in her chair now; her face was stillpale and her soft eyes looked troubled. 

"I wish you wouldn't tell me heroic stories, Nancy, " she remarkedafter a pause. "They make me feel so uncomfortable. If Priscilla Peelis going to be turned into a sort of heroine, she'll be much moreunbearable than in her former character. "

"Oh, Maggie, I wish you wouldn't talk in that reckless way nor pretendthat you hate goodness. You know you adore it-- you know you do! Youknow you are far and away the most lovable and bewitching, and the--the very best girl at St. Benet's. "

"No, dear little Nance, you are quite mistaken. Perhaps I'mbewitching-- I suppose to a certain extent I am, for people alwaystell me so-- but I'm not lovable and I'm not good. There, my dear, dolet us turn from that uninteresting person-- Maggie Oliphant. And so, Nancy, you are going to worship Priscilla Peel in future?"

"Oh, dear no! that's not my way. But I'm going to respect her verymuch. I think we have both rather shunned her lately, and I did feelsure at first that you meant to be very kind to her, Maggie. "

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 itsexpression was distinctly bored, and her lazy eyes were not even opento their full extent. 

"Perhaps I found her stupid, " she said, "and so for that reasondropped her. Perhaps I would have continued to be kind if she hadreciprocated attentions, but she did not. I am glad now, very glad, that we are unlikely to be friends, for, after what you have just toldme, I should probably find her insupportable. Are you going, Nancy?"

"Yes, I promised to have cocoa with Annie Day. I had almost forgotten. Good night, Maggie. "

Nancy shut the door softly behind her, and Maggie closed her eyes fora moment with a sigh of relief. 

"It's nice to be alone, " she said softly under her breath, "it's niceand yet it isn't nice. Nancy irritated me dreadfully this evening. Idon't like stories about good people. I don't wish to think about goodpeople. I am determined that I will not allow my thoughts to dwell onthat unpleasant Priscilla Peel, and her pathetic poverty, and herburst 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 onlygo to sleep!"

Maggie curled herself up in her luxurious chair, arranged a softpillow under her head and shut her eyes. In this attitude she made acharming picture: her thick black lashes lay heavily on her palecheeks; her red lips were slightly parted; her breathing came quietly. By and by repose took the place of tension-- her face looked as if itwere cut out of marble. The excitement and unrest, which her words hadbetrayed, vanished utterly; her features were beautiful, but almostexpressionless. 

This lasted for a short time, perhaps ten minutes; then a trivialcircumstance, the falling of a coal in the grate, disturbed the lightslumber of the sleeper. Maggie stirred restlessly and turned her head. She was not awake, but she was dreaming. A faint rose tint visitedeach cheek, and she clenched one hand, then moved it, and laid it overthe other. Presently tears stole from under the black eyelashes androlled down her cheeks. She opened her eyes wide; she was awake again;unutterable regret, remorse, which might never be quieted, filled herface. 

Maggie rose from her chair, and, going across the room, sat down ather bureau. She turned a shaded lamp, so that the light might fallupon the pages of a book she was studying, and, pushing her handsthrough her thick hair, she began to read a passage from the splendidPrometheus Vinctus of AEschylus:

 "O divine ether, O swift-winged winds!"

She muttered the opening lines to herself, then turning the page beganto translate from the Greek with great ease and fluency:

 "O divine ether, and swift-winged winds, O flowing rivers, and ocean with countless-dimpling smile, Earth, mother of all, and the all-seeing circle of the sun, to you I call; Behold me, and the things that I, a god, suffer at the hands of gods. Behold the wrongs with which I am worn away, and which I shall suffer through endless time. Such is the shameful bondage which the new ruler of the Blessed Ones has invented for me. Alas! Alas! I bewail my present and future misery----"

Any one who had seen Maggie in her deep and expressionless sleep but afew minutes before would have watched her now with a sensation ofsurprise. This queer girl was showing another phase of her complexnature. Her face was no longer lacking in expression, no longerstricken with sorrow nor harrowed with unavailing regret. A fine firefilled her eyes; her brow, as she pushed back her hair, showed itsrather massive proportions. Now, intellect and the triumphant delightof overcoming a mental difficulty reigned supreme in her face. Sheread on without interruption for nearly an hour. At the end of thattime her cheeks were burning like two glowing crimson roses. 

A knock came at her door; she started and turned round petulantly. 

"It's just my luck, " muttered Maggie. "I'd have got the sense of thatwhole magnificent passage in another hour. It was beginning to fillme: I was getting satisfied-- now it's all over! I'd have had a goodnight if that knock hadn't come-- but now-- now I am Maggie Oliphant, the most miserable girl at St. Benet's, once again. "

The knock was repeated. Miss Oliphant sprang to her feet. 

"Come in, " she said in a petulant voice. 

The handle of the door was slowly turned, the tapestry curtain movedforward and a little fair-haired girl, with an infantile expression offace and looking years younger than her eighteen summers, tripped afew steps into the room. 

"I beg your pardon, Maggie, " she said. "I had not a moment to comesooner-- not one really. That stupid Miss Turner chose to raise thealarm for the fire brigade. Of course I had to go, and I've only justcome back and changed my dress. "

"You ought to be in bed, Rosalind; it's past eleven o'clock. "

"Oh, as if that mattered! I'll go in a minute. How cozy you lookhere. "

"My dear, I am not going to keep you out of your beauty sleep. You canadmire 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, mylove-- Go!"

Rosalind Merton had serene baby-blue eyes; they looked up now full atMaggie. Then her dimpled little hand slid swiftly into the pocket ofher dress, came out again with a quick, little, frightened dart anddeposited a square envelope with some manly writing on it on thebureau, where Maggie had been studying Prometheus Vinctus. The lettercovered the greater portion of the open page. It seemed to Maggie asif the Greek play had suddenly faded and gone out of sight behind acurtain. 

"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 helpyou, Maggie. I-- yes-- I promised. I said I would help you, if you'dlet me. "

"Thank you, " replied Miss Oliphant in a lofty tone. The words came outof 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?"

Maggie took up her letter and opened it slowly. 

"At Spilman's. He was buying something for his room. He----" Rosalindblushed all over her face. 

Maggie took her letter out of its envelope. She looked at the firsttwo or three words, then laid it, open as it was, on the table. 

"Thank you, Rosalind, " she said in her usual tone. "It was kind of youto bring this, certainly; but Mr. Hammond would have done better--yes, undoubtedly better-- had he sent his letter by post. There wouldhave been no mystery about it then, and I should have received it atleast two hours ago. Thank you, Rosalind, all the same-- good night. "

Rosalind Merton stepped demurely out of the room. In the corridor, however, a change come over her small childish face. Her blue eyesbecame full of angry flame and she clenched her baby hand and shook itin the direction of the closed door. 

"Oh, Maggie Oliphant, what a deceiver you are!" she murmured. "Youthink 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, MaggieOliphant. Who loves being snubbed? Oh, of course, you pretend youdon't care about that letter! But I know you do care; and I'll gethold of all your secrets before many weeks are over, see if I don't!"

 CHAPTER VIII

 THE KINDEST AND MOST COMFORTING WAY

MAGGIE was once more alone. She stood quite still for nearly half aminute in the center of her room. Her hands were clasped tightlytogether. The expression of her face and her attitude showed suchintense feeling as to be almost theatrical. This was no acting, however; it was Maggie's nature to throw herself into attitudes beforespectators or alone. She required some vent for all her passionateexcitement, and what her girl friends called Miss Oliphant's poses mayhave afforded her a certain measure of relief. 

After standing still for these few seconds, she ran to the door anddrew the bolt; then, sinking down once more in her easy-chair, shetook up the letter which Rosalind Merton had brought her and began toread the contents. Four sides of a sheet of paper were covered withsmall, close writing, the neat somewhat cramped hand which at thattime characterized the men of St. Hilda's College. 

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 toher, burnt in, indeed, upon her brain. 

She crushed the letter suddenly in one of her hands, then raised it toher lips and kissed it; then fiercely, as though she hated it, tossedit into the fire. After this she sat quiet, her hands folded meekly, her head slightly bent. The color gradually left her cheeks. Shelooked dead tired and languid. After a time she arose, and, walkingvery slowly across her room, sat down by her bureau and drew a sheetof paper before her. As she did so her eyes fell for a moment on theGreek play which had fascinated her an hour ago. She found herselfagain murmuring some lines from Prometheus Vinctus:

 "O divine ether, and swift-winged winds----"

She interrupted herself with a petulant movement. 

"Folly!" she murmured, pushing the book aside. "Even glorious, greatthoughts 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 knownyou!"

Maggie dashed some heavy tears from her eyes. Then, taking up her pen, she began to write. 

 "HEATH HALL, "ST. BENET'S. 

 "DEAR MR. HAMMMOND: 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. 

 "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. 

 "Yours sincerely, "MARGARET OLIPHANT. "

Maggie did not read the letter after she had written it. She put itinto an envelope and directed it. Here was a large and bold hand andthe address was swiftly written

 "GEOFFREY HAMMOND, ESQ. , "St. Hilda's, "Kingsdene. "

She stamped her letter and, late as it was, took it down herself anddeposited it in the post-bag. 

The next morning, when the students strolled in to breakfast, manypairs of eyes were raised with a new curiosity to watch PriscillaPeel. Even Maggie, as she drank her coffee and munched a piece of drytoast, for she was a very poor eater, could not help flashing a keenand interested glance at the young girl as she came into the room. 

Prissie was the reverse of fashionable in her attire; her neat browncashmere dress had been made by Aunt Raby. The hemming, the stitching, the gathering, the frilling which went to make up this useful garmentwere neat, were even exquisite; but then, Aunt Raby was not giftedwith a stylish cut. Prissie's hair was smoothly parted, but the thickplait on the back of the neck was by no means artistically coiled. 

The girl's plain, pale face was not set off by the severity of hertoilet; there was no touch of spring or brightness anywhere, no lookor note which should belong to one so young, unless it was the extremethinness of her figure. 

The curious eyes of the students were raised when she appeared and oneor two laughed and turned their heads away. They had heard of herexploit of the night before. Miss Day and Miss Marsh had repeated thisgood story. It had impressed them at the time, but they did not tellit to others in an impressive way, and the girls, who had not seenPrissie, but had only heard the tale, spoke of her to one another asan "insufferable little prig. "

"Isn't it too absurd, " said Rosalind Merton, sidling up to Maggie andcasting some disdainful glances at poor Priscilla, "the conceit ofsome people! Of all forms of conceit, preserve me from the priggishstyle. "

"I don't understand you, " said Maggie, raising her eyes and speakingin 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 havebeen reserving this place for you, for I have been so anxious to knowif you would do me a kindness. Please sit down, and I'll tell you whatit is. You needn't wait, Rosalind. What I have got to say is for MissPeel's ears. "

Rosalind retired in dudgeon to the other end of the room, and, if thelaughing and muttering continued, they now only reached Maggie andPriscilla in the form of very distant murmurs. 

"How pale you look, " said Maggie, turning to the girl, "and how coldyou are! Yes, I am quite sure you are bitterly cold. Now you shallhave a good breakfast. Let me help you. Please do. I'll go to theside-table and bring you something so tempting; wait and see. "

"You mustn't trouble really, " began Prissie. 

Miss Oliphant flashed a brilliant smile at her. Prissie found herwords arrested, and, in spite of herself, her coldness began to thaw. Maggie ran over to the side-table and Priscilla kept repeating underher breath:

"She's not true-- she's beautiful, but she's false; she has thekindest, sweetest, most comforting way in the world, but she only doesit for the sake of an aesthetic pleasure. I ought not to let her. Iought not to speak to her. I ought to go away, and have nothing to dowith her proffers of goodwill, and yet somehow or other I can't resisther. "

Maggie came back with some delicately carved chicken and ham and a hotcup of delicious coffee. 

"Is not this nice?" she said. "Now eat it all up and speak to meafterward. Oh, how dreadfully cold you do look!"

"I feel cold-- in spirit as well as physically, " retorted Priscilla. 

"Well, let breakfast warm you-- and-- and-- a small dose of the tonicof sympathy, if I may dare to offer it. "

Priscilla turned her eyes full upon Miss Oliphant. 

"Do you mean it?" she said in a choked kind of voice. "Is that quitetrue what you said just now?"

"True? What a queer child! Of course it is true. What do you take mefor? Why should not I sympathize with you?"

"I want you to, " said Prissie. Tears filled her eyes; she turned herhead away. Maggie gave her hand a squeeze. 

"Now eat your breakfast, " she said. "I shall glance through my letterswhile you are busy. "

She leaned back in her chair and opened several envelopes. Priscillaate her chicken and ham, drank her coffee and felt the benefit of thedouble tonic which had been administered in so timely a fashion. Itwas one of Miss Oliphant's peculiarities to inspire in those shewanted to fascinate absolute and almost unreasoning faith for the timebeing. Doubts would and might return in her absence, but in thesunshine of her particularly genial manner they found it hard to live. 

After breakfast the girls were leaving the room together when MissHeath, the principal of the hall in which they resided, came into theroom. She was a tall, stately woman of about thirty-five and had seenvery little of Priscilla since her arrival, but now she stopped togive both girls a special greeting. Her manners were very frank andpleasant. 

"My dear, " she said to Prissie, "I have been anxious to cultivate youracquaintance. Will you come and have tea with me in my room thisafternoon? And, Maggie, dear, will you come with Miss Peel?"

She laid her hand on Maggie's shoulder as she spoke, looked swiftlyinto the young girl's face, then turned with a glance of greatinterest to Priscilla. 

"You will both come, " she said. "That is right. I won't ask any oneelse. We shall have a cozy time together, and Miss Peel can tell meall about her studies, and aims, and ambitions. "

"Thank you, " said Maggie, "I'll answer for Miss Peel. We'll both come;we shall be delighted. "

Miss Heath nodded to the pair and walked swiftly down the long hall tothe dons' special entrance, where she disappeared. 

"Is not she charming?" whispered Maggie. "Did I not tell you you wouldfall in love with Dorothea?"

"But I have not, " said Priscilla, coloring. "And I don't know whethershe is charming or not. "

Maggie checked a petulant exclamation which was rising to her lips. She was conscious of a curious desire to win her queer youngcompanion's goodwill and sympathy. 

"Never mind, " she said, "the moment of victory is only delayed. Youwill tell a very different story after you have had tea with Dorotheathis evening. Now, let us come and look at the notice-boards and seewhat the day's program is. By the way, are you going to attend anylectures this morning?"

"Yes, two, " said Prissie-- "one on Middle History, from eleven totwelve, and I have a French lecture afterward. "

"Well, I am not doing anything this morning. I wish you were not. Wemight have taken a long walk together. Don't you love long walks?"

"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 verylong walk here, " she added. The color rushed into her cheeks as shespoke and her eyes looked wistful. 

Maggie laughed. 

"What are your ideas in regard to space, Miss Peel? The whole ofKingsdeneshire lies before us. We are untrammeled and can go where weplease. Is not that a sufficiently broad area for our roamings?"

"But there is no sea, " said Priscilla. "We should never have time towalk from here to the sea, and nothing-- nothing else seems worthwhile. "

"Oh, you have lived by the sea?"

"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 extremepoints 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. "

"Ah, " said Maggie with a sigh, "I understand you-- I know what youmean. "

She spoke quickly, as she always did under the least touch ofexcitement. "Such a walk means more than exercise; it means thought, aspiration. Your brain seems to expand then and ideas come. Of courseyou don't care for poor flat Kingsdeneshire. "

Priscilla turned and stared at Miss Oliphant. Maggie laughed; sheraised her hand to her forehead. 

"I must not talk any more, " she said, turning pale and shrinking intoherself. "Forgive my rhapsodies. You'll understand what they are worthwhen you know me better. Oh, by the way, will you come with me toKingsdene on Sunday? We can go to the three o'clock service at thechapel and afterward have tea with some friends of mine-- theMarshalls-- they'd be delighted to see you. "

"What chapel is the service at?" inquired Priscilla. 

"What chapel? Is there a second? Come with me, and you will never askthat question again. Get under the shade of St. Hilda's-- see oncethose fretted roofs and those painted windows. Listen but once to thatangel choir, and then dare to ask me what chapel I mean when I inviteyou to come and taste of heaven beforehand. "

"Thank you, " said Priscilla, "I'll come. I cannot be expected to knowabout things before I have heard of them, can I? But I am very muchobliged to you, and I shall be delighted to come. "

 CHAPTER IX

 A NEW LIFE

THE vice-principal's room at Heath Hall was double the size of thoseoccupied by the students. Miss Heath had, of course, a separatesleeping apartment. Her delightful sitting-room, therefore, had notthe curtained-off effect which took slightly from the charm of thestudents' rooms. In summer Miss Heath's room was beautiful, for thetwo deep bay windows-- one facing west, the other south-- looked outupon smoothly kept lawns and flower-beds, upon tall elm trees and alsoupon a distant peep of the river, for which Kingsdene was famous, andsome of the spires and towers of the old churches. In winter, too, however-- and winter had almost come now-- the vice-principal's roomhad a unique effect, and Priscilla never forgot the first time she sawit. The young girl stepped across the threshold of a new life on thisfirst evening. She would always remember it. 

It was getting dark, and curtains were drawn round the cozy bays, andthe firelight blazed cheerfully. 

Prissie was a little before rather than behind her time, and there wasno one in the room to greet her when she entered. She felt soovermastered by shyness, however, that this was almost a relief, andshe sank down into one of the many comfortable chairs with a feelingof thankfulness and looked around her. 

The next moment a servant entered with a lamp, covered with a goldsilk shade. She placed it on a table near the fire, and lit a fewcandles, which stood on carved brackets round the walls. Then Prissiesaw what made her forget Miss Heath and her shyness and all else-- agreat bank of flowers, which stretched across one complete angle ofthe room. There were some roses, some chrysanthemums, some geraniums. They were cunningly arranged in pots, but had the effect at a littledistance of a gay, tropical garden. Prissie rushed to them, knelt downby a tall, white Japanese chrysanthemum and buried her face in itslong, wavy petals. 

Prissie had never seen such flowers, and she loved all flowers. Herheart swelled with a kind of wonder; and when, the next moment, shefelt a light and very soft kiss on her forehead she was scarcelysurprised. 

"My dear child, " said Miss Heath, "I am so sorry I was not in the roomwhen you came in; but never mind, my flowers gave you welcome. "

"Yes, " said Prissie, standing up pale and with a luminous light in hereyes. 

"You love flowers?" said Miss Heath, giving her a keen glance. 

"Oh, yes; but I did not know-- I could not guess-- that any flowercould be as beautiful as this, " and she touched the great whitechrysanthemum with her finger. 

"Yes, and there are some flowers even more wonderful. Have you everseen orchids?"

"No. "

"Then you have something to live for. Orchids are ordinary flowersspiritualized. They have a glamor over them. We have good orchid showssometimes at Kingsdene. I will take you to the next. "

The servant brought in tea, and Miss Heath placed Prissie in acomfortable chair, where she was neither oppressed by lamplight norfirelight. 

"A shy little soul like this will love the shade, " she said toherself. "For all her plainness this is no ordinary girl, and I meanto draw her out presently. What a brow she has, and what a light cameinto her eyes when she looked at my white chrysanthemum. "

There came a tap at the door, and Maggie Oliphant entered, lookingfresh and bright. She gave Prissie an affectionate glance and nod andthen began to busy herself, helping Miss Heath with the tea. Duringthe meal a little pleasant murmur of conversation was kept up. MissHeath and Maggie exchanged ideas. They even entered upon one or twodelicate little skirmishes, each cleverly arguing a slight point onwhich they appeared to differ. Maggie could make smart repartees, andMiss Heath could parry her graceful young adversary's home thrustswith excellent effect. 

They talked of one or two books which were then under discussion; theysaid a little about music and a word or two with regard to thepictures which were just then causing talk among the art critics inLondon. It was all new to Prissie, this "light, airy, nothing" kind oftalk. It was not study; could it be classed under the head ofrecreation?

Prissie was accustomed to classify everything, but she did not knowunder what head to put this pleasant conversation. She was bewildered, puzzled. She listened without losing a word. She forgot herselfabsolutely. 

Miss Heath, however, who knew Maggie Oliphant, but did not knowPrissie, was observant of the silent young stranger through all thedelights of her pleasant talk. Almost imperceptibly she got Prissie tosay a word or two. She paused when she saw a question in Prissie'seyes, and her timid and gentle words were listened to with deference. By slow degrees Maggie was the silent one and Priscilla and Miss Heathheld the field between them. 

"No, I have never been properly educated, " Prissie was saying. "I havenever 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 examinationfor St. Benet's. I was delighted when I found that I had done so. "

"You passed the examination creditably, " said Miss Heath. "I havelooked through your papers. Your answers were not stereotyped. Theywere much better; they were thoughtful. Whoever has educated you, youhave been well taught. You can think. "

"Oh, yes, my dear friend, Mr. Hayes, always said that was the firstthing. "

"Ah, that accounts for it, " replied Miss Heath. "You have had theadvantage of listening to a cultivated man's conversation. You oughtto do very well here. What do you mean to take up?"

"Oh, everything. I can't know too much. "

Miss Heath laughed and looked at Maggie. Maggie was lying back in hereasy-chair, her head resting luxuriously against a dark velvetcushion. She was tapping the floor slightly with her small foot; hereyes were fixed on Prissie. When Miss Heath laughed Maggie echoed thesound, but both laughs were in the sweetest sympathy. 

"You must not overwork yourself, my dear, " said Miss Heath. "Thatwould be a very false beginning. I think-- I am sure-- that you havean earnest and ardent nature, but you must avoid an extreme which willonly end in disaster. "

Prissie frowned. 

"What do you mean?" she said. "I have come here to study. It has beendone 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. "

Miss Heath was silent. She thought it kinder to look away fromPrissie. After a moment she said in a voice which she on purpose madeintensely quiet and matter of fact:

"Many girls come to St. Benet's, Miss Peel, who are, I fancy, circumstanced like you. Their friends find it difficult to send themhere, but they make the sacrifice, sometimes in one way, sometimes inanother-- and the girls come. They know it is their duty to study;they have an ulterior motive, which underlies everything else. Theyknow by and by they must pay back. "

"Oh, yes, " said Priscilla, starting forward and a flush coming intoher face. "I know that-- that is what it is for. To pay backworthily-- to give back a thousandfold what you have received. Thosegirls can't be idle, can they?" she added in a gentle, piteous sort ofway. 

"My dear, there have been several such girls at St. Benet's, and noneof them has been idle; they have been best and first among ourstudents. Many of them have done more than well-- many of them havebrought fame to St. Benet's. They are in the world now and earninghonorable livelihoods as teachers or in other departments wherecultivated women can alone take the field. These girls are all payingback a thousandfold those who have helped them. "

"Yes, " said Prissie. 

"You would like to follow their example?"

"Oh, yes; please tell me about them. "

"Some of them were like you and thought they would take upeverything-- everything I mean in the scholastic line. They filledtheir days with lectures and studied into the short hours of thenight. Maggie, dear, please tell Miss Peel about Good-night andGood-morning. "

"They were such a funny pair, " said Maggie. "They had rooms next toeach other in our corridor, Miss Peel. They were both studying for atripos, and during the term before the examination one went to bed atfour and one got up at four. Mary Joliffe used to go into SusanMartin's room and say good morning to her. Susan used to raise such awhite face and say, 'Good night, my dear. ' Well, poor things, neitherof them got a tripos; they worked too hard. "

"The simple English of all this, " said Miss Heath, "is that thesuccessful girl here is the girl who takes advantage of the whole lifemapped out for her, who divides her time between play and work, whojoins the clubs and enters heartily into the social life of the place. Yes, " she added, looking suddenly full at Priscilla, "these last wordsof mine may seem strange to you, dear. Believe me, however, they aretrue. But I know, " she added with a sigh, "that it takes rather an oldperson to believe in the education of play. "

Priscilla looked unconvinced. 

"I must do what you wish, " she said, "for, of course, you ought toknow. "

"What a lame kind of assent, my love! Maggie, you will have to gentlylure this young person into the paths of frivolity. I promise you, mydear, that you shall be a very cultivated woman some day; but I onlypromise this if you will take advantage of all sides of the pleasantlife here. Now tell me what are your particular tastes? What branch ofstudy do you like best?"

"I love Latin and Greek better than anything else in the world. "

"Do you truly?" said Maggie, suddenly starting forward. "Then in onething we have a great sympathy. What have you read? Do tell me. "

Miss Heath stepped directly into the background. The two girlsconversed for a long time together. 

 CHAPTER X

 ST. HILDA'S CHAPEL

"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 thatyou are thinking, but you need not speak; I did not want to speak thefirst time I came to St. Hilda's. Just follow me quickly. I know thisverger; he will put us into two stalls; then it will be perfect. "

"Yes, " answered Priscilla. She spoke in an awed kind of voice. Thecool effect of the dark oak, combined with the richness of the manyshafts of colored light coming from the magnificent windows, gave herown face a curious expression. Was it caused by emotion or by thestrange lights in the chapel?

Maggie glanced at her, touched her hand for a moment and then hurriedforward to her seat. 

The girls were accommodated with stalls just above the choir. Theycould read out of the college prayer-books and had a fine view of thechurch. 

The congregation streamed in, the choir followed; the doors betweenthe chapel and ante-chapel were shut, the curtains were dropped andthe service began. 

There is no better musical service in England than that which Sundayafter Sunday is conducted at St. Hilda's Chapel at Kingsdene. Theharmony and the richness of the sounds which fill that old chapel canscarcely be surpassed. The boys send up notes clear and sweet asnightingales into the fretted arches of the roof; the men's deepernotes swell the music until it breaks on the ears in a full tide ofperfect harmony; the great organ fills in the breaks and pauses. Thissplendid service of song seems to reach perfection. In its way earthcannot give anything more perfect. 

Maggie Oliphant did not come very often to St. Hilda's. At one timeshe was a constant worshiper there, but that was a year ago, beforesomething happened which changed her. Then Sunday after Sunday twolovely girls used to walk up the aisle side by side. The verger knewthem and reserved their favorite stalls for them. They used to kneeltogether and listen to the service, and, what is more, take part init. 

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 oldseat without her. They said she missed her friend and was more cut upthan any one else at the sudden death of one so fair and lovely. 

When Maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than oneperson turned to look at her with interest. 

Maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with adrooping plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fairface shone in the midst of these surroundings like an exquisiteflower. 

The service went on. During the prayers Maggie wept, but, when a greatwave of song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; hervoice rose with the other singers, clear, sweet and high. Her soulseemed to go up on her voice, for all the sadness left her face; hereyes looked jubilant. 

Prissie had never been in any place like St. Hilda's before. It hadbeen one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at Exeter, but yearafter year this desire of hers had been put off and put off, and thiswas the first time in her life that she had ever listened to cathedralmusic. She was impressed, delighted, but not overpowered. 

"The organ is magnificent, " she said to herself, "but not grander thanthe sea. The sea accompanies all the service at the dear little oldchurch at home. "

People met and talked to one another in the green quadrangle outsidethe chapel. Several other St. Benet girls had come to the afternoonservice. Among them was Miss Day and that fair, innocent-lookinglittle girl, Rosalind Merton. 

Miss Day and Miss Merton were together. They were both stepping backto join Maggie and Prissie, when a tall, dark young man came hastilyforward, bowed to Rosalind Merton, and, coming up to Maggie Oliphant, shook hands with her. 

"I saw you in chapel, " he said. "Are you coming to the Marshall's totea?"

"I am. Let me introduce to you my friend, Miss Peel. Miss Peel, thisis Mr. Hammond. "

Hammond raised his hat to Prissie, said a courteous word to her andthen turned to speak again to Maggie. 

The three walked through the gates of the quadrangle and turned up thenarrow, picturesque High Street. It would soon be dusk; a wintry lightwas over everything. Rosalind Merton and Miss Day followed behind. Maggie, who was always absorbed with the present interest, did notheed or notice them, but Priscilla heard one or two ill-bred giggles. 

She turned her head with indignation and received scornful glancesfrom both girls. The four met for a moment at a certain corner. Maggiesaid something to Annie Day and introduced Mr. Hammond to her. As shedid so, Rosalind took the opportunity to come up to Priscilla andwhisper to her:

"You're not wanted, you know. You had much better come home with us. "

"What do you mean?" replied Prissie in her matter-of-fact voice. "MissOliphant has asked me to go with her to the Marshalls'. "

"Oh, well-- if you care to be in the----" resumed Rosalind. 

Maggie suddenly flashed round on her. 

"Come, Miss Peel, we'll be late, " she said. "Goodby. " She nodded toRosalind; her eyes were full of an angry fire; she took Prissie's handand hurried down the street. 

The two girls walked away, still giggling; a deep color mantledMaggie's cheeks. She turned and began to talk desperately to Mr. Hammond. Her tone was flippant; her silvery laughter floated in theair. Priscilla turned and gazed at her friend. She was seeing Maggiein yet another aspect. She felt bewildered. 

The three presently reached a pleasant house standing in its owngrounds. They were shown into a large drawing-room, full of youngpeople. Mrs. Marshall, a pretty old lady, with white hair, cameforward to receive them. Maggie was swept away amid fervent embracesand handshakes to the other end of the room. Mrs. Marshall saw thatPriscilla looked frightened; she took her under her wing, sat down byher on a sofa and began to talk. 

Prissie answered in a sedate voice. Mrs. Marshall had a very gentlemanner. Prissie began to lose her shyness; she almost imagined thatshe was back again with Aunt Raby. 

"My dear, you will like us all very much, " the old lady said. "No lifecan be so absolutely delightful as that of a girl graduate at St. Benet's. The freedom from care, the mixture of study with play, thepleasant social life, all combine to make young women both healthy andwise. Ah, my love, we leave out the middle of the old proverb. Thegirls at St. Benet's are in that happy period of existence when theyneed give no thought to money-making. "

"Some are, " said Prissie. She sighed and the color rushed into hercheeks. Mrs. Marshall looked at her affectionately. 

"Helen, " she called to her granddaughter who was standing near, "bringMiss Peel another cup of tea-- and some cake, Helen-- some of thatnice cake you made yesterday. Now, my love, I insist. You don't lookat all strong. You really must eat plenty. "

Helen Marshall supplied Prissie's wants, was introduced to her, and, standing near, joined in the talk. 

"I am so glad you know Miss Oliphant, " said Mrs. Marshall. "She willmake a delightful friend for you. "

"And isn't she lovely?" said Helen Marshall. "I don't think I know anyone with such a beautiful face. You ought to be very proud to have heras a friend. Aren't you very proud?"

"No, " said Prissie, "I don't know that I am. I am not even sure thatshe is my friend. "

"Of course she is-- she wrote most affectionately of you tograndmother. You can't think how nicely she spoke. We were glad, wewere delighted, because Maggie-- dear Maggie-- has had no greatfriends lately. Now, if you have had your tea, Miss Peel, I'll takeyou about the room and introduce you to one or two people. "

Priscilla rose from her seat at once, and the two girls began to moveabout the crowded drawing-room. Helen Marshall was very slight andgraceful; she piloted Prissie here and there without disturbing anyone's arrangements. At last the two girls found themselves in animmense conservatory, which opened into the drawing-room at one end. 

A great many of the guests were strolling about here. Priscilla's eyessparkled at the sight of the lovely flowers. She forgot herself andmade eager exclamations of ecstasy. Helen, who up to now had thoughther a dull sort of girl, began to take an interest in her. 

"I'll take you into our fern-house, which is just beyond here, " shesaid. "We have got such exquisite maidenhairs and such a splendidKillarney fern. Come; you shall see. "

The fern-house seemed to be deserted. Helen opened the door first andran forward. Prissie followed. The fern-house was not large; they hadalmost reached the end when a girl stood up suddenly and confrontedthem. The girl was Maggie Oliphant. She was sitting there alone. Herface was absolutely colorless and tears were lying wet on hereyelashes. 

Maggie made a swift remark, a passing jest, and hurried past the twointo the conservatory. 

Priscilla could scarcely tell why, but at that moment she lost allinterest in both ferns and flowers. The look of misery on Maggie'sface seemed to strike her own heart like a chill. 

"You look tired, " said Helen Marshall, who had not noticed Maggie'stearful eyes. 

"Perhaps I am, " answered Prissie. 

They went back again into the drawing-room. Prissie still could seenothing but Miss Oliphant's eyes and the look of distress on her paleface. 

Helen suddenly made a remark. 

"Was there ever such a merry creature as Maggie?" she said. "Do lookat her now. "

Prissie raised her eyes. Miss Oliphant was the center of a gay group, among whom Geoffrey Hammond stood. Her laugh rang out clear andjoyous; her smile was like sunshine, her cheeks had roses in them andher eyes were as bright as stars. 

 CHAPTER XI

 CONSPIRATORS

ANNIE DAY and her friend Rosalind ceased to laugh as soon as theyturned the corner. Annie now turned her eyes and fixed them onRosalind, who blushed and looked uncomfortable. 

"Well, " said Annie, "you are a humbug, Rose! What a story you told meabout Mr. Hammond-- how he looked at you and was so anxious to makeuse of you. Oh, you know all you said. You told me a charming storyabout your position as gooseberry. ' You expected a little fun foryourself, didn't you, my friend? Well, it seems to me that if any oneis to have the fun, it is Priscilla Peel. "

Rosalind had rather a nervous manner. She bit her lips now; herbaby-blue eyes looked angry, her innocent face wore a frown. Shedropped her hold of Annie Day's arm. 

Miss Day was one of the most commonplace girls at Heath Hall. She hadneither good looks nor talent; she had no refinement of nature nor hadshe those rugged but sterling qualities of honesty and integrity ofpurpose which go far to cover a multitude of other defects. 

"I wish you wouldn't speak to me in that way, " said Rosalind with alittle gasp. "I hate people to laugh at me, and I can't stand sneers. "

"Oh, no! you're such a dear little innocent baby. Of course, I canquite understand. And does she suppose I'll ruffle her pretty littlefeathers? No, not I. I'd rather invent a new cradle song for you, Rosie, dear. "

"Don't, don't!" said Rosalind. "Look here, Annie, I must saysomething-- yes, I must. I hate Maggie Oliphant!"

"You hate Miss Oliphant?" Annie Day stood still, turned round andstared at her companion. "When did this revolution take place, mydear? What about Rose and Maggie sitting side by side at dinner? AndRose creeping away all by herself to Maggie's room and angling for aninvitation to cocoa, and trying hard, very hard, to become a member ofthe Dramatic Society, just because Maggie acts so splendidly. Has itnot been Maggie-- Maggie-- 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 babyyou are. I am ashamed of you!"

"Don't!" said Rose again. She linked her hand half timidly in MissDay's arm. Miss Day was almost a head and shoulders above the little, delicate, fairy-like creature. "I suppose I can't help changing mymind, " she said. "I did love Maggie, of course I loved her-- shefascinated me; but I don't care for her-- no, I hate her now!"

"How vehemently you pronounce that naughty word, my fair Rosalind. Youmust give me some reasons for this grievous change in your feelings. "

"She snubbed me, " said Rosalind; "she made little of me. I offered todo her a kindness and she repulsed me. Who cares to be made little ofand repulsed?"

Who, truly, Rosie?-- not even an innocent baby. Now then, my love, letme whisper a little secret to you. I have never loved Miss Oliphant. Ihave never been a victim to her charms. Time was when she and MissLee-- poor Annabel!-- ruled the whole of our hall. Those two girlscarried everything before them. That was before your day, Rose. ThenMiss Lee died. She caught a chill, and had a fever, and was dead in acouple of days. Yes, of course, it was shocking. They moved her to thehospital, and she died there. Oh, there was such excitement, and suchgrief-- even I was sorry; for Annabel had a way about her, I can'tdescribe it, but she could fascinate you. It was awfully interestingto talk to her, and even to look at her was a pleasure. We usedn't tothink much about Maggie when Annabel was by; but now, what with Maggieand her mystery, and Maggie and her love affair, and Maggie and herhandsome face, and her wealth, and her expectations, why she bids fairto 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 girlssighing and groaning about one or two-- dying to possess theirautographs, and kissing their photographs, and framing them, andputting them up in their rooms. I hate that mawkish kind of nonsense, "continued Miss Day, looking very virtuous, "and I think Miss Heathought to know about it, and put a stop to it. I do, really. "

Rosalind was glad that the gathering darkness prevented her sharpcompanion from seeing the blush on her face, for among her own sacredpossessions she kept an autograph letter of Maggie's, and she hadpassionately kissed Maggie's beautiful face as it looked at her out ofa photograph, and, until the moment when all her feelings hadundergone such a change, was secretly saving up her pence to buy aframe for it. Now she inquired eagerly:

"What is the mystery about Miss Oliphant? So many people hint aboutit, I do wish you would tell me, Annie. "

"If I told you, pet, it would cease to be a mystery. "

"But you might say what you know. Do, Annie!"

"Oh, it isn't much-- it's really nothing; and yet-- and yet--"

"You know it isn't nothing, Annie!"

"Well, when Annabel died, people said that Maggie had more cause thanany 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 Maggieand Annabel together; Annabel had fainted; and Maggie was in an awfulstate of misery-- in quite an unnatural state, they said; she wentinto hysterics, and Miss Heath was sent for, and was a long timesoothing her. There was no apparent reason for this, although, somehowor other, little whispers got abroad that the mystery of Annabel'sillness and Maggie's distress was connected with Geoffrey Hammond. Ofcourse, nothing was known, and nothing is known; but, certainly, thelittle whisper got into the air. Dear me, Rosalind, you need not eatme with your eyes. I am repeating mere conjectures, and it is highlyprobable that not the slightest notice would have been taken of thislittle rumor but for the tragedy which immediately followed. Annabel, who had been as gay and well as any one at breakfast that morning, wasnever seen in the college again. She was unconscious, the servantssaid, for a long time, and when she awoke was in high fever. She wasremoved 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, asshe called them, but not like now. Sometimes I think she is almostflighty. "

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 realfeelings:

"But I do wonder what the quarrel was about-- I mean, what reallyhappened between Annabel and Maggie. "

"Look here, Rosalind, have I said anything about a quarrel? Pleaseremember that the whole thing is conjecture from beginning to end, anddon't go all over the place spreading stories and making mischief. Ihave told you this in confidence, so don't forget. "

"I won't forget, " replied Rosalind. "I don't know why you shouldaccuse me of wanting to make mischief, Annie. I can't help beingcurious, of course, and, of course, I'd like to know more. "

"Well, for that matter, so would I, " replied Annie. "Where there is amystery it's much more satisfactory to get to the bottom of it. Ofcourse, something dreadful must have happened to account for thechange 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 justthe person to ferret this little secret out; you are the right sort ofperson for spying and peeping. "

"Oh, thank you, " replied Rosalind; "if that's your opinion of me I'mnot inclined to do anything to please you. Spying and peeping, indeed!What next?"

Annie Day patted her companion's small white hand. 

"And so I've hurt the dear little baby's feelings!" she said. "But Ididn't mean to-- no, that I didn't. And she such a pretty, sweetlittle pet as she is! Well, Rosie, you know what I mean. If we canfind out the truth about Miss Maggie we'll just have a quiet littlecrow over her all to ourselves. I don't suppose we shall find out, butthe opportunities may arise-- who knows? Now I want to speak to youabout another person, and that is Maggie's new friend. "

"What new friend?" Rosalind blushed brightly. 

"That ugly Priscilla Peel. She has taken her up. Any one can seethat. "

"Oh, I don't think so. "

"But I do-- I am sure of it. Now I have good reason not to like MissPriscilla. You know what a virtuous parade she made of herself a fewnights ago?"

"Yes, you told me. "

"Horrid, set-up minx! Just the sort of girl who ought to be suppressedand crushed out of a college like ours. Vaunting her poverty in ourvery faces and refusing to make herself pleasant or one with us in anysort of way. Lucy Marsh and I had a long talk over her that night, andwe put our heads together to concoct a nice little bit of punishmentfor her. You know she's horridly shy, and as gauche as if she lived inthe backwoods, and we meant to 'send her to Coventry. ' We had it allarranged, and a whole lot of girls would have joined us, for it'scontrary to the spirit of a place like this to allow girls of thePriscilla Peel type to become popular or liked in any way. But, mostunluckily, poor, dear, good, but stupid, Nancy Banister was in theroom when Prissie made her little oration, and Nancy took her up as ifshe were a heroine and spoke of her as if she had done somethingmagnificent, and, of course, Nancy told Maggie, and now Maggie is asthick as possible with Prissie. So you see, my dear Rosalind, ourvirtuous little scheme is completely knocked on the head. "

"I don't see--" began Rosalind. 

"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 thefashion, and it will be considered wrong even to go in for therecognized college recreations. Rosie, my love, we must nip thisgrowing mischief in the bud. "

"How?" asked Rosalind. 

"We must separate Maggie Oliphant and Priscilla Peel. "

"How?" asked Rose again. "I'm sure, " she added in a vehement voice, "I'm willing-- I'm more than willing. "

"Good. Well, we're at home now, and I absolutely must have a cup oftea. No time for it in my room to-night-- let's come into the hall andhave some there. Look here, Rosalind, I'll ask Lucy Marsh to havecocoa to-night in my room, and you can come too. Now keep a silenttongue in your head, Baby. "

 CHAPTER XII

 A GOOD THING TO BE YOUNG

IT was long past the tea-hour at Heath Hall when Maggie Oliphant andPriscilla started on their walk home. The brightness and gaiety of themerry party at the Marshalls' had increased as the moments flew on. Even Priscilla had caught something of the charm. The kindly spiritwhich animated every one seemed to get into her. She first becameinterested, then she forgot herself. Prissie was no longer awkward;she began to talk, and when she liked she could talk well. 

As the two girls were leaving the house Geoffrey Hammond put in asudden appearance. 

"I will see you home, " he said to Maggie. 

"No, no, you mustn't, " she answered; her tone was vehement. She forgotPrissie's presence and half turned her back on her. 

"How unkind you are!" said the young man in a low tone. 

"No, Geoffrey, but I am struggling-- you don't know how hard I amstruggling-- to be true to myself. "

"You are altogether mistaken in your idea of truth, " said Hammond, turning and walking a little way by her side. 

"I am not mistaken-- I am right. "

"Well, at least allow me to explain my side of the question. "

"No, it cannot be; there shall be no explanations, I am resolved. Goodnight, you must not come any further. "

She held out her hand. Hammond took it limply between his own. 

"You are very cruel, " he murmured in the lowest of voices. 

He raised his hat, forgot even to bow to Priscilla, and hurried offdown a side street. 

Maggie walked on a little way. Then she turned and looked down thestreet where he had vanished. Suddenly she raised her hand to herlips, kissed it and blew the kiss after the figure which had alreadydisappeared. She laughed excitedly when she did this, and her wholeface was glowing with a beautiful color. 

Prissie, standing miserable and forgotten by the tall, handsome girl'sside, could see the light in her eyes and the glow on her cheeks inthe lamplight. 

"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. "

Maggie turned slowly and looked at her. Prissie returned her gaze. Then, as if further words were wrung from her against her will, shecontinued:

"I saw the tears in your eyes in the fern-house at the Marshalls'. Iam very sorry, but I did see them. "

"My dear Prissie!" said Maggie. She went up suddenly to the girl, puther arm round her neck and kissed her. 

"Come home now, " she said, drawing Prissie's hand through her arm. "Idon't think I greatly mind your knowing, " she said after a pause. "Youare true; I see it in your face. You would never tell again-- youwould never make mischief. "

"Tell again! Of course not. " Prissie's words came out with greatvigor. 

"I know you would not, Priscilla; may I call you Priscilla?"

"Yes. "

"Will you be my friend and shall I be your friend?"

"If you would, " said Prissie. "But you don't mean it. It is impossiblethat you can mean it. I'm not a bit like you-- and-- and-- you onlysay these things to be kind. "

"What do you mean, Priscilla?"

"I must tell you, " said Prissie, turning very pale. "I heard what yousaid to Miss Banister the night I came to the college. "

"What I said to Miss Banister? What did I say?"

"Oh, can't you remember? The words seemed burnt into me: I shall neverforget them. I had left my purse in the dining-hall, and I was goingto fetch it. Your door was a little open. I heard my name, and Istopped-- yes, I did stop to listen. "

"Oh, what a naughty, mean little Prissie! You stopped to listen. Andwhat did you hear? Nothing good, of course? The bad thing was said topunish you for listening. "

"I heard, " said Priscilla, her own cheeks crimson now, "I heard yousay that it gave you an aesthetic pleasure to be kind, and that waswhy you were good to me. "

Maggie felt her own color rising. 

"Well, my dear, " she said, "it still gives me an aesthetic pleasure tobe kind. You could not expect me to fall in love with you the moment Isaw you. I was kind to you then, perhaps, for the reason I stated. Itis very different now. "

"It was wrong of you to be kind to me for that reason. "

"Wrong of me? What an extraordinary girl you are, Priscilla-- why wasit wrong of me?"

"Because I learned to love you. You were gentle to me and spokecourteously when others were rude and only laughed; my whole heartwent out to you when you were so sweet and gentle and kind. I did notthink-- I could not possibly think-- that you were good just becauseit gave you a sort of selfish pleasure. When I heard your words I feltdreadful. I hated St. Benet's; I wished I had never come. Your wordsturned everything to bitterness for me. "

"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. "

"I will if you will. "

"I? I have forgotten them utterly. "

"Thank you, thank you. "

"Then we'll be friends-- real friends; true friends?"

Yes. "

"You must say Yes, Maggie. '"

"Yes, Maggie. "

"That is right. Now keep your hand in my arm. Let's walk fast. Is itnot 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. "

"Oh, I don't care, " said Priscilla. 

She felt so joyous she could have skipped. 

"I've as many sides, " continued Maggie, "as a chamelon has colors. Iam the gayest of the gay, as well as the saddest of the sad. When I amgay you may laugh with me, but I warn you when I am sad you must nevercry with me. Leave me alone when I have my dark moods on, Prissie. "

"Very well, Maggie, I'll remember. "

"I think you'll make a delightful friend, " said Miss Oliphant, justglancing at her; "but I pity your side of the bargain. "

"Why?"

"Because I'll try you so fearfully. "

"Oh, no, you won't. I don't want to have a perfect friend. "

"Perfect. No, child-- Heaven forbid. But there are shades ofperfection. Now, when I get into my dark moods, I feel wicked as wellas sad. No, we won't talk of them; we'll keep them away. Prissie, Ifeel good to-night-- good-- and glad: it's such a nice feeling. "

"I am sure of it, " said Priscilla. 

"What do you know about it, child? You have not tasted life yet. Waituntil you do. For instance-- no, though-- I won't enlighten you. Prissie, what do you think of Geoffrey Hammond?"

"I think he loves you very much. "

"Poor Geoffrey! Now, Prissie, you are to keep that little thoughtquite 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 yourthoughts. You will very likely hear us spoken of together, and some ofthe stupid girls here will make little quizzing, senseless remarks. But there will be no truth in them, Prissie. He is nothing to me nor Ito him. "

"Then why did you blow a kiss after him?" asked Priscilla. 

Maggie stood still. It was too dark for Priscilla to see her blush. 

"Oh, my many-sided nature!" she suddenly exclaimed. "It was a wickedsprite made me blow that kiss. Prissie, my dear, I am cold: race me tothe house. "

The two girls entered the wide hall, flushed and laughing. Other girlswere lingering about on the stairs. Some were just starting off toevening service at Kingsdene; others were standing in groups, chatting. Nancy Banister came up and spoke to Maggie. Maggie took herarm and walked away with her. 

Prissie found herself standing alone in the hall. It was as if thedelightful friendship cemented between herself and Miss Oliphant inthe frosty air outside had fallen to pieces like a castle of cards themoment they entered the house. Prissie felt a chill. Her high spiritswent down a very little. Then, resolving to banish the ignoble spiritof distrust, she prepared to run upstairs to her own room. 

Miss Heath called her name as she was passing an open door. 

"Is that you, my dear? Will you come to my room after supperto-night?"

"Oh, thank you, " said Prissie, her eyes sparkling. 

Miss Heath came to the threshold of her pretty room and smiled at theyoung girl. 

"You look well and happy, " she said. "You are getting at home here. You will love us all yet. "

"I love you now!" said Prissie with fervor. 

Miss Heath, prompted by the look of intense and sincere gladness onthe young face, bent and kissed Priscilla. A rather disagreeable voicesaid suddenly at her back:

"I beg your pardon, " and Lucy Marsh ran down the stairs. 

She had knocked against Prissie in passing; she had witnessed MissHeath's kiss. The expression on Lucy's face was unpleasant. Prissiedid not notice it, however. She went slowly up to her room. Theelectric light was on, the fire was blazing merrily. Priscilla removedher hat and jacket, threw herself into the one easy-chair the roomcontained, and gave herself up to pleasant dreams. Many new aspects oflife were opening before her. She felt that it was a good thing to beyoung, and she was distinctly conscious of a great, soft glow ofhappiness. 

 CHAPTER XIII

 CAUGHT IN A TRAP

COLLEGE life is school life over again, but with wide differences. Therestraints which characterize the existence of a schoolgirl arescarcely 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 shepleases. Some rules there are for her conduct and guidance, but theyare neither many nor arbitrary. In short, the young girl graduate isno longer thought of as a child. She is a woman, with a woman'sresponsibilities; she is treated accordingly. 

Miss Day, Miss Marsh, Miss Merton and one or two other congenialspirits entered heartily into the little plot which should deprivePriscilla of Maggie Oliphant's friendship. They were anxious tosucceed in this, because their characters were low, their naturesjealous and mean. Prissie had set up a higher standard than theirs, and they were determined to crush the little aspirant for moralcourage. If in crushing Prissie they could also bring discredit uponMiss Oliphant, their sense of victory would have been intensified; butit was one thing for these conspirators to plot and plan and anotherthing for them to perform. It is possible that in school life theymight have found this easier; opportunities might have arisen forthem, with mistresses to be obeyed, punishments to be dreaded, rewardsto be won. At St. Benet's there was no one especially to be obeyed, and neither rewards nor punishments entered into the lives of thegirls. 

Maggie Oliphant did not care in the least what girls like Miss Day orMiss Marsh said or thought about her, and Priscilla, who was veryhappy and industrious just now, heard many innuendoes and sly littlespeeches without taking in their meaning. 

Still, the conspirators did not despair. The term before Christmas wasin some ways rather a dull one, and they were glad of any excitementto break the monotony. As difficulties increased their ardor alsodeepened, and they were resolved not to leave a stone unturned toeffect their object. Where there is a will there is a way. This istrue as regards evil and good things alike. 

One foggy morning, toward the end of November, Priscilla was standingby the door of one of the lecture-rooms, a book of French history, aFrench grammar and exercise-book and thick note-book in her hand. Shewas going to her French lecture and was standing patiently by thelecture-room door, which had not yet been opened. 

Priscilla's strongest bias was for Greek and Latin, but Mr. Hayes hadrecommended her to take up modern languages as well, and she wassteadily plodding through the French and German, for which she had notso strong a liking as for her beloved classics. Prissie was a veryeager learner, and she was busy now looking over her notes of the lastlecture and standing close to the door, so as to be one of the firstto take her place in the lecture-room. 

The rustling of a dress caused her to look round, and Rosalind Mertonstood by her side. Rosalind was by no means one of the "students" ofthe college. She attended as few lectures as were compatible with herremaining there, but French happened to be one of the subjects whichshe thought it well to take up, and she appeared now by Prissie's sidewith the invariable notebook, without which no girl went to lecture, in her hand. 

"Isn't it cold?" she said, shivering and raising her pretty face toPriscilla's. 

Prissie glanced at her for a moment, said Yes, she supposed it wascold, in an abstracted voice, and bent her head once more over hernote-book. 

Rosalind was looking very pretty in a dress of dark blue velveteen. Her golden curly hair lay in little tendrils all over her head andcurled lovingly against her soft white throat. 

"I hate Kingsdene in a fog, " she continued, "and I think it's verywrong to keep us in this draughty passage until the lecture-room isopened. Don't you, Miss Peel?"

"Well, we are before our time, so no one is to blame for that, "answered Priscilla. 

"Of course, so we are. " Rosalind pulled out a small gold watch, whichshe wore at her girdle. 

"How stupid of me to have mistaken the hour!" she exclaimed. Thenlooking hard at Prissie, she continued in an anxious tone:

"You are not going to attend any lectures this afternoon, are you, Miss Peel?"

"No, " answered Priscilla. "Why?"

Rosalind's blue eyes looked almost pathetic in their pleading. 

"I wonder"-- she began; "I am so worried, I wonder if you'd do me akindness. "

"I can't say until you ask me, " said Priscilla; "what do you want meto do?"

"There's a girl at Kingsdene, a Miss Forbes. She makes my dresses nowand then; I had a letter from her last night, and she is going toLondon in a hurry because her mother is ill. She made this dress forme. Isn't it pretty?"

"Yes, " answered Priscilla, just glancing at it. "But what connectionhas that with my doing anything for you?"

"Oh, a great deal; I'm coming to that part. Miss Forbes wants me topay her for making this dress before she goes to London. I can only dothis by going to Kingsdene this afternoon. "

"Well?" said Priscilla. 

"I want to know if you will come with me. Miss Heath does not like ourgoing to the town alone, particularly at this time of year, when theevenings are so short. Will you come with me, Miss Peel? It will beawfully good-natured of you, and I really do want poor Miss Forbes tohave her money before she goes to London. "

"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 towork up my Greek notes this afternoon. The next lecture is a verystiff one, and I sha'n't he ready for it without some hard work. "

"Oh, but you can study when you come back. Do come with me. I wouldnot ask you, only I know you are so good-natured, and Annie Day andLucy Marsh have both to attend lectures this afternoon. I have no oneto ask-- no one, really if you refuse. I have not half so many friendsas you think, and it would be quite too dreadful for poor Miss Forbesnot to have her money when she wants to spend it on her sick mother. "

Priscilla hesitated for a moment. Two or three other girls werewalking down the corridor to the lecture-room; the door was flungopen. 

"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?"

"At three o'clock. I'm awfully grateful. A thousand thanks, MissPeel. "

Prissie nodded, seated herself at the lecture-table and in theinterest of the work which lay before her soon forgot all aboutRosalind and her troubles. 

The afternoon of that day turned out not only foggy but wet. Adrizzling rain shrouded the landscape, and very few girls from St. Benet's were venturing abroad. 

At half-past two Nancy Banister came hastily into Priscilla's room. 

"Maggie and I are going down to the library, " she said, "to have acozy read by the fire; we want you to come with us. Why, surely youare never going out, Miss Peel?"

"Yes, I am, " answered Prissie in a resigned voice. "I don't like it abit, but Miss Merton has asked me to go with her to Kingsdene, and Ipromised. "

"Well, you sha'n't keep your promise. This is not a fit day for you togo out, and you have a cough, too. I heard you coughing last night. "

"Yes, but that is nothing. I must go, Miss Banister, ", I must keep myword. I dare say it won't take Miss Merton and me very long to walkinto Kingsdene and back again. "

"And I never knew that Rosalind Merton was one of your friends, Prissie, " continued Nancy in a puzzled voice. 

"Nor is she-- I scarcely know her; but when she asked me to go outwith her, I could not very well say no. "

"I suppose not; but I am sorry, all the same, for it is not a fit dayfor 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 jollytime, and we only wish you were with us. "

Nancy nodded brightly and took her leave, and Priscilla, putting onher waterproof and her shabbiest hat, went down into the hall to meetRosalind. 

Rosalind was also in waterproof, but her hat was extremely pretty andbecoming, and Priscilla fancied she got a glimpse of a gay silk dressunder the waterproof cloak. 

"Oh, how quite too sweet of you to be ready!" said Rosalind witheffusion. She took Prissie's hand and squeezed it affectionately, andthe two girls set off. 

The walk was a dreary one, for Kingsdene, one of the most beautifulplaces in England in fine weather, lies so low that in the wintermonths fogs are frequent, and the rain is almost incessant, so thatthen the atmosphere is always damp and chilly. By the time the twogirls had got into the High Street Prissie's thick, sensible bootswere covered with mud and Rosalind's thin ones felt very damp to herfeet. 

They soon reached the quarter where the dressmaker, Miss Forbes, lived. Prissie was asked to wait downstairs, and Rosalind ran upseveral flights of stairs to fulfil her mission. She came back at theend of a few minutes, looking bright and radiant. 

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Peel, " she said, "but myboots were so muddy that Miss Forbes insisted on polishing them up forme. "

"Well, we can go home now, I suppose?" said Prissie. 

"Ye-- es; only as we are here, would you greatly mind our going roundby Bouverie Street? I want to inquire for a friend of mine, Mrs. Elliot-Smith. She has not been well. "

"Oh, I don't mind, " said Priscilla. "Will it take us much out of ourway?"

"No, only a step or two. Come, we have just to turn this corner, andhere we are. What a dear-- quite too good-natured girl you are, MissPeel!"

Prissie said nothing. The two started forth again in the drizzlingmist and fog, and presently found themselves in one of the mostfashionable streets of Kingsdene and standing before a ponderoushall-door, which stood back in a portico. 

Rosalind rang the bell, which made a loud peal. The door was openedalmost immediately; but, instead of a servant appearing in answer tothe summons, a showily dressed girl, with a tousled head of flaxenhair, light blue eyes and a pale face, stood before Rosalind andPrissie. 

"Oh, you dear Rose!" she said, clasping her arms round Miss Merton anddragging 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!"

"How do you do, Meta?" said Rosalind, when she could interrupt thiseager 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. "

"Oh, you charming darling!" said Meta, giving Rose a fresh hug andglancing in a supercilious but friendly way at Prissie. 

"We came to inquire for your mother, dear Meta, " said Rose in a demuretone. "Is she any better?"

"Yes, my dear darling, she's much better. " Meta's eyes flashedinterrogation into Rose's: Rose's returned back glances which spokewhole volumes of meaning. 

"Look here, " said Meta Elliot-Smith, "now that you two dear, preciousgirls have come, you mustn't go away. Oh, no, I couldn't hear of it. Ihave perfect oceans to say to you, Rose-- and it is absolutelycenturies since we have met. Off with your waterproof and up you cometo the drawing-room for a cup of tea. One or two friends are droppingin presently, and the Beechers and one or two more are upstairs now. You know the Beechers, don't you, Rosalind? Here, Miss Peel, let mehelp you to unburden yourself. Little Rose is so nimble in her waysthat she doesn't need any assistance. "

"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'snow. We ought to be going back at once. "

Rosalind Merton's only answer was to slip off her waterproof cloak andstand arrayed in a fascinating toilet of silk and lace-- a little toodressy, perhaps, even for an afternoon party at Kingsdene, but vastlybecoming to its small wearer. 

Priscilla opened her eyes wide as she gazed at her companion. She sawat once that she had been entrapped into her present false position, and that Rosalind's real object in coming to Kingsdene was not to payher dressmaker but to visit the Elliot-Smiths. 

"I can't possible stay, " she said in a cold, angry voice. "I must goback to St. Benet's at once. "

She began to button up her waterproof as fast as Miss Elliot-Smith wasunbuttoning it. 

"Nonsense, you silly old dear!" said Rosalind, who, having gained herway, 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 herall the good in the world. My dear Miss Peel, you can't be so rude asto refuse a cup of tea, and I know I shall catch an awful cold if Idon't have one. Do come upstairs for half an hour; do, there's a dearPrissie!"

Priscilla hesitated. She had no knowledge of so-called "society. " Herinstincts told her it was very wrong to humor Rose. She disliked MissElliot-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 prettybefore her. 

"Just for a few moments, " said Rosalind, coming up and whispering toher. "I really won't keep you long. You will just oblige me for a fewminutes. "

"Well, but I'm not fit to be seen in this old dress!" whispered backpoor Prissie. 

"Oh, yes, you are; you're not bad at all, and I am sure Meta will findyou a secluded corner if you want it-- won't you, Meta?"

"Yes, of course, if Miss Peel wants it, " answered Meta. "But she looksall right, so deliciously quaint-- I simply adore quaint people! Quitethe sweet girl graduate, I do declare. You don't at all answer to therole, you naughty Rosalind!"

So Prissie, in her ill-made brown dress, her shabbiest hat and hermuddy boots, had to follow in the wake of Rosalind Merton and herfriend. At first she had been too angry to think much about herattire, but she was painfully conscious of it when she entered acrowded drawing-room, where every one else was in a suitable afternoontoilet. She was glad to shrink away out of sight into the most remotecorner she could find; her muddy boots were pushed far in under herchair and hidden as much as possible by her rather short dress; hercheeks burnt unbecomingly; she felt miserable, self-conscious, ill atease and very cross with every one. It was in vain for poor Priscillato whisper to herself that Greek and Latin were glorious and great anddress and fashion were things of no moment whatever. At this instantshe knew all too well that dress and fashion were reigning supreme. 

Meta Elliot-Smith was elusive, loud and vulgar, but she was alsogood-natured. She admired Rosalind, but in her heart of hearts shethought that her friend had played Prissie a very shabby trick. Shebrought Prissie some tea, therefore, and stood for a moment or two byher side, trying to make things a little more comfortable for her. Some one soon claimed her attention, however, and poor Prissie foundherself alone. 

 CHAPTER XIV

 IN THE ELLIOT-SMITH'S DRAWING-ROOM

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 windowcurtain, looked in vain for Rosalind. Where had she hidden herself?When were they going away? Surely Rosalind would come to fetch hersoon? They had to walk home and be ready for dinner. 

Dinner at St. Benet's was at half-past six, and Prissie reflected witha great sensation of thankfulness that Rosalind and she must go backin good time for this meal, as it was one of the rules of the collegethat no girl should absent herself from late dinner without gettingpermission from the principal. 

Prissie looked in agony at the clock which stood on a mantel-piece notfar from where she had ensconced herself. Presently it struck five; noone heard its silver note in the babel of sound, but Priscilla watchedits slowly moving hands in an agony. 

Rose must come to fetch her presently. Prissie knew-- she reflected toher horror that she had not the moral courage to walk about thosedrawing-rooms hunting for Rose. 

Two or three exquisitely dressed but frivolous-looking women stood ina group not far from the window where Priscilla sat forlorn. Theytalked about the cut of their mantles and the price they had given fortheir new winter bonnets. Their shrill laughter reached Prissie'sears, also their words. They complimented one another, but talkedscandal of their neighbors. They called somebody-- who Prissie couldnot imagine--" a certain lady, " and spoke of how she was angling toget a footing in society, and how the good set at Kingsdene wouldcertainly never have anything to do with her or hers. 

"She's taking up those wretched girl graduates, " said one of thesegossips to her neighbor. Then her eye fell upon Prissie. She said"Hush!" in an audible tone, and the little party moved away out ofearshot. 

The minute hand of the clock on the mantel-piece pointed to nearlyhalf-past five. Poor Prissie felt her miseries grow almostintolerable. Tears of mortification and anguish were forcingthemselves to her eyes. She felt that, in addition to having lost somany hours of study, she would get into a serious scrape at St. Benet's for breaking one of the known rules of the college. 

At this moment a quiet voice said, "How do you do?"

She raised her tearful eyes. Geoffrey Hammond was standing by herside. He gave her a kind glance, shook hands with her and stood by herwindow uttering commonplaces until Priscilla had recovered herself-possession. Then, dropping into a chair near, he said abruptly:

"I saw you from the other end of the room. I was surprised. I did notsuppose you knew our hostess. "

"Nor do I really, " said Priscilla with sudden vehemence. "Oh, it's ashame!" she added, her face reddening up woefully; "I have beenentrapped!"

"You must not let the people who are near us hear you say words ofthat 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 alow voice?"

To poor Hammond's horror Prissie began to whisper. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said, interrupting her, "but do you know thatthe buzzing noise caused by a whisper carries sound a long way? Thatis a well authenticated fact. Now, if you will try to speak low. "

"Oh, thank you; yes, I will, " said Prissie. She began a garbledaccount. Hammond looked at her face and guessed the truth. Themiseries of her present position were depriving the poor girl of thefull use of her intellect. At last he ascertained that Priscilla'sall-absorbing present anxiety was to be in time for the half-past sixdinner at St. Benet's. 

"I know we'll be late, " she said, "and I'll have broken the rules, andMiss Heath will be so much annoyed with me. "

Hammond volunteered to look for Miss Merton. 

"Oh, thank you, " said Prissie, the tears springing to her eyes. "Howvery, very kind you are. "

"Please don't speak of it, " said Hammond. "Stay where you are. I'llsoon bring the young truant to your side. "

He began to move about the drawing-rooms, and Prissie from herhiding-place watched him with a world of gratitude in her face. "Talkof my stirring from this corner, " she said to herself, "why, I feelglued to the spot! Oh, my awful muddy boots. I daren't even think ofthem. Now I do hope Mr. Hammond will find Miss Merton quickly. Howkind he is! I wonder Maggie does not care for him as much as he caresfor her. I do not feel half as shy with him as I do with every oneelse in this dreadful-- dreadful room. Oh, I do trust he'll soon comeback and bring Miss Merton with him. Then, if we run all the way, wemay, perhaps, be in time for dinner. "

Hammond was absent about ten minutes; they seemed like so many hoursto anxious Prissie. To her horror she saw him returning alone, and nowshe so far forgot her muddy boots as to run two or three steps to meethim. She knocked over a footstool as she did so, and one or two peoplelooked round and shrugged their shoulders at the poor gauche girl. 

"Where is she?" exclaimed Prissie, again speaking in a loud voice. "Oh, haven't you brought her? What shall I do?"

"It's all right, I assure you, Miss Peel. Let me conduct you back tothat snug seat in the window. I have seen Miss Merton, and she saysyou are to make yourself happy. She asked Miss Heath's permission foryou both to be absent from dinner to-day. "

"She did? I never heard of anything so outrageous. I won't stay. Ishall go away at once. "

"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. "

"Do you think I care for that? Oh, she has behaved disgracefully! Shehas told Miss Heath a lie. I shall explain matters the very moment Igo back. "

Priscilla was not often in a passion, but she felt in one now. Shelost her shyness and her voice rose without constraint. 

"I am not supposed to know the ways of society, " she said, "but Idon't think I want to know much about this sort of society. " And shegot up, prepared to leave the room. 

The ladies, who had been gossiping at her side, turned at the sound ofher agitation. They saw a plain, badly dressed girl, with a frockconveniently short for the muddy streets, but by no means in tone withher present elegant surroundings, standing up and contradicting, or atleast appearing to contradict, Geoffrey Hammond, one of the best knownmen at St. Hilda's, a Senior Wrangler, too. What did this gauche girlmean? Most people were deferential to Hammond, but she seemed to bescolding him. 

Prissie for the time being became more interesting even than thewinter fashions. The ladies drew a step or two nearer to enjoy thelittle comedy. 

Priscilla noticed no one, but Hammond felt these good ladies in theair. His cheeks burned and he wished himself well out of his presentposition. 

"If you will sit down, Miss Peel, " he said in a low, firm voice, "Ithink I can give you good reasons for not rushing away in thisheadlong fashion. "

"Well, what are they?" said Prissie. Hammond's voice had asufficiently compelling power to make her sit down once more on herwindow-ledge. 

"Don't you think, " he said, seating himself in front of her, "that wemay as well keep this discussion to ourselves?"

"Oh, yes; was I speaking too loud? I wouldn't vex you for anything. "

"Pardon me; you are still speaking a little loud. "

"Oh!" Poor Prissie fell back, her face crimson. "Please say anythingyou wish, " she presently piped in a voice as low as a little mousemight have used. 

"What I have to say is simply this, " said Hammond: "You will gainnothing 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 herback to the college? Then, of course, it will remain with you to payher out in any way you think well. "

"Thank you; perhaps that is best. It is quite hopeless now to think ofgetting back in time for dinner. I only hope Miss Merton won't keep mewaiting very long, for it is very, very dull sitting here and seeingpeople staring at you. "

"I would not look at them if I were you, Miss Peel; and, if you willpermit me, I shall be only too pleased to keep you company. "

"Oh, thank you, " said Prissie. "Then I sha'n't mind staying at all. "

The next half-hour seemed to pass on the wings of the wind. 

Priscilla was engaged in an animated discussion with Hammond on therelative attractions of the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey;" her opiniondiffered from his, and she was well able to hold her ground. Her facewas now both eloquent and attractive, her eyes were bright, her wordsterse and epigrammatic. She looked so different a girl from the cowedand miserable little Prissie of an hour ago that Rosalind Merton asshe came up and tapped her on the shoulder, felt a pang of envy. 

"I am sorry to interrupt you, " she said, "but it is time for us to begoing home. Have you given Mr. Hammond his message?"

"What do you mean?" asked Priscilla. "I have not any message for Mr. Hammond. "

"You must have forgotten. Did not Miss Oliphant give you a letter forhim?"

"Certainly not. What do you mean?"

"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 askyou to come home with me now. "

She raised her pretty baby eyes to Hammond's face as she spoke. Heabsolutely scowled down at her, shook hands warmly with Priscilla andturned away. 

"Come and bid Mrs. Elliot-Smith good-by, " said Rosalind, her eyesstill dancing. "She is at the other end of the drawing-room; come, youcan follow me. "

"How disgracefully you have behaved, Miss Merton!" began Priscilla atonce. "You cannot expect me ever to speak to you again, and I shallcertainly tell Miss Heath. "

They were walking across the crowded drawing-room now. Rosalind turnedand let her laughing eyes look full at Prissie. 

"My dear Miss Peel, pray reserve any little scolding you intend tobestow upon me until we get out into the street, and please do nottread upon my dress!"

 CHAPTER XV

 POLLY SINGLETON

MISS DAY was having quite a large party for cocoa in her room. She hadinvited not only her own chosen friends from Heath Hall, but also twoor three congenial spirits from Katharine Hall. Five or sixmerry-looking girls were now assembled in her room. Miss Day's roomwas one of the largest in the college; it was showily furnished, withan intention to produce a Japanese effect. Several paper lanterns hungfrom the ceiling and were suspended to wire supports, which werefastened to different articles of furniture. 

In honor of Miss Day's cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and theeffect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of color, weregrotesque and almost bizarre. 

Miss Day thought her room lovely. It was dazzling, but the reverse ofreposeful. 

The girls were lounging about, chatting and laughing; they were havinga 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 KatharineHall, was sending her companions into fits of laughter. 

"Yes, " she was saying in a high, gay voice, "I'm not a bit ashamed ofit; 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 lettercame from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he'll see Miss Eccleston if Ididn't pay up. Madame Clarice wrote two nights ago, declaring herintention 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!"

"What do you mean to do, Polly?" asked Lucy Marsh in a sympathizingtone. 

"Do? My dear creature, there's only one thing to be done. I must havean auction on the quiet. I shall sell my worldly all. I can buy thingsagain, you know, after dad sends me his next allowance. "

"Oh, Polly, but you cannot really mean it!" Miss Marsh, Miss Day andtwo or three more crowded around Polly Singleton as they spoke. 

"You can't mean to have an auction, " began Miss Day; "no one everheard of such a thing at St. Benet's. Why, it would be simplydisgraceful!"

"No, it wouldn't-- don't turn cross, Annie. I'll have an auction firstand then a great feed in the empty room. I can go on tick for thefeed; Jones, the confectioner, knows better than not to oblige me. He's not like that horrid Spilman and that mean Madame Clarice. "

"But, Polly, if you write to your father, he'll be sure to send youwhat you want to clear off those two debts. You have often told us hehas lots of money. "

"My dears, he has more tin than he knows what to do with; but do youthink I am going to have the poor old dear worried? When I was cominghere he said, Polly, you shall have thirty pounds every term to spendas pocket money; not a penny more, not a penny less. And you must keepout of debt on it; mind that, Polly Singleton. ' I gave the dear olddad a hug. He's the image of me-- only with redder hair and morefreckles. And I said, I'll do my best, dad, and, anyhow, you sha'n'tbe put out whatever happens. '"

"Then you didn't tell him you'd keep out of debt?"

"No, for I knew I'd break my word. I've always been in debt ever sinceI could remember. I wouldn't know how it felt not to owe a lot ofmoney. It's habit, and I don't mind it a bit. But I don't want dad toknow, and I don't want Miss Eccleston to know, for perhaps she wouldwrite to him. If those old horrors won't wait for their money tillnext term, why there's nothing for it but an auction. I have some nicethings and they'll go very cheap, so there's a chance for you all, girls. "

"But if Miss Eccleston finds out?" said Miss Day. 

"What if she does? There's no rule against auctions, and, as I don'tsuppose any of you will have one, it isn't worth making a rule for mealone. Anyhow, I'm resolved to risk it. My auction will be on Monday, and I shall make out an inventory of my goods tomorrow. "

"Will you advertise it on the notice-board in your hall, dear?" askedLucy Marsh. 

"Why not? A good idea! The great A. Will be held in Miss Singleton'sroom, from eight to ten o'clock on the evening of Monday next. GreatBargains! Enormous Sacrifice! Things absolutely given away! Oh, whatfun! I'll be my own auctioneer. "

Polly lay back in her armchair and laughed loudly. 

"What is all this noise about?" asked a refined little voice, andRosalind Merton entered the room. 

Two or three girls jumped up at once to greet her. 

"Come in, Rosie; you're just in time. What do you think Miss Singletonis going to do now?"

"I can't tell; what?" asked Rosalind. "Something outre', I feelcertain. "

Polly made a wry face and winked her eyes at her companions. 

"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'mhonest-- at least, I think I'm honest. When I owe money, I don't leavea stone unturned to pay what I owe. Having sinned, I repent. I enterthe Valley of Humiliation and give up all. Who can do more?"

"Oh, dear, Polly, I don't think I'd call owing a little moneysinning, " said Lucy Marsh, whose ideas were known to be somewhat lax. 

"Well, my dear, there's nothing for those in debt but to sell theirpossessions. My auction is on Monday. Will you come, Rosalind?"

"You don't mean it, " said Rose, her blue eyes beginning to sparkle. 

"Yes, I do, absolutely and truly mean it. "

"And you will sell your things-- your lovely things?"

"My things, my lovely, lovely things must be sold. "

"But not your clothes? Your new sealskin jacket, for instance?"

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. 

"I owe a lot, " she said, looking with a rueful countenance at the sumtotal. "Yes, I even fear the sealskin must go. I don't want to partwith it. Dad gave it me just before I came here. "

"It's a lovely seal, " said Annie Day, "and it seems a sin to part withit; it's cut in the most stylish way too, with those high shoulders. "

"Don't praise it, please, " said Polly, lying back in her chair andcovering her eyes with her hand. "It cuts like a knife to part withdad's last present. Well, I'm rightly punished. What a fool I was toget all those Japanese things from Spilman and that fancy ball-dressfor the theatricals. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

"Perhaps you won't want to part with your seal, dear, " said Lucy, whowas 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 sureto realize a good bit of money. "

"No, Lucy, I owe such a lot; the seal must go. Oh, what a worry itis!"

"And at auctions of this kind, " said Rosalind in her low voice, "evenbeautiful things don't realize much. How can they?"

"Rosalind is after that seal, " whispered Lucy to Annie Day. 

"The seal would swallow you up, Rosie, " said Annie in a loud voice. "Don't aspire to it; you'd never come out alive. "

"The seal can be brought to know good manners, " retorted Rose angrily. "His size can be diminished and his strength abated. But I have notsaid that I want him at all. You do so jump to conclusions, Miss Day. "

"I know what I want, " said a girl called Hetty Jones who had not yetspoken. "I'm going in for some of Polly's ornaments. You won't put toobig a price upon your corals, will you, Poll?"

"I shall bid for your American rocking-chair, Polly, " exclaimed MissDay. 

"I tell you what you must do, Miss Singleton, " shouted another girl, "you must get those inventories ready as soon as possible, and sendthem around the college for every one to read, for you have got suchnice things that there will be sure to be a great rush at yourauction. "

"Don't sell any of the college possessions by mistake, my dear, " saidLucy Marsh. "You would get into trouble then. Indeed, as it is, Idon't see how you are to keep out of it. "

Polly pushed her hands impatiently through her bright red hair. 

"Who's afraid?" she said, and laughed. 

"When are we to see your things, Polly?" asked Miss Jones. "If theauction is on Monday, there must be a show day, when we can all goround and inspect. I know that's always done at auctions, for I'vebeen at several in the country. The show day is the best fun of all. The farmers' wives come and pinch the feather-beds between theirthumbs and forefingers and hold the blankets up to the light to see ifthe moths have got in. "

"Hetty, how vulgar!" interposed Miss Day. "What has Polly's auction ofher recherche' things to do with blankets and feather-beds? Now thecocoa is ready. Who will help me to carry the cups round?"

"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 tookMiss Propriety to town with me. "

"Oh, did you, darling? Do tell us all about it!" said Annie Day, running up to Rosalind and taking her hand. 

"There isn't much to tell. She behaved as I expected; her manners arenot graceful, but she's a deep one. "

"Anybody can see that who looks at her, " remarked Lucy Marsh. 

"We went to the Elliot-Smiths', " continued Rosalind. 

"Good gracious, Rosie!" interrupted Hetty Jones. "You don't mean tosay you took Propriety to that house?"

"Yes; why not? It's the jolliest house in Kingsdene. "

"But fancy taking poor Propriety there. What did she say?"

"Say? She scolded a good deal. "

"Scolded! Poor little proper thing! How I should have liked to haveseen her. Did she open her purse and exhibit its emptiness to thecompany at large? Did she stand on a chair and lecture the frivolouspeople who assemble in that house on the emptiness of life? Oh, how Iwish I could have looked on at the fun!"

"You'd have beheld an edifying sight then, my dear, " said Rosalind. "Prissie's whole behavior was one to be copied. No words can describeher tact and grace. "

"But what did she do, Rosie? I wish you would speak out and tell us. You know you are keeping something back. "

"Whenever she saw me she scolded me, and she tripped over my dressseveral times. "

"Oh, you dear, good, patient Rosalind, what a bore she must havebeen. "

"No, she wasn't, for I scarcely saw anything of her. She amusedherself capitally without me, I can tell you. "

"Amused herself? Propriety amused herself? How diverting! Could shestoop to it?"

"She did. She stooped and-- conquered. She secured for herself anadorer. "

"Rosalind, how absurd you are! Poor, Plain Propriety!"

"As long as I live I shall hate the letter P, " suddenly interruptedAnnie Day, "for since that disagreeable girl has got into the house weare always using it. "

"Never mind, Rosalind; go on with your story, " said Miss Jones. "Whatdid Plain Propriety do?"

Rosalind threw up her hands, rolled her eyes skyward and uttered theterse remark:

"She flirted!"

"Oh, Rosie! who would flirt with her? I suppose she got hold of someold rusty, musty don. But then I do not suppose you'd find that sortof man at the Elliot-Smiths'. "

This remark came from Lucy Marsh. Rosalind Merton, who was leaning herfair head against a dark velvet cushion, looked as if she enjoyed thesituation immensely. 

"What do you say to a Senior Wrangler?" she asked in a gentle voice. 

"Rosalind, what-- not the Senior Wrangler?"

Rosalind nodded. 

"Oh! oh! oh! what could he see-- Geoffrey Hammond, of all people! He'sso exclusive too. "

"Well, " said Hetty Jones, standing up reluctantly, for she felt it wastime to return to her neglected studies, "wonders will never cease! Icould not have supposed that Mr. Hammond would condescend to go nearthe Elliot-Smiths', and most certainly I should never have guessedthat he would look at a girl like Priscilla Peel. "

"Well, he flirted with her, " said Rosalind, "and she with him. Theywere so delighted with one another that I could scarcely get Prissieaway when it was time to leave. They looked quite engrossed-- you knowthe kind of air-- there was no mistaking it!"

"Miss Peel must have thanked you for taking her. "

"Thanked me? That's not Miss Prissie's style. I could see she wasawfully vexed at being disturbed. "

"Well, it's rather shabby, " said Polly Singleton, speaking for thefirst time. "Every one at St. Benet's know whom Mr. Hammond belongs. "

"Yes, yes, of course, of course, " cried several voices. 

"And Maggie has been so kind to Miss Peel, " continued Polly. 

"Yes-- shame!-- how mean of little Propriety!" the voices echoedagain. 

Rosalind gave a meaning glance at Annie Day. Annie raised hereyebrows, looked interrogative, then her face subsided into asatisfied expression. She asked no further questions, but she gaveRosalind an affectionate pat on the shoulder. 

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 beganto talk. 

 CHAPTER XVI

 PRETTY LITTLE ROSALIND

"I HAVE done it now, " said Rosalind; "the estrangement will come aboutnaturally. Propriety won't head a party at this college, for she willnot have Miss Oliphant's support. My dear girls, we need do nothingfurther. The friendship we regretted is at an end. "

"Did you take Priscilla Peel to the Elliot-Smiths' on purpose, then?"asked Miss Day. 

"I took her there for my own purposes, " replied Rosalind. "I wanted togo. I could not go alone, as it is against our precious rules. It wasnot convenient for any of my own special friends to come with me, so Ithought I'd play Prissie a nice little trick. Oh, wasn't she angry! Mydear girls, it was as good as a play to watch her face. "

Rosalind lay back in her chair and laughed heartily. Her laughter wasas melodious as the sound of silver bells. 

"Well, " said Miss Marsh after a pause, "I wish you would stop laughingand go on with your story, Rose. "

Rosalind resumed her grave deportment. 

"That's all, " she said; "there's nothing more to tell. "

"Did you know, then, that Mr. Hammond would be there?"

"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, howearnestly the poor dear Elliot-Smiths aspire, and how vain are theirefforts, 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 notalent nor the smallest literary desires, they would give their eyesto 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 houseto-day. She told me she was dying to have him, of course, but when sheasked him she could see by his face and manner that he was searchinghis brains for an excuse to get out of it. All of a sudden it flashedinto her head to say, 'Some of our friends from St. Benet's will bepresent. ' The moment she said this he changed and got very polite andsaid he would certainly look in for a little while. Poor Meta was sodelighted! You can fancy her chagrin when he devoted himself all thetime to Prissie. "

"He thought he'd meet Maggie Oliphant, " said Annie Day; "it was ashame to lure him on with a falsehood. I don't wonder at people notrespecting the Elliot-Smiths. "

"My dear, " responded Rosalind, "Meta did not tell a lie. I never couldhave guessed that you were straight-laced, Annie. "

"Nor am I, " responded Annie with a sigh, which she quickly suppressed. 

"The whole thing fitted in admirably with our wishes, " continued Rose, "and now we need not do anything further in the matter. Rumor, in theshape of Hetty Jones' tongue and Polly Singleton's hints, will do therest for us. "

"Do you really think that Maggie Oliphant cares for Mr. Hammond?"asked Lucy Marsh. 

"Cares for him!" said Rosalind. "Does a duck swim? Does a baby likesweet things? Maggie is so much in love with Mr. Hammond that she'salmost ill about it-- there!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the other two girls. 

"She is, I know she is. She treats him shamefully, because of somewhim of hers. I only wish she may never get him. "

"He'd do nicely for you, wouldn't he, Rose?" said Annie Day. 

A delicate pink came into Rosalind's cheeks. She rose to leave theroom. 

"Mr. Hammond is not in my style, " she said. "Much too severe and toolearned. Good night, girls. I must look over the notes of thatwretched French lecture before I go to bed. "

Rosalind sought her own room, which was in another corridor. It waslate now-- past eleven o'clock. The electric light had been put out. She was well supplied with candles, however, and lighting two on themantel-piece and two on her bureau, she proceeded to stir up her fireand to make her room warm and cozy. 

Rosalind still wore the pretty light silk which had given her such anelegant appearance at the Elliot-Smiths' that afternoon. Securing thebolt of her door, she pushed aside a heavy curtain, which concealedthe part of her room devoted to her wardrobe, washing apparatus, etc. Rosalind's wardrobe had a glass door, and she could see her petitefigure in it from head to foot. It was a very small figure, butexquisitely proportioned. Its owner admired it much. She turnedherself round, took up a hand-glass and surveyed herself in profileand many other positions. Then, taking off her pretty dress, shearrayed herself in a long white muslin dressing-robe, and letting downher golden hair, combed out the glittering masses. They fell inshowers below her waist. Her face looked more babyish and innocentthan ever as it smiled to its own fair image in the glass. 

"How he did scowl at me!" said Rosalind, suddenly speaking aloud. "ButI had to say it. I was determined to find out for myself how much orhow little he cares for Maggie Oliphant, and, alas! there's nothing ofthe '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 MissPeel. Now must I look through those horrid French notes? Need I?" Shepirouetted on one toe in front of the glass. The motion exhilaratedher, 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. 

"I can't and won't study to-night, " she said again. 

"I hate study, and I will not spoil my looks by burning the midnightoil. "

Suddenly she clasped her hands and the color rushed into her cheeks. 

"How fortunate that I remembered! I must write to mother this verynight. This is Thursday. The auction is on Monday. I have not a postto lose. "

Hastily seating herself in front of her bureau, Rosalind scribbled afew lines:

 DEAREST, PRECIOUS MAMSIE: 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 treasures. 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 such coral ornaments-- you know, that lovely pink shade. Send me all you can, precious mamsie, and make your Baby happy. 

 "Your own little ROSE. 

 "P. S. -- Oh, mamsie, such a sealskin! and such coral!"

This artless epistle was quickly enclosed in an envelope, addressedand deposited in the post-box. Afterward pretty little Rosalind spenta night of dreamless slumber and awoke in the morning as fresh andinnocent-looking as the fairest of the babies she compared herself to. 

 CHAPTER XVII

 SEALSKIN AND PINK CORAL

MONDAY arrived. It wanted now less than three weeks to the end of theterm. A good many of the girls were talking about home and Christmas, and already the hard-worked, the studious, the industrious were owningto the first symptoms of that pleasant fatigue which would entitlethem to the full enjoyment of their merited holiday. 

Priscilla was now a happy girl. She had found her niche in thecollege; her work was delightful. Under Maggie's advice she became amember of the Debating Society and rather reluctantly allowed her nameto be entered in the Dramatic Club. She felt very shy about this, butthat was because she did not know her own power. To her astonishment, Priscilla found that she could act. If the part suited her she couldthrow herself into it so that she ceased to be awkward, ungainlyPriscilla Peel. Out of herself she was no longer awkward, no longerungainly. She could only personate certain characters; light and airyparts she could not attempt, but where much depended on passion andemotion Priscilla could do splendidly. Every day her friends foundfresh points of interest in this queer girl. Nancy Banister was reallyattached to her, Maggie was most faithful in her declared friendshipand Miss Heath took more notice of Priscilla than of any other girl inthe hall. The different lecturers spoke highly of Miss Peel'scomprehension, knowledge and ability. In short, things were going wellwith her, and she owned to her own heart that she had never felthappier in her life. 

Prissie, too, was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. She wasto return home then, and her letters to her three little sisters, toAunt Raby and to Mr. Hayes were full of the delights of her collegelife. 

No one could have been more angry than poor Prissie during thatmiserable time at the Elliot-Smiths'. Many complaints did she resolveto make, and dire was the vengeance which she hoped would fall onRose's devoted head. But, during her talk with Mr. Hammond, some ofher anger had cooled down. He had touched on great subjects, andPrissie's soul had responded like a musical instrument to the lightand skilled finger of the musician. All her intellectual powers werearoused to their utmost, keenest life during this brief little talk. She found that Hammond could say better and more comprehensive thingsthan even her dear old tutor, Mr. Hayes. Hammond was abreast of thepresent-day aspect of those things in which Prissie delighted. Hershort talk with him made up for all the tedium of the rest of thatwretched afternoon. 

On her walk home Priscilla made up her mind to have nothing further tosay to Rose, but also not to make a complaint about her. She wouldpass the matter over in silence. If questioned, she would tell her ownfriends where she had been; if not questioned, she would volunteer noinformation. 

Maggie and Nancy did ask her casually what had kept her out so long. 

"I was at the Elliot-Smiths' with Miss Merton, " replied Priscilla. 

They both started when she said this and looked at her hard. They weretoo well-bred, however, to give utterance to the many comments whichcrowded to their lips. Prissie read their thoughts like a book. 

"I did not like it at all, " she said; "but I'd rather say nothingabout it, please. After Mr. Hammond came I was happy. "

"Mr. Hammond was there?" said Nancy in an eager voice. "GeoffreyHammond was at the Elliot-Smiths'? Impossible!"

"He was there, " repeated Prissie. She glanced nervously at Maggie, whohad taken up a book and was pretending to read. "He came and he spoketo me. He was very, very kind, and he made me so happy. "

"Dear Prissie, " said Maggie suddenly. She got up, went over to theyoung girl, tapped her affectionately on the shoulder and left theroom. 

Prissie sat, looking thoughtfully before her. After a time she badeNancy Banister "good night" and went off to her own room to study thenotes she had taken that morning at the French lecture. 

The next few days passed without anything special occurring. If alittle rumor were already beginning to swell in the air, it scarcelyreached the ears of those principally concerned. Maggie Oliphantcontinued to make a special favorite of Miss Peel. She sat near her atbreakfast and at the meetings of the Dramatic Society was particularlyanxious to secure a good part for Prissie. The members of the societyintended to act The Princess before the end of the term, and as therewas a great deal to work up and many rehearsals were necessary, theymet in the little theater on most evenings. 

Maggie Oliphant had been unanimously selected to take the part of thePrincess. She electrified every one by drawing Miss Peel toward herand saying in an emphatic voice:

"You must be the Prince, Priscilla. "

A look of dismay crept over several faces. One or two made differentproposals. 

"Would not Nancy Banister take the part better, Maggie?" said MissClaydon, a tall, graceful girl, who was to be Psyche. 

"No; Nancy is to be Cyril. She sings well and can do the partadmirably. Miss Peel must be the Prince: I will have no other lover. What do you say, Miss Peel?"

"I cannot; it is impossible, " almost whispered Prissie. 

"'Cannot' is a word which must not be listened to in our DramaticSociety, " responded Maggie. "I promise to turn you out a mostaccomplished Prince, my friend; no one shall be disappointed in you. Girls, do you leave this matter in my hands? Do you leave the Princeto me?"

"We cannot refuse you the privilege of choosing your own Prince, Princess, " said Miss Claydon with a graceful curtsy. 

The others assented, but unwillingly. Miss Oliphant was known to bemore full of whims than any one else in the college. Her extraordinaryand sudden friendship for Prissie was regarded as her latest caprice. 

Rosalind Merton was not a particularly good actress, but her face wastoo pretty not to be called into requisition. She was to take the partof Melissa. 

The society had a grand meeting on the day of Polly Singleton'sauction. Matters were still very much in a state of chaos, but therehearsal of some of the parts was got through with credit under thedirections of the clever stage-manager, one of the nicest and bestgirls in the college, Constance Field. She had a knack of putting eachgirl at her ease-- of discovering the faintest sparks of genius andfanning them into flame. 

Priscilla had learned her speeches accurately: her turn came; shestood up trembling and began. Gradually the stony (or was ityearning?) look in Maggie's face moved her. She fancied herselfHammond, not the Prince. When she spoke to Maggie she felt no longerlike a feeble schoolgirl acting a part. She thought she was pleadingfor Hammond, and enthusiasm got into her voice, and a light filled hereyes. There was a little cheer when Priscilla got through her firstrehearsal. Nancy Banister came up to Rosalind. 

"I do believe Maggie is right, " she said, "and that Miss Peel willtake the part capitally. "

"Miss Oliphant is well known for her magnanimity, " retorted Rosalind, an ugly look spoiling the expression of her face. 

"Her magnanimity? What do you mean, Rose?"

"To choose that girl for her Prince!" retorted Rosalind. "Ask Mr. Hammond what I mean. Ask the Elliot-Smiths. "

"I don't know the Elliot-Smiths, " said Nancy in a cold voice. Sheturned away; she felt displeased and annoyed. 

Rose glanced after her. Then she ran up to Maggie Oliphant, who waspreparing to leave the little theater. 

"Don't you want to see the auction?" she said in a gay voice. "It'sgoing to be the best fun we have had for many a long day. "

Maggie turned and looked at her. 

"The auction? What auction do you mean?" she asked. 

"Why, Polly Singleton's, of course. You've not heard of it? It's theevent of the term!"

Maggie laughed. 

"You must be talking nonsense, Rose, " she said. "An auction at St. Benet's! A real auction? Impossible!"

"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 thecollege. "

"Now I remember, " said Miss Oliphant, laughing. "I got anextraordinary type-written production. I regarded it as a hoax andconsigned it to the wastepaper basket. "

"But it wasn't a hoax; it was true. Come away, Miss Oliphant, do. Polly has got some lovely things. "

"I don't think I even know who Polly is, " said Maggie. "She surely isnot an inmate of Heath Hall?"

"No, no-- of Katharine Hall. You must know her by sight, at least. Agreat big, fat girl, with red hair and freckles. "

"Yes, now I remember. I think she has rather a pleasant face. "

"Oh, do you really? Isn't she awfully common and vulgar-looking?"

"Common and vulgar-looking people are often pleasant, nevertheless, "retorted Maggie. 

"You'll come to her auction?" insisted Rose. 

"I don't know. She has no right to have an auction. Such a proceedingwould give great displeasure to our principals. "

"How can you tell that? There never was an auction at the collegebefore. "

"How can I tell, Rose? Instinct is my guide in a matter of this sort. "

Maggie stepped back and looked haughty. 

"Well, " said Rose, "the principals won't ever know; we are taking goodcare of that. "

"Oh! I hope you may be successful. Good night. "

Maggie turned to walk away. She saw Priscilla standing not far off. 

"Come, Prissie, " she said affectionately, "you did admirably to-night, but you must have another lesson. You missed two of the best points inthat last speech. Come back with me into the theater at once. "

Rose bit her lips with vexation. She was wildly anxious to be at theauction. 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 aresolve to bring some of the very best girls in the college to thisscene of rioting. Her reckless companions had dared her to do this, and she felt what she called "her honor" at stake. Nancy Banister haddeclined her invitation with decision; Constance Field had witheredher with a look. Now she must secure Maggie. 

"I wish you'd come, " she said, following Maggie and Prissie to thedoor of the theater. "It will be an awful disappointment if you don't!We all reckoned on having you. "

"What do you mean, Rose?"

"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?"

Priscilla was startled to see the queer change these few words made onMaggie. Her cheeks lost their roses; her eyes grew big, pathetic, miserable. Then a defiant expression filled them. 

"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 thanthe rest of you. Come, Prissie. "

Maggie seized Priscilla's hand; her clasp was so tight as to be almostpainful. She hurried Prissie along so fast that Rose could scarcelykeep up with them. 

They entered the hall. Maggie seized a hat for herself and another forPrissie from the hat-stand; then the three girls crossed the garden toKatharine Hall. A moment or two later they had reached the scene ofthe evening's amusement

Loud voices and laughter greeted them; they entered a large roomcrowded to overflowing. The atmosphere here was hot and stifling andchaos reigned supreme. Pictures, ornaments of all kinds had beenremoved roughly and hastily from the walls; clothes and even jewelswere piled on the tables, and a tall girl, standing on a chair, wasdeclaiming volubly for the benefit of her companions. 

When Maggie, Rose and Priscilla entered the room Polly was exhibitingthe charms of a yellow silk dress somewhat the worse for wear. Laughter choked her voice; her bright blue eyes shone with excitementand amusement. 

"Who'll try this?" she began. "It has a double charm. Not only has itreposed round this fair and lovely form, but the silk of which it ismade was given to me by my mother's aunt, who had it from her motherbefore her. When I part with this, I part with a relic. Those whopurchase it secure for themselves a piece of history. Who will buy, who will buy, who will buy? An historical dress going-- such abargain! Who, who will buy?"

"I'll give you five shillings, Polly, " screamed a darkeyed girl whostood near. 

"Five shillings! This lovely dress going for five shillings!"proceeded Polly. 

"And sixpence, " added another voice. 

"This beautiful, historical robe going for five-and-sixpence, " saidMiss Singleton in her gay voice. "Oh, it's a bargain-- it's dirtcheap! Who will buy? who will buy?"

The bids went up, and finally the yellow dress was knocked down to arosy-faced country girl for the sum of thirteen shillings andninepence. 

Polly's various other possessions were one by one brought to thehammer, some of them fetching fairly large sums, for they were most ofthem good and worth having, and there were wealthy girls at thecollege who were not above securing a bargain when it came in theirway. 

At last the prize on which all Rose's hopes were set was put up forsale. Polly's magnificent sealskin jacket was held aloft and displayedto the admiring and coveteous gaze of many. Rose's face brightened; aneager, greedy look filled her eyes. She actually trembled in heranxiety to secure this prize of prizes. 

Maggie Oliphant, who was standing in a listless, indifferent attitudenear the door, not taking the smallest part in the active proceedingswhich were going forward, was for the first time aroused to interestby the expression on Rosalind's face. She moved a step or two into thecrowd, and when one or two timid bids were heard for the covetedtreasure, she raised her own voice and for the first time appearedeager to secure something for herself. 

Rose bid against her, an angry flush filling her blue eyes as she didso. Maggie nonchalantly made her next bid a little higher-- Roseraised hers. Soon they were the only two in the field; other girls hadcome to the limit of their purses and withdrew vanquished. 

Rosalind's face grew very white. Could she have knock Maggie Oliphantdown with a blow she would have done so at that moment. Maggie calmlyand quietly continued her bids, raising them gradually higher andhigher. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten pounds: Rose had come tothe end of her resources. She stepped away with a bitter smile on herface. The sealskin jacket was Maggie Oliphant's property for tenguineas. 

Maggie laid it carelessly on a table near, and returning once more toher position near the door, watched the sale proceed. One by one PollySingleton parted with her dresses, her pictures, her furniture. Atlast, opening a case, she proceeded to dispose of some trinkets, noneof which, with the exception of the pink coral set, was of very highvalue. This, which consisted of necklace, bracelets, and earrings, andsome pretty pins for the hair, was most eagerly coveted by many. Several girls bid for the coral, and Maggie, who had not raised hervoice since she secured the sealskin jacket, once more noticed thegreedy glitter in Rosalind's eyes. 

"I can't help it, " she said, turning and speaking in a low voice toPriscilla, who stood by her side-- "I can't help it, Prissie; I don'twant that coral a bit-- coral doesn't suit me: I dislike it as anornament. But something inside of me says Rose Merton shall not wearit. Stay here, Prissie, I'll be back in a minute. "

Miss Oliphant moved forward; she was so tall that her head could beseen above those of most of the other girls. 

The bids for the coral had now risen to three pounds ten. Maggie atone bound raised them ten shillings. Rose bid against her, and for ashort time one or two other girls raised their previous offers. Theprice for the coral rose and rose. Soon a large sum was offered forit, and still the bids kept rising. Rosalind and Maggie were once morealone in the field, and now any onlooker could perceive that it wasnot the desire to obtain the pretty ornaments, but the wish forvictory which animated both girls. 

When the bids rose above ten guineas Rosalind's face assumed a ghastlyhue, but she was now far too angry with Maggie to pause or considerthe fact that she was offering more money for the pink coral than shepossessed in the world. The bids still went higher and higher. Therewas intense excitement in the room; all the noisy babel ceased. Nosound was heard but the eager voices of the two who were cruellyfighting each other and the astonished tones of the young auctioneer. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen pounds were reached. Maggie's bid wasfourteen pounds. 

"Guineas!" screamed Rose with a weak sort of gasp. 

Maggie turned and looked at her, then walked slowly back to her placeby Priscilla's side. 

The coral belonged to Rose Merton, and she had four guineas too littleto pay for it. 

 CHAPTER XVIII

 A BLACK SELF AND A WHITE SELF

"IT is quite true, Maggie, " said Nancy Banister. "It is about theauction. Yes, there is no doubt about that. What possessed you to go?"

Maggie Oliphant was standing in the center of her own room with anopen letter in her hand. Nancy was reading it over her shoulder:

 KATHARINE HALL, "Dec. 2. 

 "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. "

"That is all, " said Maggie. "It sounds as solemn and unfriendly as ifone were about to be tried for some capital offense. "

"It's the auction, of course, " repeated Nancy. "Those girls thoughtthey had kept it so quiet, but some one must have 'peached, ' Isuppose, to curry favor. Whatever made you go, Maggie? You know youhave 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 aperfect madcap. What could have possessed you to go?"

"My evil genius, " repeated Maggie in a gloomy tone. "You don't supposeI wished to be there, Nancy; but that horrid little Merton girl saidsomething taunting, and then I forgot myself. Oh, dear, Nancy! whatshall I ever do with that other self of mine? It will ruin me in theend. It gets stronger every day. "

Maggie sat down on the sofa. Nancy suddenly knelt by her side. 

"Dear Meg, " she said caressingly, "you're the noblest, and thesweetest, and the most beautiful girl at St. Benet's! Why can't youlive up to your true self?"

"There are two selfs in me, " replied Maggie. "And if one evenapproaches the faintest semblance of angel-hood, the other is black aspitch. There, it only wastes time to talk the thing over. I'm in forthe sort of scrape I hate most. See, Nancy, I bought this at theauction. "

She opened her wardrobe, and taking out Polly Singleton's magnificenteighty-guinea sealskin jacket, slipped it on. 

"Don't I look superb?" said Maggie. She shut the wardrobe-door andsurveyed herself in its long glass. Brown was Maggie Oliphant's color. It harmonized with the soft tints of her delicately rounded face, withthe rich color in her hair, with the light in her eyes. It added toall these charms, softening them, giving to them a more perfectluster. 

"Oh, Maggie!" said Nancy, clasping her hands, "you ought always to bedressed as you are now. "

Maggie dropped her arms suddenly to her sides. The jacket, a littletoo large for her, slid off her shoulders and lay in a heap on thefloor. 

"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 hate-- her name isMaggie Oliphant!"

Nancy picked up the sealskin jacket and put it back into the wardrobe. 

"I am sorry you went to the auction, Maggie, " she repeated, "and I'msorry 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 thisscrape. 

There's no time for you to indulge in that morbid talk of yoursto-day, Maggie, darling. Let us consider what's best to be done. "

"Nothing, " retorted Maggie. "I shall simply go to Miss Heath and MissEccleston and tell them the truth. There's nothing else to be done. Nohope whatever of getting out of the affair. I went to PollySingleton's auction because Rosalind Merton raised the demon in me. Itried to become the possessor of the sealskin jacket because her heartwas set on it. I won an eighty-guinea jacket for ten guineas. You seehow ignoble my motives were, also how unworthy the results. I didworse even than that-- for I will out with the truth to you, Nancy-- Irevenged myself still further upon that spiteful little gnat, Rosalind, and raised the price of her coveted coral to such an extentthat 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 readAristotle for the next hour just to calm my mind. "

Maggie turned away, seated herself by her writing bureau and tried tolose both the past and the present in her beloved Greek. 

"She will do it, too, " whispered Nancy as she left the room. "No oneever was made quite like Maggie. She can feel tortures and yet thenext moment she can be in ecstasy. She is so tantalizing that at timesyou are almost brought to believe her own stories about herself. Youare almost sure that she has got the black self as well as the whiteself. But through it all, yes, through it all, you love her. DearMaggie! Whatever happens, I must always-- always love her. "

Nancy was walking slowly down the corridor when a room-door was gentlyopened and the sweet, childish, innocent face of Rosalind peeped out. 

"Nancy, is that you? Do, for Heaven's sake, come in and speak to mefor a moment. "

"What about, Rosalind? I have only a minute or two to spare. My Germanlecture is to begin immediately. "

"Oh, what does that signify? You don't know the awful trouble we'vegot into. "

"You mean about the auction?"

"Yes-- yes; so you have heard?"

"Of course I've heard. If that is all, Rosalind, I cannot wait todiscuss the matter now. I am very sorry for you, of course, but as Isaid to Maggie, why did you do it?"

"Oh, you've been talking to Miss Oliphant? Thank goodness she'll haveto answer for her sins as well as the rest of us. "

"Maggie is my friend, so you need not abuse her, Rosalind. "

"Lucky for her that she has got one true friend!" retorted Rosalind. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say. Maggie is making such a fool of herself that weare all laughing at her behind her back. "

"Indeed? I fail to understand you. "

"You are being made a fool of, too, Nancy. Oh, I did think you'd havehad more sense. "

"How? Speak. Say at once what you want to say, Rosalind, and stoptalking riddles, for I must fly to my work. "

"Fly then, " retorted Rosalind, "only think twice before you give yourconfidence to a certain person. A person who makes a fine parade ofpoverty and so-called honesty of purpose, but who can, and who does, betray her kindest and best friend behind her back. It is my privatebelief we have to thank this virtuous being for getting us into thepleasant scrape we are in. I am convinced she has tried to curry favorby telling Miss Heath all about poor Polly's auction. "

"You mean Priscilla Peel?" said Nancy in a firm voice. She forgot herGerman lecture now. "You have no right to say words of that kind. Youhave taken a dislike to Prissie, no one knows why. She is not asinteresting nor as beautiful as Maggie, but she is good, and youshould respect her. "

Rosalind laughed bitterly. 

"Good? Is she? Ask Mr. Hammond. You say she is not beautiful norinteresting. Perhaps he finds her both. Ask him. "

"Rosalind, I shall tell Maggie what you say. This is not the firsttime you have hinted unkind things about Priscilla. It is better tosift a matter of this kind to the bottom than to hint it all over thecollege as you are doing. Maggie shall take it in hand. "

"Let her! I shall only be too delighted! What a jolly time the saintlyPriscilla will have. "

"I can't stay any longer, Rosalind. "

"But, Nancy, just one moment. I want to put accounts right with Pollybefore to-night. Mother sent me ten pounds to buy something at theauction. The coral cost fourteen guineas. I have written to mother forthe balance, and it may come by any post. Do lend it to me until itcomes! Do, kind Nancy!"

"I have not got so much in the world, I have not really, Rosalind. Good-by; my lecture will have begun. "

Nancy ran out of the room and Miss Merton turned to survey ruefullyher empty purse and to read again a letter which had already arrivedfrom her mother:

 MY DEAR ROSALIND: 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. Your affectionate mother, "ALICE MERTON. "

 CHAPTER XIX

 IN MISS ECCLESTON'S SITTING-ROOM

MISS ECCLESTON was a dark, heavy-looking person; she was not asattractive either in appearance or manner as Miss Heath. She wasestimable, and the college authorities thought most highly of her, buther character possessed more hardness than softness, and she was notas popular with the girls and young lecturers who lived in KatharineHall as was Miss Heath with her girls. 

When Maggie entered Miss Eccleston's sitting-room that evening shefound the room about half-full of eager, excited-looking girls. MissEccleston was standing up and speaking; Miss Heath was leaning againstthe wall; a velvet curtain made a background which brought out hermassive and grand figure in full relief. 

Miss Eccleston looked excited and angry; Miss Heath's expression was alittle perplexed, and a kind of sorrowful mirth brought smiles to herlips now and then, which she was most careful to suppress instantly. 

As Maggie made her way to the front of the room she recognized severalof the girls. Rosalind Merton, Annie Day, Lucy Marsh were all present. She saw them, although they were standing hidden behind many othergirls. Prissie, too, was there-- she had squeezed herself into acorner. She looked awkward, plain and wretched. She was clasping andunclasping her hands and trying to subdue the nervous tremors whichshe could not conceal. 

Maggie, as she walked across the room, singled Prissie out. She gaveher a swift glance, a brilliant and affectionate smile and then stoodin such a position that neither Miss Eccleston nor Miss Heath couldcatch a glimpse of her. 

Miss Eccleston, who had been speaking when Maggie entered the room, was now silent. She had a note-book in her hand and was rapidlywriting something in it with a pencil. Some one gave Maggie a rathersevere prod on her elbow. Polly Singleton, tall, flushed and heavy, stood close to her side. 

"You'll stand up for me, won't you, Miss Oliphant?" whispered Polly. 

Maggie raised her eyes, looked at the girl, who was even taller thanherself, and began to reply in her usual voice. 

"Silence, " said Miss Eccleston. She put down her note-book. "I wishfor no conversation between you at the present moment, young ladies. Good evening, Miss Oliphant; I am pleased to see you here. I shallhave a few questions to ask you in a minute. Now, Miss Singleton, ifyou please, we will resume our conversation. You have confessed to thefact of the auction. I wish now to ascertain what your motive was. "

Poor Polly stammered and reddened, twisted her hands as badly asPrissie herself could have done and looked to right and left of her inthe most bewildered and unhappy manner. 

"Don't you hear me, Miss Singleton? I wish to know what your motivewas in having an auction in Katharine Hall, " repeated Miss Eccleston. 

"Tell her the truth, " whispered Maggie. 

Polly, who was in a condition to catch even at a straw for support, said falteringly:

"I had the auction in my room because of dad. "

Miss Eccleston raised her brows. The amused smile of sorrow round MissHeath's mouth became more marked. She came forward a few steps andstood near Miss Eccleston. 

"You must explain yourself, Miss Singleton, " repeated the latter lady. 

"Do tell everything, " said Maggie again. 

"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--couldn't keep out of debt, so I had to sell my things. "

"You have made a very lame excuse, Miss Singleton, " said MissEccleston after a pause. "You did something which was extremelyirregular and improper. Your reason for doing it was even worse thanthe thing itself. You were in debt. The students of St. Benet's arenot expected to be in debt. "

"But there's no rule against it, " suddenly interrupted Maggie. 

"Hush! your turn to speak will come presently. You know, MissSingleton-- all the right-minded girls in this college know-- that wedeal in principles, not rules. Now, please go on with your story. "

Polly's broken and confused narrative continued for the next fiveminutes. There were some titters from the girls behind her-- even MissHeath smiled faintly. Miss Eccleston alone remained grave anddispleased. 

"That will do, " she said at last. "You are a silly and rash girl, andyour only possible defense is your desire to keep the knowledge ofyour extravagance from your father. Your love for him, however, hasnever taught you true nobility. Had you that even in the most shadowydegree, you would abstain from the things which he detests. He givesyou an ample allowance. Were you a schoolgirl and I your mistress, Ishould punish you severely for your conduct. "

Miss Eccleston paused. Polly put her handkerchief up to her eyes andbegan to sob loudly. 

"Miss Oliphant, " said Miss Eccleston, "will you please account for thefact that you, who are looked up to in this college, you who are oneof our senior students, and for whom Miss Heath has a high regard, took part in the disgraceful scenes which occurred in Miss Singleton'sroom on Monday evening?"

"I shall certainly tell you the truth, " retorted Maggie. She pausedfor a moment. Then, the color flooding her cheeks, and her eyeslooking straight before her, she began:

"I went to Miss Singleton's room knowing that I was doing wrong. Ihated to go and did not take the smallest interest in the proceedingswhich were being enacted there. " She paused again. Her voice, whichhad been slightly faltering, grew a little firmer. Her eyes met MissHeath's, which were gazing at her in sorrowful and amazed surprise. Then she continued: "I did not go alone. I took another and perfectlyinnocent 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 exonerateher 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 handand absolutely forced her to come with me. "

"Did you buy anything at the auction, Miss Oliphant?"

"Yes, a sealskin jacket. "

"Do you mind telling me what you paid for it?"

"Ten guineas. "

"Was that, in your opinion, a fair price for the jacket?"

"The jacket was worth a great deal more. The price I paid for it wasmuch below its value. "

Miss Eccleston made some further notes in her book. Then she lookedup. 

"Have you anything more to say, Miss Oliphant?"

"I could say more. I could make you think even worse of me than younow think, but as any further disclosures of mine would bring anothergirl into trouble I would rather not speak. "

"You are certainly not forced to speak. I am obliged to you for thecandor with which you have treated me. "

Miss Eccleston then turned to Miss Heath and said a few words to herin a low voice. Her words were not heard by the anxiously listeninggirls, but they seemed to displease Miss Heath, who shook her head;but Miss Eccleston held very firmly to her own opinion. After a pauseof a few minutes, Miss Heath came forward and addressed the younggirls who were assembled before her. 

"The leading spirit of this college, " she said, "is almost perfectimmunity from the bondage of rules. The principals of these halls havefully trusted the students who reside in them and relied on theirhonor, their rectitude, their sense of sound principle. Hitherto wehave had no reason to complain that the spirit of absolute trust whichwe have shown has been abused; but the circumstance which has justoccurred has given Miss Eccleston and myself some pain. "

"It has surprised us; it has given us a blow, " interrupted MissEccleston. 

"And Miss Eccleston feels, " proceeded Miss Heath, "and perhaps she isright, that the matter ought to be laid before the collegeauthorities, who will decide what are the best steps to be taken. "

"You do not agree with that view, do you, Miss Heath?" asked MaggieOliphant suddenly. 

"At first I did not. I leaned to the side of mercy. I thought youmight all have learned a lesson in the distress which you have causedus, and that such an occurrence could not happen again. "

"Won't Miss Eccleston adopt your views?" questioned Maggie. Sheglanced round at her fellow-students as she spoke. 

"No-- no, " interrupted Miss Eccleston. "I cannot accept theresponsibility. The college authorities must decide the matter. "

"Remember, " said Maggie, stepping forward a pace or two, "that we areno children. If we were at school you ought to punish us, and, ofcourse, you would. I hate what I have done, and I own it frankly. Butyou cannot forget, Miss Eccleston, that no girl here has broken a rulewhen she attended the auction and bought Miss Singleton's things; andthat even Miss Singleton has broken no rule when she went in debt. "

There was a buzz of applause and even a cheer from the girls in thebackground. Miss Eccleston looked angry, but perplexed. Miss Heathagain turned and spoke to her. She replied in a low tone. Miss Heathsaid something further. At last Miss Eccleston sat down and Miss Heathcame forward and addressed Maggie Oliphant. 

"Your words have been scarcely respectful, Miss Oliphant, " she said, "but there is a certain justice in them which my friend, MissEccleston, is the first to admit. She has consented, therefore, todefer her final decision for twenty-four hours; at the end of thattime the students of Katharine Hall and Heath Hall will know what wefinally decide to do. "

After the meeting in Miss Eccleston's drawing-room the affair of theauction assumed enormous proportions. There was no other topic ofconversation. The students took sides vigorously in the matter: thegay, giddy and careless ones voting the auction a rare bit of fun andupholding those who had taken part in it with all their might andmain. The more sober and high-minded girls, on the other hand, tookMiss Heath's and Miss Eccleston's views of the matter. The principlesof the college had been disregarded, the spirit of order had beenbroken; debt, which was disgraceful, was made light of. These girlsfelt that the tone of St. Benet's was lowered. Even Maggie Oliphantsank in their estimation. A few went to the length of saying that theycould no longer include her in their set. 

Katharine Hall, the scene of the auction itself, was, of course, nowthe 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 thesmallest of the three. It was completely isolated from the others, standing in its own lovely grounds on the other side of the road. Itnow 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 belovedhalls were lowered, and their resentment was all the keener becausethe Seymour Hall girls gave themselves airs. 

"I shall never live through it, " said Ida Mason, a Heath Hall girl toher favorite chum, Constance Field. "Nothing can ever be the sameagain. If my mother knew, Constance, I feel almost sure she wouldremove me. The whole thing is so small and shabby and horrid, and thento think of Maggie taking part in it! Aren't you awfully shocked, Constance? What is your true opinion?"

"My true opinion, " said Constance, "is this: it is our duty to upholdour own hall and our own chums. As to the best of us, if we are thebest, going away because a thing of this sort has occurred, it is notto be thought of for a moment. Why, Ida, " Constance laughed as shespoke, "you might as well expect one of the leading officers to deserthis regiment when going into battle. You know what Maggie Oliphant is, Ida. As to deserting her because she has had one of her bad halfhours, which she frankly confessed to, like the brave girl she is, Iwould as soon cut off my right hand. Now, Ida, my dear, don't be alittle goose. Your part, instead of grumbling and growling and hintingat the place not being fit for you, is to go round to every friend youhave in Heath Hall and get them to rally round Maggie and Miss Heath. "

"There's that poor Miss Peel, too, " said Ida, "Maggie's new friend--that queer, plain girl; she's sure to be frightfully bullied. Isuppose I'd better stick up for her as well?"

"Of course, dear, you certainly ought. But as to Miss Peel beingplain, Ida, I don't think I quite agree with you. Her face is tooclever for that. Have you watched her when she acts?"

"No, I don't think I have. She seems to be very uninteresting. "

"Look at her next time, and tell me if you think her uninterestingafterward. Now I'm off to find Maggie. She is sure to be having one ofher bad times, poor darling. "

Constance Field was a girl whose opinion was always received withrespect. Ida went off obediently to fulfil her behests; and Constance, after searching in Maggie's room and wandering in different parts ofthe grounds, found the truant at last, comfortably established with apile of new books and magazines in the library. The library was themost comfortable room in the house, and Maggie was leaning backluxuriously in an easy-chair, reading some notes from a lecture onAristotle aloud to Prissie, who sat at her feet and took down notes ofher own from Maggie's lips. 

The two looked up anything but gratefully when Constance approached. Miss Field, however, was not a person to be dismissed with a light andairy word, and Maggie sighed and closed her book when Constance satdown in an armchair, which she pulled close to her. There were noother girls in the library, and Prissie, seeing that Miss Fieldintended to be confidential, looked at Maggie with a disconsolate air. 

"Perhaps I had better go up to my own room, " she said timidly. 

Maggie raised her brows and spoke in an impatient voice. 

"You are in no one's way, Priscilla, " she said. "Here are my notesfrom the lecture. I read to the end of this page; you can make out therest for yourself. Well, Constance, have you anything to say?"

"Not unless you want to hear me, " said Miss Field in her dignifiedmanner. 

Maggie tried to stifle a yawn. 

"Oh, my dear Connie, I'm always charmed, you know that. "

"Well, I thought I'd like to tell you that I admired the way you spokelast night. "

"Were you present?"

"No, but some friends of mine were. They repeated the whole thingverbatim. "

"Oh, you heard it second-hand. Highly colored, no doubt, and not theleast like its poor original. "

Maggie spoke with a kind of bitter, defiant sarcasm, and a delicatecolor came into Miss Field's cheeks. 

"At least, I heard enough to assure me that you spoke the truth andconcealed nothing, " she said. 

"It is the case that I spoke the truth, as far as it went; but it isnot the case that I concealed nothing. "

"Well, Maggie, I have come to offer you my sincere sympathy. "

"Thank you, " said Maggie. She leaned back in her chair, folded herhands 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; Imade a public confession of my sorrow last night; now I wish to forgetit. "

"How can you possibly forget it until you know Miss Heath's and MissEccleston's decision?"

"Frankly, Constance, I don't care what decision they come to. "

"You don't care? You don't mind the college authorities knowing?"

"I don't care if every college authority in England knows. I have beenhumbled in the eyes of Miss Heath, whom I love; nothing else matters. "

When Maggie said these words Prissie rose to her feet, looked at herwith a queer, earnest glance, suddenly bent forward, kissed herfrantically and rushed out of the room. 

"And I love that dear, true-hearted child, too, " said Maggie. "Now, Constance, do let us talk of something else. "

"We'll talk about Miss Peel. I don't know her as you do, but I'minterested in her. "

"Oh, pray don't; I want to keep her to myself. "

"Why? Is she such a rara avis?"

"I don't care what she is. She suits me because she loves me withoutquestion. She is absolutely sincere; she could not say an untruething; she is so clever that I could not talk frivolities when I amwith her; and so good, so really, simply good that she keeps at bay mybad half-hours and my reckless moods. "

Constance smiled. She believed part of Maggie's speech; not the wholeof it, for she knew the enthusiasm of the speaker. 

"I am going to Kingsdene, " said Maggie suddenly. "Prissie is comingwith me. Will you come, too, Constance? I wish you would. "

"Thank you, " said Constance. She hesitated for a moment. "It is thebest thing in the world for Heath Hall, " she thought, "that the girlsshould 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 andMiss Peel in the porch. "

"We are going to tea at the Marshalls', " said Maggie. "You don't mindthat, do you? You know them, too?"

"Know them? I should think so. Isn't old Mrs. Marshall a picture? AndHelen is one of my best friends. "

"You shall make Helen happy this afternoon, dear Constance. "

Maggie ran gaily out of the room as she spoke, and a few minutes laterthe three girls, in excellent spirits, started for Kingsdene. 

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 hadmany friends in Kingsdene. Few days passed that did not see her in theold town on her way to visit this friend or that, or to perpetratesome little piece of extravagance at Spilman's or at her dressmaker's. 

On this occasion, however, Rosalind was neither at Spilman's or thedressmaker's. She was walking demurely down the High Street, daintilydressed and charming to look at, in Hammond's company. Rosalind wastalking eagerly and earnestly, and Hammond, who was very tall, wasbending down to catch her words, when the other three girls camebriskly round a corner and in full view of the pair. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Priscilla aloud in her abrupt, startled way. Her facebecame suffused with a flood of the deepest crimson, and Maggie, whofelt a little annoyed at seeing Hammond in Rosalind's company, couldnot help noticing Priscilla's almost uncontrollable agitation. 

Rosalind, too, blushed, but prettily, when she saw the other threegirls come up. 

"I will say good-by now, Mr. Hammond, " she said, "for I must get backto St. Benet's in good time tonight. "

She held out her hand, which the young man took and shook cordially. 

"I am extremely obliged to you, " he said. 

Maggie was near enough to hear his words. Rosalind tripped past herthree fellow-students with an airy little nod and the faint beginningof a mocking curtsy. 

Hammond came up to the three girls and joined them at once. 

"Are you going to the Marshalls'?" he said to Maggie. 

"Yes. "

"So am I. What a lucky rencontre. "

He said another word or two and then the four turned to walk down theHigh Street. Maggie walked on in front with Constance. Hammond fell toPriscilla's share. 

"I am delighted to see you again, " she said in her eager, agitated, abrupt way. 

"Are you?" he replied in some astonishment. Then he hastened to saysomething polite. "I forgot, we had not ended our discussion. Youalmost convinced me with regard to the superior merits of the Odyssey, but not quite. Shall we renew the subject now?"

"No, please don't. That's not why I'm glad to see you. It's forsomething quite, quite different. I want to say something to you, andit's most important. Can't we just keep back a little from the others?I don't want Maggie to hear. "

Now why were Miss Oliphant's ears so sharp that afternoon? Why, evenin the midst of her gay chatter to Constance, did she hear every wordof Priscilla's queer, garbled speech? And why did astonishment andeven anger steal into her heart?

What she did, however, was to gratify Prissie immensely by hurrying onwith her companion, so that she and Hammond were left comfortably inthe background. 

"I don't quite know what you mean, " he said stiffly. "What can youpossibly have of importance to say to me?"

"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 atHammond's stately tones. 

"What I want to say is about Maggie, and yet it isn't. "

"About Miss Oliphant?"

"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, butnow I know how noble she is. I had no idea until I knew Maggie that aperson could have faults and yet be noble. It's a new sort ofexperience to me. "

Prissie's eyes, in which even in her worst moments there always satthe soul of a far-reaching sort of intelligence, were shining nowthrough tears. Hammond saw the tears, and the lovely expression in theeyes, and said to himself:

"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 forsaying these sorts of things of Miss-- Miss Oliphant, but you mustknow, at least you must guess, that I-- I have thought them for myselflong, long ago. "

"Yes, of course, I know that. But have you much faith? Do you keep towhat you believe?"

"This is a most extraordinary girl!" murmured Hammond. Then he saidaloud, "I fail to understand you. "

They had now nearly reached the Marshalls' door. The other two werewaiting for them. 

"It's this, " said Prissie, clasping her hands hard and speaking in hermost emphatic and distressful way. "There are unkind things being saidof Maggie, and there's one girl who is horrid to her-- horrid! I wantyou not to believe a word that girl says. "

"What girl do you mean?"

"You were walking with her just now. "

"Really, Miss Peel, you are the most extraordinary--"

But Maggie Oliphant's clear, sweet voice interrupted them. 

"Had we not better come into the house?" she said. "The door has beenopen for quite half a minute. "

Poor Prissie rushed in first, covered with shame; Miss Field hastenedafter, to bear her company; and Hammond and Maggie brought up therear. 

 CHAPTER XX

 A PAINTER

THE Marshalls were always at home to their friend on Fridayafternoons, and there were already several guests in the beautiful, quaint old drawing-room when the quartet entered. Mrs. Marshall, herwhite hair looking lovely under her soft lace cap, came forward tomeet her visitors. Her kind eyes looked with appreciation and welcomeat one and all. Blushing and shame-faced Prissie received a pleasantword of greeting, which seemed in some wonderful way to steady hernerves. Hammond and Maggie were received as special and very dearfriends, and Helen Marshall, the old lady's pretty grand-daughter, rushed forward to embrace her particular friend, Constance Field. 

Maggie felt sore; she scarcely knew why. Her voice was bright, hereyes shining, her cheeks radiant in their rich and lovely bloom. Butthere was a quality in her voice which Hammond recognized-- a certainring which meant defiance and which prophesied to those who knew herwell that one of her bad half-hours was not very far off. 

Maggie seated herself near a girl who was a comparative stranger andbegan to talk. Hammond drew near and made a third in the conversation. Maggie talked in the brilliant, somewhat reckless fashion which sheoccasionally adopted. Hammond listened, now and then uttered a shortsentence, now and then was silent, with disapproval in his eyes. 

Maggie read their expression like a book. 

"He shall be angry with me, " she said to herself. Her words became alittle wilder. The sentiments she uttered were the reverse of thoseHammond held. 

Soon a few old friends came up. They were jolly, merry, good-humoredgirls, who were all prepared to look up to Maggie Oliphant and toworship her beauty and cleverness if she would allow them. Maggiewelcomed the girls with effusion, let them metaphorically sit at herfeet and proceeded to disenchant them as hard as she could. 

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 shenot think it a scandalous sort of thing to have occurred?

"Not at all, " answered Maggie in her sweetest tones; "it was capitalfun, I assure you. "

"Were you really there?" asked Miss Duncan, the eldest of the girls. "We heard it, of course, bur could scarcely believe it possible. "

"Of course I was there, " replied Maggie. "Whenever there is somethingreally amusing going on, I am always in the thick of it. "

"Well!" Emily Duncan looked at her sister Susan. Susan raised herbrows. Hammond took a photograph from a table which stood near andpretended to examine it. 

"Shall I tell you about the auction?" asked Maggie. 

"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 shespoke. She was his cousin and very fond of him. 

"Please tell us about the auction, " he said, looking full at Maggie. 

"I will, " she replied, answering his gaze with a flash of repressedirritation. "The auction was splendid fun! One of our girls was indebt, and she had to sell her things. Oh, it was capital! I wish youcould have seen her acting as her own auctioneer. Some of us weregreedy and wanted her best things. I was one of those. She sold asealskin jacket, an expensive one, quite new. There is a legend in thecollege that eighty guineas were expended on it. Well, I bid for thesealskin and it was knocked down to me for ten. It is a little too bigfor me, of course, but when it is cut to my figure, it will make asuperb winter garment. "

Maggie was clothed now in velvet and sable; nothing could be richerthan her attire; nothing more mocking than her words. 

"You were fortunate, " said Susan Duncan. "You got your sealskin at agreat bargain. Didn't she, Geoffrey?"

"I don't think so, " replied Hammond. 

"Why not? Oh, do tell us why not, " cried the sisters eagerly. 

He bowed to them, laughed as lightly as Maggie would have done andsaid in a careless tone: "My reasons are complex and too many tomention. I will only say now that what is objectionable to possess cannever be a bargain to obtain. In my opinion, sealskin jackets aredetestable. "

With these words he strode across the room and seated himself with asigh of relief by Priscilla's side. 

"What are you doing all by yourself?" he said cheerfully. "Is no oneattending to you? Are you always to be left like a poor littleforsaken mouse in the background?"

"I am not at all lonely, " said Prissie. 

"I thought you hated to be alone. "

"I did, the other day, in that drawing-room; but not in this. Peopleare all kind in this. "

"You are right. Our hostess is most genial and sympathetic. "

"And the guests are nice, too, " said Prissie; "at least, they looknice. "

"Ay, but you must not be taken in by appearances. Some of them onlylook nice. "

"Do you mean--" began Prissie in her abrupt, anxious voice. 

Hammond took alarm. He remembered her peculiar outspokenness. 

"I don't mean anything, " he said hastily. "By the way, are you fond ofpictures?"

"I have scarcely ever seen any. "

"That does not matter. I know by your face that you can appreciatesome pictures. "

"But, really, I know nothing of art. "

"Never mind. If the painter who paints knows you----"

"The painter knows me? I have never seen an artist in my life. "

"Nevertheless, there are some artists in the world who have conceivedof characters like yours. There are some good pictures in this house. Shall I show you one or two?"

Prissie sprang to her feet. 

"You are most kind, " she said elusively. "I really don't know how tothank you. "

"You need not thank me at all; or, at any rate, not in such a loudvoice, not so impressively. Our neighbors will think I have bestowedhalf a kingdom upon you. "

Prissie blushed and looked down. 

"Don't be shocked, with me, " said Hammond. "I can read your gratefulheart. Come this way"

They passed Maggie Oliphant and her two or three remaining satellites. Prissie looked at her with longing and tripped awkwardly against herchair. Hammond walked past Maggie as if she did not exist to him. Maggie nodded affectionately to Priscilla and followed the back ofHammond's head and shoulders with a supercilious, amused smile. 

Hammond opened the outer drawing-room door. 

"Where are we going?" asked Priscilla. "Are not the pictures here?"

"Some are here, but the best are in the picture gallery-- here to theleft and down these steps. Now, I'm going to introduce you to a newworld. "

He pushed aside a heavy curtain, and Prissie found herself in a rathersmall room, lighted from the roof. It contained in all about six oreight pictures, each the work of a master. 

Hammond walked straight across the gallery to a picture which occupieda wall by itself at the further end. It represented a summer scene ofdeep repose. There was water in the foreground, in the back tallforest trees in the fresh, rich foliage of June. Overhead was a sunsetsky, its saffron and rosy tints reflected in the water below. Themaster who painted the picture was Corot. 

Hammond motioned Priscilla to sit down opposite to it. 

"There is summer. " he said; "peace, absolute repose. You have not togo to it; it comes to you. "

He did not say any more, but walked away to look at another picture ina different part of the gallery. 

Prissie clasped her hands; all the agitation and eagerness went out ofher face. She leaned back in her chair. Her attitude partook of thequality of the picture and became restful. Hammond did not disturb herfor several moments. 

"I am going to show you something different now, " he said, coming upto her almost with reluctance. "There is one sort of rest; I will nowshow you a higher. Here stand so. The light falls well from thisangle. Now, what do you see?"

"I don't understand it, " said Prissie after a long, deep gaze. 

"Never mind, you see something. Tell me what you see. "

Priscilla looked again at the picture. 

"I see a woman, " she said at last in a slow, pained kind of voice. "Ican't see her face very well, but I know by the way she lies back inthat chair that she is old and dreadfully tired. Oh, yes, I know wellthat she is tired-- see her hand stretched out there-- her hand andher arm-- how thin they are-- how worn-- and----"

"Hard worked, " interrupted Hammond. "Any one can see by the attitudeof that hand, by the starting veins and the wrinkles that the womanhas gone through a life of labor. Well, she does not occupy the wholeof the picture. You see before you a tired-out worker. Don't be sounhappy about her. Look up a little higher in the picture. Observe foryourself that her toils are ended. "

"Who is that other figure?" said Priscilla. "A woman too, but youngand strong. How glad she looks and how kind. She is carrying a littlechild in her arms. Who is she? What does she mean?"

"That woman, so grand and strong, represents Death, but not under theold metaphor. She comes with renewed life-- the child is the type ofthat-- she comes as a deliverer. See, she is touching that poorworn-out creature, who is so tired that she can scarcely hold her headup again. Death, with a new aspect and a new, grand strength in herface is saying to this woman, 'Come with me now to your rest. It isall over, ' Death says: all the trouble and perplexity and strife. Comeaway with me and rest. The name of that picture is 'The Deliverer. ' Itis 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 hisbrush. I won't trouble you with his name just now. You will hearplenty of him and his wonderful, great pictures by and by, if you loveart as I do. "

"Thank you, " said Prissie simply. Some tears stole down her cheeks. She did not know she was crying; she did not attempt to wipe themaway. 

 CHAPTER XXI

 "I DETEST IT"

SHORTLY after the girls got home that evening they received letters intheir rooms to inform them that Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston had cometo the resolution not to report the affair of the auction to thecollege authorities. They would trust to the honor of the students atSt. Benet's not to allow such a proceeding to occur again and wouldsay nothing further on the matter. Prissie's eyes again filled withtears as she read the carefully worded note. Holding it open in herhand she rushed to Maggie's room and knocked. To her surprise, insteadof the usual cheerful "Come in, " with which Miss Oliphant alwaysassured her young friend of a welcome, Maggie said from the other sideof the locked door:

"I am very busy just now-- I cannot see any one. "

Priscilla felt a curious sense of being chilled; her whole afternoonhad been one of elation, and Maggie's words came as a kind of colddouche. She went back to her room, tried not to mind and occupiedherself looking over her beloved Greek until the dinner-gong sounded. 

After dinner Priscilla again looked with anxious, loving eyes atMaggie. Maggie did not stop, as was her custom, to say a kind word ortwo 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 wereslightly reddened, as if she had been weeping. 

Prissie put out a timid hand and touched Maggie on the arm. She turnedabruptly. 

"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 MissPeel. What is it, Prissie" said Maggie then, when the other girl hadwalked out of hearing. "Why did you touch me?"

"Oh, for nothing much, " replied Prissie, half frightened at hermanner, which was sweet enough but had an intangible hardness aboutit, which Priscilla felt, but could not fathom. "I thought you'd be soglad about the decision Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston have come to. "

"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. "

"May I come to your room later on, Maggie?"

"Not to-night, I think; I shall be very busy. "

Miss Oliphant nodded brightly and disappeared out of the dining-hall. 

Two girls were standing not far off. They had watched this littlescene, and they now observed that Prissie clasped her hands and that awoe-begone expression crossed her face. 

"The spell is beginning to work, " whispered one to the other. "Whenthe knight proves unfaithful the most gracious lady must sufferresentment. "

Priscilla did not hear these words. She went slowly upstairs and backto her own room, where she wrote letters home, and made copious notesfrom her last lectures, and tried not to think of the little cloudwhich seemed to have come between her and Maggie. 

Late, on that same evening, Polly Singleton, who had just beenentertaining a chosen bevy of friends in her own room, after the lasthad bidden her an affectionate "good night, " was startled at hearing alow knock at her door. She opened it at once. Miss Oliphant stoodwithout. 

"May I come in?" she asked. 

"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 mindsitting on the bed?"

"If I want to sit at all the bed is as snug a place as any, " repliedMaggie. "But I'm not going to stay a moment, for it is very late. See, I have brought you this back. "

Polly looked, and for the first time observed that her own sealskinjacket hung on Maggie's arm. 

"What do you mean?" she said. "My sealskin jacket! Oh, my beauty! Butit isn't mine, it's yours now. Why do you worry me-- showing it to meagain?"

"I don't want to worry you, Miss Singleton. I mean what I say. I havebrought your jacket back. "

"But it is yours-- you bought it. "

"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. "

Poor Polly blushed very red all over her face. 

"I wish I could, " she said. "If there has been anything I regretted inthe auction, besides getting all you girls into a mess, it has been mysealskin jacket. Dad is almost certain to ask me about it, for henever made me such a handsome present before. Poor dad! he was soproud the night he brought it home. He said, 'Look here, Poll, I paida whole sheaf of fivers for this, and although it cost me a good roundeighty guineas, I'm told it's cheap at the price. Put it on and let mesee how you look in it, ' he said. And when I had it on he twisted meround, and chucked me under the chin, and said I was a 'bouncer. ' Poorold dad! He was as proud as Punch of me in that jacket. I never sawanything like it. "

"Well, he can be as proud as Punch of you again. Here is the jacketfor your very own once more. Good night. "

She walked to the door, but Miss Singleton ran after her. 

"I can't take it back, " she said. "I'm not as mean as all that comesto. It's yours now; you got it as fair as possible. "

"Listen, Miss Singleton, " said Maggie. "If I keep that jacket I shallnever wear it. I detest sealskin jackets. It won't be the least scrapof use to me. "

"You detest sealskin jackets? How can you? Oh, the lovely things theyare. Let me stroke the beauty down. "

"Stroke your beauty and pet it as much as you like, only let me say'Good night' now. "

"But, please, Miss Oliphant, please, I'd do anything in the world toget the jacket back, of course. But I've ten guineas of yours, andhonestly I can't pay them back. "

"Allow me to lend them to you until next term. You can return me themoney then, can you not?"

Polly's face became on the instant a show of shining eyes, gleamingwhite teeth and glowing cheeks. 

"Of course I could pay you back, you-- darling, " she said withenthusiasm. "Oh, what a relief this is to me; I'd have done anythingin all the world to have my jacket back again. "

"It's a bargain, then. Good night, Miss Singleton. "

Maggie tossed the jacket on Polly's bed, touched her hand lightly withone of her own and left the room. She went quickly back to her ownpretty sitting-room, locked her door, threw herself on her knees byher bureau and sobbed long and passionately. 

During the few days which now remained before the end of the term noone quite knew what was wrong with Miss Oliphant. She worked hard inpreparation for her lectures and when seen in public was always verymerry. But there was a certain hardness about her mirth which her bestfriends detected and which caused Nancy Banister a good deal ofpuzzled pain. 

Priscilla was treated very kindly by Maggie; she still helped herwillingly with her Greek and even invited her into her room once ortwice. But all the little half-beginnings of confidence which, now andthen, used to burst from Maggie's lips, the allusions to old times, the sentences which revealed deep thoughts and high aspirations, allthese, which made the essence of true friendship, vanished out of herconversation. 

Priscilla said to herself over and over that there was really nodifference-- that Miss Oliphant was still as kind to her, as valued afriend as ever-- but in her heart she knew that this was not the case. 

Maggie startled all her friends by making one request. Might theypostpone the acting of The Princess until the middle of the followingterm?"

"I cannot do it justice now, " she said. "I cannot throw my heart andsoul into my part. If you act the play now you must allow me towithdraw. "

The other girls, Constance Field in particular, were astonished. Theyeven felt resentful. All arrangements had been made for this specialplay. Maggie was to be the Princess herself; no one could possiblytake her place. It was most unreasonable of her to withdraw now. 

But it was one of the facts well known at St. Benet's that, fascinating as Miss Oliphant was, she was also unreasonable. Oncertain occasions she could even be disobliging. In short, when Maggie"took the bit between her teeth, " to employ an old metaphor, she couldneither be led nor driven. After a great deal of heated discussion andindignant words, she had her will. The play was deferred till thefollowing term, and one or two slight comedies, which had been actedbefore, were revived in a hurry to take its place. 

 CHAPTER XXII

 A BLACK SATIN JACKET

VERY active preparations were being made in a certain rather humblelittle cottage in the country for the heroine's return. Three smallgirls were making themselves busy with holly and ivy, with badly cutpaper flowers, with enormous texts coarsely illustrated, to render thehome gay and festive in its greeting. A little worn old woman lay on asofa and superintended these active measures. 

"How soon will she be here now?" said Hattie the vigorous. 

"Do stay still, Hattie, and don't fidget. Don't you see how tired AuntRaby looks?" exclaimed Rose. "Prissie can't be here yet, and you aresuch a worry when you jump up and down like that, Hattie. "

Rose's words were quite severe, and Hattie planted herself on the edgeof a chair, folded her plump hands, managed to get a demure look intoher laughing eyes and dimpled mouth and sat motionless for about halfa minute. At the end of that time she tumbled on the floor with a loudcrash and Aunt Raby sprang to her feet with some alarm. 

"Good gracious, child! are you hurt? What's the matter?"

Hattie was sitting on the floor in convulsions of mirth. 

"I'm not hurt, " she exclaimed. "I slipped off the chair. I didn't meanto; I couldn't help it, really. I'm sorry I woke you, Aunt Raby. "

"I wasn't asleep, child. " Miss Peel walked across the room andvanished into the kitchen, from which very savory smells issued. 

Hattie and Rose began to quarrel and argue, and Katie, who was more orless of a little peacemaker, suggested that they should draw up theblind and all three get into the window to watch for Prissie. 

"I wonder how she will look?" said Rose when they were all comfortablyestablished. 

"I hope she won't talk in Latin, " exclaimed Hattie. 

"Oh, it is nice to think of seeing Prissie so soon, " murmured Katie inan ecstasy. 

"I wonder, " began Rose in her practical voice, "how soon Prissie willbegin 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 weresold----"

"Hush!" said Hattie. "You know we promised we wouldn't tell Prissieabout the cows. "

Just then a distant sound of wheels was heard. The little girls beganto jump and shout; a moment later and Priscilla stood in the midst ofher family. A great excitement followed her arrival. There were kissesand hugs and wild, rapturous words from the affectionate littlesisters. Aunt Raby put her arms round Priscilla and gave her a solemnsort of kiss, and then the whole party adjourned into the supper-room. 

The feast which was spread was so dainty and abundant that Katie askedin a puzzled sort of way if Aunt Raby considered Prissie like theProdigal Son. 

"What fancies you have, child!" said Aunt Raby. "The Prodigal Son, indeed! Thank Heaven, I've never had to do with that sort! As toPriscilla here, she's as steady as Old Time. Well, child, and are yougetting up your learning very fast?"

"Pretty well, Aunt Raby. "

"And you like your grand college and all those fine young-lady friendsof yours?"

"I haven't any fine young-lady friends. "

"H'm! I dare say they are like other girls; a little bit of learningand a great deal of dress, eh?"

Priscilla colored. 

"There are all sorts of girls at St. Benet's, " she said after a pause. "Some are real students, earnest, devoted to their work. "

"Have you earned any money yet, Prissie?" exclaimed Hattie. "For ifyou have, I do want-- look----" She thrust a small foot, encased in abroken shoe, prominently into view. 

"Hattie, go to bed this minute!" exclaimed Aunt Raby. "Go up to yourroom all three of you little girls. No more words-- off at once, allof you. Prissie, you and I will go into the drawing-room, and I'll lieon the sofa while you tell me a little of your college life. "

"Aunt Raby always lies on the sofa in the evenings now, " burst fromHattie the irrepressible. 

Miss Peel rushed after the plump little girl and pushed her out of theroom. 

"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 thedrawing-room and let us have a few words quietly. Oh, yes, I'll lie onthe sofa, my dear, if you wish it. But Hattie is wrong; I don't do itevery night. I suffer no pain either, Prissie. Many a woman of my ageis racked with rheumatics. "

The last words were said with a little gasp. The elder woman lay backon the sofa with a sigh of relief. She turned her face so that thelight from the lamp should not reveal the deathly tired lines roundit. 

Aunt Raby was dressed in a rough homespun garment. Her feet were cladin unbleached cotton stockings, also made at home; her little, iron-gray curls lay flat at each side of her hollow cheeks. She worelist slippers, very coarse and common in texture. Her whole appearancewas the essence of the homely, the old-fashioned, even the ungainly. 

Priscilla had seen elegance and beauty since she went away; she hadentered into the life of the cultivated, the intellectually great. Inspite of her deep affection for Aunt Raby, she came back to theugliness and the sordid surroundings of home with a pang which shehated herself for feeling. She forgot Aunt Raby's sufferings for amoment in her uncouthness. She longed to shower riches, refinement, beauty upon her. 

"How has your dress worn, Prissie?" said the elder woman after apause. "My sakes, child, you have got your best brown cashmere on! Abeautiful fine bit of cashmere it was, too. I bought it out of themoney I got for the lambs' wool. "

Aunt Raby stretched out her hand, and, taking up a fold of thecashmere, she rubbed it softly between her finger and thumb. 

"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?"

"No, Aunt Raby, except just round the tail. I got it very wet one dayand the color went a trifle, but nothing to signify. "

A vivid picture rose up before Priscilla's eyes as she spoke of Mrs. Elliot-Smith's drawing-room, and the dainty, disdainful ladies intheir gay attire, and her own poor, little forlorn figure in her muddycashmere dress-- the same dress Aunt Raby considered soft andbeautiful as velvet. 

"Oh, Aunt Raby, " she said with sudden impulse, "a great many thingshave happened to me since I went away. On the whole I have had a verygood time. "

Aunt Raby opened her mouth to emit a prodigious yawn. 

"I don't know how it is, " she said, "but I'm a bit drowsy to-night. Isuppose it's the weather. The day was quite a muggy one. I'll hearyour news another time, Priscilla; but don't you be turned with thevanities of the world, Priscilla. Life's but a passing day: you mindthat when you're young, and it won't come on you as a shock when youare 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 sinto wear through beautiful fine stuff like that. And, even if the coloris gone a bit round the hem, the stuff itself isn't worn, and looksdon't signify. You'll have to make up your mind to wear the cashmerefor best again next term, Prissie, for, though I'm not pinched in anyway, I'm not overflush either, my love. "

Priscilla, who had been sitting in a low chair near her aunt, now roseto her feet. 

"Ought we not to come to bed?" she said. "If you don't feel tired, youlook it, Aunt Raby. Come upstairs, do, and let me help you to takeyour things off and put you into bed. Come, Aunt Raby, it will be likeold times to help you, you know. "

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 wasstill turned from the light. 

"Don't you keep kneeling on your cashmere, " she said. "You'll creaseit awfully, and I don't see my way to another best dress this term. "

"You needn't, Aunt Raby, " said Priscilla in a steady voice. "Thecashmere is quite neat still. I can manage well with it. "

Aunt Raby rose slowly and feebly from the sofa. 

"You may help me to get into bed if you like, " she said. "The muggyday has made me wonderfully drowsy, and I'll be glad to lie down. It'sonly that. I'll be as pert as a cricket in the morning. "

The old woman leaned on the girl's strong, young arm and stumbled abit as she went up the narrow stairs. 

When they entered the tiny bedroom Aunt Raby spoke again:

"Your dress will do, but I have been fretting about your winterjacket, Prissie. There's my best one, though-- you know, the quiltedsatin which my mother left me; it's loose and full, and you shall haveit. "

"But you want it to go to church in yourself, Aunt Raby. "

"I don't often go to church lately, child. I take a power of comfortlying on the sofa, reading my Bible, and Mr. Hayes doesn't seeanything contrary to Scripture in it, for I asked him. Yes, you shallhave my quilted satin jacket to take back to college with you, Prissie, and then you'll be set up fine. "

Priscilla bent forward and kissed Aunt Raby. She made no otherresponse, but that night before she went to sleep she saw distinctly avision of herself. Prissie was as little vain as a girl could be, butthe vision of her own figure in Aunt Raby's black satin quilted jacketwas not a particularly inspiriting one. The jacket, full in theskirts, long in the shoulders, wide in the sleeves and enormous roundthe neck, would scarcely bear comparison with the neat, tight-fittinggarments which the other girl graduates of St. Benet's were wont topatronize. Prissie felt glad she was not attired in it thatunfortunate day when she sat in Mrs. Elliot-Smith's drawing-room; andyet-- and yet-- she knew that the poor, quaint, old-world jacket meantlove and self-renunciation. 

"Dear Aunt Raby!" whispered the girl. 

Tears lay heavily on her eyelashes as she dropped asleep, with one armthrown protectingly round her little sister Katie. 

 CHAPTER XXIII

 THE FASHION OF THE DAY

A THICK mist lay over everything. Christmas had come and gone, andPriscilla's trunk was packed once more-- Aunt Raby's old-world jacketbetween folds of tissue-paper, lying on the top of other homelygarments. 

The little sisters were in bed and asleep and Aunt Raby lay on thesofa. Prissie was accustomed to her face now, so she did not turn itaway from the light. The white lips, the chalky gray tint under theeyes, the deep furrows round the sunken temples were all familiar tothe younger "Miss Peel. " She had fitted once more into the old sordidlife. She saw Hattie in her slipshod feet and Katie and Rose in theirthin winter jackets, which did not half keep out the cold. She saw andpartook of the scanty meals and tried to keep warm by the wretchedfires. Once more she was part and parcel of the household. Thechildren were so accustomed to her that they forgot she was going awayagain. 

To-night, however, the fact was brought back to her. Katie cried whenshe saw the packed trunk. Hattie pouted and flopped herself about andbecame unmanageable. Rose put on her most discontented manner andvoice, and finding that Prissie had earned no money during the pastterm, gave utterance to skeptical thoughts. 

"Prissie just went away to have a good time, and she never meant toearn money, and she forgot all about them, " grumbled the naughtylittle girl. 

Hattie came up and pummeled Rose for her bad words. Katie criedafresh, and altogether the scene was most dismal. 

Now, however, it was over. The children were in the land of happydreams. They were eating their Christmas dinner over again and lookingwith ecstasy at their tiny, tiny Christmas gifts and listening oncemore to Prissie, who had a low, sweet voice and who was singing tothem the old and beloved words:

 "Peace and goodwill to men. "

 The children were happy in their dreams, and Prissie was standing by Aunt Raby's side. 

 "Why don't you sit down, child? You have done nothing but fidget, fidget for the last half-hour. "

 "I want to go out, Aunt Raby. "

 "To go out? Sakes! what for? And on such a night, too!"

 "I want to see Mr. Hayes. "

"Prissie, I think you have got a bee in your bonnet. You'll be lost in this mist. "

"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 askhim, and I know every step of the way. Let me go, auntie, please, do!"

 "You always were a wilful girl, Priscilla, and I think that collegehas 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 inno mood for arguing. I'll have a bit of a sleep while you are out: the muggy weather always makes me so drowsy. "

 Aunt Raby uttered a very weary yawn and turned her face from the light. Priscilla stepped into the hall, put on her waterproof andoldest hat and went out. She knew her way well to the little vicarage, built of gray stone and lying something like a small, daring flyagainst the brow of the hill. The little house looked as if any stormmust detach it from its resting-place, but to-night there was no wind, only clinging mist and damp and thick fog. 

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. 

 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 sensiblelines 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. 

"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 as you 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 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 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. 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. "

 "Yes, " said Mr. Hayes when Priscilla paused, "I expected you to saysomething 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?"

 Prissies' eyes were raised to his. 

"Because Aunt Raby is ill, and it is wicked of me to forget her. It is mean 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 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?"

"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 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. "

 "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 your love for her. There is a freshness about the new love whichfascinates 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?"

 "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 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 everyadvantage. 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. "

 "Then please let me say something else. I must not go on with my classics. "

"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 anything almost in the world. But I know enough of it already for the merepurposes of rudimentary teaching. My German is faulty-- my French not what it might he. "

 "Come, come, my dear; Peters is waiting to settle for the night. Can we not talk on our way down to the cottage?"

 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. 

 "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 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. "

"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. "

 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'll stay. "

 "You'll give up that outlandish Greek, and all that babel of foreigntongues, 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?"

 "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 Raby tumbled 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 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 thefirst claim on you? A poor 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 narrowstairs in silence. When they got into the little bedroom, however, she put her arms round Priscilla's neck and gave her quite a hug. 

 "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 atyour 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 myyoung 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. "

 CHAPTER XXIV

 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 neednot tell 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 downon the floor by Rosalind Merton's side. "Go on, my love, " shemurmured; "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 andunworldly Priscilla. Her eyelids were red as if she had been crying. She passed me 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 Daywith 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-Smith's 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 arousesin certain 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 becareful. I wanted a great many things, and she said she simply couldnot give them. Oh, if only that spiteful Miss Oliphant had notprevented my getting the sealskin jacket, and if she had not raisedthe price of Polly's pink coral!"

"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 beautifullyfor the Elliot-Smith's 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 ityet. "

"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 tellmother what a lot the coral cost; and as she was so woefully short offunds, I had just to come away without the money. I never for a momentsupposed I 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 face looked absolutely careworn. 

"Don't fret, Rose, " said Miss Day after a pause; "whether you havepaid for the coral or not, you can wear it at the Elliot-Smith's. "

"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 every one 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 seeingthe whole picture: you, so fine and so self-conscious and so-- soperfect in all your appointments-- and looking-- for all you are alittle thing, Rose-- a good inch above every one else-- and then ourpoor, good-natured, downright Polly catching sight of her unpaid-forornaments round your sweet baby throat-- all the John Bull in herinstantly coming to the fore, and she demanding her rights in nomeasured terms. Oh, your face, Rosie! your face! and MetaElliot-Smith's enjoyment-- oh, how delicious the picture is! DearRosalind, do wear the coral, and please-- please get me an invitationto the Elliot-Smiths'. I'll love you all my life if you give me leaveto witness so lovely a spectacle!"

Miss Merton's face changed color 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 lipstrembled. She found herself the next moment alone in the brightlylighted corridor. 

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 weretrying, each after her kind, for the several prizes which the lifethey were leading held out to them. Girls of all kinds were livingunder these roofs-- the idle as well as the busy. Both the clever andthe stupid were here, both the good and the bad. Rosalind Merton was afairly clever girl. She had that smart sort of cleverness which oftenpasses for wide knowledge. She was liked by many of her girl friends;she had the character of being rather good-natured; her pretty faceand innocent manner, too, helped to win her golden opinions among thelecturers and dons. 

Those who knew her well soon detected her want of sincerity, but thenit was Rose's endeavor 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 shestood alone in the brilliantly lighted corridor, she simply dancedwith rage. Her small hands were clenched until the nails pierced theflesh and her delicately colored 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 herpace to a run, disappear from view. Rose recognized 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--also a pile of manuscript, several note-books, a few envelopes andsheets of letter-paper. Still, scarcely knowing why, Rose lifted thenote-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 color 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 bade her release herself from all her presenttroubles 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, onPrissie, on Polly Singleton and also to get out of her owndifficulties. 

How tempting was Maggie's purse! how rich its contents were likely toprove! Maggie was so rich and so careless that it was quite possibleshe might never miss the small sum which Rose meant to take. If shedid, it would be absolutely impossible for her to trace the theft toinnocent baby Rose Merton. No; if Maggie missed her money andsuspected any one, she would be almost forced to lay the crime to thedoor of the girl she no longer, in her heart, cared about-- PriscillaPeel. 

A very rich flood of crimson covered Rose's cheeks as this consequenceof her sin flashed before her vision. Less even than before was shecapable of seeing right from wrong. The opportunity was far too goodto lose; by one small act she would not only free herself, butaccomplish the object on which she had set her mean little heart: shewould effectually destroy the friendship of Maggie and Priscilla. 

Stealthily, with her cheeks burning and her eyes bright withagitation, she once more approached the bureau, took from under thepile of papers the little sealskin purse, opened it, removed afive-pound note, clasped the purse again and restored it to itshiding-place, then flew on the wings of the wind from the room. 

A moment or two later Priscilla came back, sat calmly down in one ofMaggie's comfortable chairs, and, taking up her Greek edition ofEuripides, began to read and translate with eagerness. 

As Prissie read she made notes with a pencil in a small book which layin her lap. The splendid thoughts appealed to her powerfully; her faceglowed with pleasure. She lived in the noble past; she was a Greekwith the old Greeks; she forgot the nineteenth century, with itssmallness, its money worries-- above all, she forgot her own cares. 

At last in her reading she came to a difficult sentence, which, try asshe would, she could not render into English to her own satisfaction. She was a very careful student and always disliked shirkingdifficulties; the pleasure of her reading would be lost if she did notdo full justice to the lines which puzzled her. She resolved to readno further until Maggie appeared. Maggie Oliphant, with her superiorinformation, would soon cut the knot for her. She closed the copy ofEuripides with reluctance, and, putting her hand into her pocket, tookout a note she had just received, to mark the place. 

A moment or two later Maggie came in. 

"Still here, Prissie!" she exclaimed in her somewhat indifferent butgood-natured voice. "What a bookworm you are turning into!"

"I have been waiting for you to help me, if you will, Maggie, " saidPriscilla. "I have lost the right clew to the full sense of thispassage-- see! Can you give it to me?"

Maggie sat down at once, took up the book, glanced her eyes over thedifficult words and translated them with ease. 

"How lovely!" said Prissie, clasping her hands and giving herself upto a feeling of enjoyment. "Don't stop, Maggie, please; do read somemore!"

Miss Oliphant smiled. 

"Enthusiast!" she murmured. 

She translated with brilliancy to the end of the page; then, throwingthe book on her knee, repeated the whole passage aloud in Greek. 

The note that Prissie put in as a mark fell on the floor. She was solost in delighted listening that she did not notice it, but, whenMaggie at last stopped for want of breath, Priscilla saw the littlenote, stooped forward to pick it up, glanced at the handwriting, and ashadow swept over her expressive face. 

"Oh! thank you, Maggie, thank you, " she exclaimed; "it is beautiful, entrancing! It made me forget everything for a short time, but I mustnot listen to any more; it is, indeed, most beautiful, but not forme. "

"What do you mean, you little goose? You will soon read Euripides aswell as I do. What is more, you will surpass me, Priscilla; yourtalent is greater than mine. "

"Don't say that, Maggie; I can scarcely bear it when you do. "

"Why do you say you can scarcely bear it? Do you love me so well thatyou hate to excel me? Silly child, as if I cared!"

"Maggie, I know you are really too great to be possessed by pettyweaknesses. If I ever did excel you, which is most unlikely, I knowyou would be glad both for me and for yourself. No, it is not that; Iam unhappy because of no fancy. "

"What worries you then?"

"Maggie, do you see this note?"

"Yes; it is from Miss Heath, is it not?"

"It is. I am to see her to-night. "

"Well, Prissie, you must be quick with your revelation, for I havesome notes to look over. "

"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 totell her-- to tell her-- that I-- oh, Maggie! I must give up myclassics. I must; it's all settled. Don't say anything. Don't tempt meto reconsider the question. It can't be reconsidered, and my mind ismade up. That's it; it's a trouble, but I must go through with it. Good night, Maggie. "

Prissie held out her long, unformed hand; Miss Oliphant clasped itbetween both her own. 

"You are trembling, " she said, standing up and drawing the girl towardher. "I don't want to argue the point if you so firmly forbid me. Ithink you quite mad, of course. It is absolutely impossible for me tosympathize with such wild folly. Still, if your mind is made up, Iwon't interfere. But, seeing that at one time we were very firmfriends, you might give me your reasons, Priscilla. "

Priscilla slowly and stiffly withdrew her hands; her lips moved. Shewas repeating Miss Oliphant's words under her breath:

"At one time we were friends. "

"Won't you speak?" said Maggie impatiently. 

"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 swallowsomething; her next words came out slowly with great difficulty: "WhenI went home for the Christmas recess I found Aunt Raby worse. Youdon'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 littlesisters, and they want clothes and education; they want training, theywant love, they want care. Aunt Raby is too weak to do much for themnow; she is very, very ill. You have not an idea-- not an idea-- MissOliphant, in your wealth and your luxury, what the poverty of PenywernCottage is like. What does such poverty mean? How shall I describe itto 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 considerher next words. Maggie, whose sympathies were always keenly aroused byany real emotion, tried once again to take her hands; Prissie put thembehind her. "Aunt Raby is a good woman, " continued Priscilla; "she isbrave, 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 poorclothes-- oh, the poorest; she has an uncouth appearance, worse eventhan I have, but I am quite sure that God-- God respects her-- Godthinks her worthy. When my father and mother died (I was fourteen whenmy dear mother died) Aunt Raby came and took me home and my threelittle sisters. She gave us bread to eat. Oh, yes, we never quitewanted food, but before we came Aunt Raby had enough money to feedherself and no more. She took us all in and supported us, because sheworked so very, very hard. Ever since I was fourteen-- I am eighteennow-- Aunt Raby has done this. Well, " continued Priscilla, slow tearscoming to her eyes and making themselves felt in her voice, "this hardwork is killing her; Aunt Raby is dying because she has worked so hardfor us. Before my three years have come to an end here, she will befar, far away: she will be at rest forever-- God will be making up toher for all she has done here. Her hard life which God will havethought beautiful will be having its reward. Afterward I have tosupport and educate the three little girls. I spoke to Mr. Hayes-- mydear clergyman, about whom I have told you, and who taught me all Iknow-- and he agrees with me that I know enough of Greek and Latin nowfor rudimentary teaching, and that I shall be better qualified to takea 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'sthe end of a lovely dream, of course, but there is no doubt-- no doubtwhatever-- what is right for me to do. "

Prissie stopped speaking. Maggie went up again and tried to take herhand; she drew back a step or two, pretending not to see. 

"It has been very kind of you to listen, " she said; "I am verygrateful 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. Thankyou, you have helped me much. Now I must go and tell Miss Heath what Ihave said to you. I have had a happy reading of Euripides and haveenjoyed listening to you. I meant to give myself that one last treat--now it is over. Good night. "

Priscilla left the room-- she did not even kiss Maggie as shegenerally did at parting for the night. 

 CHAPTER XXV

 A MYSTERIOUS EPISODE

WHEN she was alone, Maggie Oliphant sat down in her favorite chair andcovered her face with her hands. "It is horrible to listen to storieslike that, " she murmured under her breath. "Such stories get on thenerves. I shall not sleep to-night. Fancy any people callingthemselves ladies wanting meat, wanting clothes, wanting warmth. Oh, my God! this is horrible. Poor Prissie! Poor, brave Prissie!" Maggiestarted 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 andthose three little sisters. Penywern Cottage shall no longer bewithout coal, and food, and warmth. How shall I do this? One thing isquite evident-- Prissie must not know. Prissie is as proud as I am. How shall I manage this?" She clasped her hands, her brow wascontracted with the fulness of her thought. After a long while sheleft her room, and, going to the other end of the long corridor, knocked at Nancy Banister's door. Nancy was within. It did not takeMaggie long to tell the tale which she had just heard from Priscilla'slips. Prissie had told her simple story with force, but it lostnothing in Maggie's hands. She had a fine command of language, and shedrew a picture of such pathos that Nancy's honest blue eyes filledwith tears. 

"That dear little Prissie!" she exclaimed. 

"I don't know that she is dear, " said Maggie. "I don't profess quiteto understand her; however, that is not the point. The poverty atPenywern Cottage is an undoubted fact. It is also a fact that Prissieis forced to give up her classical education. She shall not! she has agenius for the old tongues. Now, Nancy, help me; use your common senseon my behalf. How am I to send money to Penywern Cottage?"

Nancy thought for several minutes. 

"I have an idea, " she exclaimed at last. 

"What is that?"

"I believe Mr. Hammond could help us. "

Maggie colored. 

"How?" she asked. "Why should Geoffrey Hammond be dragged intoPriscilla's affairs? What can he possibly know about Penywern Cottageand the people who live in it?"

"Only this, " said Nancy: "I remember his once talking about that partof Devonshire where Prissie's home is and saying that his uncle has aparish there. Mr. Hammond's uncle is the man to help us. "

Miss Oliphant was silent for a moment. 

"Very well, " she said; "will you write to Mr. Hammond and ask him forhis uncle's address?"

"Why should I do this, Maggie? Geoffrey Hammond is your friend; hewould think it strange for me to write. "

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 insupposing that Mr. Hammond is any longer a person of special interestto me. "

"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, if you only would--"

"Good night, Nancy, " interrupted Maggie. She kissed her friend andwent back to her room. There she sat down before her bureau andprepared to write a letter. "I must not lose any time, " she said toherself; "I must help these people substantially; I must do somethingto rescue poor Prissie from a life of drudgery. Fancy Prissie, withher genius, living the life of an ordinary underpaid teacher: it isnot to be thought of for a moment! Something must be done to put thewhole family on a different footing, but that, of course, is for thefuture. From Priscilla's account they want immediate aid. I have twofive-pound notes in my purse: Geoffrey shall have them and enclosethem to the clergyman who is his relation and who lives nearPriscilla's home. "

Maggie wrote her letter rapidly. She thought it cold; she meant it tobe a purely business note; she did not intend Hammond to see even theglimpse of her warm heart under the carefully studied words. "I amsick of money, " she said to him, "but to some people it is as thebread of life. Ask your friend to provide food and warmth without amoment's delay for these poor people out of the trifle I enclose. Askhim also to write directly to me, for the ten pounds I now send isonly the beginning of what I mean really to do to help them. "

When her letter was finished, Maggie put her hand in her pocket totake out her purse. It was not there. She searched on the table, looked under piles of books and papers and presently found it. Sheunclasped the purse and opened an inner pocket for the purpose oftaking out two five-pound notes which she had placed there thismorning. To her astonishment and perplexity, this portion of the pursenow contained only one of the notes. Maggie felt her face turningcrimson. Quick as a flash of lightning a horrible thought assailedher-- Priscilla had been alone in her room for nearly an hour--Priscilla's people were starving: had Priscilla taken the note?

"Oh, hateful!" said Maggie to herself; "what am I coming to, tosuspect the brave, the noble-- I won't, I can't. Oh, how shall I lookher in the face and feel that I ever, even for a second, thought ofher so dreadfully. " Maggie searched through her purse again. "PerhapsI 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 mypurse, I put four sovereigns here; the sovereigns are safe-- one ofthe notes is gone. "

She thought deeply for a few moments longer, then added a postscriptto her letter:

"I am very sorry, but I can only send you one note for five poundsto-night. Even this, however, is better than nothing. I will givefurther help as soon as I hear from your friend. " Maggie then foldedher letter, addressed, stamped it and took it downstairs. 

Miss Oliphant was an heiress; she was also an orphan; her father andmother were mere memories to her; she had neither brothers norsisters; she did not particularly like her guardian, who was old andworldly 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 realityshe was indifferent to it; money was valueless to her because she hadnever felt its want. 

She lay awake for a long time that night, thinking of PenywernCottage, of tired Aunt Raby, of the little girls who wanted food, andeducation, and care, and love. After a time she fell asleep. In hersleep she ceased to think of Priscilla's relations: all her thoughtswere with Priscilla herself. She dreamt that she saw Priscilla movestealthily 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 booksand papers. 

When Maggie awoke she professed not to believe in her dream; but, nevertheless, she had a headache, and her heart was heavy within her. 

At breakfast that morning Miss Oliphant made a rather startlingannouncement. "I wish to say something, " she remarked in her full, rich voice. "A strange thing happened to me last night. I am notaccounting for it; I am casting no aspersions on any one; I don't evenintend to investigate the matter; still, I wish publicly to state afact-- a five-pound note has been taken out of my purse!"

There were no dons or lecturers present when Miss Oliphant made thisstartling announcement, but Nancy Banister, Rosalind Merton, PriscillaPeel, Miss Day, Miss Marsh and several other girls were all in theroom; they, each of them, looked at the speaker with startled andanxious inquiry. 

Maggie herself did not return the glances; she was lazily helpingherself to some marmalade. 

"How perfectly shameful!" burst at last from the lips of Miss Day. "You have lost five pounds, Miss Oliphant; you are positively certainthat five pounds have been taken out of your purse. Where was yourpurse?" 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. 

"Oh, that's all very fine!" continued Miss Day, "but if five poundsare lost out of your purse, some one has taken them! Some one, therefore, whether servant or student, is a thief. I am notnarrow-minded or prudish, but I confess I draw the line at thieves. "

"So do I, " said Maggie in an icy tone; "still, I don't mean to make afuss. "

"But where was your purse, Maggie, dear?" asked Nancy Banister; "wasit in your pocket?"

"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 browneyes sought Priscilla's face; she had not meant to look at her, shedid not want to; but a fascination she could not control obliged herto dart this one glance of inquiry. 

Prissie's eyes met hers. Their expression was anxious, puzzled, butthere was not a trace of guilt or confusion in them. "I don't know howthat money could have been taken, Maggie, " she said, "for I was inyour room. Studying my Greek. " Prissie sighed when she mentioned herGreek. "I was in your room studying Greek all the evening; no onecould have come to take the money. "

"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 atever having suspected her. "It is gone, " she said in quite a light andcheerful way, "but I am really sorry I mentioned it. As I said justnow, I don't intend to investigate the matter. I may have fallenasleep and taken the five-pound note out in a dream and torn it up orput it on the fire. Anyhow, it has vanished, and that is all I have tosay. Come, Prissie, I want to hear what Miss Heath said to you lastnight. "

"No, " suddenly exclaimed Annie Day, "Miss Peel, you must not leave theroom just now. You have made a statement, Miss Oliphant, which I forone do not intend to pass over without at least asking a fewquestions. 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 tohave this kind of thing said to us. The thief must confess and thenote must be returned. "

"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 whenyour council of war is over. "

The moment Maggie left the room Rosalind Merton made a remark. "MissPeel is the only person who can explain the mystery, " she said. 

"What do you mean?" asked Priscilla. 

"Why, you confess yourself that you were in Miss Oliphant's room thegreater part of the evening. "

"I confess it?" remarked Priscilla; "that is a curious phrase to applyto a statement. I confess nothing. I was in Maggie's room, but what ofthat? When people confess things, " she added with a naivete whichtouched one or two of the girls, "they generally have done somethingwrong. Now, what was there wrong in my sitting in my friend's room?"

"Oh, Miss Oliphant is your friend'?" said Rosalind. 

"Of course, of course. " But here a memory came over Priscilla; sheremembered Maggie's words the night before-- "You were my friend. " Forthe first time her voice faltered and the crimson flush of distresscovered her face. Rosalind's cruel eyes were fixed on her. 

"Let me speak now, " interrupted Miss Day. She gave Rosalind a piercingglance which caused her, in her turn, to color violently. "It is justthis, Miss Peel, " said Annie Day: "you will excuse my speakingbluntly, but you are placed in a very unpleasant position. "

"I? How?" asked Prissie. 

"Oh, you great baby!" burst from Rosalind again. 

"Please don't speak to me in that tone, Miss Merton, " said Priscillawith a new dignity which became her well. "Now, Miss Day, what haveyou to say?"

To Prissie's surprise, at this juncture, Nancy Banister suddenly lefther seat and came and stood at the back of her chair. 

"I am on your side whatever happens, " she remarked. 

"Thank you, " said Prissie. 

"Now, please, Miss Day. "

"You must know who took the note, " said Annie Day. 

"I assure you I don't; I can't imagine how it has disappeared. Not asoul came into the room while I was there. I did go away once forabout three minutes to fetch my Lexicon; but I don't suppose any onecame into Miss Oliphant's room during those few minutes-- there was noone about to come. "

"Oh, you left the room for about three minutes?"

"Perhaps three-- perhaps not so many. I had left my Lexicon in thelibrary; I went to fetch it. "

"Oh, " said Rosalind, suddenly taking the words out of Miss Day'smouth, "when did you invent this little fiction?"

Prissie's eyes seemed suddenly to blaze fire. For the first time sheperceived the drift of the cruel suspicion which her fellow-studentswere seeking to cast upon her. "How wicked you are!" she said toRosalind. "Why do you look at me like that? Miss Day, why do yousmile? Why do you all smile? Oh, Nancy, " added poor Prissie, springingto her feet and looking full into Nancy's troubled eyes, "what is thematter?-- am I in a dream?"

"It is all very fine to be theatrical, " said Miss Day, "but the factis, Miss Peel, you are not at all popular enough at St. Benet's toinduce any of us to consent to live under a ban for your sake. MissOliphant has lost her money. You say that you spent some time in herroom; the purse was on her bureau. Miss Oliphant is rich, she is alsogenerous; she says openly that she does not intend to investigate thematter. No doubt, if you confess your weakness and return the money, she will forgive you and not report this disgraceful proceeding to thecollege authorities. "

While Miss Day was speaking some heavy panting breaths came two orthree times from Priscilla's lips. Her face had turned cold and white, but her eyes blazed like living coals. 

"Now I understand, " she said slowly, "you think-- you think that I-- Istole a five-pound note from my friend; you think that I went into herroom and opened her purse and took away her money; you think that ofme-- you! I scorn you all, I defy you, I dare you to prove yourdreadful words! I am going to Miss Heath this moment; she shallprotect me from this dishonor. "

 CHAPTER XXVI

 IN THE ANTE-CHAPEL OF ST. HILDA'S

PRISCILLA ran blindly down the corridor which opened into the wideentrance-hall. Groups of girls were standing about. They stared as thewild-looking apparition rushed past them: Prissie was blind to theirpuzzled and curious glances. She wanted to see Miss Heath. She had aqueer kind of instinct, rather than any distinct impression, that inMiss Heath's presence she would be protected, that Miss Heath wouldknow what to say, would know how to dispel the cloud of disgrace whichhad suddenly been cast over her like a cloak. 

"Is there anything wrong, Miss Peel?" said gentle little Ada Hardy, coming up and speaking to her affectionately. Miss Hardy stood rightin Prissie's path, barring her way for a moment and causing her, inspite of herself, to stop her headlong rush to the vice-principal'sroom. Priscilla put up her hand to her brow. She looked in a dazedsort of way at the kindhearted girl. 

"What is the matter-- can I help you?" repeated Ada Hardy. 

"You can't help me, " said Prissie. "I want to see Miss Heath; let mepass. " She ran forward again, and some other girls, coming out of thedining-hall, now came up to Ada and distracted her attention. 

Miss Heath's private sitting-room was on the ground floor. This lovelyroom has been described before. It was open now, and Prissie went inwithout knocking; she thought she would see Miss Heath sitting as sheusually was at this hour, either reading or answering letters. She wasnot in the room. Priscilla felt too wild and impetuous to consider anyaction carefully just then. She ran up at once to the electric belland pressed the button for quite a quarter of a minute. A maid servantcame quickly to answer the summons. She thought Miss Heath had sentfor her and stared at the excited girl. 

"I want to see Miss Heath, " said Priscilla. "Please ask her to come tome here. Say Miss Peel wants to see her-- Priscilla Peel wants to seeher, very, very badly, in her own sitting-room at once. Ask her tocome to me at once. "

The presence of real tragedy always inspires respect. There was noquestion with regard to the genuineness of Priscilla's sorrow justthen. 

"I will try and find Miss Heath, miss, and ask her to come to youwithout delay, " answered the maid. She softly withdrew, closing thedoor after her. Priscilla went and stood on the hearthrug. Raising hereyes for a moment, they rested on a large and beautiful platinotype ofG. F. Watts' picture of "Hope. " The last time she had visited MissHeath in that room Prissie had been taken by the kind vice-principalto look at the picture, and some of its symbolism was explained toher. "That globe on which the figure of Hope sits, " Miss Heath hadsaid, "is meant to represent the world. Hope is blindfolded in ordermore effectually to shut out the sights which might distract her. Seethe harp in her hand, observe her rapt attitude-- she is listening tomelody-- she hears, she rejoices, and yet the harp out of which shemakes music only possesses one string-- all the rest are broken. " MissHeath said nothing further, and Prissie scarcely took in the fullmeaning of the picture that evening. Now she looked again, and apassionate agony swept over her. "Hope has one string still left toher harp with which she can play music, " murmured the young girl; "butoh! there are times when all the strings of the harp are broken. ThenHope dies. "

The room door was opened and the servant reappeared. 

"I am very sorry, miss, " she said, "but Miss Heath has gone out forthe morning. Would you like to see any one else?"

Priscilla gazed at the messenger in a dull sort of way. "I can't seeMiss Heath?" she murmured. 

"No, miss, she is out. "

"Very well. "

"Can I do anything for you, miss?"

"No, thank you. "

The servant went away with a puzzled expression on her face. 

"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. 

Priscilla, left alone in Miss Heath's sitting-room, stood still for amoment, then running usptairs to her room, she put on her hat andjacket and went out. She was expected to attend two lectures thatmorning and the hour for the first had almost arrived. Maggie Oliphantwas coming into the house when Prissie ran past her. 

"My dear!" she exclaimed, shocked at the look on Priscilla's face, "come here; I want to speak to you. "

"I can't-- don't stop me. "

"But where are you going? Mr. Kenyon has just arrived. I am on my wayto the lecture-hall now. "

"It doesn't matter. "

"Aren't you coming?"

"No. "

This last word reached Miss Oliphant from a distance. Prissie hadalready almost reached the gates. 

Maggie stood still for a moment, half inclined to follow the excited, frantic-looking girl, but that queer inertia, which was part of hercomplex character, came over her. She shrugged her shoulders, theinterest died out of her face; she walked slowly through theentrance-hall and down one of the side corridors to the lecture-room. 

When the Greek lecture had come to an end Nancy Banister came up andslipped her hand through Maggie's arm. 

"What is the matter, Maggie?" she asked, "you look very white andtired. "

"I have a headache, " answered Maggie. "If it does not get better, Ishall send for a carriage and take a drive. "

"May I come with you?"

"No, dear Nancy, when I have these bad headaches it is almostnecessary to me to be alone. "

"Would it not be better for you to go and lie down in your room?"

"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 asshe leaned on it. 

"You are really ill, darling!" she said in a tone of sympathy andfondness. 

"I have not felt right for a week and am worse today, but I dare say adrive in this nice frosty air will set me up. "

"I am going to Kingsdene. Shall I order a carriage for you?"

"I wish you would. "

"Maggie, did you notice that Priscilla was not at her lecture?"

"She was not. I met her rushing away, I think, to Kingsdene; sheseemed put out about something. "

"Poor little thing. No wonder-- those horrid girls!"

"Oh, Nancy, if there's anything unpleasant, don't tell me just now; myhead aches so dreadfully, I could scarcely hear bad news. "

"You are working too hard, Maggie. "

"I am not; it is the only thing left to me. "

"Do you know that we are to have a rehearsal of The Princess to-night?If you are as ill as you look now, you can't be present. "

"I will be present. Do you think I can't force myself to do what isnecessary?"

"Oh, I am well acquainted with the owner of your will, " answered Nancywith a laugh. "Well, good-by, dear, I am off. You may expect thecarriage to arrive in half an hour. "

Meanwhile Priscilla, still blind, deaf and dumb with misery, ran, rather than walked, along the road which leads to Kingsdene. The daywas lovely, with little faint wafts of spring in the air; the sky waspale 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 feltcrisp under her tread. 

She had not the least idea why she was going to Kingsdene. Her wishwas to walk, and walk, and walk until sheer fatigue, caused bylong-continued motion, brought to her temporary ease andforgetfulness. 

Prissie was a very strong girl, and she knew she must walk for a longtime; her feet must traverse many miles before she effected herobject. Just as she was passing St. Hilda's College she came face toface with Hammond. He was in his college cap and gown and was on hisway to morning prayers in the chapel. Hammond had received Maggie'sletter that morning, and this fact caused him to look at Priscillawith new interest. On another occasion he would have passed her with ahurried bow. Now he stopped to speak. The moment he caught sight ofher face, he forgot everything else in his distress at the expressionof misery which it wore. 

"Where are you going, Miss Peel?" he asked; "you appear to be flyingfrom something, or, perhaps, it is to something. Must you run? See, you have almost knocked me down. " He chose light words on purpose, hoping to make Prissie smile. 

"I am going for a walk, " she said. "Please let me pass. "

"I am afraid you are in trouble, " he replied then, seeing thatPriscilla's mood must be taken seriously. 

His sympathy gave the poor girl a momentary thrill of comfort. Sheraised her eyes to his face and spoke huskily. 

"A dreadful thing has happened to me, " she said. 

The chapel bell stopped as she spoke. Groups of men, all in their capsand gowns, hurried by. Several of them looked from Hammond toPriscilla and smiled. 

"I must go to chapel now, " he said; "but I should like to speak toyou. Can I not see you after morning prayers? Would you not come tothe service. You might sit in the ante-chapel, if you did not want tocome into the chapel itself. You had much better do that. Whateveryour 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 thereafter prayers. "

He ran off just in time to take his own place in the chapel before thedoors were shut and curtains drawn. 

Without a moment's hesitation, Priscilla followed him. She entered theante-chapel, sat down on a bench not far from the entrance door, andwhen the service began she dropped on her knees and covered her facewith her hands. 

The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony. The doorswhich divided the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound, as if it were miles away; each note, however, was distinct; no soundwas lost. The boys' voices rose high in the air; they were angelic intheir sweetness. Prissie was incapable, at that moment, of taking inthe meaning of the words she heard, but the lovely sounds comfortedher. 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, angryheart; as if a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrowthere. 

"I am ready now, " said Hammond when the service was over. "Will youcome?"

She rose without a word and went out with him into the quadrangle. They walked down the High Street. 

"Are you going back to St. Benet's?" he asked. 

"Oh, no-- oh, no!"

"'Yes, ' you mean. I will walk with you as far as the gates. "

"I am not going back. "

"Pardon me, " said Hammond, "you must go back. So young a girl cannottake long walks alone. If one of your fellow-students were with you, it would be different. "

"I would not walk with one of them now for the world. "

"Not with Miss Oliphant?"

"With her least of all. "

"That is a pity, " said Hammond gravely, "for no one can feel morekindly toward you. "

Prissie made no response. 

They walked to the end of the High Street. 

"This is your way, " said Hammond, "down this quiet lane. We shall getto St. Benet's in ten minutes. "

"I am not going there. Good-by, Mr. Hammond. "

"Miss Peel, you must forgive my appearing to interfere with you, butit is absolutely wrong for a young girl, such as you are, to wanderabout alone in the vicinity of a large university town. Let me treatyou as my sister for once and insist on accompanying you to the gatesof the college. "

Prissie looked up at him. "It is very good of you to take any noticeof me, " she said after a pause. "You won't ever again after-- afteryou 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 byand by somewhere else. "

Hammond smiled to himself at Prissie's very qualified submission. Justthen a carriage came up and drove slowly past them. Miss Oliphant, inher velvet and sables, was seated in it. Hammond sprang forward withheightened color and an eager exclamation on his lips. She did notmotion to the coachman to stop, however, but gave the young man acareless, cold bow. She did not notice Priscilla at all. The carriagequickly drove out of sight, and Hammond, after a pause, said gravely;

"You must tell me your troubles, Miss Peel. "

"I will, " said Prissie. "Some one has stolen a five pound note out ofMaggie Oliphant's purse. She missed it late at night and spoke aboutit at breakfast this morning. I said that I did not know how it couldhave been taken, for I had been studying my Greek in her room duringthe whole afternoon. Maggie spoke about her loss in the dining-hall, and after she left the room Miss Day and Miss Merton accused me ofhaving stolen the money. " Priscilla stopped speaking abruptly; sheturned her head away; a dull red suffused her face and neck. 

"Well?" said Hammond. 

"That is all. The girls at St. Benet's think I am a thief. They thinkI took my kindest friend's money. I have nothing more to say: nothingpossibly could be more dreadful to me. I shall speak to Miss Heath andask leave to go away from the college at once. "

"You certainly ought not to do that. "

"What do you mean?"

"If you went from St. Benet's now, people might be induced to thinkthat you really were guilty. "

"But they think that now. "

"I am quite certain that those students whose friendship is worthretaining think nothing of the sort. "

"Why are you certain?" asked Prissie, turning swiftly round and asudden ray of sunshine illuminating her whole face. "Do you think thatI am not a thief?"

"I am as certain of that fact as I am of my own identity. "

"Oh!" said the girl with a gasp. She made a sudden dart forward, andseizing Hammond's hand, squeezed it passionately between both her own. 

"And Miss Oliphant does not think of you as a thief, " continuedHammond. 

"I don't know-- I can't say. "

"You have no right to be so unjust to her, " he replied with fervor. 

"I don't care so much for the opinion of the others now, " saidPrissie; "you believe in me. " She walked erect again; her footstepswere light as if she trod on air. "You are a very good man, " she said. "I would do anything for you-- anything. "

Hammond smiled. Her innocence, her enthusiasm, her childishness weretoo apparent for him to take her words for more than they were worth. 

"Do you know, " he said after a pause, "that I am in a certain measureentitled to help you? In the first place, Miss Oliphant takes a greatinterest in you. "

"You are mistaken, she does not-- not now. "

"I am not mistaken; she takes a great interest in you. Priscilla, youmust have guessed-- you have guessed-- what Maggie Oliphant is to me;I should like, therefore, to help her friend. That is one tie betweenus, but there is another-- Mr. Hayes, your parish clergyman----"

"Oh!" said Prissie, "do you know Mr. Hayes?"

"I not only know him, " replied Hammond, smiling, "but he is my uncle. I am going to see him this evening. "

"Oh!"

"Of course, I shall tell him nothing of this, but I shall probablytalk of you. Have you a message for him?"

"I can send him no message to-day. "

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. Ifher money was stolen, the thief was certainly not the most upright, the most sincere girl in the college. My advice to you, Miss Peel, isto hold your head up bravely, to confront this charge by that sense ofabsolute innocence which you possess. In the meanwhile I have not theleast 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 herhand and turned away. 

Priscilla took her usual place that day at the luncheon table. Thegirls who had witnessed her wild behavior in the morning watched herin perplexity and astonishment. She ate her food with appetite; herface looked serene-- all the passion and agony had left it. 

Rosalind Merton ventured on a sly allusion to the scene of themorning. Priscilla did not make the smallest comment. Her faceremained pale, her eyes untroubled. There was a new dignity about her. 

"What's up now?" said Rosalind to her friend, Miss Day. "Is the littlePuritan going to defy us all?"

"Oh, don't worry any more about her, " said Annie, who, for somereason, 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 abouther, Her heroics are as unpleasant to me as her stoicisms. But I mayas well say frankly, Rosalind, before I drop this detestable subject, that I am quite sure she never stole that five-pound note: she was aslittle likely to do it as you, so there!"

There came a knock at the door. Rosalind flew to open it. By so doingshe hoped that Miss Day would not notice the sudden color which filledher cheeks. 

 CHAPTER XXVII

 BEAUTIFUL ANNABEL LEE

CIRCUMSTANCES seem to combine to spoil some people. Maggie Oliphantwas one of the victims of fortune, which, while appearing to favorher, gave her in reality the worst training which was possible for anature such as hers. She was impulsive, generous, affectionate, butshe was also perverse, and, so to speak, uncertain. She was a creatureof moods and she was almost absolutely without self-control; and yetnature had been kind to Maggie, giving her great beauty of form andface and a character which a right training would have rendered noble. 

Up to the present, however, this training had scarcely come to MissOliphant. She was almost without relations and she was possessed ofmore money than she knew what to do with. She had great abilities andloved learning for the sake of learning, but till she came to St. Benet's, her education had been as desultory as her life. She hadnever been to school; her governess only taught her what she chose tolearn. As a child she was very fickle in this respect, working hardfrom morning till night one day but idling the whole of the next. Whenshe was fifteen her guardian took her to Rome. The next two years werespent in traveling, and Maggie, who knew nothing properly, picked upthat kind of superficial miscellaneous knowledge which made herconversation brilliant and added to her many charms. 

"You shall be brought out early, " her guardian had said to her. "Youare not educated in the stereotyped fashion, but you know enough. After you are seventeen I will get you a suitable chaperon and youshall live in London. "

This scheme, however, was not carried out. For, shortly after herseventeenth birthday, Maggie Oliphant met a girl whose beauty andbrilliance were equal to her own, whose nature was stronger and whohad been carefully trained in heart and mind while Maggie had beenneglected. Miss Lee was going through a course of training at St. Benet's College for Women at Kingsdene. She was an uncommon girl inevery sense of the word. The expression of her lovely face was aspiquant 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 wonMaggie's warmest affections at once; she determined to join her friendat St. Benet's. She spoke with ineffable scorn of her London seasonand resolved, with that enthusiasm which was the strongest part of hernature, to become a student in reality. Under Annabel's guidance shetook up the course of study which was necessary to enable her to passher entrance examination. She acquitted herself well, for herabilities were of the highest order, and entered the college witheclat. Miss Lee was a student in Heath Hall, and Maggie thoughtherself supremely happy when she was given a room next to her friend. 

Those were brilliant days at the hall. Some girls resided there atthis time whose names were destined to be known in the world by andby. The workers were earnest; the tone which pervaded the life atHeath Hall was distinctly high. Shallow girls there must always bewhere any number are to be found together, but, during MaggieOliphant's first year, these girls had little chance of coming to thefront. Maggie, who was as easily influenced as a wave is tossed by thewind, rose quickly to the heights with her companions. Her splendidintellect developed each day. She was merry with the merry, glad withthe glad, studious with the studious. She was also generous, kind andunselfish in company with those girls who observed the precepts of thehigher life. Next to Miss Lee, Maggie was one of the most populargirls in the college. Annabel Lee had the kindest of hearts, as wellas the most fascinating of ways. She was an extraordinary girl; therewas a great deal of the exotic about her; in many ways she was old forher years. No one ever thought or spoke of her as a prig, but all herinfluence was brought to bear in the right direction. The girl whocould do or think meanly avoided the expression of Annabel's beautifuleyes. It was impossible for her to think badly of herfellow-creatures, but meanness and sin made her sorrowful. There wasnot a girl in Heath Hall who would willingly give Annabel Lee sorrow. 

In the days that followed people knew that she was one of those rareand brilliant creatures who, like a lovely but too ethereal flower, must quickly bloom into perfection and then pass away. Annabel wasdestined to a short life, and after her death the high tone of HeathHall deteriorated considerably. 

This girl was a born leader. When she died no other girl in thecollege could take her place, and for many a long day those who hadloved her were conscious of a sense which meant a loss of headship. Inshort, they were without their leader. 

If Annabel in her gaiety and brightness could influence girls who werescarcely more than acquaintances, the effect of her strong personalityon Maggie was supreme. Maggie often said that she never knew what lovemeant until she met Annabel. The two girls were inseparable; theirlove for each other was compared to that of Jonathan and David ofBible story and of Orestes and Pylades of Greek legend. The society ofeach gave the other the warmest pleasure. 

Annabel and Maggie were both so beautiful in appearance, so far abovethe average girl in their pose, their walk, their manner that peoplenoticed these friends wherever they went. A young and rising artist, who saw them once at St. Hilda's, begged permission to make a pictureof the pair. It was done during the summer recess before Annabel diedand made a sensation in the next year's Academy. Many of the visitorswho went there stopped and looked at the two faces, both in theperfection of their youthful bloom and beauty. Few guessed that oneeven now had gone to the Home best fitted for so ardent and high aspirit. 

Annabel Lee died a year before Priscilla came to the college. WhateverMaggie inwardly felt, she had got over her first grief; her smile wasagain as brilliant as when Annabel Lee was by her side, her laugh wasas merry; but the very few who could look a little way into Maggie'sperverse and passionate heart knew well that something had died in herwhich could never live again, that her laugh was often hollow and herbrilliant smile had only a foundation in bitterness. 

Maggie did not only grieve for her friend when she mourned forAnnabel. She had loved her most deeply, and love alone would havecaused her agony in such a loss; but Maggie's keenest and mostterrible feelings were caused by an unavailing regret. 

This regret was connected with Geoffrey Hammond. 

He had known Annabel from her childhood. He was an old friend of someof her friends, and during those last, long summer holidays, which thetwo girls spent together under the roof of Maggie's guardian, Hammond, who was staying with relations not far away, came to see them almostdaily. He was the kind of man who could win both respect andadmiration; he was grave in his nature and his aspirations, aims andambitions were high. In their conversations during this lovely summerweather these young people dreamt happy dreams together and planned afuture which meant good to all mankind. Maggie, to all appearance, washeart and soul with Annabel and Geoffrey in what they thought andsaid. 

Nothing could have been simpler or more unconventional than theintercourse between these young people. Miss Lee had known Hammond allher life; Maggie always spoke and thought of herself as second toAnnabel in Geoffrey Hammond's regard. One brilliant autumn day, however, he surprised Maggie by asking her to take a long walk alonewith him. No words were said during this ramble to open MaggieOliphant's eyes to the true state of Hammond's feelings for her, butwhen she returned from her walk she could not help noticing AnnabelLee's unaccountable depression. It was not until later, however, thatMaggie attributed a certain pathetic, almost heart-broken, look in herfriend's lovely eyes to its true cause. 

Hammond was a graduate of St. Hilda's College at Kingsdene, and thethree friends often talked of the happy meetings they would haveduring the coming winter. He was a man of large property, and thefavorite amusement of these young people was in talking over thebrilliant life which lay before Hammond when he took possession of hisestates. He would be the ideal landlord of his age; the people wholived on his property would, when he attained his majority, enter intoa millennium of bliss. 

Maggie returned to St. Benet's, imagining herself quite heart-whole, but happiness shone out of her eyes, and there was a new, tender ringin her voice for which she could not account to herself and whichadded a new fascination to her beauty. 

Shortly after the commencement of the term Hammond met Miss Oliphantby accident just outside Kingsdene. 

"I was going to post a letter to you, " he said. His face was unusuallypale, his eyes full of joy and yet of solicitude. 

"You can tell me what you have written, " replied Maggie in her gayestvoice. 

"No, I would rather you read my letter. "

He thrust it into her hand and immediately, to her astonishment, lefther. 

As she walked home through the frosty air she opened Hammond's letterand read its contents. It contained an earnest appeal for her love andan assurance that all the happiness of the writer's future lifedepended on her consenting to marry him. Would she be his wife whenher three years' term at St. Benet's came to an end?

No letter could be more manly, more simple. Its contents went straightto the depths of a heart easily swayed and full of strong affection. 

"Yes, I love him, " whispered the girl; "I did not know it until I readthis letter, but I am sure of myself now. Yes, I love him better thanany one else in the world. "

A joyous light filled Maggie's brown eyes; her heart was gay. Sherushed to Annabel's room to tell her news and to claim the sympathywhich had never hitherto been denied her and which was essential tothe completion of her happiness. 

When Maggie entered her friend's room she saw, to her surprise, thatAnnabel was lying on her bed with flushed cheeks. Two hours before shehad been, to all appearance, in brilliant health; now her face burnedwith fever and her beautiful dark eyes were glazed with pain. 

Maggie rushed up and kissed her. "What is it; darling, " she asked;"what is wrong? You look ill; your eyes have a strange expression. "

Annabel's reply was scarcely audible. The pain and torpor of her lastshort illness were already overmastering her. Maggie was alarmed atthe burning touch of her hand, but she had no experience to guide herand her own great joy to make her selfish. 

"Annabel, look at me for a moment. I have wonderful news to give you. "

Annabel's eyes were closed, She opened them wide at this appeal forsympathy, stretched out her hand and pushed back a tangle of brighthair from Maggie's brow. 

"I love you, Maggie, " she said in that voice which had always power tothrill its listeners. 

Maggie kissed her friend's hand and pressed it to her own beatingheart. "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 badhalf-hours, no more struggles with myself. I can be very good now. "

With some slight difficulty Annabel Lee drew her hot hand away fromMaggie's fervent clasp; her eyes, slightly distended, were fixed onher friend's face; the flush of fever left her cheeks; a hot flood ofemotion seemed to press against her beating heart; she looked atMaggie with passionate longing. 

"What is it?" she asked in a husky whisper. "Why are you so glad, Maggie? Why can you be good now?"

"Because I love Geoffrey Hammond, " answered Maggie; "I love him withall my heart, all my life, all my strength, and he loves me. He hasasked me to be his wife. "

Maggie paused. She expected to feel Annabel's arms round her neck; shewaited impatiently for this last crowning moment of bliss. Her ownhappiness caused her to lower her eyes; her joy was so dazzling thatfor a moment she felt she must shade their brilliance even fromAnnabel's gaze. 

Instead of the pressure of loving arms, however, and the warm kiss ofsympathy, there came a low cry from the lips of the sick girl. Shemade an effort to say something, but words failed her: the next momentshe was unconscious. Maggie rushed to the bell and gave an alarm, which brought Miss Heath and one or two servants to the room. 

A doctor was speedily sent for, and Maggie Oliphant was banished fromthe room. She never saw Annabel Lee again. That night the sick girlwas removed to the hospital, which was in a building apart from thehalls, and two days afterward she was dead. 

Typhus fever was raging at Kingsdene at this time, and Annabel Lee hadtaken it in its most virulent form. The doctors (and two or three weresummoned) gave up all hope of saving her life from the first. Maggiealso gave up hope. She accused herself of having caused her friend'sdeath. She believed that the shock of her tidings had killed Annabel, who, already suffering from fever, had not strength to bear the agonyof knowing that Hammond's love was given to Maggie. 

On the night of Annabel's death Maggie wrote to Hammond refusing hisoffer of marriage, but giving no reason for doing so. After postingher letter she lay down on her own sick bed and nearly died of thefever which had taken Annabel away. 

All these things happened a year ago. The agitation caused by thedeath of one so young, beautiful and beloved had subsided. Peoplecould talk calmly of Annabel, and although for a long time her roomhad remained vacant, it was now occupied by a girl in all respects heropposite. 

Nothing would induce Maggie to enter this room, and no words wouldpersuade her to speak of Annabel. She was merry and bright once more, and few gave her credit for secret hours of misery, which wereseriously undermining her health and ruining what was best of hercharacter. 

On this particular day, as she lay back in her carriage, wrapped incostly furs, a great wave of misery and bitterness was sweeping overher heart. In the first agony caused by Annabel's death Maggie hadvowed a vow to her own heart never, under any circumstances, toconsent to be Hammond's wife. In the first misery of regret andcompunction 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 wascrushing her life, was destroying her chance of ever becoming a reallystrong and good woman. If she had loved Hammond a year ago hersufferings made her love him fifty times better now. With all heroutward coldness and apparent indifference, his presence gave her thekeenest pain. Her heart beat fast when she caught sight of his face;if he spoke to another, she was conscious of being overcome by aspirit of jealousy. The thought of him mingled with her waking andsleeping hours; but the sacrifice she owed to the memory of her deadfriend must be made at all hazards. Maggie consulted no one on thissubject. Annabel's unhappy story lay buried with her in her earlygrave; Maggie would have died rather than reveal it. Now, as she layback in her carriage, the tears filled her eyes. 

"I am too weak for this to go on any longer, " she said to herself. "Ishall leave St. Benet's at the end of the present term. What is thewinning of a tripos to me? What do I want with honors anddistinctions? Everything is barren to me. My life has no flavor in it. I loved Annabel, and she is gone. Without meaning it, I brokeAnnabel's heart. Without meaning it, I caused my darling's death, andnow my own heart is broken, for I love Geoffrey-- I love him, and Ican never, under any circumstances, be his wife. He misunderstandsme-- he thinks me cold, wicked, heartless-- and I can never, never setmyself right with him. Soon he will grow tired of me and give hisheart 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. "

Maggie's tears always came slowly; she put up her handkerchief to wipethem away. It was little wonder that when she returned from her driveher head was no better. 

"We must put off the rehearsal, " said Nancy Banister, She came intoMaggie's room and spoke vehemently. "I saw you at lunch, Maggie: youate nothing-- you spoke with an effort. I know your head is worse. Youmust lie down, and, unless you are better soon, I will ask Miss Heathto send for a doctor. "

"No doctor will cure me, " said Maggie. "Give me a kiss, Nance; let merest my head against yours for a moment. Oh, how earnestly I wish Iwas like you. "

"Why so? What have I got? I have no beauty; I am not clever; I amneither romantically poor, like Prissie, nor romantically rich, likeyou. In short, the fairies were not invited to my christening. "

"One of two fairies came, however, " replied Maggie, "and they gave youan 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. "

Nancy's blue eyes glowed with pleasure. "Yes, " she said, "I don't knowanything about dumps and low spirits. "

"And you are unselfish, Nancy; you are never seeking your ownpleasure. "

"I am not obliged to: I have all I want. And now to turn to a moreimportant subject. I will see the members of our Dramatic Society andput off the rehearsal. "

"You must not; the excitement will do me good. "

"For the time, perhaps, " replied Nancy, shaking her wise head, "butyou will be worse afterward. "

"No. Now, Nancy, don't let us argue the point. If you are truly myfriend, you will sit by me for an hour and read aloud the dullest bookyou can find, then perhaps I shall go to sleep. "

 CHAPTER XXVIII

 "COME AND KILL THE BOGIE"

NOTWITHSTANDING Nancy's dismal prognostications, Maggie Oliphantplayed her part brilliantly that night. Her low spirits were succeededby gay ones; the Princess had never looked more truly regal, nor hadthe Prince ever more passionately wooed her. Girls who did not belongto the society always flocked into the theater to see the rehearsals. Maggie's mood scarcely puzzled them. She was so erratic that no oneexpected anything from her but the unexpected: if she looked like adrooping flower one moment, her head was erect the next, her eyessparkling, her voice gay. The flower no longer drooped, but blossomedwith renewed vigor. After reading for an hour Nancy had left herfriend asleep. She went downstairs, and, in reply to several anxiousinquiries, pronounced it as her opinion that Maggie, with all the goodwill in the world, could scarcely take part in the rehearsals thatnight. 

"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 thather words had effect, and a little rumor spread in the college thatMiss Oliphant could not take her part in the important rehearsalswhich were to take place that evening. Her appearance, therefore, inmore than her usual beauty, with more vigor in her voice, more energyand brightness in her eyes, gave at once a pleasing sense ofsatisfaction. She was cheered when she entered the little theater, but, if there was a brief surprise, it was quickly succeeded by thecomment which generally followed all her doings: "This is just likeMaggie; no one can depend on how she will act for a moment. "

At that rehearsal, however, people were taken by surprise. If thePrincess did well, the young Prince did better. Priscilla hadcompletely dropped her role of the awkward and gauche girl. From thefirst there had been vigor and promise in her acting. To-night therewas not only vigor, but tenderness-- there was a passion in her voicewhich arose now and then to power. She was so completely in sympathywith her part that she ceased to be Priscilla: she was the Prince whomust win this wayward Princess or die. 

Maggie came up to her when the rehearsals were over. 

"I congratulate you, " she said. "Prissie, you might do well on thestage. "

Priscilla smiled. "No, " she said, "for I need inspiration to forgetmyself. "

"Well, genius would supply that. "

"No, Maggie, no. The motive that seems to turn me into the Princehimself cannot come again. Oh, Maggie, if I succeed! If I succeed!"

"What do you mean, you strange child?"

"I cannot tell you with my voice: don't you guess?"

"I cannot say. You move me strangely; you remind me of-- I quiteforget that you are Priscilla Peel. "

Priscilla laughed joyously. 

"How gay you look to-night, Prissie, and yet I am told you weremiserable this morning. Have you forgotten your woes?"

"Completely. "

"Why is this?"

"I suppose because I am happy and hopeful. "

"Nancy tells me that you were quite in despair to-day. She said thatsome of those cruel girls insulted you. "

"Yes, I was very silly; I got a shock. "

"And you have got over it?"

"Yes; I know you don't believe badly of me. You know that I am honestand-- and true. "

"Yes, my dear, " said Maggie with fervor, "I believe in you as Ibelieve in myself. Now, have you quite disrobed? Shall we go into thelibrary for a little?"

The moment they entered this cheerful room, which was bright with twoblazing fires and numerous electric lights, Miss Day and Miss Marshcame up eagerly to Maggie. 

"Well, " they said, "have you made up your mind?"

"About what?" she asked, raising her eyes in a puzzled way. 

"You will come with us to the Elliot-Smiths'? You know how anxiousMeta is to have you. "

"Thank you, but am I anxious to go to Meta?"

"Oh! you are, you must be; you cannot be so cruel as to refuse. "

After the emotion she had gone through in the morning, Maggie's heartwas in that softened, half-tired state when it could be most easilyinfluenced. She was in no mood for arguing or for defiance of anysort. "Peace at all hazards" was her motto just now. She was also inso reckless a mood as to be indifferent to what any one thought ofher. The Elliot-Smiths were not in her "set. " She disliked them andtheir ways, but she had met Meta at a friend's house a week ago. Metahad been introduced to Miss Oliphant and had pressed her invitationvigorously. It would be a triumph of triumphs to Meta Elliot-Smith tointroduce the beautiful heiress to her own set. Maggie's refusal wasnot listened to. She was begged to reconsider the question; imploredto be merciful, to be kind; assured of undying gratitude if she wouldconsent to come even for one short hour. 

Miss Day and Miss Marsh were commissioned by Meta to secure Maggie atall costs. 

"You will come?" said Miss Day; "you must come. " Then coming up closeto Maggie, she whispered in an eager voice: "Would not you like tofind out who has taken your five-pound note? Miss Peel is your friend. Would it not gratify you to clear her?"

"Why should I clear one who can never possibly be suspected?" repliedMiss Oliphant in a voice of anger. Her words were spoken aloud and sovehemently that Annie Day drew back a step or two in alarm. 

"Well, but you would like to know who really took your money?" shereiterated, again speaking in a whisper. 

Maggie was standing by one of the bookcases; she stretched up her handto take down a volume. As she did so her eyes rested for a moment onPriscilla. 

"I would as soon suspect myself as her, " she thought, "and yet lastnight, 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 tothe Elliot-Smiths' will establish your innocence, I will go. "

"Well, " said Miss Day, who was watching her face, "I am to see Metato-morrow morning; am I to tell her to expect you?"

"Yes, " replied Maggie, "but I wish to say at once, with regard to thatfive-pound note, that I am not interested in it. I am so carelessabout my money matters, that it is quite possible l may have beenmistaken when I thought I put it into my purse. "

"Oh! oh! but you spoke so confidently this morning. "

"One of my impulses. I wish I had not done it. "

"Having done it, however, " retorted Miss Day, "it is your duty to takeany steps which may be necessary to clear the college of so unpleasantand disgraceful a charge. "

"You think I can do this by going to the Elliot-Smiths'?"

"Hush! you will spoil all by speaking so loud. Yes, I fully believe weshall make a discovery on Friday night. "

"You don't suppose I would go to act the spy?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort; only come-- only come!"

Maggie opened her book and glanced at some of its contents beforereplying. 

"Only come, " repeated Annie in an imploring voice. 

"I said I would come, " answered Maggie. "Must I reiterate myassurance? Tell Miss Elliot-Smith to expect me. "

Maggie read for a little in the library; then, feeling tired, she rosefrom her seat and crossed the large room, intending to go up at onceto her own chamber. In the hall, however, she was attracted by seeingMiss Heath's door slightly open. Her heart was full of compunction forhaving, even for a moment, suspected Priscilla of theft. She thoughtshe would go and speak to Miss Heath about her. 

She knocked at the vice-principal's door. 

"Come in, " answered the kind voice, and Maggie found herself a momentlater seated by the fire: the door of Miss Heath's room shut, and MissHeath herself standing over her, using words of commiseration. 

"My dear, " she said, "you look very ill. "

Maggie raised her eyes. Miss Heath had seen many moods on thatcharming face; now the expression in the wide-open, brown eyes causedher own to fill with sudden tears. 

"I would do anything to help you, my love, " she said tenderly, and, stooping down, she kissed Maggie on her forehead. 

"Perhaps, another time, " answered Miss Oliphant. 

"You are all that is good, Miss Heath, and I may as well own franklythat I am neither well nor happy, but I have not come to speak ofmyself just now. I want to say something about Priscilla Peel. "

"Yes, what about her?"

"She came to you last night. I know what she came about. "

"She told me she had confided in you, " answered the vice-principalgravely. 

"Yes. Well, I have come to say that she must not be allowed to give upher Greek and Latin. "

"Why not?"

"Miss Heath, how can you say, why not'? Prissie is a genius; herinclination lies in that direction. It is in her power to become oneof the most brilliant classical scholars of her day. "

Miss Heath smiled. "Well, Maggie, " she said slowly, "even suppose thatis the case-- and you must own that, clever as Priscilla is, you makean extreme statement when you say such words-- she may do well, verywell, and yet turn her attention to other subjects for the present. "

"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 afirst-class when she goes for her tripos, if her present studies arenot interfered with. "

Miss Heath smiled at Maggie in a pitying sort of way. "I admit, " shesaid, "that first-class honors would be a very graceful crown of bayto encircle that young head; and yet, Maggie, yet-- surely Priscillacan do better?"

"What do you mean? How can she possibly do better?"

"She can wear a nobler crown. You know, Maggie, there are crowns to beworn which cannot fade. "

"Oh!" Maggie's lips trembled. She looked down. 

After a pause, she said, "Priscilla told me something of her home andher family. I suppose she has also confided in you, Miss Heath?"

"Yes, my dear. "

"Well, I have come to-night to say that it is in my power to use someof that money which I detest in helping Prissie-- in helping herfamily. I mean to help them; I mean to put them all in such a positionthat Priscilla shall not need to spend her youth in uncongenialdrudgery. I have come to say this to you, Miss Heath, and I beg ofyou-- yes, I beg of you-- to induce my dear Prissie to go on with herclassical studies. It will now be in your power to assure her that thenecessity which made her obliged to give them up no longer exists. "

"In short, " said Miss Heath, "you will give Miss Peel of your charityand take her independence away?"

"What do you mean?"

"Put yourself in her place, Maggie. Would you take money for yourselfand those dear to you from a comparative stranger?"

Maggie's face grew very red. "I think I would oblige my friend, mydear friend, " she said. 

"Is Prissie really your dear friend?"

"Why do you doubt me? I love her very much. Since-- since Annabeldied, no one has come so close to me. "

"I am glad of that, " replied Miss Heath. She went up to Maggie andkissed her. 

"You will do what I wish?" asked the girl eagerly. 

"No, my dear: that matter lies in your hands alone. It is a case inwhich it is absolutely impossible for me to interfere. If you caninduce 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 thereis not the least doubt that Prissie has it in her to win distinctionfor St. Benet's. But, on the other hand, if she comes to me foradvice, it will be impossible for me not to say to her: 'My dear, character ranks higher than intellect. You may win the greatest prizesand yet keep a poor and servile soul. You may never get this greatearthly distinction, and yet you may be crowned with honor-- the honorwhich comes of uprightness, of independence, of integrity. ' Prissiemay never consult me, of course, Maggie; but, if she does, I must saywords something like these. To tell the truth, my dear, I neveradmired Priscilla more than I did last night. I encouraged her to giveup her classics for the present and to devote herself to modernlanguages and to those accomplishments which are considered moreessentially feminine. As I did so I had a picture before me, in whichI saw Priscilla crowned with love, the support and blessing of herthree little sisters. The picture was a very bright one, Maggie, andyour crown of bay looks quite tawdry beside the other crown which Ihope to see on Prissie's brow. "

Maggie rose from her chair. "Good night, " she said. 

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my love. "

"I have no doubt you are right, " said Maggie, "but, " she added, "Ihave not made up my mind, and I still long for Priscilla to wear thecrown of bay. "

"You will win that crown yourself, my dear. "

"Oh, no, it is not for me. "

"I am very anxious about you, Maggie. Why do you speak in thatreckless tone? Your position and Prissie's are not the least alike: itis your duty to do your very utmost with those talents which have beenbestowed upon you. "

"Perhaps, " answered Maggie, shrugging her shoulders, "but I am tiredof stretching out my hand like a baby to catch soap-bubbles. I cannotspeak of myself at all to-night, Miss Heath. Thank you for what youhave said, and again good night. "

Maggie had scarcely left the room before Priscilla appeared. 

"Are you too tired to see me to-night, Miss Heath?"

"No, my love; come in and sit down. I was sorry to miss you thismorning. "

"But I am glad as it turned out, " replied Priscilla. 

"You were in great trouble, Prissie. The servant told me how terriblyupset you were. "

"I was. I felt nearly mad. "

"But you look very happy now. "

"I am; my trouble has all vanished away. It was a great bogie. As soonas I came boldly up to it, it vanished into smoke. "

"Am I to hear the name of the bogie?"

"I think I would rather not tell you-- at least not now. If Maggiethinks it right, she will speak to you about it; but, as far as I amconcerned, it cannot touch me again. "

"Why have you come to see me then to-night, Priscilla?"

"I want to speak about Maggie. "

"What about her? She has just been here to speak of you. "

"Has she?"

"It is possible that she may make you a proposition which will affectyour whole future, but I am not at liberty to say any more. Have you aproposition to make about her?"

"I have, and it will affect all Maggie's life. It will make her sogood-- so very, very happy. Oh, Miss Heath! you ought to do it: youought to make her marry Mr. Hammond at once. "

"My dear Priscilla!" Miss Heath's face turned crimson. "Are youalluding to Geoffrey Hammond? I know great friends of his; he is oneof the cleverest men at St. Hilda's. "

"Yes, and one of the best, " pursued Prissie, clasping her hands andspeaking in that excited way which she always did when quite carriedout of herself. "You don't know how good he is, Miss Heath. I think heis one of the best of men. I would do anything in the world for him--anything. "

"Where have you met him, Priscilla?"

"At the Marshalls', and once at the Elliot-Smiths', and to-day, when Iwas 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 theservice, and I went, and afterward he chased the bogie away. Oh, he isgood, he is kind and he loves Maggie with all his heart. He has lovedher for a long time, I am sure, but she is never nice to him. "

"Then, of course, " said Miss Heath, "if Miss Oliphant does not carefor Mr. Hammond, there is an end of the matter. You are a veryinnocent and very young girl, Priscilla; but this is a subject inwhich you have no right to interfere. Far from me to say that Idisapprove of marriage for our students, but, while at St. Benet's, itis certainly best for them to give their attention to other matters. "

"For most of us, " replied Prissie, "but not for Maggie. No one in thecollege thinks Maggie happy. "

"That is true, " replied Miss Heath thoughtfully. 

"And every one knows, " pursued Prissie, "that Mr. Hammond loves her. "

"Do they? I was not aware that such reports had got abroad. "

"Oh, yes: all Maggie's friends know that, but they are so dreadfullystupid they cannot guess the other thing. "

"What other thing?"

"That dear Maggie is breaking her heart on account of Mr. Hammond. "

"Then you think she loves him?"

"I do-- I know it. Oh, won't you do something to get them to marryeach other?"

"My dear child, these are subjects in which neither you nor I caninterefere. "

"Oh!" Prissie's eyes filled with sudden tears. "If you won't doanything, I must. "

"I don't see what you can do, Priscilla; I don't know what you have aright to do. We do not care that our students should think of love andcourtship while here, but we have never limited their freedom in thematter. If Miss Oliphant cares for Mr. Hammond, and he cares for her, they know perfectly that they can become engaged. Miss Oliphant willbe leaving St. Benet's at the end of the summer term. She iscompletely, in every sense of the word, her own mistress. "

"Oh, no, she is not her own mistress, she is oppressed by a bogie. Idon't know the name of the bogie, or anything about it; but it isshadowing 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 areboth so fond of each other; they have both noble hearts, but thedreadful bogie spoils everything-- it keeps them apart. Dear MissHeath, I want you to come and kill the bogie. "

"I must find out its name first, " said Miss Heath. 

 CHAPTER XXIX

 AT THE ELLIOT-SMITHS PARTY

ROSALIND MERTON had been in the wildest spirits all day; she hadlaughed with the gayest, joined in all the games, thrown herself heartand soul into every project which promised fun, which gave apossibility for enjoyment. Rosalind's mood might have been describedas reckless. This was not her invariable condition. She was a girlwho, with all her gay spirits, took life with coolness. She was notgiven to over-excitement; her nerves were too well balanced foranything of this kind. 

To-day, however, something seemed wrong with these equable nerves ofhers: she could not keep still; her voice was never quiet; her laughwas 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 hercheeks; her laugh grew louder and more insolent. 

On this evening the Elliot-Smiths would give their long-promisedparty. The wish of Annie Day's heart was gratified; she had angled foran invitation to this merry-making and obtained it. Lucy Marsh wasalso going, and several other St. Benet's girls would be present. 

Early in the evening Rosalind retired to her own room, locked herdoor, and, taking out her new white dress, laid it across the bed. Itwas a very pretty dress, made of soft silk, which did not rustle, butlay in graceful puffs and folds on body and skirt. It was just thedress to make this young, slight figure of Rosalind's look absolutelycharming. She stood over it now and regarded it lovingly. The dresshad been obtained, like most of Rosalind's possessions, by manoeuvres. She had made up a piteous story, and her adoring mother had listenedand contrived to deny herself and some of Rosalind's younger sistersto purchase the white robe on which the young girl's heart was set. 

Deliberately and slowly Rosalind made her toilet, her golden, curlinghair was brushed out and then carefully coiled round her head. Rosalind had no trouble with her hair: a touch or two, a pin stuckhere, a curl arranged there, and the arrangement became perfect-- theglistening mass lay in natural waves over the small, graceful head. 

Rosalind's hair arranged to her satisfaction, she put on her lovelywhite dress. She stood before her long glass, a white-robed littlefigure, smiles round her lips, a sweet, bright color in her cheeks, adewy look in her baby-blue eyes. Rosalind's toilet was all butfinished; she stood before her glass now and hesitated. Should she goto the Elliot-Smiths' as she was or should she give the last finishingtouch to render herself perfect? Should she wear her beautiful coralornaments?

The coral was now her own, paid for to the uttermost farthing; PollySingleton could not come up to Rosalind now and disgrace her in publicby demanding her coral back again. The coral was no longer Polly's; itwas Rosalind's. The debt was cleared off; the exquisite ornaments wereher own. Unlocking a drawer in her bureau, she took out a case, whichcontained her treasures; she touched the spring of the case, opened itand looked at them lovingly. The necklace, the bracelets, the earingsand pins for the hair looked beautiful on their velvet pillow. For thesake of the pink coral, Rosalind had manoeuvred for her white dress;for its sake she had knowingly stinted her mother and sisters; for itssake she had also stolen a five-pound note from Maggie Oliphant. Shedreamt many times of the triumphs which would be hers when sheappeared at the Elliot-Smiths' in her white silk dress, just tippedwith the slight color which the pink coral ornaments would bestow. Rosalind had likened herself to all kinds of lovely things in thisbeautiful yet simple toilet-- to a daisy in the field, to a briarrose: in short, to every flower which denoted the perfection of babyinnocence. 

Yet, as she held the coral necklace in her hand tonight, she hesitateddeeply whether it would be wise to appear at the Elliot-Smiths' in hertreasured ornaments. 

Rose had not felt comfortable all day. She had banished thought withthe usual device of extra hilarity: she had crushed the little voicein her heart which would persistently cry, "Shame! shame!" which wouldgo 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 inprison. " The voice had little opportunity of making itself heard thatday, and, as Maggie Oliphant evidently did not intend to investigatethe matter, Rosalind had every hope that her sin would never be foundout. Nevertheless, she could not help feeling uneasy; for why didAnnie Day, her own chosen and particular friend, so persistently avoidher? Why had Lucy Marsh refused to walk with her yesterday? and whydid 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. 

She felt as she stood now before her glass that, after all, she wasdoing a rash thing in wearing her coral. Annie Day knew of her moneydifficulties; Annie knew how badly Rosalind had wanted four guineas topay the debt she still owed for the ornaments. If Rosalind wore themto-night, Annie would ask numerous questions. Oh, yes, there was arisk-- there was a decided risk-- but Rosalind's vanity was greaterthan her fears. 

There came a knock at her room door. To Rosalind's surprise, AnnieDay's voice, with an extremely friendly tone in it, was heard outside. 

"Are you ready, Rosie?" she cried; "for, if you are, there is justroom for you in the fly with Lucy Marsh and Miss Singleton andmyself. "

"Oh, thank you!" cried Rosalind from the other side of the door; "justwait one moment, Annie, and I will be with you. "

Both fear and hesitation vanished at the friendly tones of Annie'svoice. She hastily fastened on her necklace and earrings, slipped onher bracelets and stuck the coral pins in her hair. She saw a dazzlinglittle image in the glass and turned away with a glad, proud smile. 

"We can't be kept waiting. Are you ready?" called Miss Day's voice inthe passage. 

"Yes, yes; in one moment, Annie, dear, " replied Rosalind. She wrappedherself from head to foot in a long white opera cloak, pulled the hoodover her head, seized her gloves and fan and opened the door. Thecoral could not be seen now, and Annie, who was also in white, tookher hand and ran with her down the corridor. 

A few moments later the four girls arrived at the Elliot-Smiths' andwere shown into a dressing-room on the ground floor to divestthemselves of their wraps. They were among the earliest of thearrivals, and Annie Day had both space and opportunity to rush up toRosalind and exclaim at the perfect combination of white silk and pinkcoral. 

"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 toconfess, my dear, that they are more becoming to this little cherubthan they ever were to you. "

Polly was loudly dressed in blue silk. She came up and turned Rosalindround, and, putting her hand on her neck, lifted the necklace andlooked at it affectionately. 

"I did love those ornaments, " she said; "but, of course, I can'tgrudge 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. "

"You have paid off the debt? I congratulate you, Rose, " said AnnieDay. 

"Yes, " said Rosalind, blushing. 

"I am glad you were able to get the money, my dear. "

"And I wish she hadn't got it, " retorted Polly. "Money is of no momentto 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 crosserin my life than when you brought me that five-pounds note last Mondaynight, Miss Merton. "

Rosalind colored, then grew very pale; she saw Annie Day's eyes blazeand darken. She felt that her friend was putting two and two togetherand drawing a conclusion in her own mind. Annie turned abruptly fromRosalind, and, touching Lucy Marsh on the arm, walked with her out ofthe dressing-room. The unsuspecting Polly brought up the rear withRosalind. 

The four girls entered the drawing-room, and Rosalind tried to forgetthe sick fear which was creeping round her heart in the excitement ofthe moment. 

Nearly an hour later Maggie Oliphant arrived. She was also in white, but without any ornament, except a solitary diamond star which blazedin the rich coils of her hair. The beautiful Miss Oliphant wasreceived with enthusiasm. Until her arrival Rose had been theundoubted belle of the evening, but beside Maggie the petite charmswhich Rose possessed sank out of sight. Maggie herself never felt lessconscious of beauty; the heaviness of her heart made her cheeks lookpale and gave her brown eyes a languid expression; she was indifferentto the admiration which greeted her. The admiration which greeted hergave her a momentary feeling of surprise-- almost of displeasure. 

Meta Elliot-Smith and her mother buzzed round Maggie and expressedtheir gratitude to her for coming. 

"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; Iwas dreadfully afraid he couldn't come, for he had to go suddenly intothe country at the beginning of this week. You know Mr. Hammond verywell, don't you, Miss Oliphant?"

"Yes, " replied Maggie in her careless voice; "he is quite an oldfriend of mine. "

"You will be glad to see him?"

"Very glad. "

Meta looked at her in a puzzled way. Reports of Hammond's love affairhad reached her ears. She had expected to see emotion and confusion onMaggie's face; it looked bright and pleased. Her "very glad" had agenuine ring about it. 

"I am so delighted he is coming!" repeated Meta. "I do trust he willbe here in good time. "

She led Miss Oliphant to a prominent seat at the top of the room asshe spoke. 

"I shall have to leave soon after ten, " replied Maggie, "so, if Mr. Hammond cannot arrive until after that hour, I shall not have thepleasure of seeing him. "

"Oh, but you must really stay later than that; it would be too cruelto leave us so early. "

"I am afraid I cannot. The gates are closed at St. Benet's at eleveno'clock, and I do not care to remain out until the last moment. "

Meta was obliged, with great reluctance, to leave her guest, and amoment later Annie Day came up eagerly to Maggie's side. 

"It's all right, " she said, drawing Miss Oliphant into the shelter ofa window; "I have found out all I want to know. "

"What is that?" asked Maggie. 

"Rosalind Merton is the thief. "

"Miss Day, how can you say such dreadful things?"

"How can Rosalind do them? I am awfully sorry-- indeed, I amdisgusted-- but the facts are too plain. " Miss Day then in a few eagerwhispers, which Maggie in vain endeavored to suppress, gave her chainof evidence. Rosalind's distress; her passionate desire to keep thecoral; her entreaties that Miss Day would lend her four guineas; herassurances that she had not a penny in the world to pay her debt; herfears that it was utterly useless for her to expect the money from hermother. Then the curious fact that, on the very same evening, PollySingleton should have been given a five-pound note by her. "There isnot the least doubt, " concluded Miss Day, "that Rosalind must havegone into your room, Miss Oliphant, and stolen the note whilePriscilla was absent. You know Miss Peel said that she did leave yourroom for a moment or two to fetch her Lexicon. Rosalind must haveseized the opportunity; there cannot be a doubt of it. "

Maggie's face turned white; her eyes were full of indignation andhorror. 

"Something must be done, " continued Annie. "I am no prude, but I drawthe line at thieves. Miss Merton ought to be expelled; she is not fitto speak to one of us. "

"The affair is mine, " said Maggie after a pause. "You must let me dealwith it. "

"Will you?"

"I certainly will. "

"To-night?"

"I cannot say. I must think. The whole thing is terrible, it upsetsme. "

"I thought you would feel it. I am a good bit upset myself and so isLucy Marsh. "

"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 nothinghastily. Please, Miss Day, keep your own counsel for the present, andask Miss Marsh to do the same. "

Annie Day ran off, and Maggie stood by the open window looking out atthe starry night. Her head ached; her pulses beat; she felt sick andtired. The noise and laughter which filled the gaily thronged roomswere all discordant to her-- she wished she had not come. A voiceclose by made her start-- a hand not only clasped hers, but held itfirmly 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. 

"Can I help you?" he asked. His heart was beating fast; her words weretingling in his ears, but his tone was quiet. "Can I help you?" herepeated. "Here is a seat. " He pulled a chair from behind a curtain, and Maggie dropped into it. 

"Something is wrong, " she said; "something dreadful has happened. "

"May I know what it is?"

"I don't think I have any right to tell you. It is connected with thecollege; but it has given me a blow, and I was tired beforehand. Icame here against my will, and now I don't want to talk to any one. "

"That can be easily managed. I will stand here and keep off allintruders. "

"Thank you. " Maggie put her hand to her forehead. 

The headache, which had scarcely left her for a fortnight, was now soacute that all her thoughts were confused; she felt as if she werewalking in a dream. It seemed perfectly right and natural that Hammondshould stand by her side and protect her from the crowd; it seemednatural to her at that moment, natural and even right to appeal tohim. 

After a long pause he said:

"I am afraid I also have bad news!"

"How?"

"I went to see my uncle, Mr. Hayes. "

"Yes; it was good of you-- I remember. "

"I failed in my mission. Mr. Hayes says that Miss Peel, our Prissie'saunt, would rather die than accept help from any one. "

"Oh, how obstinate some people are!" replied Maggie wearily. "Happiness, help and succor come to their very door and they turnthese good things away. "

"That is true, " replied Hammond. "I am firmly convinced, " he added, "that the good angel of happiness is within the reach of most of usonce at least in our lives, but for a whim-- often for a mere whim--we tell him to go. "

Maggie's face grew very white. "I must say 'good-by': I am goinghome, " she said, rising. Then she added, looking full at Hammond, "Sometimes it is necessary to reject happiness; and necessity oughtnot to be spoken of as a whim. "

 CHAPTER XXX

 "IF I HAD KNOWN YOU SOONER"

AS MAGGIE was leaving the crowded drawing-room she came face to facewith Rosalind. One of those impulses which always guided her, more orless, made her stop suddenly and put her hand on the young girl'sshoulder. 

"Will you come home with me?" she asked. 

Rosalind was talking gaily at the moment to a very youngundergraduate. 

"I am obliged to you, " she began; "you are kind, but I have arrangedto return to St. Benet's with Miss Day and Miss Marsh. "

"I should like you to come now with me, " persisted Maggie in a gravevoice. 

Something in her tone caused Rosalind to turn pale. The sick fear, which had never been absent from her heart during the evening, becameon the instant intolerable. She turned to the young lad with whom shehad been flirting, bade him a hasty and indifferent "good night" andfollowed Maggie out of the room. 

Hammond accompanied the two girls downstairs, got their cab for themand helped them in. 

After Rosalind consented to come home Miss Oliphant did not addressanother word to her. Rosalind sat huddled up in a corner of the cab;Maggie kept the window open and looked out. The clear moonlight shoneon her white face and glistened on her dress. Rosalind kept glancingat her. The guilty girl's terror of the silent figure by her side grewgreater each moment. 

The girls reached Heath Hall and Maggie again touched Rosalind on herarm. 

"Come to my room, " she said; "I want to say something to you. "

Without waiting for a reply she went on herself in front. Rosalindfollowed abjectly; she was shaking in every limb. 

The moment Maggie closed her room door Rosalind flung her cloak offher shoulders, and, falling on her knees, caught the hem of Maggie'sdress and covered her face with it. 

"Don't, Rosalind; get up, " said Miss Oliphant in a tone of disgust. 

"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, do be merciful! Do forgive me! Don't send me toprison, Maggie-- don't!"

"Get off your knees at once, or I don't know what I shall do, " repliedMaggie. 

Rosalind sprang to her feet; she crouched up against the door; hereyes were wide open. Maggie came and, faced her. 

"Oh, don't!" said Miss Merton with a little shriek, "don't look at melike that!" She put up her hand to her neck and began to unfasten hercoral necklace. She took it off, slipped her bracelets from her arms, took her earrings out and removed her pins. 

"You can have them all, " she said, holding out the coral; "they areworth a great deal more-- a great deal more than the money I-- took!"

"Lay them down, " said Maggie. "Do you think I could touch that coral?Oh, Rosalind, " she added, a sudden rush of intense feeling coming intoher voice, "I pity you! I pity any girl who has so base a soul. "

Rosalind began to sob freely. "You don't know how I was tempted, " shesaid. "I went through a dreadful time, and you were the cause-- youknow 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 didnot want the sealskin jacket, but you bid against me and won it. ThenI felt mad, and, whatever you had offered for the coral, I should havebidden 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 foryou, Maggie. "

"Hush!" said Maggie. The pupils of her eyes dilated curiously; she puther hand before them. 

"The fruits of my bad half-hours, " she murmured under her breath. After a long pause, she said:

"There is some truth in your words, Rosalind; I did help you to getinto this false position. I am sorry; and when I tell Miss Heath thewhole circumstance-- as I must to-morrow-- you may be sure I shall notexonerate myself. "

"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, you won't tell Miss Heath! If you do, I amcertain to be expelled, and my mother-- my mother will die; she is notover strong just now, and this will kill her. You cannot be so cruelas to kill my mother, Maggie Oliphant, particularly when you yourselfgot me into this. "

"I did not get you into this, " retorted Maggie. "I know I am notblameless in the matter; but could I imagine for a moment that anygirl, any girl who belonged to this college, could debase herself tosteal and then throw the blame on another. Nancy Banister has told me, Rose, how cruelly you spoke to Priscilla-- what agony your cruel wordscost her. I did wrong, I own, but no act of mine would have temptedanother girl to do what you have done. Now, stop crying; I have notbrought you here to discuss your wickedness with you. I shall tell thewhole circumstance to Miss Heath in the morning. It is my plain dutyto do so, and no words of yours can prevent me. "

With a stifled cry Rosalind Merton again fell on her knees. 

"Get up, " said Maggie, "get up at once, or I shall bring Miss Heathhere now. Your crime, Rosalind, is known to Miss Day and to MissMarsh. Even without consulting Miss Heath, I think I can take it uponme to say that you had better leave St. Benet's by the first train inthe morning. "

"Oh, yes-- yes! that would be much the best thing to do. "

"You are to go home, remember. "

"Yes, I will certainly go home. But, Maggie, I have no money-- I haveliterally no money. "

"I will ask Priscilla Peel to go with you to the railway station, andI will give her sufficient money to pay your fare to London-- you livein London, don't you?"

"Yes, at Bayswater. "

"What is your address''

"19 Queen Street, Bayswater. "

"Priscilla shall telegraph to your mother, when you start, and ask herto meet you at King's Cross. "

Rosalind's face grew paler and paler. "What excuse am I to give tomother?" she asked. 

"That is your own affair; I have no doubt you will find something tosay. I should advise you, Rosalind, to tell your poor mother thetruth, for she is certain to hear all about it from Miss Heath thefollowing morning. "

"Oh, what a miserable, miserable girl I am, Maggie!"

"You are a very miserable and sinful girl; It was a wretched day forSt. Benet's when a girl such as you are came to live here. But I don'twant to speak of that now, Rosalind; there is something you must dobefore you leave. "

"What is that?"

"You must go to Priscilla Peel and humbly beg her pardon. "

"Oh, I cannot, I cannot! You have no idea how I hate Priscilla. "

"I am not surprised; the children of darkness generally hate those whowalk in the light. "

"Maggie, I can't beg her pardon. "

"You can please yourself about that: I certainly shall not force you;but, unless you beg Priscilla's pardon and confess to her the wickeddeed you have done, I shall lend you no money to go home. You can goto your room now, Rosalind; I am tired and wish to go to bed. You willbe able to let me know your decision in the morning. "

Rosalind turned slowly away. She reached her room before the othergirls had arrived home, and tossing the coral ornaments on herdressing-table, she flung herself across her bed and gave way to themost passionate, heart-broken sobs that had ever rent her baby frame. 

She was still sobbing, but more quietly, for the force of her passionhad exhausted her, when a very light touch on her shoulder caused herto raise herself and look up wildly. Prissie was bending over her. 

"I knocked several times, " she said, "but you did not hear me, so Icame in. You will be sick if you cry like this, Rose. Let me help yougo to bed. "

"No, no; please don't touch me. I don't want you, of all people, to doanything for me. "

"I wish you would let me undress you. I have often helped Aunt Raby togo to bed when she was very tired. Come, Rose, don't turn away fromme. Why should you?"

"Priscilla, you are the last person in the world who ought to be kindto me just now; you don't know, you can never, never guess, what I didto you. "

"Yes, I can partly guess, but I don't want to think of it. "

"Listen, Prissie: when I stole that money, I hoped people would accuseyou of the theft. "

Prissie's eyes filled with tears. "It was a dreadful thing to do, " shesaid faintly. 

"Oh, I knew you could never forgive me. "

"I do forgive you. "

"What! aren't you angry? Aren't you frantic with rage and passion?"

"I don't wish to think of myself at all: I want to think of you. Youare the one to be pitied. "

"I? Who could pity me?"

"Well, Rosalind, I do, " answered Priscilla in a slow voice; "you havesunk so low, you have done such a dreadful thing, the kind of thingthat the angels in heaven would grieve over. "

"Oh, please don't talk to me of them. "

"And then, Rosalind, " continued Prissie, "you look so unlike a girlwho would do this sort of thing. I have a little sister at home-- adear, little innocent sister, and her eyes are blue like yours, andshe is fair, too, as you are fair. I love her, and I think all goodthings of her. Rosalind, I fancy that your mother thinks good thingsof you. I imagine that she is proud of you, and that she loves to lookat your pretty face. "

"Oh, don't-- don't!" sobbed Rosalind. "Oh, poor mother, poor mother!"she burst into softened and sorrowful weeping. The hardness of herheart had melted for the time under the influence of Priscilla'stender words. 

"I wish I had known you sooner, " whispered Rose when Prissie bent downand kissed her before leaving her for the night. "Perhaps I might havebeen a good girl if I had really known you sooner, Priscilla Peel. "

 CHAPTER XXXI

 A MESSAGE

EARLY the next morning Rosalind Merton left St. Benet's College neverto come back. She took all her possessions with her, even the pinkcoral, which, to their credit be it spoken, not a girl in the collegewould have accepted at her hands. Annie Day and Lucy Marsh were notthe sort of people to keep their secret long, and before the day ofher departure had expired nearly everyone at Heath Hall knew ofRosalind's crime. Miss Heath was made acquainted with the whole storyat an early hour that morning. 

"I may have done very wrong to let her go without obtaining yourpermission, Miss Heath, " said Maggie, when the story was finished. "Ifso, please forgive me, and also allow me to say that, were the samething to occur again, I fear I should act in the same way. I think myprimary object in giving Rosalind money to go home this morning was tosave the college from any open slur being cast upon it. "

Miss Heath's face had grown very pale while Maggie was speaking. Shewas 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. 

"On the whole, my dear, " she said, "I am obliged to you. Had thisstory been told me while Miss Merton, was in the house I should havebeen obliged to detain her until all the facts of this disgracefulcase 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 theterrible responsibility. I'll say nothing now about the rule you havebroken, for, of course, you had no right to assist Rosalind to go homewithout permission. It lies within my discretion to forgive you, Maggie, however, so take my kiss, dear. "

The vice-principal and Miss Oliphant talked for some little timelonger over Rosalind's terrible fall, and, as Miss Heath feltconfident that the story would get abroad in the college, she said shewould be forced to mention the circumstances to their principal, MissVincent, and also to say something in public to the girls of HeathHall on the subject. 

"And now we will turn to something else, " she said. "I am concerned atthose pale cheeks, Maggie. My dear, " as the young girl coloredbrightly, "your low spirits weigh on my heart. "

"Oh, don't mind me, " said Maggie hastily. 

"It is scarcely kind to say this to one who loves you. I have beenmany years vice-principal of this hall, and no girl, except AnnabelLee, has come so close to my heart as you have, Maggie. Some girlscome here, spend the required three years and go away again withoutmaking much impression on any one. In your case this will not be so. Ihave not the least doubt that you will pass your tripos examinationwith credit in the summer; you will then leave us, but not to beforgotten. I, for one, Maggie can never forget you. "

"How good you are!" said Maggie. 

Tears trembled in the eyes which were far too proud to weep except inprivate. 

Miss Heath looked attentively at the young student, for whom she feltso strong an interest. Priscilla's words had scarcely been absent fromher night or day since they were spoken. 

"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 ponderedthese words. Now, looking at the fair face, whose roundness of outlinewas slightly worn, at the eyes which had looked at her for a momentthrough a veil of sudden tears, she resolved to take the initiative ina matter which she considered quite outside her province. 

"Sit down, Maggie, " she said. "I think the time has come for me totell you something which has lain as a secret on my heart for over ayear. "

Maggie looked up in surprise, then dropped into a chair and folded herhands in her lap. She was slightly surprised at Miss Heath's tone, butnot as yet intensely interested. 

"You know, my dear, " she said, "that I never interfere with the life astudent lives outside this hall. Provided she obeys the rules andmentions the names of the friends she visits, she is at liberty, practically, to do as she pleases in those hours which are not devotedto lectures. A girl at St. Benet's may have a great, a very greatfriend at Kingsdene or elsewhere of whom the principals of the collegeknow nothing. I think I may add with truth that were the girl toconfide in the principal of her college in case of any friendshipdeveloping into-- into love, she would receive the deepest sympathyand the tenderest counsels that the case would admit of. The principalwho was confided in would regard herself for the time being as theyoung girl's mother. "

Maggie's eyes were lowered now; her lips trembled; she playednervously with a flower which she held in her hand. 

"I must apologize, " continued Miss Heath, "for having alluded to asubject which may not in the least concern you, my dear. My excuse fordoing so is that what I have to tell you directly bears on thequestion of marriage. I would have spoken to you long ago, but, untillately, until a few days ago, I had not the faintest idea that such asubject had even distantly visited your mind. "

"Who told you that it had?" questioned Maggie. She spoke with anger. "Who has dared to interfere-- to spread rumors? I am not going tomarry. I shall never marry. "

"It is not in my power at present to tell you how the rumor hasreached me, " continued Miss Heath, "but, having reached me, I want tosay a few words about-- about Annabel Lee. "

"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 mentalas bodily, had gone through it. 

"My dear, I think you must listen to me while I give you a messagefrom one whom you dearly loved, whose death has changed you, Maggie, whose death we have all deeply mourned. "

"A message?" said Maggie; "a message from Annabel! What message?"

"I regarded it as the effects of delirium at the time, " continued MissHeath, "and as you had fever immediately afterward, dreaded referringto the subject. Now I blame myself for not having told you sooner, forI believe that Annabel was conscious and that she had a distinctmeaning in her words. "

"What did she say? Please don't keep me in suspense. "

"It was shortly before she died, " continued Miss Heath; "the fever hadrun 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 knowhow expressive those eyes could be, how that voice could move one. "

Maggie had sunk back again in her chair; her face was covered with hertrembling hands. 

"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 aname, but I could not catch it-- tell her to marry him, and that I amvery glad. '"

A sob broke from Maggie Oliphant's lips. "You might have told mebefore!" she said in a choked voice. 

 CHAPTER XXXII

 THE PRINCESS

THE great event of the term was to take place that evening. ThePrincess was to be acted by the girls of St. Benet's, and, by the kindpermission of Miss Vincent, the principal of the entire college, several visitors were invited to witness the entertainment. Themembers of the Dramatic Society had taken immense pains; therehearsals had been many, the dresses all carefully chosen, thescenery appropriate-- in short, no pains had been spared to renderthis lovely poem of Tennyson's a dramatic success. The absence ofRosalind Merton had, for a short time, caused a little dismay amongthe actors. She had been cast for the part of Melissa:

 "A rosy blonde, and in a college gown That clad her like an April daffodilly. "

But now it must be taken my some one else. 

Little Ada Hardy, who was about Rosalind's height, and had the realinnocence which, alas! poor Rosalind lacked, was sent for in a hurry, and, carefully drilled by Constance Field and Maggie Oliphant, by thetime the night arrived she was sufficiently prepared to act thecharacter, slight in itself, which was assigned to her. The otheractors were, of course, fully prepared to take their several parts, and a number of girls were invested in the

 "Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken hood to each, And zoned with gold. "

Nothing could have been more picturesque, and there was a buzz ofhearty applause from the many spectators who crowded the galleries andfront seats of the little theater when the curtain rose on thewell-known garden scene, where the Prince, Florian and Cyril saw themaidens of that first college for women-- that poet's vision, so amplyfulfilled in the happy life at St. Benet's. 

 There One walk'd, reciting by herself, and one In this hand held a volume as to read, And smoothed a petted peacock down with that: Some to a low song oar'd a shallop by, Or under arches of the marble bridge Hung, shadow'd from the heat: some hid and sought In the orange thickets: others tost a ball Above the fountain jets, and back again With laughter: others lay about the lawns, Of the older sort, and murmur'd that their May Was passing: what was learning unto them? They wish'd to marry: they could rule a house; Men hated learned women. . . . "

The girls walked slowly about among the orange groves and by thefountain jets. In the distance the chapel bells tolled faint andsweet. More maidens appeared, and Tennyson's lovely lines were againrepresented with such skill, the effect of multitude was so skilfullymanaged that the

 "Six hundred maidens, clad in purest white, "

appeared really to fill the gardens, "While the great organ almost burst his pipes, Groaning for power, and rolling thro' the court A long melodious thunder to the sound Of solemn psalms, and silver litanies. "

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 littlestage. Nothing could have been more admirable than the grouping ofthis tableau. All the pride of mien, of race, of indomitable purposewas visible on the face of the young girl who acted the part of thePrincess Ida. 

 "She stood Among her maidens, higher by the head, Her back against a pillar. "

It was impossible, of course, to represent the tame leopards, but themaidens who gathered round the Princess prevented this want beingapparent, and Maggie Oliphant's attitude and the expression whichfilled her bright eyes left nothing to be desired. 

"Perfect!" exclaimed the spectators: the interest of every one presentwas more than aroused; each individual in the little theater felt, though no one could exactly tell why, that Maggie was not merelyacting her part, she was living it. 

Suddenly she raised her head and looked steadily at the visitors inthe gallery: a wave of rosy red swept over the whitness of her face. It was evident that she had encountered a glance which disturbed hercomposure. 

The play proceeded brilliantly, and now the power and originality ofPriscilla's acting divided the attention of the house. Surely therenever was a more impassioned Prince. 

Priscilla could sing; her voice was not powerful, but it was low andrather deeply set. The well-known and familiar song with which thePrince tried to woo Ida lost little at her hands. 

 "O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. "O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North. "Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, Delaying as the tender ash delays To clothe herself, when all the woods are green? "O tell her, brief is life but love is long, And brief the sun of summer in the North, And brief the moon of beauty in the South. "O Swallow, flying from the golden woods, Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, And tell her, tell her that I follow thee. "

The wooing which followed made a curious impression; this impressionwas not only produced upon the house, but upon both Prince andPrincess. 

Priscilla, too, had encountered Hammond's earnest gaze. That gazefired her heart, and she became once again not herself but he; poor, awkward and gauche little Prissie sank out of sight; she was Hammondpleading his own cause, she was wooing Maggie for him in the words ofTennyson's Prince. This fact was the secret of Priscilla's power; shehad felt it more or less whenever she acted the part of the Prince;but, on this occasion, she communicated the sensations which animatedher own breast to Maggie. Maggie, too, felt that Hammond was speakingto her through Priscilla's voice. 

 "I cannot cease to follow you, as they say The seal does music; who desire you more Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips, With many thousand matters left to do, The breath of life; O more than poor men wealth, Than sick men health-- yours, yours, not mine-- but half Without you; with you, whole; and of those halves You worthiest, and howe'er you block and bar Your heart with system out from mine, I hold That it becomes no man to nurse despair, But in the teeth of clench'd antagonisms To follow up the worthiest till he die. "

In the impassioned reply which followed this address it was noticedfor the first time by the spectators that Maggie scarcely did herselfjustice. Her exclamation--

 "I wed with thee! I, bound by precontract Your bride, your bondslave!"

was scarcely uttered with the scorn which such a girl would throw intothe words if her heart went with them. 

The rest of the play proceeded well, the Prince following up hisadvantage until his last words--

 "Accomplish thou my mandhood and thyself; Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me, "

brought down the house with ringing applause. 

The curtain fell and rose again. The Prince and Princess stood withhands clasped. The eyes of the conquered Princess looked again at thepeople in the gallery, but the eyes she wanted to see did not meethers. 

An hour later Maggie Oliphant had occasion to go back to the forsakengreen-room to fetch a bracelet she had left there. Priscilla wasstanding in the corridor when she passed. Quick as lightning Prissiedisappeared, and, making her way into the library, which was thrownopen for a general reception that evening, sought out Hammond, and, taking his hand, said abruptly:

"I want you; come with me. "

In surprise he followed her into the hall. 

"Maggie is in the green-room. Go to her, " said Priscilla. 

He raised his brows; his eyes seemed to lighten and then grow dark. They asked Priscilla a thousand questions; his lips refused to askone. 

Replying to the look in his eyes, Priscilla said again: "It is cruelof 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. "

"If I thought that, " said Hammond's eyes. 

He turned without a word and went down the long corridor which led tothe little theater. _______

Late that evening, after all the bustle and excitement were over andmost of the guests had left, Miss Heath was standing in her ownsitting-room talking to Prissie. 

"And you have quite made up your mind, Prissie?"

"Yes, " answered Priscilla. "I heard from Aunt Raby to-day; she told meall about Mr. Hammond's visit, for Mr. Hayes went to see her and toldher everything. "

"Well, Prissie, " said Miss Heath, "what have you decided? It is agreat chance for you, and there is nothing wrong in it; indeed, foraught we can tell, this may be the direct guiding of Providence. "

"But I don't think it is, " said Priscilla in a slow voice. "I havethought it all over very carefully, and I don't think the chanceoffered by dear Maggie would be a good one for me. "

"Why not, my dear? Your reasons must be strong when you say this. "

"I don't know if they are strong, " answered Priscilla, "but they areat least decided. My father and mother were poor and independent. AuntRaby is very poor and also independent. I fancy that were I rich incomparison, I might cease to be independent. The strong motive powermight go. Something might be taken out of me which I could never getback, so I----" Her lips trembled. 

"Pause a minute, Prissie; remember what Maggie offers, a sufficientincome to support your aunt, to educate your sisters and to enable youto pursue those studies at St. Benet's for which you have the greatesttalent. Think of the honors that lie before you; think how brilliantlyyou may pass your tripos examination with your mind at rest. "

"That's not the point, " said Priscilla. There was a ring in her voicewhich she must have inherited from a long line of rugged, proud butworthy ancestors. "In a question of this kind, I ought never tocontent myself with looking at the brilliant and tempting side. Forgive me, Miss Heath. I may have done wrong after all; but, right orwrong, I have made my resolve. I will keep my independence. "

"Have you considered your Aunt Raby in this?"

"She has put herself absolutely out of the question by declining allaid as far as she is concerned. She says such assistance would killher in a week. If I can earn money to help her before she dies, shewill accept it from me with thankfulness, but from no one else. "

"Then you will give up your Latin and Greek?"

"For the present, I must. "

"And you are quite happy?"

"If Maggie and Mr. Hammond will only marry one another, I shall be oneof the happiest girls in the world. "

There came a knock at the door. Priscilla opened it. 

"Prissie, darling!" said Maggie Oliphant's voice. She flung her armsround the young girl's neck and kissed her several times. 

"It's all right, Priscilla, " said Hammond. 

Miss Heath made a step or two forward. 

"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 doanything in the world for you. "

"You have done everything for me, Priscilla, " replied Hammond. "Ishall bless you while I live. "

Maggie Oliphant's arms were round Miss Heath's neck; her head restedagainst her breast. "We have come straight to you, " she said; "youtold me that if such an occasion came, you would act as a mother tome. "

"So I can and so I will, dear child. God bless you. You are happynow. "

"Happy!" Maggie's eyes were glistening through the softest rainbow oftears. Hammond came and took the hand which she had suddenly thrown ather side. 

"We both owe everything to Priscilla, " he said. 

 CONCLUSION

BEFORE Maggie Oliphant left St. Benet's she brought some of the honorwhich had long been expected from her to the dearly loved halls: shetook a first class in her tripos examination. With her mind at rest, agreat deal of the morbidness of her character disappeared, and herlast term at St. Benet's reminded the students who had known her inAnnabel Lee's time of the old, brilliant and happy Maggie. MissOliphant's bad half-hours became rarer and rarer, and Hammond laughedwhen she spoke to him of them and said that she could not expect himto believe in their existence. 

Shortly after the conclusion of the summer term Maggie and Hammondwere married, and her little world at St. Benet's had to get onwithout the presence which had always exerted the influence of astrong personality and which had been potent both for good and evil. 

By this time, however, a girl whose personal charms were few, whosepoverty was apparent and whose gaucherie was even now often extreme, was more than filling the place left vacant by Maggie. Extremeearnestness, the sincerity of a noble purpose, the truthfulness of anature which could not stoop to deceit, was spreading an influence onthe side of all that was good and noble. No girl did more honor toHeath Hall than she who, at one time, was held up to derision andlaughed at as odd, prudish and uninteresting. 

Every one prophesied well for Priscilla in the future which lay beforeher; her feet were set in the right direction; the aim of her life wasto become-- not learned, but wise; not to build up a reputation, butto gain character; to put blessedness before happiness-- duty beforeinclination. 

Women like Priscilla live at the root of the true life of a worthynation. Maggie Oliphant had brilliance, beauty, wealth; she had alsostrong personal influence and the power of creating love wherever shewent; but, when Priscilla Peel leaves St. Benet's, she will be moremissed than was Maggie.