A College Girl Part 25

There were moments when, remembering these facts, Darsie felt proudly that she had not lived in vain; moments when Ralph's dependence on herself and graceful acknowledgments of her help seemed the chief interest in life. But there were also other moments when the bond between them weighed heavy as a chain. In less than two years the training days would be over, Ralph would be a man, and she herself a woman on the threshold of life. Would she be expected to play the part of permanent anchor, and, if so, could she, should she undertake the task?

For the last few weeks of the term Darsie had been so absorbed in her own surroundings that she had had no time or thought to bestow on outside interests, and Mrs Reeves being abroad, no college news came to her ears from that source.

Now since the beginning of the holidays Ralph's name had hardly been mentioned, since family interests were predominant, and Darsie had learned from experience that the subject of "Percival" was calculated to send Dan Vernon into his most taciturn mood.

On this Christmas morning, however, Darsie was in a mood of somewhat reckless gaiety; let the future take care of itself. For to-day, at least, she was young and happy and free; the Vernon family was coming over in bulk to spend the evening, when the presence of one of Dan's chums would supply an agreeable element of novelty to the occasion. Not one single gloomy thought must be allowed to cloud the sunshine of this Christmas Day!

Dinner was served at seven o'clock, and was truly a festive occasion.

The dining-room table being unequal to the task of providing accommodation for sixteen people, the schoolroom table had to be used as a supplement. It was a good inch higher than the other, and supplied with a preponderance of legs, but these small drawbacks could not weigh against the magnificent effect of the combined length, covered, as it was, with fruit, flowers, and a plethora of bright red bonbons and crackers. The girls wore their prettiest evening frocks; the turkey, the goose, the plum-pudding, and the mince-pies were all paragons of their kind, while dessert was enlivened by the discovery of small surprise presents cunningly hidden away within hollowed oranges, apples, and nuts. Silver thimbles, pocket-calendars, stamp-cases, sleeve-links, and miniature brooches, made their appearance with such extraordinary unexpectedness that Darsie finally declared she was afraid to venture to eat even a grape, lest she might swallow a diamond alive!

When the hilarious meal had come to an end, the company adjourned into a drawing-room illumined by firelight only, but such firelight! For over a week those logs had been stacked by the kitchen grate so that they might become "as dry as tinder."

Placed in the big grate, they sent up a leaping, crackling flame which was in itself an embodiment of cheer, and when the sixteen chairs were filled and ranged in a circle round the blaze, there was a Christmas picture complete, and as goodly and cheery a picture as one need wish to see. A basket of fir-cones stood at either side of the grate, and the order of proceedings was that each guest in turn should drop a cone into the heart of the fire, and relate an amusing story or coincidence the while it burned. Results proved that the amount of time so consumed varied so strangely that suggestions of foul play were made by more than one raconteur.

"It's not fair! Some one has got at these cones! Some of them have been soaked to make them damp!--"

Be that as it may, no one could possibly have foretold who would happen to hit on this particular cone, so that the charge of injustice fell swiftly to the ground.

Mrs Garnett opened the ball with a coincidence taken from her own life, the cone burning bright and blue the while.

"When I was a girl of twenty, living at home with my father and mother, I had a curiously distinct dream one night about a certain Mr Dalrymple. We knew no one of that name, but in my dream he appeared to be a lifelong friend. He was a clergyman, about sixty years of age--not handsome, but with a kind, clever face. He had grey hair, and heavy black eyebrows almost meeting over his nose. I was particularly interested in his appearance, because--this is the exciting part!--in my dream I was engaged to him, and we were going to be married the following month... Next morning, when I awoke, the impression left was unusually distinct, and at breakfast I made them all laugh over my matrimonial plans. My sisters called me 'Mrs Dalrymple' for several days, and then the joke faded away, and was replaced by something newer and more exciting. Two years pa.s.sed by, and then, in the summer holidays, I went to Scotland to pay a visit. A slight accident on the line delayed me at a small station for a couple of hours, and I strolled through the village to pa.s.s the time by seeing what could be seen. It was a dull little place, and the princ.i.p.al street was empty of every one but a few children until, when I reached the end, a man in a black coat came suddenly out of a house and walked towards me. He was tall and elderly and thin, his hair was grey, his eyebrows were dark and met in a peak over his nose. My heart gave a great big jump, for it was the face of the man I had seen in my dream--the man who was to have been my husband! You can imagine my surprise! It was many, many months since I had given a thought to the silly old dream, but at the first glance at that face the memory of it came back as clear and distinct as on the morning after it had happened. I walked towards him quite dazed with surprise, and then another extraordinary thing happened! He was evidently short-sighted, and could not distinguish figures at a distance, but presently, as we drew nearer together, he in his turn started violently, stared in my face as if he could hardly believe his eyes, and then rushed forward and seized me by the hand. 'I _am_ glad to see you--I _am_ glad! This _is_ a pleasure! When did you come?'

Poor old man! My blank face showed him his mistake, and he dropped my hand and began to mumble out apologies. 'I've made a mistake. I thought you were--I thought you were--' He frowned, evidently searched in vain for a clue, and added feebly, 'I thought I knew you. _Your face is so familiar_!' It was all over in a minute. He took off his hat, and hurried on overcome with embarra.s.sment, and I turned mechanically in the direction of the church. It was closed, but by the gate stood a board bearing the hours of services, and beneath them the name of the minister of the parish. I read it with a thrill. The name was '_The Rev. John Dalrymple_'!"

Mrs Garnett lay back in her chair with the contented air of a _raconteuse_ who has deftly led up to a _denouement_, and her audience gasped in mingled surprise and curiosity.

"How _thrilling_! How weird!"

"What an extraordinary thing! Go on! Go on! And what happened next?"

Mrs Garnett chuckled contentedly.

"I met your father, married him, and lived happily ever after! As for Mr Dalrymple, I never met him again nor heard his name mentioned. The sequel is not at all exciting, but it was certainly an extraordinary coincidence, and caused me much agitation at the time. I have timed myself very well--my cone has just burned out. Who's turn comes next?"

There followed a somewhat lengthened pause while every one nudged a next-door neighbour, and disdained responsibility on his own account.

Then Mr Vernon stepped into the breach.

"I heard a curious thing the other day. A friend of mine was taken suddenly ill on a hillside in Switzerland, was carried into a chalet and most kindly tended by the good woman. When, at the end of several hours, he was well enough to leave, he wished to make her a present of money. She refused to take it, but said that she had a daughter in service in England, and that it would be a real pleasure to her, if, upon his return, my friend would write to the girl telling her of his visit to the old home. He asked for the address, and was told, 'Mary Smith, care of Mr Spencer, The Towers, Chestone.' He read it, looked the old woman in the face and said, '_I_ am Mr Spencer! _I_ live at The Towers, Chestone; and my children's nurse is called Mary Smith!'

There! I can vouch for the absolute truth of that coincidence, and I think you will find it hard to beat."

"And what did he say to the nurse?" asked literal Clemence, to the delight of her brothers and sisters, whose imaginary dialogues between master and maid filled the next few minutes with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Dan's friend hailed from Oxford, and gave a highly coloured account of a practical joke in several stages, which he had played on an irritating acquaintance. The elder members of the party listened with awe, if without approval, but Tim showed repeated signs of restlessness, and in a final outburst corrected the narrator on an all-important point.

"That's the way they had it in _Britain's Boys_!" he declared, whereupon the Oxford man hid his head under an antimaca.s.sar, and exclaimed tragically that all was discovered! "Now it's Darsie's turn! Tell us a story, Darsie--an adventure, your own adventure when you went out in that punt, and the mill began working--"

"Why should I tell what you know by heart already? You'd only be bored."

"Oh, but you never tell a story twice over in the same way," persisted Clemence with doubtful flattery. "And Mr Leslie has never heard it.

I'm sure he'd be interested. It really _was_ an adventure. So romantic, too. Ralph Percival is _so_ good-looking!"

"I fail to see what his looks have to do with it," said Darsie in her most Newnham manner. "Strong arms were more to the purpose, and those he certainly does possess."

"Strong arms--stout heart!" murmured Lavender in sentimental aside.

"Well, then, tell about the treasure-hunt in the Percivals' garden--and how you--you know! Go on--that's another _real_ adventure."

"All Miss Darsie's adventures seem to have been in connection with the Percival family!" remarked the Oxford man at this point.

Darsie flushed with annoyance, and retired determinedly into her sh.e.l.l.

She was seated almost in the centre of the circle, between her father and John Vernon, and the leaping light of the fire showed up her face and figure in varying shades of colour. Now she was a rose-maiden, dress, hair, and face glowing in a warm pink hue; anon, the rose changed into a faint metallic blue, which gave a ghostlike effect to the slim form; again, she was all white--a dazzling, unbroken white, in which the little oval face a.s.sumed an air of childlike fragility and pathos. As she sat with her hands folded on her knee, and her head resting against the dark cushions of her chair, more than one of the company watched her with admiration: but Darsie was too much occupied with her own thoughts to be conscious of their scrutiny.

As each story-teller began his narrative, she cast a momentary glance in his direction, and then turned back to fire-gazing once more. Once or twice she cast a curious glance towards the far corner where Dan Vernon was seated, but he had drawn his chair so far back that nothing could be distinguished but the white blur of shirt-front. Darsie wondered if Dan were uninterested, bored, asleep--yet as her eyes questioned the darkness she had the strangest impression of meeting other eyes--dark, intent eyes, which stared, and stared--

Vie Vernon was telling "a _most interesting_ coincidence," her opening sentence--"It was told to me by a friend--a lawyer,"--causing surrept.i.tious smiles and nudges among her younger hearers. "There was a girl in his office--a typewriting girl. All the money had been lost--"

"Whose money? The lawyer's or the office's?"

"Neither! Don't be silly. The girl's father's, of course."

"You never told us that she had a father!"

"Russell, if you interrupt every minute, I won't play. Of course he'd lost it, or the girl wouldn't have been a typist. Any one would know that! Ed--the lawyer did sea-sort of business--what do you call it?-- marine things--and the girl typed them. Years before a brother had disappeared--"

"The lawyer's brother?"

"No! I'm sorry I began. You are so disagreeable, The _girl's_ uncle, of course, and they often wanted to find him, because he was rich, and might have helped them now they were poor. One day, when she was typing out one of the depositions--"

"Ha!" The unusual word evoked unanimous comment. "'De-pos-itions--if you please'! How legal we are becoming, to be sure!"

Vie flushed, and hurried on breathlessly--

"She came across the name of John H. Rose, and she wondered if the H.

meant Hesselwhaite, for that was her uncle's second name, and she looked it up in the big doc.u.ment, and it _was_ him, and he was on the west coast of South America, and they wrote to him, and he left them a lot of money, and they lived happy ever after."

Polite murmurs of astonishment from the elders, unconcealed sn.i.g.g.e.rings from the juniors, greeted the conclusion of this thrilling tale, and then once more Darsie was called upon for her contribution, and this time consented without demur.

"Very well! I've thought of a story. It's about a managing clerk who was sent to Madrid on business for his firm. I didn't know him myself, so don't ask questions! While he was in Madrid he went to the opera one night, and sat in a box. Just opposite was another box, in which sat a beauteous Spanish maid. He looked at her, and she looked at him. They kept looking and looking. At last he thought that she smiled, and waved her fan as if beckoning him to come and speak to her. So in the first interval the eager youth made his way along the richly carpeted corridors; but just as he reached the door of the box it opened, and a man came out and put a letter into his hand. It was written in Spanish, which the youth did not understand; but, being filled with a frenzy of curiosity to know what the fair one had to say, he decided to run to his hotel, and get the manager to translate it without delay. Well, he went; but as soon as the manager had read the note he started violently, and said in a manner of the utmost concern: 'I exceedingly regret, sir, to appear inhospitable or inconsiderate, but I find it my painful duty to ask you to leave my hotel within an hour.' The clerk protested, questioned, raged, and stormed, but all in vain. The manager refused even to refer to the letter; he simply insisted that he could entertain him no longer in the hotel, and added darkly: 'It would be well for the Senor to take the first train out of Spain.'

"Alarmed by this mysterious warning, the unhappy youth accordingly shook off the dust from his feet and returned to London, where he confided his woes to his beloved and generous employer. The employer was a Spanish merchant and understood the language, so he naturally offered to solve the mystery. No sooner, however, had his eye scanned the brief lines, than a cloud shadowed _his_ expressive countenance, and he addressed himself to the youth more in sorrow than in anger. 'It grieves me to the heart, Mr--er--_b.u.mpas_,' he said, 'to sever our connection after your faithful service to the firm; but, after the perusal of this note, I have unfortunately no choice. If you will apply to the cashier he will hand you a cheque equal to six months' salary; but I must ask you to understand that when you leave my office this morning it is for the last time!'"

A rustle of excitement from the audience, a momentary glimpse of Dan's face in the flickering light, testified to the interest of this extraordinary history.

Darsie bent forward to encourage her fir-cone with a pat from the poker, and continued dramatically--

"Bewildered, broken-hearted, almost demented, the unfortunate youth betook him to an uncle in America (all uncles seem to live in America), who received him with consideration, listened to his sad tale, and bade him be of good cheer. 'By a strange coincidence' (coincidence again!) said the worthy man, 'there sups with me to-night a learned professor of languages, resident at our local college. He, without doubt, will make plain the mysterious contents of the fatal note!' Punctual to his hour the professor arrived, and the hara.s.sed youth hailed with joy the end of his long suspense. Whatever might be the purport of the words written in that fatal paper, the knowledge thereof could not be worse than the fate which had dogged his footsteps ever since that tragic night when he had first cast eyes on the baleful beauty of the Spanish maid. Yet might it not be that once again the sight of these words would send him wandering homeless o'er the world--that the stream of his uncle's benevolence might be suddenly d.a.m.ned by a force mysterious as inexorable?

"Trembling with emotion, the young man thrust his hand into his pocket to bring forth this mystic note--"

Darsie paused dramatically.