Chapter Twenty Eight.
Brighter Days.
Six months passed by—months of grief and pain, and bitter, unavailing regret; of work and play, of long summer days, and wintry fog and cold; of reviving happiness also, since, thank God! joy returns like the spring, bringing back hope and joy to a darkened world. There was a place in Darsie’s heart which would ever be consecrated to the memory of Ralph; but it was not a foremost place—that most crushing of sorrows had been spared her; and when one not yet twenty-one is living the healthiest and most congenial of lives, and is above all elevated to the proud position of third-year girl, it would be as unnatural as wrong to dwell continually upon a past grief.
At first Darsie felt shocked and ashamed when the old gay mood swept her off her balance, and she found herself dancing, singing, and making merry as of yore, but her two mentors, Mrs Reeves and Hannah Vernon, united to combat this impression.
“To bear a sorrow cheerfully is the only resignation worthy of the name!” This was the older woman’s verdict; the younger preached the same precept in student vernacular—
“Why grizzle when you want to smile? Pray, what good can you do yourself, or any one else, by going about with a face like a fiddle? Remember Margaret France, and don’t block up the window to shut out the stars! Let them twinkle for all they are worth, the blessed little things. They are tired of hiding behind the clouds. You have a duty to the living as well as to the dead; remember that!”
Yes, it was true. Looking back over the last eight months Darsie realised what a debt of gratitude she owed to relations and friends alike for their tenderness and forbearance. It had been hard on the home party to have the summer holidays clouded by the presence of a mourner who shuddered at the sight of water, collapsed into tears at unexpected moments, and lived in a condition of super-sensitiveness, ready as it seemed to be hurt by the most innocent word; yet how gentle and patient they had been, every single one of them, down to Tim himself! Mother and father, of course, had been angels; one took it for granted that they would be, but who could have believed in such consideration from the boys and girls. Dear old Clemence! What a comfort she had been! Darsie had often been inclined to think that, for sheer rest and soothing, no one could compete with a plump, practical, matter-of-fact sister, who had no thought for “ifs” or “whys,” but was full of care to ensure your present physical well-being. Then, if for a moment Clemence seemed to fall short, there was Lavender, ready to pour out floods of sympathy, to mingle her tears with yours, and listen to endless reminiscences. As for the boys, Harry and Russell forbore to tease, affected blindness to reddened eyes, and said, “Buck up, old girl!” with real heartiness of feeling, while Tim was assiduous in the offer of sticky sweets.
The Vernons, lucky creatures! went off en masse to Switzerland for July and August. Darsie morbidly told herself that they were anxious to avoid the depression of her own presence during the chief holiday of the year. She was, as she expressed it, “too proud to say so,” but the inward soreness made her so cold and abrupt in manner that her friends had good cause to reverse the accusation.
With regard to Dan Vernon in especial there was a soreness at Darsie’s heart. During the first days after the tragic happening Dan had been a tower of strength, always at hand to comfort, support, and take every difficulty upon his own shoulders. To outward appearance Darsie had appeared oblivious of his presence, but subconsciously she had leaned on his strength with a profound relief. It was hard to have Dan withdraw into his shell just as she was beginning to long for his presence; but he had withdrawn, and like most naturally shy and reticent people, withdrawn farther than ever, as if in reaction from his unusual demonstration.
In hall itself the absence of Margaret France made a big blank. Having passed her tripos with a first class, Margaret had placidly returned home to help her mother in the house, and take part in an ordinary social life. “What a waste!” cried her Newnham acquaintances, but Margaret’s friends, remembering her own words on the subject, believed that she had chosen the better part.
With October came the return to Newnham, and for the first few weeks an access of grief and depression. It was hard to fall into the old life shorn of its greatest interest, to be reminded of Ralph at every turn, to see his friends pass by, laughing and gay, while his place was blank.
Then it was that Darsie discovered the real tenderness of heart which lies beneath the somewhat callous exterior of the college girl. Freshers, second-year girls, even austere thirds themselves, combined to surround her with an atmosphere of kindness and consideration. No word of sympathy was ever spoken, but almost every hour of the day brought with it some fresh deed of comfort and cheer. Offerings of flowers, tendered by a friend, or laid anonymously on “burry” or coffin; bags of fruit and cake, invitations galore, surprise visits to her own study, each in turn bringing a gleam of brightness to the day. Plain Hannah, too, dear old plain Hannah! In the midst of her grief Darsie was filled with amusement at Hannah’s unique fashion of showing her sympathy. Hot water evidently commended itself to her mind as the ideal medium, for at a dozen hours of the day and night the door of Darsie’s study would open and Hannah would appear on the threshold, steaming can in hand. Early morning, eleven o’clock, before lunch, before tea, before dinner, before cocoa, before bed, Hannah and her can never failed to appear. For the first half of the Michaelmas term Darsie might literally have been described as never out of hot water.
And now it was the Lent term; eight months had passed by since the date of Ralph’s death, and it surely behoved Darsie to rise above her depression, and to throw herself once more into the full, happy life of the house. She was thankful to do it, thankful to welcome dawnings of the old zest, to feel her feet involuntarily quicken to a dance, to discover herself singing as she moved to and fro. The winter had passed; spring was in the air. It seemed right that it should be in her heart also.
As usual in the Lent term, hockey was the one absorbing subject outside “shop,” and Hannah Vernon, now advanced to the lofty position of captain, had special reasons for welcoming her friend’s reviving spirits.
One chilly day in February she entered Darsie’s study with a somewhat unusual request.
“The girls are getting restive, and think that it’s quite time we had another fancy match. They want me to arrange one on the spot. It’s so blighting to be told that one is so clever, and looked to for inspiration. Every idea forsakes one on the instant. You’ve been hibernating for an age, you ought to have lots stored up!”
“I haven’t—I’ve grown hideously dull. What did we have last?”
“Thicks against Thins! Never shall I forget it! To play forward padded with three separate cushions, and with shawls wound round your limbs, is the sort of thing one rises to once in a lifetime, but never twice. I made an adorable fat woman! The Thins had no spirit left in them when they beheld my bulk. I vote that we don’t have anything that involves padding this time. One never knows one’s luck.”
“No–o! I think we might hit on something more subtle,” Darsie ruminated, with her eyes on the ceiling. Her reputation of being the Newnham belle remained unchallenged after two separate incursions of Freshers.
As she sat before a “burry,” clad in a blue, pinafore-like garment, from which emerged white silk sleeves to match the collar and yoke, her hand absently turning over a pile of notebooks, bound in green and blue and rose, she made a striking contrast to Hannah Vernon in a cinnamon coat and skirt, built for wear by a cheap tailor on the principle of “there or thereabouts.” Even the notebooks reflected the personality of their owners, for the one which Hannah carried was of the shiny black persuasion which seemed to proclaim that, being made for good solid work, it disdained the affectation of beauty. Plain Hannah’s little eyes twinkled affectionately at her old friend. She detached a pencil from a chain which dangled by her side, and said tentatively—
“Subtle—yes! Good biz! Let’s have a Subtler by all means.”
“I—was thinking—we might have something touching upon future possibilities. I’ve not quite got it yet, but something about brides and spinsters. Future brides—budding brides—beautiful brides.”
“Easy enough to have adjectives for the brides. Where do the spinsters come in?”
“Oh, one would have to infer—subtly, of course—that they would be spinsters! That would be adjective enough. Embryo spinsters—preparatory spinsters—p–p–probable spinsters. I have it! I have it! ‘Possible Brides against Probable Spinsters!’”
“Ha!” ejaculated Hannah, and drew her forefinger slowly down her nose. “Good! Top hole. Amusin’, but—injudicious? Shouldn’t mind one rap myself; lead off the Probables with a cheer. But, I fear me, there’d be brickbats floating in the air. How much would you take in coin of the realm to go up to Vera Ruskin and invite her to play for the spinsters? Personally I’d rather be excused.”
“I’d volunteer as a start! Love to do it!”
“Ye–es! Just so. Noble of you, no doubt; but unconvincing,” returned Hannah dryly. “No! It’s a fine suggestion in theory, but in practice I’m afraid it won’t work. I don’t want to imperil my popularity for good. Think of something a trifle less searching! Er—er—Slackers against—against what? Slackers against Swotters! How would that do for a change?”
Darsie curled her little nose.
“Dull! No scope. How would you dress?”
“Oh–h! The Swotters might have bandages round their heads, and study notebooks between play. The Slackers would just—could just—”
“Just so! ‘Could just’! Too feeble, my dear! It won’t do. What about worth and charm? Might make up something out of that. Worth, solid worth, genuine worth—”
“Moral worth!”
“That’s it! Moral Worth against Charm, personal charm! That’ll do it. That’ll do it! Moral Worth against Personal Charm. Nobody can be offended at being asked to represent Moral Worth.”
“They will, though! The female heart is desperately wicked,” returned Hannah shrewdly. “But if they do it’s their own look-out. We’ll preserve a high and lofty tone, and be surprised! Thanks awfully, old girl. It’s an adorable idea. What price the Moral Worth costume—eh, what?”
The Hockey captain went off chuckling, and excitement ran high in the hockey world when the thrilling announcement was posted that afternoon. “For which side shall I be asked to play?” Forwards, Backs, and Goals alike agitated themselves over these questions, and, sad to relate, Hannah proved a true prophet, for while an invitation from the ‘Personal Charm’ captain aroused smiles of delight, the implication of ‘Moral Worth’ was but coldly received.
Darsie Garnett herself was conscious of an electric shock of the most unpleasant nature when, but half an hour after the posting of the notice, the “Moral Worths” invited her to join their ranks! With all the determination in the world, she found it impossible to repress a start of surprise, and was acutely conscious of smothered giggles of amusement from those around. She accepted, of course, with protestations of delight, and ten minutes later found balm in the shape of an invitation from the rival team. The “Personal Charms” deplored Darsie’s loss, but considered it a masterpiece of diplomacy on the part of the “Moral Worth” captain to have headed her team with the name of the Newnham Belle. “No one could be snarkey after that!”
The two teams held committee meetings on the subject of costumes, which were kept a dead secret until the hour for the match had arrived, when a large body of spectators awaited their arrival on the ground, with expectations pleasantly excited. The “Personal Charms” appeared first, marching in pairs with heads erect, and stamped on each face that brilliant, unalterable, toothy smile affected by actresses of inferior rank. Each head was frizzed and tousled to about twice its natural size, and crowned by an enormous topknot of blue ribbon. White blouses and skirts, blue belts, ties, and hose completed an attractive costume, and as a finishing touch, the handle of the hockey-stick was embellished with a second huge blue bow.
From a spectacular point of view the “Personal Charms” were certainly an unusually attractive spectacle, but as regards popularity with the “field,” they fell far behind the rival team. The “Moral Worths” allowed a judicious time to elapse after the appearance of the “Personal Charms,” and then, just as the spectators were beginning to wax impatient, excitement was aroused by the appearance of a white banner, borne proudly aloft in the arms of two brawny Forwards. Printed on the banner were two lines of poetry, which at nearer view proved to be a highly appropriate adaptation—
“Be good, sweet maid,
And let who will be charming!”
Certainly the “Moral Worths” had been at pains to disguise any charm they possessed! Even Darsie herself looked plain with her hair dragged back into a tight little knot, her grey flannel shirt padded into the similitude of stooping shoulders, her skirt turned carefully back to front. With lumping gait and heavy footsteps the team marched round the field, and drew up beside the beaming “Personal Charms,” who despite the blasts of easterly wind through summer muslin blouses, continued to smile, and smile, and smile.
Throughout the heated game which followed the “Moral Worths” were distinctly the favourite team; nevertheless, it is the deplorable truth that the “Personal Charms” won at a canter, despite the handicap of their beribboned sticks.
When, tired and muddy, Darsie reached her study again, it was to find a postcard from Lavender which a kindly Fresher had laid upon her “burry.” It bore but a few words written in large characters, and plentifully underlined—
“Which team were you asked to play for?”
What a glow of satisfaction it gave one to be able to reply, truthfully and accurately, with one short, illuminating—“Both!”
Among the other joys of the last terms, one shone out pre-eminent in Darsie Garnett’s estimation. She was Prime Minister! It seemed almost too splendid to be true! She, who three years before had made her first appearance at Political as the bashful representative of Bootle-cum-Linacre, to have advanced to this dizzy height of power! To be captain of the Hockey Club paled into insignificance before this crowning honour, but as Hannah was “Speaker,” Darsie was unable to crow as loudly as she would have done if her friend’s place had been below the gangway.
Political was held in College Hall on Monday evenings at eight o’clock, and in old-fashioned style the members were divided into three parties, Conservatives, Liberals, and Unionists, whose seats were so arranged as to form three sides of a square.
Viewed from afar there was a strong element of humour about this mock Parliament. Prophetic it might be, but it was distinctly droll to hear Honourable Members addressed as “Madam,” while some of the statutes embodied in the Constitution-book were quite deliciously unexpected, the special one, which ran, “Members occupying the front benches are requested not to darn stockings during Political” being a constant source of delight to parents and friends.
Darsie was a Liberal. Members of the Opposition accused her openly of Socialism. What! shall we sacrifice our brother man for the sake of the demon gold? she would declaim with waving hands and cheeks aflame, whereat the Liberals would cheer as one girl, and even the Conservatives themselves be moved to admiration.
Debates relating to Education, Suffrage, and the House of Lords were held during the winter months, but the crowning excitement followed a daring Bill introduced by the Liberal party for the abolishment of the Unionists in toto, on the ground that, being neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring, they acted but as a drag on the wheels of progress. The benches were crowded to their fullest capacity on the occasion of this historic debate; even the Dons themselves came in to listen, and the whips flew round the corridors, giving no quarter to the few skulkers discovered at work in their studies, until they also were forced into the breach. As a result, the Unionist party, supported by Moderates on both sides, achieved a brilliant and decisive victory.
So much for Political, but the Prime Minister occupied another proud position, for Margaret France’s prophecy had been fulfilled, and Darsie was now captain of the Clough Fire Brigade. Beneath her were two lieutenants, and two companies, each seven girls strong, and the duty of choosing times of the utmost inconvenience and unpreparedness for drill alarms rested entirely at her discretion. When the fire-bell rang, every member of the brigade must leave whatever she happened to be about, and dash pell-mell to the assembling-ground on an upper story. There the force ranked up in order, the captain explained the locality and nature of the supposed conflagration, and each “man” received “his” own instruction—one to shut windows and ventilators, and so diminish draughts, another to uncoil the hose, a third to affix the nozzle, and so on. The work was accomplished, examined by the authorities, and the “men” were back on the top landing, ranked up in their original order, in an incredibly short space of time, when the captain gave a sharp criticism of the performance, followed by a few questions to test the general knowledge of the staff: Where was Mary Murray’s study? What was its aspect? What was the nearest water supply? Etcetera.
One excuse for non-attendance, and one only, was allowed to pass muster—a member who chanced to be in a hot bath what time the bell rang forth the alarm might lie at ease and smile at the scurry without, health and the risk of chill being considered before imaginary dangers. If, however, the bath were cold, out she must get, dash into the coat and skirt which, for members of the fire brigade, supplanted the ordinary dressing-gown, and take her place with the rest.
Nor—with Darsie Garnett as captain—was it any use to attempt deception, as a tired little Fresher discovered to her cost, when she naughtily turned a warm stream into her cold bath and refused to budge. No sooner were lightning-like instructions rapped out upstairs than down flew the irate captain, rapped at the door, demanded admission, and—in the absence of steam upon the wall—sentenced the cringing truant to a month’s suspension of privileges.
Nor was Darsie’s own position free from anxiety, for once in a term it was the prerogative of the brigade to surprise the captain, and woe befall her prestige if, on that occasion, she were found wanting! Coat, skirt, and slippers lay nightly on a chair by her bedside, together with the inevitable pile of notebooks, and she felt a burden off her mind when the alarm had come and gone.
Deep, deep down in the recesses of Darsie’s mind there slumbered a fell ambition. If there could be a real fire before her term of office expired! Not a serious one, of course—nothing to imperil the safety of the dear old house, but just sufficient to cause a real alarm, and give the brigade an opportunity of demonstrating its powers! It was almost too aggravating to be borne, to hear one morning that a second-year girl had indulged in a study fire, and had extinguished it of her own accord. Extinguished by private effort, when a captain, two lieutenants, and fourteen “men” were languishing for an opportunity to exhibit their powers! The captain spoke sternly to the second-year girl, and rebuked her.
“How,” she demanded, “can you expect a reliable force, if precious opportunities are to be wasted like this? Curtains ablaze, and the bedclothes singeing. We may wait for years for another such opportunity!”
“But where do I come in?” cried the second-year girl. “I gave ten and sixpence for that quilt. And a jug of water standing close at hand! It was only human nature—”
“I hope,” returned the captain of the Fire Brigade icily—“I hope that is not the spirit in which you propose to go through life. It’s a poor thing if you cannot sacrifice a ten-and-sixpenny quilt in the interest of the public good.” And she stalked majestically from the room.