THE COMMEMORATION WEEK.
Brightly shone the sun over the towers and pinnacles of the glorious old city as the train sped along between Didcot and Oxford. Down the High Street towards the railway station two gentlemen were walking slowly, one of them wearing the Master of Arts gown and the trencher cap; the other, though in plain clothes, had the bearing and gait of a soldier.
Except the bright dark eyes and the clear olive skin there is very little in the tall manly figure and whiskered face to recall the Charley Herbert whom Edward Armstrong saved from an untimely death. His companion, who scarcely reaches to his shoulder, has no such personal attractions as his friend, but the keen eye, broad forehead, and intellectual, studious face, command at once respect and attention.
"At what time is the train due?" asked Charles Herbert, taking out his watch.
"12.30," was the reply.
"Oh, then we have plenty of time to drop in at Queen's and asked Maurice about the boatrace. Hollo, old fellow, where are you going?" and the young officer looked at the offered hand of his friend with surprise.
"I ought not to intrude upon your friends on the very moment of their arrival, Herbert, so I'll say good-by now."
"Nonsense! I want you to know them; come, along, Wilton; you are not going to escape me in this way; and here comes Maurice, the very man I want. Who is that tall fellow with him?" he added hastily, in a low tone, as the two undergraduates approached, one of them with a pleased recognition of Charles and his friend.
"I'll introduce you if you like," had been Mr. Wilton's reply, and as the four gentlemen met and exchanged a friendly greeting, Charles found himself returning the bow of the stranger, who was being named to him as "Mr. Henry Halford, of Queen's."
"I think we have met before, Mr. Herbert," said Henry, with a smile, "we were fellow pupils at Dr. Mason's."
"To be sure, I thought the name was familiar," exclaimed Charles, holding out his hand, "but how was I to recognise our famous Grecian as a tall undergrad. with whiskers; but I remember the face now." And then the two gentlemen stood talking over olden times until Horace Wilton reminded Charles Herbert that he had but a few minutes to spare if he wished to reach the station in time to meet his friends, and persisting in wishing him "Good-by," started him off.
Hasty promises were made to meet on the morrow, hasty farewells uttered, and then Charles Herbert found himself proceeding alone at a rapid rate towards the station.
He had, however, several minutes to wait on the platform before the train slowly drew up, and then from a window of a first-class carriage he recognised the bright, intelligent face of his cousin Mary.
In a few moments the door of the carriage was opened, and a proud, fond welcome from the son whom the mother had not seen for so many months almost brought tears in Mary's eyes.
"Are you tired? Shall we walk to the hotel, and leave the boxes for a porter to bring?" were the eager questions readily assented to at last, and then Charles Herbert, taking possession of his cousin's arm, led the way to his hotel.
Perhaps, to a stranger, no period of time at Oxford can be more fraught with interest than the week in which the yearly commemoration is held. The town no doubt appears more dull by contrast during the long vacation, but in full term time the streets seem redolent of learning; the grave don walking with stately step, as if conscious how far above all other is the power conferred by knowledge and mental superiority; the severe-looking proctor, with his black velvet-trimmed gown adding to his appearance of stern, gloomy determination to be the punisher of evildoers; the youthful freshman, who wears his new honours with shy pride, contrasted with the careless indifference of his more experienced companion, who, carrying a number of musty-looking volumes under his arm, seems quite unconscious that his gown is in rags, or that the cane is visible at one or more corners of his cap.
The yearly commemoration at Oxford certainly presents a scene of excitement scarcely equalled, from the peculiar features of the place, the period, and the principal actors.
It is preceded by that terrible time when the aspirants for honours, shivering and pale, sit writing answers to questions of alarming difficulty, or replying with painful nervousness to their seemingly stern examiners, who sit or stand before them with covered heads.
This is followed by sickening suspense till the list of names decides their fate. Then the scene changes; books are laid aside, learning seems for a time ignored. The long vacation is about to commence; all is pleasure and gaiety.
Happy fathers, proud mothers, brothers, sisters, and cousins, occupy every habitable part of Oxford outside the college walls, submitting to any inconvenience that they may be present during the exciting week.
On the day of Mary's arrival with her aunt and uncle, several of the men who had been going through a terrible ordeal in the schools might be seen with pale and anxious faces wending their way to different colleges. But as Mary entered the High Street at Magdalen Bridge, the colleges on either side of the road, and the steeples in the distance so occupied her attention that she scarcely noticed any other object.
"What college is that?" she asked, as the beautiful but antique outline of Magdalen first met her view.
"I am not quite up in the wonders of Oxford yet," he replied, "although I have been here a week; but I can tell you the names of those before you. This is Magdalen College. A little higher on the right is Queen's; the one opposite is University. That church with the spire is St. Mary's, the University Church; close to it All Soul's College, and——"
"Oh, stop," cried Mary, "if you have whole streets of colleges and churches in Oxford to describe, you must let me learn their names a few at a time, or I shall mix them all up together. Are those young men with caps and gowns clergymen?" she asked, suddenly.
"No, but what made you think so, Mary?"
"Because they have white ties, and others in the same dress have not."
"I am glad to be able to explain so far," he replied, laughing; "they have been passing their examination in the schools, and at such an occasion, I am told, the white tie is a customary appendage. But, Mary, if you are bent upon understanding all the unusual things you see at Oxford, I must provide you with a more experienced guide than myself. And here we are at the hotel," he added, as he stopped to wait for his parents, who were examining the buildings they passed with almost as much eagerness and interest as Mary.
They turned into the hotel together, and in a very short time, after taking a hasty lunch, they sallied forth in the bright sunshine, bent upon exploring the wonders of a city so famed in ancient lore.
"We may as well begin with Magdalen College," said Charles, as they walked down the High Street, but on reaching Queen's, he suddenly paused, and saying, "Wait for me a moment," darted into the quadrangle, and disappeared among the cloisters.
In a few moments he returned in the company of a gentlemanly-looking man, in cap and gown, whom he introduced to the colonel and Mrs. Herbert. Then turning to his cousin, he said—
"Mr. Maurice, my cousin Miss Armstrong has been already asking me so many questions about the manners, customs, and buildings of your famous university, that I shall be glad to place her in the charge of a more well-informed guide than myself."
The young man, who wore a bachelor's gown with its large sleeves, gladly but modestly accepted the charge so pleasantly made over to him. And Mary, though at first a little reserved, soon found it pleasant to have a companion who could answer her questions and give her unasked many interesting particulars. In the course of the afternoon they were joined by Mr. Wilton, Charles Herbert's friend, who proved himself a very valuable addition to the party.
And so Friday and Saturday passed away in sight-seeing, visits to the colleges, or attending afternoon service at New College and Magdalen; and yet Mary showed no signs of fatigue. Never in her life had she been more deeply interested; and although as Show Sunday approached, the streets were filled with well-dressed people, her attention was not easily diverted. Sunday arrived, a bright June day, and in the evening a gathering took place in Christ Church meadows, singularly styled Vanity Fair. Fair ladies are certainly present on these occasions, but who would apply to them the term vanity, although they have literally come out to see and to be seen?
Show Sunday, as the Sunday before commemoration is termed, certainly presents a show very seldom seen in any other locality in England.
The most dignified of Oxford's learned magnates are there, accompanied by the ladies of their families and distinguished visitors.
Strings of gownsmen, arm-in-arm, parade the Long Walk, observing with a sort of good-natured envy their more favoured fellows, on whose arms lean some of the fairest and noblest of England's daughters. And in almost every instance the promenaders of the gentler sex are attired in that simple elegance of style which marks the well-bred woman of polished society. Into this novel and attractive scene Mary Armstrong was led by her cousin and Frank Maurice, upon whose arm she leaned.
Her uncle and aunt had continued their walk to the water side, but Charles and his friend detained her after the second turn in the Long Walk for another stroll through the broad promenade beneath the lofty elm trees.
Charles Herbert felt proud of the slight, graceful figure, so becomingly attired, by whom he walked. The simple, white dress, lace mantle, and blue silk bonnet were attractive from their simplicity, and more than one gownsman, who raised his cap to Frank Maurice, cast admiring eyes on the fair, intellectual face and noble features of the young lady by his side. Presently two gownsmen turned into the walk, and as they approached, one of them said to the other—
"Why, Halford, here comes Wilton's tall friend with Maurice, and a lady on his arm."
The young man thus addressed started as his companion spoke; he had quickly recognised the young lady whom he had twice met, and now as they drew near, and Charles Herbert advanced to claim his acquaintance in a friendly manner, his face became pale as death. It flushed, however, and the consciousness of this restored his self-possession as Charles introduced his cousin, Miss Armstrong.
"I have met Miss Armstrong before," he said, with an effort; "my father resides at Kilburn, at a very short distance from the Limes."
For once Mary was at fault, so great was her surprise to see her dinner-table friend, and her little brother's tutor, at Oxford, in the costume of an undergraduate. But as the new-comers joined them in their walk, and entered into conversation, with her companions, she recovered herself, and took the first opportunity to address a few words to him.
The bells began to toll for evening service, and Frank Maurice, excusing himself to Mary and her cousin, wished them good evening and joined the gownsmen with whom Henry Halford had a few minutes before made his appearance.
"Whither shall we go this evening, Mary?" asked her cousin.
"I have no choice," she replied; "aunt talked of going to St. Mary's, but where are uncle and aunt gone?" she exclaimed, looking round in surprise.
Charles Herbert hesitated for a moment, and then, as the sudden thought occurred that Mary had met an old acquaintance, he said—
"Mr. Halford, if you will kindly take care of my cousin, I will go in search of my runaway relatives."
Henry Halford bowed, and as Charles quickly disappeared he offered his arm to Mary, and led her slowly on in the direction taken by her cousin.
For some minutes conflicting thoughts filled the minds of these two young people so suddenly thrown into each other's society.
"How very pale Mr. Halford looked when he met us just now!" said Mary Armstrong to herself. "What could be the cause? How strange that I should meet him here! and yet I remember now that mamma said Dr. Halford's son was going to Oxford. How nervous he seems! and so different from his manner at the dinner-table at Mr. Drummond's. Ah, how clever I thought him then! and after a university education I should feel absolutely afraid to talk with him. I expect he will end by taking a fellowship like Mr. Wilton. These clever men never marry;" and then a quick flash of thought that crimsoned the young girl's face passed through her mind: "yet I should like my husband to be even more clever and well informed than papa." The silence was becoming painful, and Mary was glad enough to be able to say—
"Oh, here they come at last; do you know my uncle and aunt, Mr. Halford?"
Before he could reply, the colonel and his wife drew near, and Charles quickly introduced the young gownsman, whom he had seen more than once, and of whom he had heard favourable accounts.
After a while Charles Herbert offered his arm to Mary, leaving his young friend to make his own way with his elders, which he did so successfully that they invited him to their hotel to dine on the following day.
Charles made the most of his time during the walk home with his cousin. He had a kind of brotherly affection for Mary, and her regard for him had all the elements of sisterly love; there was therefore perfect ease on both sides in their association with each other, which perhaps induced him to say to her on this evening words which created in her mind new ideas, and led to results he little anticipated.
Charles Herbert himself had no thought of marriage at present, and therefore never suspected that the trifling questions he put to Mary in a joking way would lead to serious thoughts on her part.
"So you and Mr. Halford are old friends. Mary?"
"No, Charles, I have only met him twice; the second time, three months ago at a dinner party."
"Well, he appeared considerably discomposed when he met you. Do you think uncle Armstrong would consider the future parson a suitable match for his daughter?"
"Oh, Charles, don't say such foolish things; does every young man want to marry a young lady when he talks pleasantly to her? if I thought so, I would never speak to any of them again."
The young officer laughed heartily as he replied, "Well, Mary, I wont tease you any more, but if Mr. Halford does take advantage of pleasant talk with you, and should make you an offer, remember I warned you."
Mary did not reply, and the conversation drifted into another subject.
But her cousin's playful remarks had excited new ideas, and when alone in her room that night she almost decided to avoid the society of the young man in whom she felt herself already interested. In about two years he would finish his terms, and with his acknowledged talents was it likely he would fail to pass for his degree, and obtain ordination? And then—he would be a clergyman, a curate perhaps with a hundred a year,—would her father consent to such a match for her? Some such thoughts as these for a time perplexed her, till at last she dismissed them as absurd. Mr. Henry Halford had never by word or look given her a right to imagine any such nonsense; and after all why should she allow herself to be influenced by the jokes of her cousin Charles?
But to dismiss thoughts of persons with whom we are constantly associated is not an easy matter, as Mary quickly discovered. In an early walk next day with her cousin and his friends they again encountered Henry Halford. He accompanied them to the afternoon service at New College, and soon proved himself as efficient a guide as Frank Maurice. At dinner he completely won the good opinion of Colonel Herbert, by making sensible remarks on various subjects with a modest unobtrusiveness so pleasing in a young man to his elders; and when they separated on that evening it was quite understood that Henry Halford was to consider himself one of their party during this visit to Oxford. Charles Herbert looked however in vain for any signs that these two young people, Henry Halford and Mary Armstrong, were, as he called it, "falling in love" with each other.
They appeared on most friendly terms; Henry rather reserved, but kind, attentive, and polite to the young lady, who treated him with easy familiarity totally unmixed with self-consciousness. There was no scheming to separate from the rest of the party, and Charles Herbert was at length forced to admit that his joking remarks to Mary had been ill-timed.
And yet in the heart of Henry Halford a struggle had commenced, which he could with difficulty maintain when in Mary's society. He also had secretly communed with himself after meeting her so suddenly on the Sunday evening in Christchurch meadows. His first impulse was to leave Oxford and return home at once, rather than again meet the girl whose presence had aroused all the former emotions which he had supposed were completely crushed. He tried to reason with himself on the folly of supposing that he could form a just estimate of a young lady's character in scarcely two interviews; and even if he had now the opportunity placed in his way of seeing her more frequently, could he venture to offer himself to Mr. Armstrong as a suitor for his only daughter? But this very hopelessness nerved him to remain in her society; he was not coxcomb enough to suppose such a sensible girl as Mary Armstrong in any danger from this association with him; and so he remained, firmly guarding his words and actions, that not one might be mistaken as a wish to gain her affections.
Yet the days passed pleasantly: very frequently the three young people sallied forth alone, Mrs. Herbert and the colonel not being able to endure so much fatigue; at other times they were punted up the river to Iffley, passing water-lilies and banks of forget-me-nots, while the gaudy dragon-fly, with its green and gold feathers glittering in the sun, flitted across from bank to bank.