"He is all right."
Fred sat and smoked for ages without saying a word, which made me uneasy.
"Don't you feel horribly old?" he said to me at last. "This is a kind of end to all the good time we have had here. I mean that everything will be different; I can't imagine Nina being married."
"She won't be for ages, and when she is it will be just the same," I answered. "The Bradder's the best sort in the world, except you. Let's go to bed, we have to shoot to-morrow."
I stayed in Fred's room, however, for a long time, and I expect some of the things we said would have amused those who can jump without regret from one state of things to another. But all the same this talk did us good, for we finished off the subject of Nina's engagement at one sitting, and Fred pleased me by saying that he must have been a fool to hate Jack Ward so violently. That told me all I wanted to know, and though he was not in very good spirits for a day or two he soon recovered, and I believe that Nina and he enjoyed themselves more than they ever had since they began to wonder whether they were grown up or not.
Before going back to Oxford Fred and I went to stay with Mr. Sandyman, our old house-master at Cliborough. I had been to Cliborough several times since I left school, but my first visits made me feel almost sad. The glory of being a blue, and I could not help feeling it, was not enough compensation for the way in which I seemed to have entirely dropped out of things. I loved Cliborough, and when you are fond of places or people it is horrid to see that they can get on quite well without you. You may not be forgotten, but you must necessarily cease to count for much, and it was not until I went back after having left for three years that I was quite happy there. Our feelings—for Fred felt as I did—may have been wrong, but no one would have them who was not fond of their school and who did not in some way or other wish to be worthy of it. Sandy was as nice to us as possible, and it was quite funny to see what a hero Fred was thought to be by some of the fellows in our house. I think I was regarded as a hero more or less decayed, but Fred nearly reinstated me by saying that I was the fastest bowler he had ever played against, and by forgetting to add further details.
We went back to Oxford from Cliborough, and during my last year I saw more of Fred than ever, for in nearly every college men in their fourth year have to go into lodgings, and Jack and I took rooms in the same house in the High as Fred and Henderson. Fred was President of Vincent's, Henderson was to be captain of the 'Varsity XI., and Jack was immediately put into one of the trial Eights and finally, rowed six in the winning boat. The shadow of approaching examinations was over all of us except Henderson, who was not reading for Honours, and had nothing but two papers on political economy between him and a degree. But I should not think any four men ever got on together better than we did, and the mere sight of Jack was enough to make any one feel cheerful. He had fairly and squarely found himself at last, and whether he was sitting in front of piles of books or getting up and going to bed at strange times because he was in training, he was an endless delight to all of us. His methods of reading history made Fred laugh so much that I thought he might possibly abandon them, but nothing would persuade him that his road to a degree was not the safest he could take. On one subject Jack only opened his heart to me. He had set his mind on getting into the 'Varsity Eight, and his keenness was terrific. I assured him time after time that he must have a splendid chance of his blue, but I don't believe that the mere fact of getting his blue meant very much to him. He wanted to show his people and his college that he could really do something.
"If I could only get into the 'Varsity boat I should have done something," he said to me, "because I'm not a natural oar. I have to learn it all, and it's frightfully hard work remembering all you're told. Some of you men think a fellow who rows is just a machine, but it's not so easy to become a good machine."
To Fred and Henderson he hardly ever mentioned the river, but they knew how desperately keen he was, and when he was tried in the 'Varsity boat at four, during the beginning of the Lent Term, we all hoped most vigorously that he would keep his place. For nearly a fortnight the same crew rowed every day, but neither the President nor the Secretary had yet taken their places, and I was in a state of terror that Jack would have to go when they went into the boat. The Secretary, however, took his place and Jack remained where he was, and a few days afterwards the President went in at seven, seven went to three, and one unfortunate man disappeared. Then we openly rejoiced, and at the beginning of Lent Jack was told to go into training. We had a mild celebration on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, and Bunny Langham, who had been President of the Union and had developed a habit of making very long speeches, for which he apologized by saying that he believed in heredity, came round and helped to make a noise. Whenever he got the ghost of an opportunity he began to congratulate Jack, and he required a very great deal of suppressing.
For a whole week Jack rowed in the boat, and then he had a sudden attack of influenza. Somehow or other I had never thought it possible that he could be ill, and I have never seen any one hurry up so much to get well again. In ten days he was nearly all right, but when he was put back into the boat he said he felt miserably weak, and I think he went to work to prepare himself for a disappointment. At any rate when it came Jack took his luck like a hero, for hardly anything more crushing could have happened to him just then. I must say that the President was as kind about it as any man could be; he knew what it meant to Jack, and his sympathy was very real. But Jack himself surprised all of us, he seemed to throw the whole thing behind him, and I never heard him complain of anything except his wretched illness.