Chorus.—Draw a veil! draw a veil!”
When they were all back again in Oxford, even many terms afterwards, “Draw a veil” was always a sort of pass-word between them.
A fortnight soon passed, and they travelled together to Paris. Here they parted, Frank going straight to Porchester, Edwards to Oxford. Frank had made a good start with his law reading, and, thanks to Edwards’ style of teaching, had thoroughly grasped all that he had touched, and what is more, liked his subjects. One practical point before passing to other scenes: his expenses were 50l.;—35l. for railway fares, hotel bills, &c., 15l. to Edwards for tuition.
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE THICK OF IT.
Paul’s had no Law Lecturers, and Frank was therefore compelled to “put on a coach.” He accordingly wrote to Edwards, a week before term commenced, to arrange with him. Much to his surprise, the College offered to pay half the fee on his behalf, which after all was but fair, considering that he had to pay his College tuition fees, although there were no lectures for him. By Edwards’ advice he attended certain of the Law Professors’ Lectures, which were open to the University at large—in some cases on payment of 1l., in others free. Six hours in each week were spent at these, and three hours with Edwards; and with a daily average of four hours’ private reading he considered he was industrious. His degree seemed so far off. He would work more when the time was drawing nearer. So he consoled himself, and so the time went by.
Of Crawford he saw little, for it was his last term, and he was in for Honours in the Final Classical Schools in November. But on Sunday they used to lunch together—alternately in one another’s rooms—and go for a long constitutional afterwards. To Crawford alone of his many friends he confided his hopes. To him alone he told his dreams of Rose, of their engagement, and even of the marriage in the future. And Crawford never laughed at him, or pooh-poohed the notion as a boyish fancy; for he saw that if there was one thing more than another which would keep him straight, and make him stick to his work, it was the hope of one day making a home for Rose. But the Bar! How hopeless it seemed! To talk of marriage, at least three years before the wig could be worn, much less a brief gained! Still the boy was hopeful. And why damp his energy? Besides, Crawford had a belief—he knew it was not a prevalent one—that though there are so many barristers, the Bar as a profession is not really so crowded as the world believes; that if you eliminate the large numbers of so-called barristers who live by their pen, by speculating—by anything, in fact, except the profession they claim, the number of men left is by no means large enough to do the work that offers. Again, he knew that he came of a family of lawyers, with large firms in various towns, and at least one of considerable eminence in London. So that altogether he by no means considered the boy’s ambitions and dreams as baseless or silly. As for himself, he hardly cared to confess his hopes. But Frank had always placed him, in anticipation, in the position Crawford secretly desired. He seemed fitted in every way for a Fellowship and Tutorship. To begin with, he was a gentleman in birth and in heart. He would therefore know how to feel with, and for, all the various grades of men with whom he would come in contact: unlike the many who, with neither the breeding nor the feelings of gentlemen, have nothing but their intellectual supremacy to recommend them.
As to Crawford’s intellectual powers, he had already given ample proof. He had taken a first class in Classical Moderations. He had won the Chancellor’s prize for Latin Verse, and had been proxime accessit for the Stanhope Essay. And then, to crown all, from the boyish undergraduate point of view, he had rowed in his College Eight, and won the Diamond Sculls at Henley. Why, he was the very beau-ideal of a Fellow. A handsome, clever, athletic English gentleman. Oxford has had many such, and, thank God, she has them still. Men who consider a fellowship and tutorship a sacred trust; who look upon the undergraduates as friends to be helped, guided, and taught, but not in mere learning for the schools; who will draw out, not crush, the fresh hopefulness of youth; who will cheer, not cloud, boys’ ambitions; who will look for good qualities, not watch and wait for errors; whose chief thought will be what good they can do, and not what fines they can impose.