Beth lingered a little, gazing at the clear frosty scene before her, then rose with a firm look on her face and went up to her room. There was one thing more to be done before she left home to-morrow. She had resolved upon it. It was dark in her room, but she needed no light to recognize that roll of manuscript in her drawer. She hesitated a moment as she touched it tenderly. Must she do it? Yes, ah, yes! She could not publish that story now. Just then the picture of Arthur seemed to flash through her mind, reading it and tossing it down with that cold, silent look she had sometimes seen on his face. It was dark in the hall as she carried it down to the drawing-room grate. She crouched down on the hearth-rug before the coals, and a moment later the flames that played among the closely-written sheets lighted her face. Nothing but a blackened parchment now for all that proud dream of fame! The room grew dark again, and only the coals cracking and snapping, and the steady ticking of the old clock on the mantel piece above her head, broke the stillness. It was done. She went to the window and knelt down.
"Father, I have sacrificed it for Thee. Take this talent Thou hast given me and use it for Thy honor, for I would serve Thee alone, Father."
She slept that night with a smile on her lips. Yes, friend, it was a hero's deed, and He who alone witnessed it hath sealed her brow with a light such as martyrs wear in heaven. As for the world, oh, that every book filled with dark doubts and drifting fears and shuddering gloom had perished, too, in those flames!
CHAPTER IX.
'VARSITY AGAIN.
In a few days Beth was settled again at Mrs. Owen's, on St. Mary's Street, and tripping to her lectures as usual. Marie was not there, of course, and Beth knew nothing of her whereabouts. In fact, there had been a complete change of boarders. The house was filled with 'Varsity girls this year, with the exception of Marie's old room, a change which Beth appreciated. One of the girls was a special friend of hers, a plump, dignified little creature whom most people called pretty. Hers was certainly a jolly face, with those rosy cheeks and laughing brown eyes, and no one could help loving Mabel Clayton. She belonged to the Students' Volunteer Movement, and as this was her last year at college, Beth thought sometimes a little sorrowfully of the following autumn when she was to leave for India.
Beth meant to have her spend a few days at Briarsfield with her next summer. But a good many things were to happen to Beth before the next summer passed. A Victoria student was occupying Marie's old room, but as he took his meals out of the house Beth never even saw him. One of the girls who saw him in the hall one day described him as "just too nice looking for anything," but Beth's interest was not aroused in the stranger.
That was a golden autumn for Beth, the happiest by far she had ever known. She was living life under that sweet plan of beginning every day afresh, and thinking of some little act of kindness to be done. Beth soon began to believe the girls of University College were the very kindest in the world; but she would have been surprised, to hear how often they remarked, "Beth Woodburn is always so kind!" There was another treat that she was enjoying this year, and that was Dr. Tracy's lectures.
"I think he is an ideal man," she remarked once to Mabel Clayton. "I'm not in love with him, but I think he's an ideal man."