“A Second Class! Good for you, Darsie! I thought you were going to fail.”
It was a relief. Not a triumph; not the proud, glad moment of which she had dreamed, but a relief from a great dread. The girls congratulated her, wrung her hand, cried, “Well done!” and wished her luck; third-class girls looked envious and subdued; first-class girls in other “shops” whispered in her ear that it was an acknowledged fact that Modern Languages had had an uncommonly stiff time this year. Modern Languages who had themselves gained a first class, kept discreetly out of the way. Hannah said, “See, I was right! Are you satisfied now?” No one showed any sign of disappointment. Perhaps no one but herself had believed in the possibility of a first class.
The last band of students turned away from the gates with a strange reluctance. It was the last, the very last incident of the dear old life—the happiest years of life which they had ever known, the years which from this moment would exist but as a memory. Even the most successful felt a pang mingling with their joy, as they turned their backs on the gates and walked quietly away.
Later that afternoon Dan and Darsie found themselves strolling across the meadows towards Grantchester. They were alone, for, the picnic having fallen through, Mr and Mrs Vernon had elected to rest after the day’s excitement, and Hannah had settled herself down to the writing of endless letters to relations and friends, bearing the good news of the double honours.
Darsie’s few notes had been quickly accomplished, and had been more apologetic than jubilant in tone, but she honestly tried to put her own feelings in the background, and enter into Dan’s happiness as he confided to her his plans for the future.
“I’m thankful I’ve come through all right—it means so much. I’m a lucky fellow, Darsie. I’ve got a rattling opening, at the finest of the public schools, the school I’d have chosen above all others. Jenson got a mastership there two years ago—my old coach, you remember! He was always good to me, thought more of me than I deserved, and he spoke of me to the Head. There’s a vacancy for a junior master next term. They wrote to me about it. It was left open till the lists came out, but now! now it will go through. I’m safe for it now.”
“Oh, Dan, I’m so glad; I’m so glad for you! You’ve worked so hard that you deserve your reward. A mastership, and time to write—that’s your ambition still? You are still thinking of your book?”
“Ah, my book!” Dan’s dark eyes lightened, his rugged face shone. It was easy to see how deeply that book of the future had entered into his life’s plans. He discussed it eagerly as they strolled across the fields, pointing out the respects in which it differed from other treatises of the kind; and Darsie listened, and sympathised, appreciated to the extent of her abilities, and hated herself because, the more absorbed and eager Dan grew, the more lonely and dejected became her own mood. Then they talked of Hannah and her future. With so good a record she would have little difficulty in obtaining her ambition in a post as mathematical mistress at a girls’ school. It would be hard on Mrs Vernon to lose the society of both her daughters, but she was wise enough to realise that Hannah’s metier was not for a domestic life, and unselfish enough to wish her girls to choose the most congenial rôles.
“And my mother will still have three at home, three big, incompetent girls!” sighed Darsie in reply, and her heart swelled with a sudden spasm of rebellion. “Oh, Dan, after all my dreams! I’m so bitterly disappointed. Poor little second-class me!”
“Don’t, Darsie!” cried Dan sharply. He stood still, facing her in the narrow path, but now the glow had gone from his face; it was twisted with lines of pain and anxiety. “Darsie! it’s the day of my life, but it’s all going to fall to pieces if you are sad! You’ve done your best, and you’ve done well, and if you are a bit disappointed that you’ve failed for a first yourself, can’t you—can’t you take any comfort out of mine? It’s more than half your own. I’d never have got there by myself!”