“He has seemed like some bad spirit pursuing me with some evil purpose in view, ever since he entered college,” he muttered, distorting facts that would have seemed just the reverse to any one else. “If I could only find out the secret of his life I might ruin him, even now, before the year is ended. I’d give half of my expectations if I could find that old woman; but I’m afraid she’s dead, and all that mystery buried with her.
“Well, I must calmly submit to his good fortune in excelling all his competitors,” he continued. “I’ve done my best to win and I stand next, which is some comfort. If I could have stood first I would have gone to Gladys and told her that I worked for her sake, and perhaps she might have listened to me. I wonder if she will stand first in her class. I must run up to Poughkeepsie to see the little lady graduate; the commencement there comes a few days earlier than ours this year.”
However much Everet Mapleson inwardly regretted the loss of the first honors, he betrayed it to no one else—he appeared to take the appointments as a matter of course, and spared no pains to make his own oration worthy and brilliant. But underneath all this outward calm there lay a relentless purpose to some day have ample revenge upon his rival for his disappointment.
As soon as Geoffrey learned of his good fortune he hastened to telegraph the news to Gladys.
“I shall not disappoint you—the first honor is mine,” were the words which went flying over the wires to the beautiful girl at Vassar.
Gladys had just come in from a walk when she received it, and the principal, as he handed it to her, marveled at her exceeding beauty.
The rich glow of perfect health, deepened a little by exercise, was on her cheeks; a happy smile wreathed her lips. Her hair had been tossed about a trifle by the breeze, and lay in a light, fluffy network low on her brow, which gleamed white as ivory beneath it.
Her hand trembled a little as she took the telegram and opened it, but as she caught sight of the cheering words within she seemed almost transfigured.
Her eyes lighted and sparkled with unusual brilliancy; the vivid color ran swiftly up to her temples and she laughed a clear, musical, happy laugh, that rang through the great hall like some sweet silver bell.
“You evidently have some good news, Miss Huntress,” the principal remarked, his usually grave face involuntarily relaxing into a sympathetic smile at her delight.