“Now let me whisper a little bit of news in your ear. I have won my spurs, too—if I may be allowed to use that expression—and as I shall graduate a few days before you take your degree, can’t you come to Vassar to honor the occasion with your presence? Papa and mamma will be here, but the day will not be complete without you.”
Geoffrey replied that nothing should keep him away; that he would be with her bright and early on commencement day, but would have to return to New Haven at three in the afternoon, as he still had much to do to prepare for the final exercises of his own class.
But notwithstanding his promise, the train on which he left New Haven was delayed two hours, and he did not arrive at Vassar until after the exercises were opened, and so had no opportunity to see Gladys before, as he intended to do.
An usher led him into the crowded room, but the only available seat was far in the rear, and so situated that he could scarcely see or be seen.
One of the graduating class was singing as he entered, and for a few moments his attention was arrested by the young amateur who gave promise of becoming something more by and by.
But presently his eyes began to wander about in search of Gladys, for she, of course, was the center of attraction for him.
She was sitting near one end of the platform, at the head of her class, and looking fairer than he had ever seen her, in her virgin white.
Her dress was of finest Indian mull, sheer and fleecy as a summer cloud. It was very simple, yet daintily made, one gauzy thickness alone shading her snowy neck and rounded arms, which gleamed fair as alabaster beneath.
She wore no ornaments save a string of costly pearls around her neck and a bunch of snowballs in her silken belt.
Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes glowed with excitement, and her lips were like polished coral.