"He fainted; but we soon brought him to in the vestry. Young Wilberforce ran and got some water. They are walking home with him now."
"What caused him to fall in the choir?" continued Mrs. Beauclerc. "Giddiness?"
"It was not like giddiness," remarked Mr. St. John. "It was as if he fell over something."
"So I thought," interrupted Georgina. "Why did you leave your seat to follow him?" she continued, in a low tone to Mr. St. John, falling behind her mother.
"It was a sudden impulse, I suppose. I was unpleasantly struck with his appearance as I went into college. He was looking ghastly."
"The choristers had been quarrelling: Aultane's fault, I am sure. He lifted his hand to strike Arkell. Aultane reproached him with having"—Georgina Beauclerc hesitated, with an amused look—"disposed of his prize medal."
"Disposed of his prize medal?" echoed Mr. St. John.
"Pawned it."
St. John uttered an exclamation. He remembered the tricks of the college boys, but he could not have believed this of his favourite, Henry Arkell.
"And his watch also, Lewis junior added," continued Georgina. "They gave me the information in a spiteful glow of triumph. Henry did not deny it: he looked as if he could not. But I know he is the soul of honour, and if he has done anything of the sort, those beautiful companions of his have over-persuaded him: possibly to lend the money to them."