hereasy-chair, her head resting luxuriously against a dark velvet cushion.She was tapping the floor slightly with her small foot; her eyes werefixed on Prissie. When Miss Heath laughed, Maggie echoed the sound, butboth laughs were in the sweetest sympathy.
"You must not overwork yourself, my dear," said Miss Heath. "That wouldbe a very false beginning. I think--I am sure--that you have an earnestand ardent nature, but you must avoid an extreme which will only end indisaster."
Prissie frowned.
"What do you mean?" she said. "I have come here to study. It has beendone with such, such difficulty. It would be cruel to waste a moment.I mustn't; it wouldn't be right. You can't mean what you say."
Miss Heath was silent. She thought it kinder to look away from Prissie.After a moment she said, in a voice which she on purpose made intenselyquiet and matter-of-fact--
"Many girls come to St Benet's, Miss Peel, who are, I fancy,circumstanced like you. Their friends find it difficult to send themhere, but they make the sacrifice, sometimes in one way, sometimes inanother--and the girls come. They know it is their duty to study; theyhave an ulterior motive, which underlies everything else. They knowby-and-by they must pay back."
"Oh, yes," said Priscilla, starting forward, and a flush coming into herface. "I know that--that is what it is for. To pay back worthily--togive back a thousandfold what you have received. Those girls can't beidle, can they?" she added in a gentle, piteous sort of way.
"My dear, there have been several such girls at St Benet's, and none ofthem has been idle; they have been best and first among our students.Many of them have done more than well--many of them have brought fame toSt Benet's. They are in the world now, and earning honourablelivelihoods as teachers, or in other departments where cultivated womencan alone take the field. These girls are all paying back athousandfold those who have helped them."
"Yes," said Prissie.
"You would like to follow their example?"
"Oh, yes; please tell me about them."
"Some of them were like you, and thought they would take up everything--everything I mean in the scholastic line. They filled their days withlectures, and studied into the short hours of the night. Maggie, dear,please tell Miss Peel about Good-night and Good-morning."
"They were such a funny pair," said Maggie. "They had rooms next toeach other in our corridor, Miss Peel. They were both studying for atripos, and during the term before the examination one went to bed atfour, and one got up at four. Mary Joliffe used to go into SusanMartin's room and say good-morning to her. Susan used to raise such awhite face and say, `Good-night, my dear.' Well, poor things, neitherof them got a tripos; they worked too hard."
"The simple English of all this," said Miss Heath, "is that thesuccessful girl here is the girl who takes advantage of the whole lifemapped out for her, who divides her time between play and work, whojoins the clubs, and enters heartily into the social life of the place.Yes," she added, looking suddenly full at Priscilla, "these last wordsof mine may seem strange to you, dear. Believe me, however, they aretrue. But I know," she added with a sigh, "that it takes rather an oldperson to believe in the education of _play_."
Priscilla looked unconvinced.
"I must do what you wish," she said, "for, of course, you ought toknow."
"What a lame kind of assent, my love! Maggie, you will have to gentlylure this young person into the paths of frivolity. I promise you, mydear, that you shall be a very cultivated woman some day; but I onlypromise this if you will take advantage of all sides of the pleasantlife here. Now tell me what are your particular tastes? What branch ofstudy do you like best?"
"I love Latin and Greek better than anything else in the world."
"Do you truly?" said Maggie, suddenly starting forward. "Then in onething we have a great sympathy. What have you read? Do tell me."
Miss Heath stepped discreetly into the background. The two girlsconversed for a long time together.
CHAPTER TEN.
ST. HILDA'S CHAPEL.
"Here we are now," said Maggie Oliphant, touching her young companion;"we are in good time; this is the outer chapel. Yes, I know all thatyou are thinking, but you need not speak: I did not want to speak thefirst time I came to St Hilda's. Just follow me quickly. I know thisverger; he will put us into two stalls: then it will be perfect."
"Yes," answered Priscilla. She spoke in an awed kind of voice. Thecool effect of the dark oak, combined with the richness of the manyshafts of coloured light coming from the magnificent windows, gave herown face a curious expression. Was it caused by emotion, or by thestrange lights in the chapel?
Maggie glanced at her, touched her hand for a moment, and then hurriedforward to her seat.
The girls were accommodated with stalls just above the choir; they couldread out of the college prayer-books, and had a fine view of the church.
The congregation streamed in, the choir followed; the doors between thechapel and ante-chapel were shut, the curtains were dropped, and theservice began.
There is no better musical service in England than that which Sundayafter Sunday is conducted at St Hilda's Chapel at Kingsdene. Theharmony and the richness of the sounds which fill that old chapel canscarcely be surpassed. The boys send up notes clear and sweet asnightingales' into the fretted arches of the roof; the men's deepernotes swell the music until it breaks on the ears in a full tide ofperfect harmony; the great organ fills in the breaks and pauses. Thissplendid service of song seems to reach perfection. In its way earthcannot give anything more perfect.
Maggie Oliphant did not come very often to St Hilda's. At one time shewas a constant worshipper there; but that was a year ago, beforesomething happened which changed her. Then Sunday after Sunday twolovely girls used to walk up the aisle side by side. The verger knewthem, and reserved their favourite stalls for them. They used to kneeltogether, and listen to the service, and, what is more, take part in it.
But a time came when one of the girls could never return to St Hilda's,and the other, people said, did not care to sit in the old seat withouther. They said she missed her friend, and was more cut up than anyoneelse at the sudden death of one so fair and lovely.
When Maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than one personturned to look at her with interest.
Maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with adrooping plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fairface shone in the midst of these surroundings like an exquisite flower.
The service went on. During the prayers Maggie wept, but, when a greatwave of song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; hervoice rose with the other singers, clear, sweet, and high. Her soulseemed to go up on her voice, for all the sadness left her face; hereyes looked jubilant.
Prissie had never been in any place like St Hilda's before. It hadbeen one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at Exeter, but year afteryear this desire of hers had been put off and put off, and this was thefirst time in her life that she had ever listened to cathedral music.She was impressed, delighted, but not overpowered.
"The organ is magnificent," she said to herself, "but not grander thanthe sea. The sea accompanies all the service at the dear little oldchurch at home." People met, and talked to one another in the greenquadrangle outside the chapel. Several other St Benet's girls had cometo the afternoon service. Amongst them was Miss Day, and that fair,innocent-looking little girl, Rosalind Merton.
Miss Day and Miss Merton were together. They were both stepping back tojoin Maggie and Prissie, when a tall, dark young man came hastilyforward, bowed to Rosalind Merton, and, coming up to Maggie Oliphant,shook hands with her.
"I saw you in chapel," he said. "Are you coming to the Marshalls' totea?"
"I am. Let me introduce to you my friend, Miss Peel. Miss Peel, thisis Mr Hammond."
Hammond raised his hat to Prissie, said a courteous word to her, andthen turned to speak again to Maggie.
The t
hree walked through the gates of the quadrangle, and turned up thenarrow, picturesque High Street. It would soon be dusk; a wintry lightwas over everything. Rosalind Merton and Miss Day followed behind.Maggie, who was always absorbed with the present interest, did not heedor notice them, but Priscilla heard one or two ill-bred giggles.
She turned her head with indignation, and received scornful glances fromboth girls. The four met for a moment at a certain corner. Maggie saidsomething to Annie Day, and introduced Mr Hammond to her. As she didso, Rosalind took the opportunity to come up to Priscilla and whisper toher--
"You're not wanted, you know. You had much better come home with us."
"What do you mean?" replied Prissie in her