A College Girl - Mrs George de Horne Vaizey (books to read to improve english TXT) š
- Author: Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
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āStrong armsāstout heart!ā murmured Lavender in sentimental aside. āWell, then, tell about the treasure-hunt in the Percivalsā gardenāand how youāyou know! Go onāthatās another real adventure.ā
āAll Miss Darsieās adventures seem to have been in connection with the Percival family!ā remarked the Oxford man at this point.
Darsie flushed with annoyance, and retired determinedly into her shell. She was seated almost in the centre of the circle, between her father and John Vernon, and the leaping light of the fire showed up her face and figure in varying shades of colour. Now she was a rose-maiden, dress, hair, and face glowing in a warm pink hue; anon, the rose changed into a faint metallic blue, which gave a ghostlike effect to the slim form; again, she was all whiteāa dazzling, unbroken white, in which the little oval face assumed an air of childlike fragility and pathos. As she sat with her hands folded on her knee, and her head resting against the dark cushions of her chair, more than one of the company watched her with admiration: but Darsie was too much occupied with her own thoughts to be conscious of their scrutiny.
As each story-teller began his narrative, she cast a momentary glance in his direction, and then turned back to fire-gazing once more. Once or twice she cast a curious glance towards the far corner where Dan Vernon was seated, but he had drawn his chair so far back that nothing could be distinguished but the white blur of shirt-front. Darsie wondered if Dan were uninterested, bored, asleepāyet as her eyes questioned the darkness she had the strangest impression of meeting other eyesādark, intent eyes, which stared, and staredā
Vie Vernon was telling āa most interesting coincidence,ā her opening sentenceāāIt was told to me by a friendāa lawyer,āācausing surreptitious smiles and nudges among her younger hearers. āThere was a girl in his officeāa typewriting girl. All the money had been lostāā
āWhose money? The lawyerās or the officeās?ā
āNeither! Donāt be silly. The girlās fatherās, of course.ā
āYou never told us that she had a father!ā
āRussell, if you interrupt every minute, I wonāt play. Of course heād lost it, or the girl wouldnāt have been a typist. Any one would know that! Edāthe lawyer did sea-sort of businessāwhat do you call it?āmarine thingsāand the girl typed them. Years before a brother had disappearedāā
āThe lawyerās brother?ā
āNo! Iām sorry I began. You are so disagreeable, The girlās uncle, of course, and they often wanted to find him, because he was rich, and might have helped them now they were poor. One day, when she was typing out one of the depositionsāā
āHa!ā The unusual word evoked unanimous comment. āāDe-pos-itionsāif you pleaseā! How legal we are becoming, to be sure!ā
Vie flushed, and hurried on breathlesslyā
āShe came across the name of John H. Rose, and she wondered if the H. meant Hesselwhaite, for that was her uncleās second name, and she looked it up in the big document, and it was him, and he was on the west coast of South America, and they wrote to him, and he left them a lot of money, and they lived happy ever after.ā
Polite murmurs of astonishment from the elders, unconcealed sniggerings from the juniors, greeted the conclusion of this thrilling tale, and then once more Darsie was called upon for her contribution, and this time consented without demur.
āVery well! Iāve thought of a story. Itās about a managing clerk who was sent to Madrid on business for his firm. I didnāt know him myself, so donāt ask questions! While he was in Madrid he went to the opera one night, and sat in a box. Just opposite was another box, in which sat a beauteous Spanish maid. He looked at her, and she looked at him. They kept looking and looking. At last he thought that she smiled, and waved her fan as if beckoning him to come and speak to her. So in the first interval the eager youth made his way along the richly carpeted corridors; but just as he reached the door of the box it opened, and a man came out and put a letter into his hand. It was written in Spanish, which the youth did not understand; but, being filled with a frenzy of curiosity to know what the fair one had to say, he decided to run to his hotel, and get the manager to translate it without delay. Well, he went; but as soon as the manager had read the note he started violently, and said in a manner of the utmost concern: āI exceedingly regret, sir, to appear inhospitable or inconsiderate, but I find it my painful duty to ask you to leave my hotel within an hour.ā The clerk protested, questioned, raged, and stormed, but all in vain. The manager refused even to refer to the letter; he simply insisted that he could entertain him no longer in the hotel, and added darkly: āIt would be well for the SeƱor to take the first train out of Spain.ā
āAlarmed by this mysterious warning, the unhappy youth accordingly shook off the dust from his feet and returned to London, where he confided his woes to his beloved and generous employer. The employer was a Spanish merchant and understood the language, so he naturally offered to solve the mystery. No sooner, however, had his eye scanned the brief lines, than a cloud shadowed his expressive countenance, and he addressed himself to the youth more in sorrow than in anger. āIt grieves me to the heart, MrāerāBumpas,ā he said, āto sever our connection after your faithful service to the firm; but, after the perusal of this note, I have unfortunately no choice. If you will apply to the cashier he will hand you a cheque equal to six monthsā salary; but I must ask you to understand that when you leave my office this morning it is for the last time!āā
A rustle of excitement from the audience, a momentary glimpse of Danās face in the flickering light, testified to the interest of this extraordinary history.
Darsie bent forward to encourage her fir-cone with a pat from the poker, and continued dramaticallyā
āBewildered, broken-hearted, almost demented, the unfortunate youth betook him to an uncle in America (all uncles seem to live in America), who received him with consideration, listened to his sad tale, and bade him be of good cheer. āBy a strange coincidenceā (coincidence again!) said the worthy man, āthere sups with me to-night a learned professor of languages, resident at our local college. He, without doubt, will make plain the mysterious contents of the fatal note!ā Punctual to his hour the professor arrived, and the harassed youth hailed with joy the end of his long suspense. Whatever might be the purport of the words written in that fatal paper, the knowledge thereof could not be worse than the fate which had dogged his footsteps ever since that tragic night when he had first cast eyes on the baleful beauty of the Spanish maid. Yet might it not be that once again the sight of these words would send him wandering homeless oāer the worldāthat the stream of his uncleās benevolence might be suddenly damned by a force mysterious as inexorable?
āTrembling with emotion, the young man thrust his hand into his pocket to bring forth this mystic noteāā
Darsie paused dramatically.
āAndāandāand thenā?ā
āHe discovered that it was not there! In the course of his long wanderings it had unfortunately been mislaid.ā
The clamour of indignation which followed this dĆ©nouement can be better imagined than described but the example having been set, wonderful how many stories of the same baffling character were revived by the different members of the company during the remainder of the firelight stance. So wild and exaggerated did the narratives become, indeed, that the meeting broke up in confusion, and took refuge in those admittedly uproarious Christmas games which survived from the happy nursery days, when āto make as much noise as we likeā seemed the climax of enjoyment.
And so ended Christmas Day for the joint ranks of the Vernons and Garnetts.
On Boxing Day, Lavender excused herself from joining a rinking party, and lay curled up on a sofa reading a Christmas number.
The following morning she stayed in bed to breakfast, and complained of a swollen face. On the third day, the sight of the huge cheeks and doubled chin sent the family flying for the doctor, and the tragic verdict of āmumpsā was whispered from mouth to mouth.
Mumps in the Christmas holidays! Isolation for the victim for days, even weeks; the risk of infection for others; the terrible, unthinkable possibility of āmissing a termā! Mrs Vernon came nobly to the rescue, and invited Darsie to spend the remainder of the holidays under her roof, since, with a Tripos in prospect, every precaution must be taken against infection. For the rest, Lavenderās own little eyrie was situated at the end of a long top passage, and might have been originally designed for a sanatorium and there, in solitary state, the poor mumpy poetess bewailed her fate, and besought the compassion of her companions. Letters were not forbidden, and she therefore found a sad satisfaction in pouring out her woes on paper, as a result of which occupation the following poetical effusion presently found its way to the schoolroom partyā
āAll gay and fair the scene appeared:
I was a gladsome maid;
When the dire hand of circumstance
Upon my life was laid.
Upon the eve of festal day
The first dread symptoms fell;
And those who should have sympathised,
Whose tender words I would have prized,
Did sneer, and jeer, and with loud cries,
Ascribe the reason to mince-pies!
āWhat time I woke the third day morn,
By mirror was the sad truth borne;
Not alone exile, grief, and pain
Must fill my cupābut also shame!
Gone is my youthful glee and grace,
I have an elephantine face;
My cheeks are gross, which were so thin;
I have a loathsome pendant chin.
All who behold me smile aside,
And their derision barely hide.
Oh, cruel fate! instead of tears,
In my sad plight I get but jeers.
āFriends, comrades, readers of this ditty,
If heart ye have, on me have pity.
Go not unthinking on your way,
Content to sing, content to play,
While I and mumps sit here alone
In an unending, drear āAt home.ā
Put wits to work, think out some way
To cheer the captiveās lonely day,
Forget yourself, and think of me,
And doubly blessed you shall be.
For since the days of earliest youth
You have been brought up on this truthā
To help the ailing by your side
Is the true work of Christmas-tide!ā
To disregard so touching an appeal being plainly an impossibility, an impromptu committee meeting was held in the Vernonsā study, when the idea of an open-air melodrama was proposed, and carried with acclamation. A melodrama acted in the back garden, underneath Lavenderās window, opened out prospects of amusement for the actors as well as the audience, and a rainy afternoon was passed in the merriest fashion discussing the plot, characters, and costume.
Darsie sat on the hearthrug, and prodded the fire vigorously to mark each point scored. Vie wrote from dictation at the centre table. Dan sat chuckling in his own particular chair, and allowed himself to be cast as hero with lamblike calm, and plain Hannah affected dire displeasure at being passed over for the part of beauteous maid. It was like the dear old days when they had all been youngāreally youngāin pinafores and pigtails, with no dread of coming Tripos, no agitation about youthful lawyers to chase away sleep at night! Looking back through the years, that hour stood out in remembrance as one most happily typical of the dear home life.
The programme was delicious. Vie discovered a great sheet of white paper, left over from the parcel wrappings of the week before; Dan printed the words in his most dashing fashion; John nailed it on the lid of a packing-chest, and the whole party escorted it round the terrace to the Garnett dwelling, and waited in the street beneath until it
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