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Read books online » Fiction » A College Girl by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey (reading in the dark .TXT) 📖

Book online «A College Girl by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey (reading in the dark .TXT) đŸ“–Â». Author Mrs George de Horne Vaizey



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those who were best fitted to give it sedulously avoided his company, and in this first moment of meeting Darsie was tempted to follow their example.

Horrid to look like that! At his age to own those lines, those reddened eyes, that dulled white skin! Up went the little head, the slender neck reared itself proudly, the red lips curled over small white teeth. Darsie intended to wither Ralph by the sight of such obvious distaste, but with the easy vanity of his nature he attributed her airs to girlish pique at his own neglect, and was correspondingly elated thereat.

The little schoolgirl who had been his sister’s friend had grown into a “stunning girl,” with whom the men were evidently greatly impressed. Ralph decided that the hour had come to claim her as an old friend and take her under his wing. He sat himself down by her side and persistently monopolised her attention.

“College life evidently suits you, Darsie. You are looking rippingly well!”

“Am I? Sorry to be unable to return the compliment!”

“Oh!” Ralph moved impatiently. “Don’t you begin that tune! It is dinned into my ears from morning till night. A fellow may swot himself into a rag, and not a word will be said, but if he oversteps an inch for his own amusement there’s the dickens to pay. I said from the start that I intended to have a good rag. College is one of the best times in a man’s life, and he’s a fool if he doesn’t make the most of his chance.”

“It is also—incidentally—supposed to be a time for mental improvement,” returned Darsie in sententious tones, which brought upon her an instant rebuke.

“Oh, for pity’s sake don’t come the Newnham swag over me! Can’t stand those girls as a rule. Avoid ’em like poison. Take my advice as an old friend and avoid that style as you would the plague. You’re too jolly pretty to come the strong-minded female. Far better stick to your old style. Men like it a heap better.”

“It is a matter of perfect indifference to me what men like!” declared Darsie, not, it is to be feared, with absolute veracity. “I am proud to be a Newnhamite, and if the girls do have a few mannerisms, they count for precious little beside their virtues. They are up to work, and they do work with might and main, though there can be no place in the world where there is no fun. We are always having some prank or other—politicals, and cocoa-parties and hockey matches, and dances—”

“What’s the fun of dances with no men to dance with? Wait till May term, and see what a real ball is like. We’ll have some river picnics, too, and breakfasts at the Orchard. There’s lots to be done in summer, but just now there’s nothing on but teas. You must come to tea in my rooms. I’ve got a slap-up study.” He turned towards Mrs Reeves and addressed her with confident familiarity. “Mrs Reeves will play chaperon, and I’ll promise you the best cakes that Cambridge can produce.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll play chaperon.” To Darsie’s surprise the sweet-faced woman smiled back into Ralph’s face with friendly eyes, not appearing even to notice the over-confidence of his manner. “Mr Percival gives charming parties, and I can answer for it that his boast as to the cakes is justified. I can never fathom where he gets them.”

She turned to Darsie with a little gesture of confidence, and slightly lowered her voice. “I am known as ‘the Professional Chaperon.’ I hope you will engage my services if you are in need of such a personage, but perhaps we ought to know one another a little better first. I should like so much to know you! Will you come to see me one afternoon next week when you are free, and feel inclined for a chat? I won’t ask any one else, so that we can have a real cosy time.”

Surprised and gratified, and more than a little flattered, Darsie mentioned her free hours, and received in return Mrs Reeves’s card bearing an address in Grange Road, then once more Ralph engrossed her attention.

“I say! You might ask Ida up for a night or two, and bring her along. They’ll let you have a friend now and then, and she’d like it all right. Awfully decent in writing to me, Ida is, and fights my battles at home. Sensible girl! Understand it’s no good to jaw. I’d like to have Ida up for a bit.”

“So would I. I’ll ask her with pleasure.” One of Ralph’s best points had been his affection for his sisters, and the reminder thereof softened Darsie’s heart. She smiled at him with recovered friendliness. “I’ll ask Ida, and you must ask Dan and Hannah Vernon, and make a nice family party. Do you see much of Dan? I don’t expect he makes a rag of himself over amusement!”

Ralph shrugged carelessly. “I’ve no use for Vernon! Good head for routine work, but as a pal, dull as you make ’em! I’ll ask him once as you make a point of it, but I don’t fancy you’ll want him twice. As for the sister—but perhaps I’d better not make any remarks?”

“Much better!” Darsie said frostily. “Your manners have not improved, Ralph. I think, if you please, that I would rather not talk to you any more for the present. Would you tell Dan Vernon that I want him to take your place?”

It was the first, the very first time in her life that Darsie had essayed the part of queening it over a member of the opposite sex, and the success of the venture was startling even to herself. Ralph flushed, flinched, rose without a word, and stalked across the room to summon Dan as required; and Dan came meekly forward, seated himself in the discarded chair, and faced her with an air of solemn expectation. His rugged face looked plain and roughly hewn in contrast with Ralph’s classical features, but the dark eyes were eloquent as of yore, and the sight of the tilted chin brought back a score of old-time memories. Darsie looked at him with satisfaction, but with a disconcerting blankness of mind as to what to say first. From the other side of the room Ralph was looking on with cynical eyes; it was imperative that the silence should be broken at once.

“Dan, please say something! I wanted Ralph to go, so I asked for you. Do please find something to say.”

Dan smiled broadly. Each time that she saw him smile Darsie wondered afresh how she could ever have thought him plain. His dark eyes glowed upon her with the look she liked best to see.

“What am I to say? It’s good to see you here, Darsie. You are looking very—well! Everything going all right? Sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“No.” Darsie beamed happily. At that moment there seemed nothing left to wish. Dan’s friendliness gave the finishing touch to her content, and the world was couleur de rose. “I am loving it all more than I expected. The work’s glorious, and the play’s glorious, and I’m just absorbed in both. It’s splendid, coming here to-day to see this lovely old house and meet you again. I thought you had forgotten all about me.”

But Dan had drawn back into his shell, and refused to be cajoled. He glowered at the opposite wall for some minutes, then asked abruptly—

“Why did you send off Percival?”

“Oh—!” Darsie hesitated, and then answered with discretion: “I had talked to him as much as I cared about for the moment, and I shall see him soon again. He is going to get up a tea-party for me, with that sweet Mrs Reeves as chaperon. I told him to ask you and Hannah.”

“You should not have done that!” Dan spoke with sharp displeasure. “I don’t care to accept Percival’s hospitality for myself, and certainly not for my sister. I shall tell Hannah to refuse.”

Darsie glanced across to where Hannah sat, a typical plain Hannah at that moment, with feet planted well apart, and on her face the expression of dour determination which she adopted in moments of boredom; from her to Ralph Percival, standing in graceful pose, his fine, almost feminine, profile outlined clearly against the panelled wall, and, glancing, laughed softly to herself. It seemed so ridiculous to think of this girl needing protection from this man.

“I fancy Hannah is quite capable of looking after herself.”

“I’m sure of it. She’s a new-comer, however, and she doesn’t get into Percival’s set if I can help it.”

“Dan! It can’t be so bad if Mrs Reeves is willing to go. She accepted in a minute. I heard her myself.”

“She goes everywhere, to the wildest fellows’ rooms. She has her own ideas, no doubt, but I don’t profess to understand them.” He hesitated, puckering his brows, and looking at her with dark, questioning eyes. “I have no authority over you, Darsie, but I wish—”

“Ralph saved my life,” interrupted Darsie simply.

Dan looked at her sharply, stared with scrutinising attention at her face, but spoke no further word of protest. He evidently realised, as Darsie did herself, that it would be a mean act to reject the friendship of a man who had wrought so great a service.

Half an hour later the two girls slowly wended their way past the tower gateway of Trinity, past Caius, with its twinkling lights, stately King’s, and modest Catherine’s, to the homelike shelter of their own dear Newnham.

“Well!” cried Hannah, breaking a long silence, “you had a big success and I had—not! But you’re not a bit happier than I, that I can see. Men are poor, blind bats. I prefer my own sex; they are much more discriminating, and when they like you—they like you, and there’s no more shilly-shally. Those men never know their own minds!”

Chapter Twenty One. Mrs Reeves makes a Proposal.

Four days later Darsie went by appointment to her tĂȘte-Ă -tĂȘte tea with the professional chaperon with a pleasurable expectation which was largely streaked with curiosity.

If physiognomy counted for anything, Mrs Reeves must surely be a most sweet and noble character. Her grey eyes looked into yours with a straight, transparent gaze, her lips closed one upon another firmly enough to debar all trace of weakness, yet not so firmly as to hint at undue severity, her hair waved back from a broad white brow. It was, as Dan had said, difficult to understand how such a woman could be the willing companion of men whom even fellow-students were anxious to shun. Darsie wondered if the afternoon’s conversation would throw any light on this knotty point.

She was shown, not into the drawing-room but into a cosy little den on the second floor, a sort of glorious edition of a college study, where Mrs Reeves sat reading by the fire, clad in a loose velvet gown of a curious reddish-brown, like the autumn tint of a leaf, which matched the high lights of her chestnut hair. Darsie watched her with fascinated attention as she presided over the tea-table, with lithe, graceful movements which made a poem out of the every-day proceeding, and Mrs Reeves studied her in return, as she chatted lightly about a dozen casual subjects. Then the tea-things were carried away, and with the drawing nearer to the fire conversation took a more intimate turn.

“I hope your friend did not think me inhospitable for not including her in my invitation to-day, but when I want to get to know a girl I prefer to have her entirely to myself. Perhaps she will come another day. Vernon’s sister ought to be worth knowing.”

“You know Dan?” Darsie’s smile was somewhat anxious, for Dan’s own manner with respect to her hostess was still a disturbing element. “You know him well?”

“No,” Mrs Reeves smiled; “not well. But I like him well by repute! Vernon has no need of my services. He is strong: enough to stand by

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