Meade L. T. - A Sweet Girl Graduate стр 17.

Come in, she said in a petulant voice.

The handle of the door was slowly turned, the tapestry curtain moved forward, and a little fair-haired girl, with an infantile expression of face, and looking years younger than her eighteen summers, tripped a few steps into the room.

I beg your pardon, Maggie, she said. I had not a moment to come sooner not one, really. That stupid Miss Turner chose to raise the alarm for the fire brigade; of course I had to go, and Ive only just come back and changed my dress.

You ought to be in bed, Rosalind: its past eleven oclock.

Oh, as if that mattered! Ill go in a minute. How cosy you look here.

My dear, I am not going to keep you out of your beauty sleep. You can admire my room another time. If you have a message for me, Rosalind, let me have it, and then oh, cruel word, but I must say it, my love Go!

Rosalind Merton had serene baby-blue eyes; they looked up now full at Maggie. Then her dimpled little hand slid swiftly into the pocket of her dress, came out again with a quick, little, frightened dart, and deposited a square envelope with some manly, writing on it on the bureau, where Maggie had been studying Prometheus Vinctus . The letter covered the greater portion of the open page. It seemed to Maggie as if the Greek play had suddenly faded and gone out of sight behind a curtain.

There, said Rosalind, thats for you. I was at Kingsdene to-day and I I said you should have it, and I I promised that Id help you, Maggie. I yes I promised. I said I would help you, if youd let me.

Thank you, replied Miss Oliphant, in a

lofty tone. The words came out of her lips with the coldness of ice. And if I need you I promise to ask your help. Where did you say you met Mr Hammond? Maggie took up her letter, and opened it slowly. At Spilmans; he was buying something for his room. He Rosalind blushed all over her face.

Maggie took her letter out of its envelope. She looked at the first two or three words, then laid it, open as it was, on the table.

Thank you, Rosalind, she said in her usual tone. It was kind of you to bring this, certainly; but Mr Hammond would have done better yes, undoubtedly better had he sent his letter by post. There would have been no mystery about it then, and I should have received it at least two hours ago. Thank you, Rosalind, all the same good-night. Rosalind Merton stepped demurely out of the room. In the corridor, however, a change came over her small childish face. Her blue eyes became full of angry flame, and she clenched her baby hand and shook it in the direction of the closed door.

Oh, Maggie Oliphant, what a deceiver you are! she murmured. You think that Im a baby, and notice nothing, but Im on the alert now, and Ill watch and watch. I dont love you any longer, Maggie Oliphant. Who loves being snubbed? Oh, of course, you pretend you dont care about that letter! But I know you do care; and Ill get hold of all your secrets before many weeks are over, see if I dont!

Chapter Eight The Kindest and Most Comforting Way

After standing still for these few seconds, she ran to the door and drew the bolt; then, sinking down once more in her easy-chair, she took up the letter which Rosalind Merton had brought her, and began to read the contents. Four sides of a sheet of paper were covered with small, close writing, the neat somewhat cramped hand which at that time characterised the men of St. Hildas College.

Maggies eyes seemed to fly over the writing; they absorbed the sense, they took the full meaning out of each word. At last all was known to her, burnt in, indeed, upon her brain.

She crushed the letter suddenly in one of her hands, then raised it to her lips and kissed it; then fiercely, as though she hated it, tossed it into the fire. After this she sat quiet, her hands folded meekly, her head slightly bent. The colour gradually left her cheeks. She looked dead tired and languid. After a time she arose, and, walking very slowly across her room, sat down by her bureau, and drew a sheet of paper before her. As she did so her eyes fell for a moment on the Greek play which had fascinated her an hour ago. She found herself again murmuring some lines from Prometheus Vinctus :

O divine ether, and swift-winged winds

She interrupted herself with a petulant movement. Folly! she murmured, pushing the book aside. Even glorious, great thoughts like those dont satisfy me. Whoever supposed they would? What was I given a heart for? Why does it beat so fiercely, and long, and love? and why is it wrong wrong of me to love? Oh, Annabel Lee! oh, darling! if only your wretched Maggie Oliphant had never known you!

Maggie dashed some heavy tears from her eyes, then, taking up her pen, she began to write.

Heath Hall,

St. Benets.

Dear Mr Hammond

I should prefer that you did not in future give letters for me to any of my friends here. I do not wish to receive them through the medium of any of my fellow-students. Please understand this. When you have anything to say to me, you can write in the ordinary course of post. I am not ashamed of any slight correspondence we may have together; but I refuse to countenance, or to be in any sense a party to, what may even seem underhand.

I shall try to be at the Marshalls on Sunday afternoon, but I have nothing to say in reply to your letter. My views are unalterable.

Yours sincerely,

Margaret Oliphant.