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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 intensely quiet and matter-of-fact
Many girls come to St. Benets, Miss Peel, who are, I fancy, circumstanced like you. Their friends find it difficult to send them here, but they make the sacrifice, sometimes in one way, sometimes in another and the girls come. They know it is their duty to study; they have an ulterior motive, which underlies everything else. They know by-and-by they must pay back.
Oh, yes, said Priscilla, starting forward, and a flush coming into her face. I know that that is what it is for. To pay back worthily to give back a thousandfold what you have received. Those girls cant be idle, can they? she added in a gentle, piteous sort of way.
My dear, there have been several such girls at St. Benets, and none of them 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 to St. Benets. They are in the world now, and earning honourable livelihoods as teachers, or in other departments where cultivated women can alone take the field. These girls are all paying back a thousandfold 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 with lectures, 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 to each other in our corridor, Miss Peel. They were both studying for a tripos, and during the term before the examination one went to bed at four, and one got up at four. Mary Joliffe used to go into Susan Martins room and say good-morning to her. Susan used to raise such a white face and say, Good-night, my dear. Well, poor things, neither of them got a tripos; they worked too hard.
The simple English of all this, said Miss Heath, is that the successful girl here is the girl who takes advantage of the whole life mapped out for her, who divides her time between play and work, who joins the clubs, and enters heartily into the social life of the place. Yes, she added, looking suddenly full at Priscilla, these last words of mine may seem strange to you, dear. Believe me, however, they are true. But I know, she added with a sigh, that it takes rather an old person to believe in the education of play .
Priscilla looked unconvinced.
I must do what you wish, she said, for, of course, you ought to know.
What a lame kind of assent, my love! Maggie, you will have to gently lure this young person into the paths of frivolity. I promise you, my dear, that you shall be a very cultivated woman some day; but I only promise this if you will take advantage of all sides of the pleasant life here. Now tell me what are your particular tastes? What branch of study 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 one thing we have a great sympathy. What have you read? Do tell me.
Miss Heath stepped discreetly into the background. The two girls conversed for a long time together.
Chapter Ten St. Hildas Chapel
Yes, answered Priscilla. She spoke in an awed kind of voice. The cool effect of the dark oak, combined with the richness of the many shafts of coloured light coming from the magnificent windows, gave her own face a curious expression. Was it caused by emotion, or by the strange lights in the chapel?
Maggie glanced at her, touched her hand for a moment, and then hurried forward to her seat.
The girls were accommodated with stalls just above the choir; they could read out of the college prayer-books, and had a fine view of the church.
The congregation streamed in, the choir followed; the doors between the chapel and ante-chapel were shut, the curtains were dropped, and the service began.
There is no better musical service in England than that which Sunday after Sunday is conducted at St. Hildas Chapel at Kingsdene. The harmony and the richness of the sounds which fill that old chapel can scarcely be surpassed. The boys send up notes clear and sweet as nightingales into the fretted arches of the roof; the mens deeper notes swell the music until it breaks on the ears in a full tide of perfect harmony; the great organ fills in the breaks and pauses. This splendid service of song seems to reach perfection. In its way earth cannot give anything more perfect.
Maggie Oliphant did not come very often to St. Hildas. At one time she was a constant worshipper there; but that was a year ago, before something happened which changed her. Then Sunday after Sunday two lovely girls used to walk up the aisle side by side. The verger knew them, and reserved their favourite stalls for them. They used to kneel together, and listen to the service, and, what is more, take part in it.