Part 17 (1/2)

”Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do.”

”That does not prove that it is either wise or decent,” said Mrs.

G.o.ddard. ”If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession for the sake of becoming independent.”

”Certainly,” said John.

”Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a fellows.h.i.+p and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can make up your mind.” She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good.

”But I cannot imagine,” she continued, ”why you should ask my advice.”

”And not to marry?” inquired John nervously.

”There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five and thirty is not too late.”

”Dear me!” exclaimed John, ”I think that is much too old!”

”Do you call me old?” asked Mrs. G.o.ddard serenely. ”I was thirty-one on my last birthday.”

For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. G.o.ddard, after advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and his understanding were equally disturbed.

”No indeed,” he protested on hearing her confession of age. ”No indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with men--it is quite different.”

”Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men.

That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than themselves.”

”Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say,” replied John in very indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the room swam with him and he felt a terrible, p.r.i.c.kly sensation all over his body.

”Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot,” said Nellie looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet.

”The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye,” he stammered.

”Must you?” said Mrs. G.o.ddard, suspecting that something was the matter.

”Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon, will you not?”

”Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs.

G.o.ddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie.”

”Good-bye, Mr. Short,” said Mrs. G.o.ddard, looking at him with some anxiety. ”You are not ill? What is the matter?”

”Oh dear no, nothing,” answered John with an unnatural laugh. ”No thank you--good-bye.”

He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general, not forgetting poor little Nellie.

”If ever I cross that threshold again--” he muttered with tragic emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned.

So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay and which had come to such a miserable end.

Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. G.o.ddard, he was surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose, flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how Mrs. G.o.ddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her he had come out at the head of the cla.s.sical Tripos--though, of course, he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again.

CHAPTER XI.