Part 13 (2/2)
”Nothing. Let me go; it must be time for you to go to hall.”
”I'm not going to dine in hall to-day,” said De Vayne. ”Dining at the high table, with none but dons to talk to, is dull work for an undergraduate. Stop! you shall dine with me here, Julian. I know you won't care to go to hall to-day. Nay, you shall,” he said, putting his back against the door; ”I shall be as dull as night without you.”
He made Julian stay, for it happened that at that moment his gyp brought up dinner, and Julian, hungry and weary, was tempted to sit down. De Vayne, who only too well divined his reason for borrowing the whip, was delighted at having succeeded in detaining him, for he knew that the only time when Julian would be likely to meet Brogten was immediately after hall.
Wiling away the time with exquisite tact--talking to him without pressing him to talk much in reply--turning his thoughts to indifferent subjects, until he had succeeded in arousing his interest--the young viscount detained his guest till evening, and then persuaded him to have tea. Lord De Vayne played well on the piano, and knowing Julian's pa.s.sion for music, was rewarded for his unselfish efforts by complete success in rousing his attention. He played some of the finest pa.s.sages of a recent and beautiful oratorio, until Julian almost forgot his troubles, and was ready to talk with more freedom and in a kindlier mood.
”You surely won't want the whip now,” said De Vayne in some dismay, as Julian picked it up on saying good-night.
”Yes, I shall,” answered Julian. ”Good-night!”
CHAPTER TWELVE.
A GUST OF THE SOUL.
”Once more will the wronger, at this last of all.
Dare to say 'I did wrong,' rising in his fall?”
Browning.
The story of Brogten's practical joke, and the circ.u.mstances which made it so unusually disgraceful, spread with lightning-like rapidity through Saint Werner's College; and when he swaggered into hall with his usual self-confident air, he was surprised to find himself met with cold and even with frowning looks. s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation which went on around him soon showed him the reason of the general disapprobation; and when he learnt how violently the current of popular opinion was beginning to set against him, and how unfavourable a view was taken of his conduct, he began seriously to regret that he had given the reins to his malice.
”I shouldn't wonder now if Home were to lose the Clerkland; he was _sure_ of it before this morning,” said one.
”What a cursed shame!” echoed another. ”I never in my life heard a more blackguard trick. That fellow Brogten has lost the Hartonians the scholars.h.i.+p; lucky if he hasn't lost it to Saint Werner's too. Perhaps that Benedict man will get it.”
”I say, Kennedy,” said a third, ”if I were you or Lillyston, or any other of Home's particular friends, I'd duck Brogten.”
”Let's wait till we see whether Home _does_ lose the scholars.h.i.+p first,”
said Lillyston. ”_If_ he does, Brogten deserves anything; but I have strong hopes yet.”
”I know Home,” said Kennedy, ”and he would never forgive such an interference, or I declare I should be inclined to do it.”
”I should like to see you do it,” thundered Brogten, from a farther end of the table.
”I have just given my reasons for not seeing fit to do it,” said Kennedy, with a curl of the lip. ”By the bye, Mr Brogten,” he continued sarcastically, ”I hope that you don't, after this, expect to be paid any of the _bets_ you have made against Home's getting the Clerkland?”
”There's my betting-book,” replied Brogten, flinging it at Kennedy, whom it struck in the face, and who took no further notice of the insult than to pick up the book, and throw it into the great brazier, full of glowing charcoal, which stands in the centre of Saint Werner's hall.
”Don't do that, confound you!” cried Brogten, springing up. ”Do you think there are no bets in it but those about the Clerkland?”
”Keep your missiles to yourself, then,” said Kennedy, while Brogten burnt his fingers in the vain attempt to rescue his book.
”I hope you've at least hedged, or behaved as judiciously in the case of your other bets as in those about the Clerkland,” suggested one of his sporting friends.
This last sneer and insinuation was too much, and it galled the proud man to the quick to hear the laugh of scorn which followed it. He turned round, seized his cap, and flinging at Kennedy a look of intense and concentrated hatred, left the hall, and rushed up to his rooms.
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