"Indeed I am thankful already, uncle, for I have heard Aunt Helen describe Indian storms, and the terrible heat, too often not to be glad I have a dear English home. Is the scenery round Oxford beautiful?" she asked after a pause.

"It is rather flat, but very picturesque on the banks of the Thames, which runs behind Christchurch Meadows, especially in summer. Have you never been in Oxfordshire, Mary?"

"No, uncle, but I have seen Windsor, that is the next county, so I suppose there is a similarity in the scenery."

"A little, perhaps, but I will leave you to judge for yourself. And now, suppose you give us a little music."

And thus the evening pa.s.sed away, and we cannot wonder if in Mary's dreams were mixed up various subjects which had made that day so different to the quiet studious scenes of home.

Next day they drove to the Kensington Museum, and afterwards spent a few hours at the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, the latter always a delight to Mary. And at a rather early hour she laid her head on her pillow full of joyous antic.i.p.ations of the morrow's journey.

Could she have foreseen the result of this visit would she have shrunk from it? We cannot tell.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE COMMEMORATION WEEK.

Brightly shone the sun over the towers and pinnacles of the glorious old city as the train sped along between Didcot and Oxford. Down the High Street towards the railway station two gentlemen were walking slowly, one of them wearing the Master of Arts gown and the trencher cap; the other, though in plain clothes, had the bearing and gait of a soldier.

Except the bright dark eyes and the clear olive skin there is very little in the tall manly figure and whiskered face to recall the Charley Herbert whom Edward Armstrong saved from an untimely death. His companion, who scarcely reaches to his shoulder, has no such personal attractions as his friend, but the keen eye, broad forehead, and intellectual, studious face, command at once respect and attention.

"At what time is the train due?" asked Charles Herbert, taking out his watch.

"12.30," was the reply.

"Oh, then we have plenty of time to drop in at Queen's and asked Maurice about the boatrace. Hollo, old fellow, where are you going?" and the young officer looked at the offered hand of his friend with surprise.

"I ought not to intrude upon your friends on the very moment of their arrival, Herbert, so I'll say good-by now."

"Nonsense! I want you to know them; come, along, Wilton; you are not going to escape me in this way; and here comes Maurice, the very man I want. Who is that tall fellow with him?" he added hastily, in a low tone, as the two undergraduates approached, one of them with a pleased recognition of Charles and his friend.

"I'll introduce you if you like," had been Mr. Wilton's reply, and as the four gentlemen met and exchanged a friendly greeting, Charles found himself returning the bow of the stranger, who was being named to him as "Mr. Henry Halford, of Queen's."

"I think we have met before, Mr. Herbert," said Henry, with a smile, "we were fellow pupils at Dr. Mason's."

"To be sure, I thought the name was familiar," exclaimed Charles, holding out his hand, "but how was I to recognise our famous Grecian as a tall undergrad. with whiskers; but I remember the face now." And then the two gentlemen stood talking over olden times until Horace Wilton reminded Charles Herbert that he had but a few minutes to spare if he wished to reach the station in time to meet his friends, and persisting in wishing him "Good-by," started him off.

Hasty promises were made to meet on the morrow, hasty farewells uttered, and then Charles Herbert found himself proceeding alone at a rapid rate towards the station.

He had, however, several minutes to wait on the platform before the train slowly drew up, and then from a window of a first-cla.s.s carriage he recognised the bright, intelligent face of his cousin Mary.

In a few moments the door of the carriage was opened, and a proud, fond welcome from the son whom the mother had not seen for so many months almost brought tears in Mary's eyes.

"Are you tired? Shall we walk to the hotel, and leave the boxes for a porter to bring?" were the eager questions readily a.s.sented to at last, and then Charles Herbert, taking possession of his cousin's arm, led the way to his hotel.

Perhaps, to a stranger, no period of time at Oxford can be more fraught with interest than the week in which the yearly commemoration is held.

The town no doubt appears more dull by contrast during the long vacation, but in full term time the streets seem redolent of learning; the grave don walking with stately step, as if conscious how far above all other is the power conferred by knowledge and mental superiority; the severe-looking proctor, with his black velvet-trimmed gown adding to his appearance of stern, gloomy determination to be the punisher of evildoers; the youthful freshman, who wears his new honours with shy pride, contrasted with the careless indifference of his more experienced companion, who, carrying a number of musty-looking volumes under his arm, seems quite unconscious that his gown is in rags, or that the cane is visible at one or more corners of his cap.

The yearly commemoration at Oxford certainly presents a scene of excitement scarcely equalled, from the peculiar features of the place, the period, and the princ.i.p.al actors.

It is preceded by that terrible time when the aspirants for honours, shivering and pale, sit writing answers to questions of alarming difficulty, or replying with painful nervousness to their seemingly stern examiners, who sit or stand before them with covered heads.

This is followed by sickening suspense till the list of names decides their fate. Then the scene changes; books are laid aside, learning seems for a time ignored. The long vacation is about to commence; all is pleasure and gaiety.

Happy fathers, proud mothers, brothers, sisters, and cousins, occupy every habitable part of Oxford outside the college walls, submitting to any inconvenience that they may be present during the exciting week.

On the day of Mary's arrival with her aunt and uncle, several of the men who had been going through a terrible ordeal in the schools might be seen with pale and anxious faces wending their way to different colleges. But as Mary entered the High Street at Magdalen Bridge, the colleges on either side of the road, and the steeples in the distance so occupied her attention that she scarcely noticed any other object.

"What college is that?" she asked, as the beautiful but antique outline of Magdalen first met her view.

"I am not quite up in the wonders of Oxford yet," he replied, "although I have been here a week; but I can tell you the names of those before you. This is Magdalen College. A little higher on the right is Queen's; the one opposite is University. That church with the spire is St.

Mary's, the University Church; close to it All Soul's College, and----"

"Oh, stop," cried Mary, "if you have whole streets of colleges and churches in Oxford to describe, you must let me learn their names a few at a time, or I shall mix them all up together. Are those young men with caps and gowns clergymen?" she asked, suddenly.

"No, but what made you think so, Mary?"

"Because they have white ties, and others in the same dress have not."

"I am glad to be able to explain so far," he replied, laughing; "they have been pa.s.sing their examination in the schools, and at such an occasion, I am told, the white tie is a customary appendage. But, Mary, if you are bent upon understanding all the unusual things you see at Oxford, I must provide you with a more experienced guide than myself.

And here we are at the hotel," he added, as he stopped to wait for his parents, who were examining the buildings they pa.s.sed with almost as much eagerness and interest as Mary.

They turned into the hotel together, and in a very short time, after taking a hasty lunch, they sallied forth in the bright sunshine, bent upon exploring the wonders of a city so famed in ancient lore.

"We may as well begin with Magdalen College," said Charles, as they walked down the High Street, but on reaching Queen's, he suddenly paused, and saying, "Wait for me a moment," darted into the quadrangle, and disappeared among the cloisters.

In a few moments he returned in the company of a gentlemanly-looking man, in cap and gown, whom he introduced to the colonel and Mrs.

Herbert. Then turning to his cousin, he said--

"Mr. Maurice, my cousin Miss Armstrong has been already asking me so many questions about the manners, customs, and buildings of your famous university, that I shall be glad to place her in the charge of a more well-informed guide than myself."

The young man, who wore a bachelor's gown with its large sleeves, gladly but modestly accepted the charge so pleasantly made over to him. And Mary, though at first a little reserved, soon found it pleasant to have a companion who could answer her questions and give her unasked many interesting particulars. In the course of the afternoon they were joined by Mr. Wilton, Charles Herbert's friend, who proved himself a very valuable addition to the party.

And so Friday and Sat.u.r.day pa.s.sed away in sight-seeing, visits to the colleges, or attending afternoon service at New College and Magdalen; and yet Mary showed no signs of fatigue. Never in her life had she been more deeply interested; and although as _Show Sunday_ approached, the streets were filled with well-dressed people, her attention was not easily diverted. Sunday arrived, a bright June day, and in the evening a gathering took place in Christ Church meadows, singularly styled _Vanity Fair_. Fair ladies are certainly present on these occasions, but who would apply to them the term vanity, although they have literally come out to see and to be seen?

Show Sunday, as the Sunday before commemoration is termed, certainly presents a show very seldom seen in any other locality in England.

The most dignified of Oxford's learned magnates are there, accompanied by the ladies of their families and distinguished visitors.

Strings of gownsmen, arm-in-arm, parade the Long Walk, observing with a sort of good-natured envy their more favoured fellows, on whose arms lean some of the fairest and n.o.blest of England's daughters. And in almost every instance the promenaders of the gentler s.e.x are attired in that simple elegance of style which marks the well-bred woman of polished society. Into this novel and attractive scene Mary Armstrong was led by her cousin and Frank Maurice, upon whose arm she leaned.

Her uncle and aunt had continued their walk to the water side, but Charles and his friend detained her after the second turn in the Long Walk for another stroll through the broad promenade beneath the lofty elm trees.

Charles Herbert felt proud of the slight, graceful figure, so becomingly attired, by whom he walked. The simple, white dress, lace mantle, and blue silk bonnet were attractive from their simplicity, and more than one gownsman, who raised his cap to Frank Maurice, cast admiring eyes on the fair, intellectual face and n.o.ble features of the young lady by his side. Presently two gownsmen turned into the walk, and as they approached, one of them said to the other--