"Let us all come up-stairs," said Kennedy hastily and then, before them all, he drew Violet to his side, and said--

"Julian, Violet and I are betrothed to each other."

"As I thought," said Julian with a smile, as a rush of sudden emotion made his eyes glisten, and he warmly grasped Kennedy's hand.

"And as I hoped, Julian," said Mr Kennedy, as he turned away to wipe his spectacles, which somehow had grown dim.

The moonlight streamed over them as the two stood there together, young, happy, hopeful, beautiful, and while Cyril held Kennedy's hand, Eva and Violet exchanged a sister's kiss.

And Julian looked on with a glow of happiness--happiness that had one drawback only--a pa.s.sing shadow of sorrow for the possible feelings of De Vayne.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

ONLY A BLUSH.

"Erubuit! salva res est!"--Plautus.

Back from the glistening snow-fields, where every separate crystal flashes with a separate gleam of light--back from the Alpine pastures, embroidered with their tissue of innumerable flowers, over which, like winged flowers, the b.u.t.terflies flutter continually--back from the sunlit silver mantle of the everlasting hills, and the thunder of the avalanche, and the wild leap of the hissing cataract--back to the cold grey flats and ancient towers of Camford, and the lazy windings of the muddy Iscam, and the strife and struggle of a university career.

Kennedy arrived at Camford at mid-day, and as but few men had yet come up, he beguiled the time by going out to make the usual formal call on his tutor. As he pa.s.sed the door of the room where temptation had brought on him so many heavy hours, he could hardly repress an involuntary shudder; but on the whole, he was in high spirits, and Mr Grayson received him with something almost approaching to cordiality.

"You did very well in the examination, Mr Kennedy; very well indeed.

With diligence you might have been head of your year--as it was, you were in the first ten."

"Was Owen head of the year, sir?"

"No, Home was head; his brilliant composition, and thorough knowledge of the books, brought him to the top. Either he or Owen were first in all the papers except one."

"Which was that, sir?"

"The Aeschylus paper, in which you were first, Mr Kennedy; you did it remarkably accurately. If you had seen the paper, you could hardly have done it better."

"Indeed! Would you give me a library order, sir?" said Kennedy, rising abruptly, to change the subject. Mr Grayson was offended at this sudden change of subject, and, silently writing the order, bade Kennedy a cold "good morning." All that Kennedy hoped was that he would not tell others as well as himself, the odious fact of his success.

The thought damped his spirits, but he shook it off. The novelty of returning as a junior soph, the pleasure of meeting the familiar faces once more, the consciousness of that bright change of existence, which, during the past vacation, had bound the golden thread of Violet's destiny with his, filled him with inward exultation. And then there was real delight in the warmth with which he was greeted by all alike.

He found himself, very unexpectedly, a hero in the general estimation.

The romantic adventure on the Schilthorn had been rumoured about among the numerous English visitors to the Valley of Lauterbrunnen, until it had reached the editor of a local paper, and so had flowed through _Galignani_ into the general stream of the English journals. True, the names had been suppressed, but all the Saint Werner's men knew who was intended by "Mr K dash y," and as he entered the hall there was a murmur of applause.

He was greeted on all sides with eager questions.

"I say, Mr K dash y," said one, "did the fellow whom you shot die of his wound?"

"It was rather a chouse to shoot a cretin, though," said another, in chaff.

"I _didn't_ shoot him," said Kennedy.

"No, you very leerily managed to make the other fellow shoot him.

Preserve me from my friends, must have been his secret reflections."

"Have you kept the guns, Kennedy? You must let me have a look after hall."

While this kind of talk was going on, Brogten, who was nearly opposite to Kennedy, sat silent, and watched him.

He did not join in the remarks about the night adventure in Switzerland, but when there was a slight pause in the fire of questions, he turned the conversation to the subject of the May examination.

"Those are not your only triumphs, Kennedy, it appears. You seem to have been doing uncommonly well in the examination, too."

"Oh aye, you were in the first ten," said Suton; "Mr Grayson told me so."

"Who was first?" asked Lillyston.

"Oh, Home of course; except in one paper, and Kennedy was first in that."

"I believe that was the Aeschylus paper," said Brogten, throwing the slightest unusual emphasis into his tone; "you were first in that, weren't you, Kennedy?"

The men were surprised to hear Brogten address him with such careless familiarity, knowing the old quarrel that existed between them; and they were still more surprised to hear Brogten interest himself about a topic usually so indifferent to him as the result of an examination. It seemed particularly strange that he should give himself any trouble to inquire about the present list, because he himself had been _posted_, in company with Hazlet and Lord Fitzurse, _i e_, their names had been written up below the eighth cla.s.s, as "_unworthy to be cla.s.sed_."

"Was I?" said Kennedy in the most careless tone he could a.s.sume.

"Yes--really, didn't you know it? You did it so well that Grayson said, you _couldn't have done the paper better if you had seen it beforehand_."

"I say, Kennedy, you _must_ have come out swell, then," said D'Acres, "for Grayson said just the same thing to me."

"How very odd," said Brogten, affectedly. "You _didn't_ see the papers beforehand, Kennedy--did you?"

The last few moments had been torture to Kennedy; he had moved uneasily; the bright look of gratified triumph, which the allusions to his courage had called forth, had gone out the moment the examination was mentioned, and it was only by a painful and violent exercise of the will that he was able to keep back the blood which had begun to rush towards his cheeks. In the endeavour to check or suppress the blush, he had grown ashy pale; but now that Brogten's dark and cruel eye was upon him--now that the protruding underlip curled with a sneer that left no more room to doubt that he _was_ master of Kennedy's guilty secret--the effort was useless, and spite of will, the burning crimson of an uncontrollable shame burst and flashed over Kennedy's usually clear and open face. It was no ordinary blush--no common pa.s.sage of colour over the cheeks.

Over face, and neck, and brow the guilty blood seemed to be crowding tumultuously, and when it had filled every vein and fibre till it swelled, then the rich scarlet seemed to linger there as though it would never die away again, and if for an instant it began to fade, then the hidden thought sent new waves of hot agony in fresh pulses to supply its place. And all the while the conscious victim made matters worse by his attempts to seem unconcerned, until his forehead was wet with heavy perspiration. By that time the men had turned to other topics, and were talking about Bruce's laziness, and the utter manner in which he must have fallen off for his name to appear, as it had done, in the second cla.s.s; and, in course of time, Kennedy's face was as pale and cold as it before had burned and glowed.

And all this while, though he would not look--though he looked at his plate, and at the busts over his head, and the long portraits of Saint Werner's worthies on the walls, and on this side and on that--Kennedy knew full well that Brogten's eye had been on him from beginning to end, and that Brogten was enjoying, with devilish malignity, the sense of power which he had gained from the knowledge of another's sin. The thought was intolerable to him, and, finishing his dinner with hasty gulps, he left the hall.

"Brogten, how rude you were to Kennedy," said Lillyston.

"Was I?" said Brogten, in a tone of sarcasm and defiance.

"No wonder he blushed at your coa.r.s.e insinuations."

"No wonder," said Brogten, in the same tone; "am I the only person who makes coa.r.s.e insinuations, as you call them?"

"It is just like you to do so."

"Is it? Oh well, I shall have to make some more, perhaps, before I have done."

"Well, you'd better look out what you say to Kennedy, at any rate. He is a fiery subject."

"Thank you, I will."