Lucius was rowing bow in the Third Trinity boat, and his quiet confidence that Third were a better crew than First exasperated Mr.

Binney, who wouldn't hear of it.

"Don't talk such nonsense," he said in an annoyed tone, when Lucius ventured to advance the opinion that Third would finish head of the river and First second. "We shall row away from you, and catch the Hall at Ditton on the first night."

"We shall see," said Lucius calmly.

"No, we shall not see, sir," said Mr. Binney angrily. "I mean we _shall_ see. And we shall see that I am right." He had quite recovered his bombastic tone, only he had learnt by bitter experience to quell it, except when addressing his son, who was too good-tempered to resent it.

Betty, of course, showed the utmost interest in the prospects of the Third Trinity crew. She was delighted when she heard that they were to row behind the boat which was to be steered by Mr. Binney, for she still maintained a deep-rooted prejudice against her future father-in-law, in spite of the welcome he had given her as Lucius's intended bride. "If they b.u.mp them, and I see it," she said to one of her friends, the girl from whom she had won the box of chocolate creams, "I think I shall scream with joy. Oh, won't cousin Peter's face be worth seeing when he has to hold up his hand and acknowledge he has been beaten. I'd give worlds to see it."

"You show a very vindictive spirit," said her friend.

Mr. Binney's time was fully occupied between putting the finishing touches to his reading, and his work on the river. He had almost entirely dropped out of the social side of University life. Although his wings had been clipped, and he would now have been a quite harmless companion, the men with whom he might have a.s.sociated, had he behaved differently when he first came up, still looked rather shyly on him; and he had entirely dropped the society of men like Howden, for he had learnt such a lesson that he would have been almost frightened of results if one of them had even come into his rooms. Indeed, the poor little man led a very dull life, and when he had time to think about it, on Sundays perhaps, or for half-an-hour after his work was done, and before he went to bed, he often asked himself what was the use of his staying up at Cambridge at all, since so much of what he had hoped to gain from the place seemed to have been an illusive dream. He had lost his Martha, at any rate for the present, and in his moments of insight he could not disguise from himself the fact that he was unpopular, although he endeavoured to carry off the conviction with an added b.u.mptiousness of manner which did not endear him to those with whom he came in contact. He would probably have made up his mind to leave Cambridge after this term, when he would have pa.s.sed one examination and attained to a considerable measure of success on the river, but one consideration deterred him. He hoped to be chosen to steer the University boat in the following spring, and on the chance of having that ambition realised he would have stayed on at Cambridge if everyone in the place had cut him.

June came and brought the roses, and with them the anxieties of Triposes and all the mult.i.tude of lesser examinations. Mr. Binney went in for the Little-go. All day long he sat at a narrow desk in the Corn Exchange, that cla.s.sical building which the University of Cambridge periodically hires for the purpose of putting her sons through their facings, and wrote a.s.siduously, only leaving off now and again to gaze up at the roof with an expression of agonised effort, or to rest his brain for a minute by idly reading the names on the corn dealers'

lockers which lined the walls. On these occasions he would find his thoughts wandering off to business affairs, for the corn dealers' names meant considerably more to Mr. Binney than to the other few hundred undergraduates who attained a short-lived familiarity with them during those few days of effort. But when he found his thoughts slipping he would bring them back with a frown and wrestle eagerly with his translations and his problems, for the card nailed on to the desk before him reminded him that he was "Binney of Trinity," and that Peter Binney of the Whitechapel Road must be ignored at least for the next few days.

The examination lasted from the beginning of the week until Friday, and the May races began on that day. The hotels and lodgings throughout the town gradually filled up with ladies, old and young, plain and pretty, amiable and perhaps ill-tempered, although the smiling faces one met in all the streets might have given the impression that all the bad-tempered ladies had been left at home. But Mr. Binney took very little notice of the change. By day he slaved in the Corn Exchange.

After his afternoon's work was over he went out with his crew on the river. In the evening he looked up his subjects for the following day and went to bed early with his mind full of books and boats. Even Mrs.

Higginbotham retired into the background of his mind, and other things were forgotten entirely. By the time the examination was over Mr.

Binney was rather despondent. He had done fairly well, but not so well as he had expected. But he remembered a saying of his coach: "If you think you have done _rather_ badly you may have done well. If you think you have done _very_ badly, you probably have." He knew he had not done very badly, so he took heart, dismissed the Little-go from his mind entirely, and threw himself heart and soul into antic.i.p.ations of success in the races. We have already described the gay scene on the river bank at Ditton Corner in the May races, and one b.u.mping race is very much like another; so the experiences of Mr. Binney, when he had steered in the previous Lent races, were not unlike those he underwent in the Mays. Of course he was now in a much more important position, and his appearance in the c.o.xswain's seat of the First Trinity boat, as the First Division rowed down to the starting-point, never failed to cause a flutter of amus.e.m.e.nt and inquiry to go through the waiting crowd at Ditton Corner, which brought a blush to the cheek of Betty Jermyn, who was generally to be found in a boat or on the bank, in a position from which she could see everything that was going on.

She did not waste much time, however, on the contemplation of Mr.

Binney, in his dark blue coat and speckled straw hat, for in the bows of the boat just in front of him, as they rowed down in reversed order, was a slim muscular figure whose eyes eagerly sought the crowded ranks of the onlookers as the crews rested for a minute on their oars before they went swinging round the bend to their stations. Betty was very proud of her lover then, for even her inexperienced eyes could see that the grace and ease with which he rowed were something to be admired, and poor little Mr. Binney sank still lower in her esteem as he gave the words of command "Get ready all! Forward all! Are you ready?

Paddle!" which was the signal for his boat to move on.

On the first night of the races there was no change in the position of the three head boats. Third Trinity drew up to First at Ditton Corner, but then fell away and finished at about their distance. First Trinity gained on the Hall, but never got within a length of them. Mr. Binney steered with great judgment, and was told that he could not have done better, but he was disappointed at not catching the head boat and a little alarmed at Third Trinity having come so close to them during the early part of the race.

"They always bustle up like that at first," said Mirrilees, to whom he confided his tremors. "We shall keep away from them all right, and I hope we shall catch the Hall to-morrow."

Mr. Binney was comforted, but on the next night Third not only got to within a length of them at Gra.s.sy Corner but hustled them right up the Long Reach and very nearly caught them at the railway bridge. This pursuit seemed, however, to have increased their own pace, for it drove them right on to Trinity Hall, whom they very nearly succeeded in b.u.mping. All three boats pa.s.sed the winning post overlapping, but if Mr. Binney had made a shot at the head boat he would almost certainly have missed it, and the boat behind would almost as certainly have run into them.

He was warmly congratulated on his presence of mind by the Captain, but he went home to his rooms by no means at ease, for he now saw plainly that Third Trinity were just as likely to b.u.mp First as First Trinity were to catch Trinity Hall. He was as keenly anxious as any member of his crew to go head of the river, and he felt that not only to fail in that object but to be taken down a place instead would be more than he could bear.

It was characteristic of Mr. Binney, as may already have been gathered, to throw himself heart and soul into what he happened to be doing for the moment. He had entirely dismissed all thoughts of his late examination from his mind, and even Mrs. Higginbotham scarcely entered his thoughts during the whole of the next day, which was a Sunday, as he walked or sat and went over, in his mind all the events of the last two races and the probabilities of those that were to come. He was alone all day, for he now had very few friends, and Sunday was for Lucius a happy day spent mostly in Betty's charming society. So Mr.

Binney brooded, and by-and-bye dark thoughts began to enter his mind.

During the progress of Sat.u.r.day's race, when First Trinity had been chased all the way up the Long Reach by Third, Mr. Binney had cast one fleeting glance behind him, and had seen the little indiarubber ball on the nose of the Third Trinity boat within a few inches of his own rudder, while the back of his son was swinging regularly and steadily behind it. An unreasoning anger and jealousy had taken hold of his mind. It was as much as he could do to prevent himself from shouting out to Lucius to ask him where he was coming to. It seemed to him an intolerable thing that he should be prevented from gaining something that he wanted by the action of his own son, and the more he thought of it the more intolerable it seemed. He had only to say a word to Lucius, and Third Trinity would keep away from him, for it was quite certain that if one man in the boat "sugared" they would have no chance of making a b.u.mp.

Should he say that word? That was the black thought that held Mr.

Binney in its grip during the whole of that pleasant June Sunday, when Cambridge was full of life and gaiety, and he only wandered about lonely and distraught. It would not be sportsman-like behaviour certainly, but Mr. Binney had not been brought up to be a sportsman, and the iniquity of the proceeding did not strike him very forcibly.

It also never entered his head that Lucius would disobey his behests if he brought pressure to bear on him. Lucius was entirely dependent on his father, and could be threatened with being immediately taken away from Cambridge if he refused to do what he was told. Mr. Binney had worried himself into such a fever of desire that he could not bring himself to look upon his possible defeat with the slightest equanimity.

He would have preferred that his boat should go head of the river on the merits of its crew, but rather than not go head at all, he was prepared to take any steps that would bring about what he desired.

But the morning light happily brought better counsels. He dismissed his half-formed intention of tampering with a member of the Third Trinity crew, and went down to the river with renewed hopes.

The First Trinity men rowed like heroes and got up to the head boat at Ditton Corner. Third were pressing them hard, but lost a little by bad steering.

The shouts from the bank were deafening. Mr. Binney lost his head and made shot after shot. If he had waited, his crew would have made their b.u.mp. But in the meantime they lost ground, and Third was creeping up again.

Mr. Binney turned round in his seat and saw a long sharp point with a little ball at the end of it dancing gaily past his rudder. Behind it was the back of his son, swinging regularly.

"Keep off!" roared Mr. Binney, and made another dab at the Head boat.

Then he turned round again. The little ball was within reach of him, and behind it was Lucius rowing more vigorously than ever. Mr. Binney was aware of the ball and the back, and nothing else in all the world.

He lost his head completely and turned round in his seat, half rising, pulling his right rudder line, and so crammed his boat right on to the high bank under the tow-path.

"Catch a crab, or you go down to-morrow," he shrieked to Lucius.

The next moment, he could never recall how, he found himself floundering in the river, in an inextricable confusion of boats, oars, and shouting, struggling humanity. He could not swim. As he rose to the surface the blade of an oar hit him on the head. He went down again, and gave himself over, but when he came up the second time he felt himself grasped by the collar of his blazer. "Don't kick!" gasped the voice of his son. "I'll get you out."

When he was hauled on to the tow-path, panting and dripping, he turned round on Lucius in a fury: "What do you mean by it? It was your fault," he shrieked. "You'll go down! you'll go down!"

Mirrilees, dripping from head to foot, with a slimy weed clinging round his leg, shouldered his way through the crowd.

"Hold your tongue, you little beast, or I'll pitch you into the river again," he said.

Other things happened to Mr. Binney that evening, of which he does not now speak--some of them on his way to the First Trinity boat-house, some of them when he got there, others as he made his way for the last time to his rooms in Jesus Lane, and others again before he found himself in the train on his way to London, having shaken the dust of Cambridge from his feet for ever.

The next night Third Trinity b.u.mped Trinity Hall and went head of the river. First Trinity were badly steered by the c.o.xswain who had been put into Mr. Binney's place, and succ.u.mbed to Jesus.

CHAPTER XVII

MR. BINNEY DRINKS THE HEALTH OF A "BLUE"

Nine months had pa.s.sed and the nipping March winds were raising the dust and numbing noses and finger-tips in London, while March sunshine was bringing out daffodils and primroses in the country. It was very cold on the river Thames between Putney and Mortlake, but the sun was shining brightly, and a little party on the deck of a steamer, which was making its way with other similar craft to a station near Barnes Bridge, seemed to be quite unaffected in spirits by the keen east wind, for it was the morning of the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. The party on the steamer were all interested in the prospects of one University, but the two crews were so equal that none of the sporting critics had ventured to prophesy the winner in clear and unmistakable terms, and everybody looked forward to seeing one of the best races that had been rowed for years.

Surely that short but erect figure, standing in the bows, with a First Trinity scarf showing above the collar of its overcoat and the ruddy glow of health in its cheeks, can belong to no one but Mr. Peter Binney, late of Trinity College, Cambridge! And that ample comfortable form on the seat beside him with a fur-lined cloak and a close-fitting bonnet, well-secured against the wind, must be that of his true and loyal wife, Martha Binney, relict of the late Matthew Higginbotham.

Here also are the Reverend Dr. Toller with his wife and daughter, for Mr. Binney still lives in Russell Square, and is once more a valued and important official in the doctor's congregation. Here also are Mr. and Mrs. Jermyn with their son and daughter, the latter attended by the loquacious Dizzy, while John Jermyn sticks close to the side of Nesta Toller, rather to the dismay of Mrs. Jermyn, who, charitable woman as she is, has not taken kindly to that young lady's mother, and is not at all anxious that this acquaintanceship which has been made under Mr.

Binney's hospitable roof should develop into intimacy. There are other people on the boat which has been chartered by Mr. Binney for the entertainment of his friends, but we need not concern ourselves with them. There is one very important person, however, of those with whom our story has concerned itself, who is not to be found there. Surely Lucius, and not Dizzy, entertaining as that gentleman's conversation is, should be found by the side of Betty Jermyn! And by her side Lucius certainly would be, if duty and honour did not call him elsewhere. For Lucius has occupied the bow seat of the Cambridge boat ever since they went into practice, and is even now, as Mr. Binney's steamer makes its way up the crowded river, preparing to help launch the frail sh.e.l.l which all those in whom we are interested confidently hope will soon bear him to victory.

Mr. and Mrs. Peter Binney are alone for a time in the bows of the steamer. Let us join them, and listen to their conversation.

"See what an interest the world takes in this historic contest," Mr.

Binney is saying, waving his hand round towards the river dotted with craft all moving the same way, and the banks lined with a dense, holiday-making ma.s.s. "It makes you proud of being able to call yourself a 'Varsity man."

"Yes, indeed," answers his wife. "And to think of Lucius actually taking part in it! I feel as proud as anything of the dear boy."

"So do I," says Mr. Binney heartily. "There was a time when I should have been jealous of him. But that is all over and done with. I've put such things behind me. Here am I, settled down comfortably with a devoted and charming wife. I can take life gratefully now as it comes, and be just as proud of my boy distinguishing himself as if I had done it myself."

"That's the way to look at it, Peter," says Mrs. Binney. "We made a mistake in thinking it was necessary for you to go to Cambridge in order to keep young. It's love that keeps the heart young, and so we've found, haven't we?"

"Indeed we have, Martha," says Mr. Binney. "Ah! Shall I ever forget what you did for me in that dark time of illness and remorse? Shall I ever forget reaching home that morning, racked with anguish at the thought of the ingrat.i.tude I had displayed towards my n.o.ble-hearted son, and the remembrance of the awful punishment I had received for my rash folly? How I sat indoors brooding over the past, feeling wretched and miserable, without hope or comfort. How the next day I was too ill to get up, and by night time was mercifully beyond the reach of my remorseful thoughts, because of the severe attack of pneumonia, which the exposure and distress I had gone through had brought on. How I lay for days, tossing and burning on a couch of misery, and woke at last to find your cool hand stilling the throbbing of my burning brain, and your angel voice falling in words of balm on my distressed and fevered spirit.

"Yes, dear," says his wife as Mr. Binney pauses for breath, "and then you soon got better, didn't you?"