"Do you know what my aim in life is?" said Belle at last. "I will whisper it to you; but not even to Marjorie or Eileen have I yet confided it."

"I will respect your secret, and I am very glad you are going to tell me," replied Leslie, for she thought to herself that nothing would do this queer girl more good than to have a confidante.

"Well," continued Belle, "my mother is fairly well off-of course not nearly so rich as the Chetwynds; but as I am her only child, she gives me plenty of money for my own personal use. Quite apart from the fees and general expenses of the college, I receive twenty-five pounds a term. Now, I have managed since I came here to spend something under five pounds a term, therefore I have already a nice little sum put by.

In that humble little desk there lies in notes and gold over eighty pounds. I will show you my little bank."

She jumped up hastily, unlocked her desk, and taking out a canvas bag, poured the contents into her lap.

"My savings," she cried; "what I have secured in place of flowers, in place of cocoa-parties, in place of luxurious furniture, in place of the fal-lals and prettinesses which take the tone out of life. Do you know what this money is the nest-egg for?"

"Some good purpose, I am sure," replied Leslie.

"An excellent purpose. I mean by and by to found a nunnery on a new line. A college after Tennyson's idea will be realized by me, where those girls who wish to devote themselves wholly and completely to study shall live their lives. I shall begin my house of learning in a humble cottage. I shall take in my girl residents on the cheapest terms. The house will be small, the furniture of the plainest, the food just what is sufficient to sustain life. I could keep a niche for you if you signified your wish at an early date."

"Thank you," answered Leslie, rising as she spoke, "but I could not accept it. My work will be in the midst of the busy world-not in any hermitage. Belle, you have a great deal in you; but you are mistaken on many points. You need some lessons in life--"

"Oh, don't, don't," said Belle, putting her fingers to her ears. "This visit has been so refreshing, and I like you so much: but don't spoil it by an inopportune and ineffectual lecture. Go away, take your beautiful face out of my sight; don't haunt me with it a moment longer. It is possible that I may see it to-night instead of the pure, pale lineament of Spenser's Faerie Queene-instead of Dante's Beatrice-instead of the divine Althea in Richard Lovelace's matchless verses. Good-by, good-by."

Leslie went to the door, and Belle saw her off.

In some wonder, and feeling almost dazed by her recent conversation, she returned to her own room in North Hall.

Just half an hour before dinner Annie walked in. She entered the room briskly, greeted Leslie with a hard and yet excited laugh, and, tossing off her hat, seated herself on the side of her sofa-bed.

"I had a good day in town," she exclaimed. "What are you staring at me for?"

"I am sorry. I did not know I was staring at you," answered Leslie. "I am glad you are back again; but why did you not tell me this morning that you were going to town?"

"And why should I tell you? I never knew that I was obliged to make confidences to you. Well, I don't want to say anything offensive now; and I am in good spirits, very good indeed. I had to go to town on urgent business. It was necessary to get Miss Lauderdale's leave. She was kind enough to forgive me for my apparent rudeness of last night, and also to give me the necessary permission to spend to-day in London."

"I am rather surprised," answered Leslie; "but of course, as you say, it is not my affair."

"It certainly is not, and I trust you won't interfere further in the matter. Keep your own counsel, that is all I ask of you."

As Annie spoke she started up, removing her jacket, and, going to her toilet table, began to arrange her fuzzy locks. With brush in hand she turned round and looked at Leslie.

"I am sorry I have been rude to you of late," she said: "but the fact is, I was so worried I scarcely knew what I was doing. I don't pretend for a moment that you have not been good to me, very good; now it is my turn to be good to you. I shall make myself as cheerful and pleasant as I can in the future. I shan't slave so hard over books either. I have found out for myself that much study is a weariness to the flesh. But there, I am much better this evening, much better."

Leslie did not make any reply. A moment or two later the girls went down to dinner together. At dinner, Annie, contrary to her wont, talked not only with Leslie but with the other girls who sat near. She laughed a good deal, described some of her adventures in town in a spirited manner, and was to all appearance in the best of spirits. Leslie, as she watched her, could not help wondering if she had got the money she wanted so badly. She hated to follow Annie with her eyes, and yet the thought of her and her trouble was never really absent from her mind.

Leslie was engaged to attend a cocoa-party at West Hall that evening; but even there she could not get Annie out of her head. When between ten and eleven that night she returned to her own room, Annie had already gone to bed and was fast asleep. Leslie gave a sigh of relief as she watched her in this peaceful slumber.

The next day, immediately after lunch, as Annie and Leslie were both engaged over their respective tasks, a servant came up and knocked at the door. She brought in a card on a salver.

"A gentleman is downstairs, Miss Gilroy," she said. "He wants to know if he can see you?"

Leslie took up the card and read the name: "Mr. Charles Parker." She uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Annie, who was buried, not in her studies but in a novel, did not even look up; and Leslie, saying she would see the gentleman immediately, left the room.

She ran quickly downstairs to the common room, where her visitor was waiting for her.

"This is very kind of you, Mr. Parker," she said, holding out her hand to him; "but I trust nothing is wrong at home?"

"Nothing whatever, young lady, and I am delighted to see you," replied that individual, rubbing his hands and looking affectionately and yet with anxiety at Leslie.

"It was good of you to come to see me," said Leslie, "and of course I am ever so pleased. When did you see mother last?"

"Three or four days ago. All the young 'uns are doing well, and your mother looks, if I may use the word, blooming. She is not working quite so hard. By the way, Miss Leslie, I have a great respect for that fine young brother of yours, Llewellyn; he has the right stuff in him. I am only biding my time to give him a leg up."

"But I don't think Llewellyn means to take a leg up, as you call it, from anyone; he is very independent, Mr. Parker."

"Aye, aye; but there are ways and means of helping an honest lad, and I am not the one to shirk my duty. But now, Miss Leslie, I have come down here because I am a little alarmed with regard to you."

"A little alarmed with regard to me! What can you mean?" said Leslie.

"Let us go out somewhere," said Mr. Parker. "Somehow it seems to me that these walls may have ears, and there are such a lot of girls coming and going. So this is what you call a college, is it?"

"This is one of the houses of residence at St. Wode's College," replied Leslie. "The college and lecture-rooms themselves are in a separate building; but of course we attend a great many lectures at the men's halls."

"Very improper, indeed, young lady; but if it's the fashion, why, I can't say a word. In my time such an opportunity for indiscriminate flirtation--"

"Oh, we none of us dream of flirting," said Leslie with a laugh; "and then we are properly chaperoned, you know. I a.s.sure you the thing is most correct and proper."

"Well, I'll take your word for it, though I don't quite believe it all the same. When pretty girls are about, and young men to the fore, we always know what that sort of thing means."

"You ought to come here for a time, Mr. Parker; seeing is believing."

"Not I, not I, young lady. Do you think I'd mix myself up in a mare's nest of this sort? No, no; but I am bound to believe the words of a pretty girl like yourself."

"Would you really care to go for a walk, Mr. Parker?"

"Yes, Miss Leslie. I have got something to say, something not too pleasant either, but which of course you must be in a manner prepared for." Here Mr. Parker tried to fix Leslie with his eyes. She gazed up at him in astonishment. He sighed and felt himself coloring.

"You remind me of my own girl," he said. "You don't know what a keen pleasure it is to me to do anything for you on that account; but there, time presses, and I must go back by the five-o'clock train."

"Well, I will just get my hat. I am most anxious to know how you can possibly have heard bad news of me."

"She does not look a bit like it," muttered the merchant to himself as Leslie ran out of the room.

CHAPTER XXI

WHAT IS UP?

Mr. Parker and Leslie went in the direction of the river. They walked slowly down the towing-path. Several of the college girls were out in their different boats. Leslie began to remark about them. The merchant held up his hand to stop her.

"We will discuss the beauties of nature and the beauty of those fair companions of yours later on," he remarked. "But first of all I want to talk over the very important matter which has brought me here to-day.