"Now that I've slanged Belinda," murmured Lady Dashwood, "I've begun to think about my own short-comings."

"Nonsense, dear aunt," said May. "You are not accustomed to think about yourself; it must be a sign that you are not feeling well. I shall ring for Louise." May spoke in a bantering voice, but her eyes did not smile.

"For mercy's sake, don't," said Lady Dashwood.

The glow had faded from the roof of the college opposite, and had become grey and cold when May got up and took the little tea tray from her Aunt Lena's bed.

"Now, I've got just a few lines more to add to my letter to my old dear one," said Lady Dashwood. "Suppose you go down and see what's happening?"

"What's happening!" said May, but she did not ask a question, merely she repeated her aunt's words.

"Yes, dear," said Lady Dashwood. "What's happening. All sorts of things happen, you know; things go on! Please ring, I want Louise to clear away. Now, go down into the drawing-room and, if you see Jim, give him my love."

May went into the empty drawing-room and sat there till it grew dark, doing nothing. Robinson came in to make up the fire and draw the curtains. He apologised for his lateness, explaining that he did not think any one was in the drawing-room.

"Will you have dinner with 'er ladyship?" he asked, "or in the dining-room, m'm? The Warden is dining in 'all."

May walked to a little table and took up one of the books that were lying there.

"Upstairs, please, Robinson," she answered.

She began looking through the book, turning over the pages, but the print seemed unintelligible. She stood listening to Robinson's movements in the room. Then the door opened and the Warden came in and startled her so much that she dropped the book upon the table.

He was in his gown, just come back from chapel. He came some way into the room and stood at a little distance from her. She did not look at him, though she turned towards him in acknowledgment of his presence.

"Wasn't the sunset wonderful?" she said.

"It was a wonderful sunset!" he said.

Robinson was still busy in the room, and the Warden moved to the fireplace and stood looking as if he was undecided whether to stay or to go.

"I'm sorry I have to dine out this evening," said the Warden. "I have no choice in the matter, unfortunately."

"Of course," said May. "Please don't think of me. I have Aunt Lena to look after."

"You are very good to her," he said, and lingered for a moment.

Robinson was now going towards the door with his soft, light, though rather shambling movements.

The Warden moved towards the door too, and then stopped and said--

"There isn't anything I can do for you, any book I can lend you for this evening?"

"No, thanks very much," said May. "I have all I want," and she took up the book she had dropped with an air of wanting it very much, and went towards the chair she had been sitting in before Robinson disturbed her.

The Warden swung himself round. She could hear the sound of his robe against the lintel of the door as he went out and left her alone. He might have stayed a few minutes if he had wished! He didn't wish!

When she went to her Aunt Lena's bedroom, half an hour later, she found that he had been there, sitting with her and talking, and had gone five minutes ago. The Warden seemed to move like some one in a dream. He came and went and never stayed.

During dinner Lady Dashwood said, not a propos of anything--

"Your poor Uncle John is beginning to get restive, and I suppose I shall have to go back to him in a few days. Having done all the mischief that I could, I suppose it is time I should leave Oxford. Louise will be glad and Jim will be sorry, I am afraid. I haven't broken to him yet that my time is coming to an end. I really dread telling him. It was different when he was a college tutor--he had only rooms then. Now he has a house.

It's very dismal for him to be alone."

Here Lady Dashwood stopped abruptly and went on eating. About nine o'clock she professed to be ready "to be put to bed," and May, who had been knitting by her side, got up and prepared to leave her for the night.

As she kissed her she wondered why her Aunt Lena had never asked her how long she was going to stay. Why hadn't she told her after seeing the doctor, and got it over? The Warden knew and yet did not say a word, but that was different!

Should she tell her aunt now? She hesitated. No, it might perhaps make her wakeful. It would be better to give her nothing to think about.

There would be time to-morrow. She would tell her before breakfast, on the way downstairs. It would be giving her long enough notice if she put off her journey till the late afternoon. And there _was_ no need to leave on Monday till the late afternoon.

"You are going down into the drawing-room again?" said Lady Dashwood.

"Yes; you must sleep well, dear," said May, bending down and kissing her.

"Oh, very well," said Lady Dashwood, closing her eyes.

Later on disturbing thoughts came to her. Why had May ceased to show any emotion? Why had she become quiet and self-contained? That wasn't a good sign. And what about to-morrow? Did she mean to go? She had said nothing, but she might have made up her mind to go. And there was Jim going in and out and doing _nothing_! Oh, why couldn't the dear things see that they were made for one another? Why couldn't they go about mysterious, blown up with self-importance--and engaged?

When Louise came in she found her mistress still awake.

"Louise, before you settle me, see if Mrs. Dashwood has gone to bed.

Don't disturb her, of course."

"Bien, Madame," said Louise; and she left the room with the air of one who is going to fathom a mystery.

"What a nuisance Louise is," sighed Lady Dashwood, turning on her pillow. She did not turn her head again when Louise came back.

"Madame is not in her room," said Louise, in a voice of profound interest, and she waited to hear the result.

"Oh!" said Lady Dashwood, brightening a little. "Well, Louise, light a night light and leave it at the other end of the room, so that the light doesn't come on my face! I don't want to be in complete darkness or the Warden will not come in. He will think I am asleep."

"Madame will not sleep?" demanded Louise.

"Of course I shall sleep," said Lady Dashwood, and she began thinking again.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

A FAREWELL

When May went back again to the drawing-room she did not sit down immediately but walked round, taking up the books that were lying about.

Some she had read, and the book she had taken up by accident before dinner did not interest her. She took up one after another and read the t.i.tle, and then, seeing a small soft yellow volume full of verse, she carried it with her to her chair. She might be able to read and follow something slight; she could not concentrate herself on anything that needed thought.

She opened the volume. It was an anthology of Victorian verse. She began looking through it. She read and read--at least she turned over page after page, following the sense here and there. Books could not distract her from painful thoughts about herself; hard work with hands and eyes, work such as hers would be able to distract her. She was relying upon it to do so; she felt that her work was her refuge. She was thankful that she had a refuge--very thankful, and yet she was counting how many more hours she still had before her in Oxford. There she showed her weakness; she knew that every hour in Oxford meant pain, and yet she did not want to go away! At last she had turned over all the pages and had come to the last page. There her eyes were caught, and they held on to some printed words. She read! The words were like the echo of a voice, a voice that thrilled her even in memory!