"here we are now," said maggie oliphant, touching her young companion; "we are in good time; this is the outer chapel. yes, i know all that you are thinking, but you need not speak; i did not want to speak the first time i came to st. hilda's. just follow me quickly. i know this verger; he will put us into two stalls; then it will be perfect."
"yes," answered priscilla. she spoke in an awed kind of voice. the cool effect of the dark oak, combined with the richness of the many shafts of colored light coming from the magnificent windows, gave her own face a curious expression. was it caused by emotion or by the strange lights in the chapel?
maggie glanced at her, touched her hand for a moment and then hurried forward to her seat.
the girls were accommodated with stalls just above the choir. they could read out of the college prayer-books and had a fine view of the church.
the congregation streamed in, the choir followed; the doors between the chapel and ante-chapel were shut, the curtains were dropped and the service began.
there is no better musical service in england than that which sunday after sunday is conducted at st. hilda's chapel at kingsdene. the harmony and the richness of the sounds which fill that old chapel can scarcely be surpassed. the boys send up notes clear and sweet as nightingales into the fretted arches of the roof; the men's deeper notes swell the music until it breaks on the ears in a full tide of perfect harmony; the great organ fills in the breaks and pauses. this splendid service of song seems to reach perfection. in its way earth cannot give anything more perfect.
maggie oliphant did not come very often to st. hilda's. at one time she was a constant worshiper there, but that was a year ago, before something happened which changed her. then sunday after sunday two lovely girls used to walk up the aisle side by side. the verger knew them and reserved their favorite stalls for them. they used to kneel together and listen to the service, and, what is more, take part in it.
but a time came when one of the girls could never return to st. hilda's and the other, people said, did not care to sit in the old seat without her. they said she missed her friend and was more cut up than any one else at the sudden death of one so fair and lovely.
when maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than one person turned to look at her with interest.
maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with a drooping plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fair face shone in the midst of these surroundings like an exquisite flower.
the service went on. during the prayers maggie wept, but, when a great wave of song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; her voice rose with the other singers, clear, sweet and high. her soul seemed to go up on her voice, for all the sadness left her face; her eyes looked jubilant.
prissie had never been in any place like st. hilda's before. it had been one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at exeter, but year after year this desire of hers had been put off and put off, and this was the first time in her life that she had ever listened to cathedral music. she was impressed, delighted, but not overpowered.
"the organ is magnificent," she said to herself, "but not grander than the sea. the sea accompanies all the service at the dear little old church at home."
people met and talked to one another in the green quadrangle outside the chapel. several other st. benet girls had come to the afternoon service. among them was miss day and that fair, innocent-looking little girl, rosalind merton.
miss day and miss merton were together. they were both stepping back to join maggie and prissie, when a tall, dark young man came hastily forward, bowed to rosalind merton, and, coming up to maggie oliphant, shook hands with her.
"i saw you in chapel," he said. "are you coming to the marshall's to tea?"
"i am. let me introduce to you my friend, miss peel. miss peel, this is mr. hammond."
hammond raised his hat to prissie, said a courteous word to her and then turned to speak again to maggie.
the three walked through the gates of the quadrangle and turned up the narrow, picturesque high street. it would soon be dusk; a wintry light was over everything. rosalind merton and miss day followed behind. maggie, who was always absorbed with the present interest, did not heed or notice them, but priscilla heard one or two ill-bred giggles.
she turned her head with indignation and received scornful glances from both girls. the four met for a moment at a certain corner. maggie said something to annie day and introduced mr. hammond to her. as she did so, rosalind took the opportunity to come up to priscilla and whisper to her:
"you're not wanted, you know. you had much better come home with us."
"what do you mean?" replied prissie in her matter-of-fact voice. "miss oliphant has asked me to go with her to the marshalls'."
"oh, well— if you care to be in the——" resumed rosalind.
maggie suddenly flashed round on her.
"come, miss peel, we'll be late," she said. "goodby." she nodded to rosalind; her eyes were full of an angry fire; she took prissie's hand and hurried down the street.
the two girls walked away, still giggling; a deep color mantled maggie's cheeks. she turned and began to talk desperately to mr. hammond. her tone was flippant; her silvery laughter floated in the air. priscilla turned and gazed at her friend. she was seeing maggie in yet another aspect. she felt bewildered.
the three presently reached a pleasant house standing in its own grounds. they were shown into a large drawing-room, full of young people. mrs. marshall, a pretty old lady, with white hair, came forward to receive them. maggie was swept away amid fervent embraces and handshakes to the other end of the room. mrs. marshall saw that priscilla looked frightened; she took her under her wing, sat down by her on a sofa and began to talk.
prissie answered in a sedate voice. mrs. marshall had a very gentle manner. prissie began to lose her shyness; she almost imagined that she was back again with aunt raby.
"my dear, you will like us all very much," the old lady said. "no life can be so absolutely delightful as that of a girl graduate at st. benet's. the freedom from care, the mixture of study with play, the pleasant social life, all combine to make young women both healthy and wise. ah, my love, we leave out the middle of the old proverb. the girls at st. benet's are in that happy period of existence when they need give no thought to money-making."
"some are," said prissie. she sighed and the color rushed into her cheeks. mrs. marshall looked at her affectionately.
"helen," she called to her granddaughter who was standing near, "bring miss peel another cup of tea— and some cake, helen— some of that nice cake you made yesterday. now, my love, i insist. you don't look at all strong. you really must eat plenty."
helen marshall supplied prissie's wants, was introduced to her, and, standing near, joined in the talk.
"i am so glad you know miss oliphant," said mrs. marshall. "she will make a delightful friend for you."
"and isn't she lovely?" said helen marshall. "i don't think i know any one with such a beautiful face. you ought to be very proud to have her as a friend. aren't you very proud?"
"no," said prissie, "i don't know that i am. i am not even sure that she is my friend."
"of course she is— she wrote most affectionately of you to grandmother. you can't think how nicely she spoke. we were glad, we were delighted, because maggie— dear maggie— has had no great friends lately. now, if you have had your tea, miss peel, i'll take you about the room and introduce you to one or two people."
priscilla rose from her seat at once, and the two girls began to move about the crowded drawing-room. helen marshall was very slight and graceful; she piloted prissie here and there without disturbing any one's arrangements. at last the two girls found themselves in an immense conservatory, which opened into the drawing-room at one end.
a great many of the guests were strolling about here. priscilla's eyes sparkled at the sight of the lovely flowers. she forgot herself and made eager exclamations of ecstasy. helen, who up to now had thought her a dull sort of girl, began to take an interest in her.
"i'll take you into our fern-house, which is just beyond here," she said. "we have got such exquisite maidenhairs and such a splendid killarney fern. come; you shall see."
the fern-house seemed to be deserted. helen opened the door first and ran forward. prissie followed. the fern-house was not large; they had almost reached the end when a girl stood up suddenly and confronted them. the girl was maggie oliphant. she was sitting there alone. her face was absolutely colorless and tears were lying wet on her eyelashes.
maggie made a swift remark, a passing jest, and hurried past the two into the conservatory.
priscilla could scarcely tell why, but at that moment she lost all interest in both ferns and flowers. the look of misery on maggie's face seemed to strike her own heart like a chill.
"you look tired," said helen marshall, who had not noticed maggie's tearful eyes.
"perhaps i am," answered prissie.
they went back again into the drawing-room. prissie still could see nothing but miss oliphant's eyes and the look of distress on her pale face.
helen suddenly made a remark.
"was there ever such a merry creature as maggie?" she said. "do look at her now."
prissie raised her eyes. miss oliphant was the center of a gay group, among whom geoffrey hammond stood. her laugh rang out clear and joyous; her smile was like sunshine, her cheeks had roses in them and her eyes were as bright as stars.
