Godfrey Marten, Undergraduate Part 43

"You will like it when you get there, and for this summer you can manage to do enough history to keep up what you know. I will help you as much as I can."

"Why can't I be allowed for once to like a thing in the place where I want to like it?" I asked, and I nearly told him that environment was everything, but he did not like those profound statements any better than I did. I only saw The Bradder really nasty to one man, and he had been fool enough to say that the reason why he cut his lectures was because the whole atmosphere of Oxford was against work, which really was a sickening sort of excuse.

My attempts to get help from The Bradder failed, and as soon as I had worked myself up into a rage he began to laugh.

So after one night at home I started to Germany and my people went to Oxford for "Commem" on the same day, which was a most topsy-turvy state of things. Nina promised to write to me, but I did not expect anything from her except postcards. I was, however, mistaken, for she wrote me a kind of "Oxford day by day," which I, struggling with a strange language in a strange land, was very glad to have. I don't know whether The Bradder taught her to refer to the Vice-Chancellor as the "Vice-Chuggins," but in her description of the Encaenia that most important gentleman was certainly not mentioned with the respect which I consider that people, who don't belong to Oxford, ought to feel for him. In fact Nina succeeded in catching the Oxford language so badly that she told me that my father had been having "indijuggers," and I am sure that he would have had a worse attack if he had known what Nina called it. I am sorry to say that she treated the Encaenia in a very light and airy way, though some most mightily distinguished men were receiving honorary degrees at the function.

"I like the Sheldonian because it is so round," she wrote to me, "but I was not impressed by the Encaenia. The area of the theatre was reserved for the dons, who wore what I believe you call academic dress, but they did not look as if they had room enough to be comfortable. I sat in a gallery with a lot of people, and there was a man, who somebody told me was a Pro-proctor--at any rate he wore robes and looked, I thought, rather nice--to keep order. You do mix up things queerly at Oxford; some of the jokes which were made were really not very funny, and mother was afraid that some one might be offended. She was quite nervous. I liked the Public Orator, who seemed to me to be introducing the people who were to receive honorary degrees to the Vice-Chuggins, and I was sorry for the University prizemen, who wore evening dress and had to read out their prize poems and things. I couldn't hear a word the Public Orator said, but perhaps that was because I had a man near me who made jokes all the time and a bevy of relatives kept up a chorus of giggles. Mr. Bradfield had to go to luncheon afterwards at All Souls. I met Mr. Ward in the Turl yesterday; he was only up for two or three hours, and I thought he said he was going to coach. I am sure he said something about coaching, and as I remembered how fond he was of horses I thought he was going for a driving tour. But it turned out that he was going to read with somebody; very silly of me. Do you remember when he jumped into the 'Cher'? It seems ages ago. Mr.

Bradfield punts splendidly, we all like him very much, and father has dined with the Warden, who had toothache and hardly spoke all the evening. Most unfortunate. We are going to the 'Varsity match, and Mr. Bradfield says that Fred is the best bat and captain you have had for ages. I believe mother nearly fainted with delight when she heard this. Mr. Bradfield dances as well as you do."

The next letter Nina wrote was full of The Bradder's perfections, but in the following one he was scarcely mentioned, and my mother, who had never seen Oxford in June, was so delighted with everything that she did not tell me much about anybody. Still I could not help wondering what had happened, for Nina was not usually reticent without a reason.

CHAPTER XXIII

OUR LAST YEAR

Fred did not have the satisfaction of seeing his eleven beat Cambridge, but there had not been such a close finish in a 'Varsity match for nearly twenty years, and Nina said the excitement was really painful.

"I was quite glad when it was over," she wrote to me. "Mother never spoke for quite half-an-hour, and Mr. Bradfield nearly ruined his hat by constantly taking it off and putting it on again. I warned him that he was spoiling it, but he said that such a finish was worth a hat.

And we lost in the end; a big Cambridge man hit a four and father said awful things at the top of his voice. Somehow or other that seemed to relieve everybody. There was only one other Cambridge man to come in, and if the big man had been bowled instead of hitting a four it would have been splendid. We waited for Fred afterwards and saw him for a minute. He said that the big man had been the best cricketer at Cambridge for four years, and now that he was going down Oxford ought really to win next year. Fred was very disappointed, but he told us that this man was a thoroughly good sort, which annoyed me because I felt as if he must be perfectly horrid."

If my people could be excited at a cricket match I knew that I had missed something worth seeing, but when I tried to talk about the 'Varsity match to the only member of my German family who spoke English, she thought I was explaining lawn tennis to her. I felt very sad indeed, and had to go for a long bicycle ride to shake off a vigorous attack of the blues.

I suppose those months in Germany must have been useful to me, yet in spite of a great amount of kindness I was very glad when they were over. I learned a great deal, I honestly believe, for I often went to a restaurant and talked politics with three professors, and that is no mean feat even if you do it in your own language. For some reason which I have never been able to understand, these men were very pleased with me; possibly they liked me because I never agreed with anything they said. I asked them to come and see us if they were ever in England, an invitation given out of joy in wis.h.i.+ng them good-bye. The prospect of leaving the German language made me very liberal in the way of invitations to those who spoke it, and if all the people whom I asked had happened to come at the same time, they would have caused a considerable sensation in our small household. There were, however, dangers in plunging me into foreign families which my father did not discover; for I like everybody so much, when I am leaving them, that I feel certain that they are the nicest people in the world. I had not been at home for a day before I found out that something very like a mystery had attached itself to The Bradder, so I went to my mother and asked her what had happened.

"I meant to tell you," she answered. "My dear, he wants to marry Nina, we were quite astonished." I did not think Nina would have cared to hear that. "He was here for a fortnight, but we never suspected anything, Nina is so very young. It only happened a week ago."

"Are they engaged?"

"No, we thought it best that there should be no engagement for at least a year. I hope we decided right, for I must have time to think about Nina being the wife of a don. I think they are very much in love with one another."

"Nina is not so very young."

"Very young to be the wife of a don," my mother replied, and I believe that she thought such a lady, to be suitable, ought to have numbered at least forty years.

"The Bradder would have to go out of college if he married," I said; "we shan't get such another man in a hurry," but my mother did not think this as important as I did.

When I talked to Nina about this new state of things she was very disappointed to find that I was not surprised. She seemed to think that I was depriving her of something due to her, but her letters had made me think that something startling was going to happen, and I was prepared for almost anything.

"Our engagement is not to be announced for a year," Nina said.

"I thought there wasn't any engagement," I answered.

"There isn't, until it is announced, but we have quite made up our minds," and then she took my arm and I listened to a glorification of The Bradder. "He is very fond of you," it finished up, and that is all I can remember of it.

"I am glad of that, as he is my tutor and is going to be my brother-in-law," I said.

"You don't seem to see how happy I am," Nina answered. "I wanted to telegraph to you at once."

"I am most tremendously glad you are happy. The Bradder's a splendid man," I said, and added, "I should like to tell Fred directly he comes next week."

"Yes, tell him," she replied, "but he won't mind; perhaps I oughtn't to say that, but I know that you think he will. Fred's a dear, he's just like another brother."

"For pity's sake don't say that to him," I exclaimed.

"Of course I shan't say anything to him, but he will understand all right," and I gathered that if he could not understand it was my duty to make him, which, considering how peculiarly he had behaved to Jack, I did not expect to be an easy matter. But there was a difference between Fred and Nina, for he seemed to fall out of love as he grew older, while she fell in. I don't know enough about such things to say whether he was ever actually in the state called "in love," but I do know that he was inclined to regard Nina with a jealous eye, and that I suffered many unpleasant moments in consequence. So I drove down to the station to meet him and intended to break the news to him gently, but we had such a lot of other things to talk about that I had not mentioned Nina, except to say that she was well, when we met her in the drive. Fred got out of the dog-cart to speak to her, and I, having totally neglected my mission, was wise enough to disappear for an hour.

In that time he must have found out what had happened, for when we were left alone in the smoking-room after dinner and I was wondering whether I had better begin the gentle process, which I was sure I should muddle hopelessly, he said, "It will take me some time to get used to the idea of Nina marrying a don."

"I meant to tell you as we drove down, but I forgot clean all about it," I answered.

"Bradfield's a good sort, isn't he? It would be a most vile shame if he isn't."

"He's a splendid chap."

"I saw him with Nina at Lord's, and I got a kind of idea into my head then. He looks all right anyhow."

"He is all right."

Fred sat and smoked for ages without saying a word, which made me uneasy.

"Don't you feel horribly old?" he said to me at last. "This is a kind of end to all the good time we have had here. I mean that everything will be different; I can't imagine Nina being married."

"She won't be for ages, and when she is it will be just the same," I answered. "The Bradder's the best sort in the world, except you.

Let's go to bed, we have to shoot to-morrow."

I stayed in Fred's room, however, for a long time, and I expect some of the things we said would have amused those who can jump without regret from one state of things to another. But all the same this talk did us good, for we finished off the subject of Nina's engagement at one sitting, and Fred pleased me by saying that he must have been a fool to hate Jack Ward so violently. That told me all I wanted to know, and though he was not in very good spirits for a day or two he soon recovered, and I believe that Nina and he enjoyed themselves more than they ever had since they began to wonder whether they were grown up or not.

Before going back to Oxford Fred and I went to stay with Mr. Sandyman, our old house-master at Cliborough. I had been to Cliborough several times since I left school, but my first visits made me feel almost sad.

The glory of being a blue, and I could not help feeling it, was not enough compensation for the way in which I seemed to have entirely dropped out of things. I loved Cliborough, and when you are fond of places or people it is horrid to see that they can get on quite well without you. You may not be forgotten, but you must necessarily cease to count for much, and it was not until I went back after having left for three years that I was quite happy there. Our feelings--for Fred felt as I did--may have been wrong, but no one would have them who was not fond of their school and who did not in some way or other wish to be worthy of it. Sandy was as nice to us as possible, and it was quite funny to see what a hero Fred was thought to be by some of the fellows in our house. I think I was regarded as a hero more or less decayed, but Fred nearly reinstated me by saying that I was the fastest bowler he had ever played against, and by forgetting to add further details.

We went back to Oxford from Cliborough, and during my last year I saw more of Fred than ever, for in nearly every college men in their fourth year have to go into lodgings, and Jack and I took rooms in the same house in the High as Fred and Henderson. Fred was President of Vincent's, Henderson was to be captain of the 'Varsity XI., and Jack was immediately put into one of the trial Eights and finally, rowed six in the winning boat. The shadow of approaching examinations was over all of us except Henderson, who was not reading for Honours, and had nothing but two papers on political economy between him and a degree.

But I should not think any four men ever got on together better than we did, and the mere sight of Jack was enough to make any one feel cheerful. He had fairly and squarely found himself at last, and whether he was sitting in front of piles of books or getting up and going to bed at strange times because he was in training, he was an endless delight to all of us. His methods of reading history made Fred laugh so much that I thought he might possibly abandon them, but nothing would persuade him that his road to a degree was not the safest he could take. On one subject Jack only opened his heart to me. He had set his mind on getting into the 'Varsity Eight, and his keenness was terrific. I a.s.sured him time after time that he must have a splendid chance of his blue, but I don't believe that the mere fact of getting his blue meant very much to him. He wanted to show his people and his college that he could really do something.

"If I could only get into the 'Varsity boat I should have done something," he said to me, "because I'm not a natural oar. I have to learn it all, and it's frightfully hard work remembering all you're told. Some of you men think a fellow who rows is just a machine, but it's not so easy to become a good machine."

To Fred and Henderson he hardly ever mentioned the river, but they knew how desperately keen he was, and when he was tried in the 'Varsity boat at four, during the beginning of the Lent Term, we all hoped most vigorously that he would keep his place. For nearly a fortnight the same crew rowed every day, but neither the President nor the Secretary had yet taken their places, and I was in a state of terror that Jack would have to go when they went into the boat. The Secretary, however, took his place and Jack remained where he was, and a few days afterwards the President went in at seven, seven went to three, and one unfortunate man disappeared. Then we openly rejoiced, and at the beginning of Lent Jack was told to go into training. We had a mild celebration on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, and Bunny Langham, who had been President of the Union and had developed a habit of making very long speeches, for which he apologized by saying that he believed in heredity, came round and helped to make a noise. Whenever he got the ghost of an opportunity he began to congratulate Jack, and he required a very great deal of suppressing.

For a whole week Jack rowed in the boat, and then he had a sudden attack of influenza. Somehow or other I had never thought it possible that he could be ill, and I have never seen any one hurry up so much to get well again. In ten days he was nearly all right, but when he was put back into the boat he said he felt miserably weak, and I think he went to work to prepare himself for a disappointment. At any rate when it came Jack took his luck like a hero, for hardly anything more crus.h.i.+ng could have happened to him just then. I must say that the President was as kind about it as any man could be; he knew what it meant to Jack, and his sympathy was very real. But Jack himself surprised all of us, he seemed to throw the whole thing behind him, and I never heard him complain of anything except his wretched illness.

"I shall be fit next term," he said, "and if we get our boat near the head of the river again it won't be so bad after all."

My last year in rooms with Fred, Jack and Henderson was the best of four good years at Oxford. Everything, except Jack's luck, was so exactly right, and I was most delightfully happy. The college was doing as well as we could want, and most of the dons, led I am certain by The Bradder, behaved splendidly. The Freshers' Wine became an organized inst.i.tution and ceased to be a sort of "hole and corner"

entertainment, at which every one made a most horrible noise because they ought not to have made any at all. In my spare time, and I had not much, I caught myself regretting that I had ever been stupid enough to carry on long battles with Mr. Edwardes, it seemed to me that I might have been more peaceful, but the fact remains that he and I were not made for each other.

Until the time began to grow near for me to go down from Oxford I never felt as strong an affection for the 'Varsity as I had for Cliborough.