net Wood--the day when he had been
caught by the snowstorm. These clouds brooded, waiting above him; their
dazzling white had the effect of a steady, unswerving gaze.

They lined out. He took his place as centre three-quarter with Cardillac
outside left and Tester and Buchan on the other wing. Old Lawrence
was standing, a solid rock of a figure, back. There was a great crowd
present. The tops of the hansom cabs in the road beyond rose above the
wall, and he could hear, muffled with distance, shots from the 'Varsity
firing range.

All these things focussed themselves upon his brain in the moment before
the whistle went; the whistle blew, the Dublin men had kicked off,
Tester had fielded the ball, sent it back into touch, and the game had
begun.

This was to be the game of his life and yet he could not centre his
attention upon it. He was conscious that Whymper--the great Whymper--was
acting as linesman and watching every movement. He knew that for most
of that great crowd his was the figure that was of real concern, he
knew that he was as surely battling for his lady as though he had been
fighting, tournament-wise, six hundred years ago.

But it all seemed of supreme unimportance. To-night he was to face
Rupert, to state, once and for all, that he had killed Carfax, to submit
Margaret to a terrible test . . . even that of no importance. All life
was insignificant beside something that was about to happen; before the
gaze of that white dazzling cloud be felt that he stood, a little pigmy,
alone on a brown spreading field.

The game was up at the University end. The Dublin men were pressing and
the Cambridge forwards seemed to have lost their heads. It was a case
now of "scrum," lining out, and "scrum" again. The Cambridge men got the
ball, kept it between their heels and tried, desperately to wheel with
it and carry it along with them. It escaped them, dribbled out of the
scrimmage, the Cambridge half leapt upon it, but the Dublin man was upon
him before he could get it away. It was on the ground again, the Dublin
forwards dribbled it a little and then some one, sweeping it into his
arms, fell forward with it, over the line, the Cambridge men on top of
him.

Dublin had scored a try, and a goal from an easy angle followed--Dublin
five points.

They all moved back to the centre of the field and now the Cambridge
men, rushing the ball from a line-out in their favour, pressed hard. At
last the ball came to the three-