did they die of?"

"Of me."

"Of you?"

"Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the world has not
known. Those young men drowned themselves for love of me."

He came towards her. "Do you realise, girl, what this means to me? I am
an old man. For more than half a century I have known this College. To
it, when my wife died, I gave all that there was of heart left in me.
For thirty years I have been Warden; and in that charge has been all my
pride. I have had no thought but for this great College, its honour and
prosperity. More than once lately have I asked myself whether my eyes
were growing dim, my hand less steady. 'No' was my answer, and again
'No.' And thus it is that I have lingered on to let Judas be struck down
from its high eminence, shamed in the eyes of England--a College for
ever tainted, and of evil omen." He raised his head. "The disgrace to
myself is nothing. I care not how parents shall rage against me, and the
Heads of other Colleges make merry over my decrepitude. It is because
you have wrought the downfall of Judas that I am about to lay my undying
curse on you."

"You mustn't do that!" she cried. "It would be a sort of sacrilege. I am
going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can quite well understand
your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas more disgraced than any other
College? If it were only the Judas undergraduates who had--"

"There were others?" cried the Warden. "How many?"

"All. All the boys from all the Colleges."

The Warden heaved a deep sigh. "Of course," he said, "this changes the
aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it clear at once. You
gave me a very great shock," he said sinking into his arm-chair, "and I
have not yet recovered. You must study the art of exposition."

"That will depend on the rules of the convent."

"Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I hope?"

Anglican, she supposed.

"As a young man," he said, "I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey. It might
have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had known that my
grand-daughter would take the veil." He adjusted his glasses, and looked
at her. "Are you sure you have a vocation?"

"Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more harm."

He eyed her musingly. "That," he said, "is rather a revulsion than
a vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
difference between those two things, when he was almost persuading me
to enter