unded from the benches at the back of the
room. Mr Rawdon smiled, and lifted a slip of paper from the table
before him.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Mr Rawdon deliberately fastened his eye glasses on his nose, and looked
down at the slip of paper. There was a dead breathless silence in the
room.

"The name of the prize-winner is Etheldreda Saxon."

It seemed to Dreda that her very heart stopped beating in that moment of
wild, delirious joy. It was almost as though she had received a blow on
her head, so dazed and paralysed did she appear; then dimly she was
conscious of the sound of clapping and stamping, and looking across the
room the four dear familiar faces stood out in bold relief, while all
the others remained a mist and blur. Father quite pale, with his eyes
shining like blue flames; mother with the tears streaming down her
face--why did mothers always cry when they ought to be glad?--Rowena,
one sweet, glowing smile of delight. Maud with her mouth wide open--one
could almost _hear_ her snore.

The clapping went on--everyone seemed to be staring in her direction,
and someone was pressing her arm, and saying gently: "Go, dear--go!
They are waiting for you. Go for your prize!"

It was Susan's voice. Susan's face was looking at her with the
sweetest, kindest smile... With a start Dreda came back to herself, and
as she did so half a dozen words sounded in her brain as distinctly as
though spoken by a real human voice. "That is love!" said the voice.
"That is the true love!" As she walked up the bare centre of the floor
she was thinking not of her own triumph, but of Susan's unselfish joy;
it came to her mind that Susan's triumph was greater than her own.

Once on the platform, however, face to face with Mr Rawdon, with Miss
Drake by his side beaming with happy smiles, conscious of being the
cynosure of every eye, it was impossible not to feel a natural pride and
elation.

Before presenting the pile of handsomely bound volumes--ten in all--Mr
Rawdon held out his hand with a very charming gesture of friendship.

"Etheldreda Saxon, I congratulate you on what you have achieved in the
present; I congratulate you still more on what you are going to achieve
in the future! My good friend Miss Drake, knowing of old my
unmethodical methods, told me not to trouble to return the manuscripts
of the various essays submitted for my criticism, but before leaving
home to-day I put your typed copy in my pocket, thinking