and
kindness, that of all others he was the one whom at that moment Julian
could best endure to see.

"I am afraid," he said, "that you will think me very foolish, De Vayne.
But to me everything almost depended on this scholarship, and you can
hardly tell how absolutely it had engrossed my hopes."

"It is very natural that you should feel it, Julian. But I came to ask
if you would like me to save you the trouble of writing home to-day. I
could say more, you know, than you could," he added with a pleasant
smile, "of the splendid manner in which you acquitted yourself, of which
I have heard a great deal that I will tell you some day."

"Thanks, De Vayne. I should be really and truly grateful if you would.
They will expect to hear by to-morrow, and I know that if I write now, I
shall be saying something bitter and hasty."

"Very well, I will. Are you inclined for a stroll now?"

"No, thank you," said Julian, unwilling to encounter the many eyes which
he knew would look on him with curiosity to see how he bore his loss.

"Good morning then; I shall come again soon."

"Do, I shall like to see _you_," said Julian; and De Vayne went away,
thinking with some happiness, that if he had won Julian's affection,
that would be something towards helping him to win Violet's too.

Julian had no intention that any strange eye should see how much he had
felt his disappointment, so when Mr Admer came to see him, he gave no
sign of vexation, and they talked indifferently for a few minutes, till
Mr Admer said--

"Well, Home, I'm sorry you haven't got this scholarship. Not that it
makes the least difference, you know, really. No sensible man would
have thought one atom the better of you for getting it, and even your
reputation stands just as high as before.

"Ah, I see you take it to heart rather; all very natural, but when
you're my age you'll think less of these things. There are higher
successes in the world than these small University affairs."

"But they aren't small to me," said Julian. "Not to men up here," said
Mr Admer.

"`They think the rustic cackle of their body
The murmur of the world.'"

"Perhaps, after all, if you had got it, it would only have helped to
make you as fussy, as foolish, and as self-important as Jones, and
Brown, and Robinson, who, because they are dons, think themselves the
most important people in England, when really they are only conspicuous
for empty-headedness and conceit; or as t