ontinuous diligence. As the time drew
nearer, he grew more and more nervous. He had set his heart on the
Swiss tour, and it now seemed to him painfully probable that he would
fail in fulfilling the condition which his father had exacted, and
without which he well knew that Mr Kennedy would insist on his spending
the vacation either at Camford or at home.

Of the three main subjects for examination he had succeeded by desperate
effort, aided by natural ability, in very quickly mastering two
sufficiently well to secure a creditable result; but the third subject,
the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, remained nearly untouched, and Kennedy was
too good and accurate a scholar not to be aware that the most careful
and elaborate study was indispensable to an even tolerable understanding
of that masterpiece of Grecian tragedy. Besides this, he had a hatred
of slovenly and superficial work, and he therefore determined to leave
the Aeschylus untouched, while, at the same time, he was quite conscious
that if he did so, all chance of distinction, and even all chance of a
first class were out of the question. With some shame he reflected over
this proof, that, for all purposes of study, a third of his academical
life had been utterly and wholly lost.

As he had decided on giving up the Aeschylus, it became more imperative
to make sure of the Tacitus and Demosthenes, and he therefore went to
Mr Grayson's rooms to get a library order which should entitle him to
take from the Saint Werner's library any books that would be most likely
to give him effectual help.

At the moment of his arrival, Mr Grayson was engaged, and he was shown
into another room until he should be ready. This room was the tutor's
library, and like many of the rooms in Camford, it opened into an inner
and smaller study, the door of which was partly open.

Kennedy sat down, and after a few minutes, as there seemed to be no
signs that he would be summoned immediately, he began to grow very
restless. He tried some of the books on the table, but they were all
unspeakably dull; he looked at the pictures on the wall, but they were
most of them the likenesses of Camford celebrities which he already knew
by heart; he looked out of the window, but the court was empty, and
there was nothing to see. Reflecting that the only thing which can
really induce ennui in a sensible man, is to be kept waiting when he is
very busy for an _indefinite_ period, which may terminate at any mo