interrupted--the gentlemen entered, and Mr. Ogilvie came to the window, where she was sitting, and began to tell her how much obliged to her he and his college were, for having insisted on her brother's sending in his poem. 'Thanks are due, for our being spared an infliction next week,' he said.
'Have you seen it?' she asked, and she was amused by the quick negative movement of his head.
'I read my friend's poems? But our lungs are prepared! Will you give me my cue--it is of no use to ask him when we are to deafen you. One generally knows the crack passages--something beginning with 'Oh, woman!' but it is well to be in readiness--if you would only forewarn me of the telling hits?'
'If they cannot tell themselves,' said Ethel, smiling, 'I don't think they deserve the name.'
'Perhaps you think what does tell on the undergraduates, collectively, is not always what ought to tell on them.'
'I don't know. I dare say the same would not be a favourite with them and with me.'
'I should like to know which are your favourites. No doubt you have a copy here--made by yourself;' and he looked towards her paper-case.
There was the copy, and she took it out, peering to see whether Norman were looking.
'Let me see,' he said, as she paused to open the MS., 'he told me the thoughts were more yours than his own.'
'Did he? That was not fair. One thought was an old one, long ago talked over between us; the rest is all his own.'
Here Mr. Ogilvie took the paper, and Ethel saw his countenance show evident tokens of surprise and feeling.
'Yes,' he said presently, 'May goes deep--deeper than most men-- though I doubt whether they will applaud this.'
'I should like it better if they did not,' said Ethel. 'It is rather to be felt than shouted at.'
'And I don't know how the world would go on if it were felt. Few men would do much without the hope of fame,' said Norman Ogilvie.
'Is it the question what they would do?' said Ethel.
'So you call fame a low motive? I see where your brother's philosophy comes from.'
'I do not call it a low motive--' Her pause was expressive.
'Nor allow that the Non omnis moriar of Horace has in it something divine?'
'For a heathen--yes.'
'And pray, what would you have the moving spring?'
'Duty.'
'Would not that end in 'Mine be a cot, beside the rill'?' said he, with an intonation of absurd sentiment.
'Well, and suppose an enemy came, would duty prompt not the Hay with the joke--or Winkelried on the spears?'
'Nay, why not--'It is my duty to take care of Lucy.''
'Then Lucy ought to be broken on her own wheel.'
'Not at all! It is Lucy's duty to keep her Colin from running into danger.'
'I hope there are not many Lucies who would think so.'
'I agree with you. Most would rather have Colin killed than disgraced.'
'To be sure!' then, perceiving a knowing twinkle, as if he thought she had made an admission, she added, 'but what is disgrace?'
'Some say it is misfortune,' said Mr. Ogilvie.
'Is it not failure in duty? ' said Ethel.
'Well!'
'Colin's first duty is to his king and country. If he fail in that, he is disgraced, in his own eyes, before Heaven and men. If he does it, there is a reward, which seems to me a better, more powerful motive for Lucy to set before him than 'My dear, I hope you will distinguish yourself,' when the fact is,
'England has forty thousand men, We trust, as good as he.'
''Victory or Westminster Abbey!' is a tolerable war-cry,' said Mr. Ogilvie.
'Not so good as 'England expects every man to do his duty.' That serves for those who cannot look to Westminster Abbey.'
'Ah! you are an English woman!'
'Only by halves. I had rather have been the Master of Glenbracken at Flodden than King James, or'--for she grew rather ashamed of having been impelled to utter the personal allusion--'better to have been the Swinton or the Gordon at Homildon than all the rest put together.'
'I always thought Swinton a pig-headed old fellow, and I have little doubt that my ancestor was a young ruffian,' coolly answered the Master of Glenbracken.
'Why?' was all that Ethel could say in her indignation.
'It was the normal state of Scottish gentlemen,' he answered.
'If I thought you were in earnest, I should say you did not deserve to be a Scot.'
'And so you wish to make me out a fause Scot!'
'Ogilvie!' called Norman, 'are you fighting Scottish and English battles with Ethel there? We want you to tell us which will be the best day for going to Blenheim.'
The rest of the evening was spent in arranging the programme of their lionising, in which it appeared that the Scottish cousin intended to take his full share. Ethel was not sorry, for he interested her much, while provoking her. She was obliged to put out her full strength in answering him, and felt, at the same time, that he was not making any effort in using the arguments that puzzled her--she was in earnest, while he was at play; and, though there was something teasing in this, and she knew it partook of what her brothers called chaffing, it gave her that sense of power on his side, which is always attractive to women. With the knowledge that, through Norman, she had of his real character, she understood that half, at least, of what he said was jest; and the other half was enough in earnest to make it exciting to argue with him.
CHAPTER IX.
While I, thy dearest, sat apart, And felt thy triumphs were as mine, And lov'd them more than they were thine. TENNYSON.
That was a week of weeks; the most memorable week in Ethel's life, spent in indefatigable sight-seeing. College Chapels, Bodleian Library, Taylor Gallery, the Museum, all were thoroughly studied, and, if Flora had not dragged the party on, in mercy to poor George's patience, Ethel would never have got through a day's work.
Indeed, Mr. Ogilvie, when annoyed at being hurried in going over Merton Chapel with her, was heard to whisper that he acted the part of policeman, by a perpetual 'move on'; and as Ethel recollected the portly form and wooden face of the superintendent at Stoneborough, she was afraid that the comparison would not soon be forgotten. Norman Ogilvie seemed to consider himself bound to their train as much as his namesake, or, as on the second morning, Norman reported his reasoning, it was that a man must walk about with somebody on Commemoration week, and that it was a comfort to do so with ladies who wore their bonnets upon their heads, instead of, like most of those he met, remind him of what Cock Robin said to Jenny Wren in that matrimonial quarrel, when
Robin, he grew angry, Hopped upon a twig--
Flora was extremely delighted, and, in matronly fashion, told her sister that people were always respected and admired who had the strength of mind to resist unsuitable customs. Ethel laughed in answer, and said she thought it would take a great deal more strength of mind to go about with her whole visage exposed to the universal gaze; and, woman-like, they had a thorough gossip over the evils of the 'backsliding' head-gear.
Norman had retreated from it into the window, when Flora returned to the charge about Harvey Anderson. She had been questioning their old friend Mr. Everard, and had learned from him that the cause of the hesitation with which his name had been received was that he had become imbued with some of the Rationalistic ideas current in some quarters. He seldom met Norman May without forcing on him debates, which were subjects of great interest to the hearers, as the two young men were considered as the most distinguished representatives of their respective causes, among their own immediate contemporaries. Norman's powers of argument, his eloquence, readiness, and clearness, were thought to rank very high, and, in the opinion of Mr. Everard, had been of great effect in preventing
