CHAPTER XV. KENNEDY'S DISHONOR. "I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold, Alas! one hour's disgrace!" "I AM very doubtful, after all, Julian, whether I shall be one of the Switzerland party," said Kennedy, with a sigh, as he and Julian were walking round the St. Werner's gardens one bright evening of the May term. The limes and chestnuts were unfolding their tender sprays of springtide emerald, the willows shivered as their green buds made ripples in the water, and the soft light of sunset streamed over towers and colleges, giving a rich glow to the broad windows of the library, and bathing in its rosy tinge the white plumage of the swans upon the river. The friends were returning from a walk, during which they had thoroughly enjoyed the blue and golden weather. Up to this time Kennedy had seemed to be in the highest spirits, and Julian was astonished at the melanchloy tone in which the words were spoken. "Doubtful? Why?" said Julian, quickly. "Because my father has made it conditional on my getting a first class in the May examination." “But, my dear fellow, there is not the ghost of a doubt of your doing that." "I don't feel so sure.” "Why, there are often thirty in the first class in the freshman's year; and just as if you wouldn't be among them!" "All very well; I know that anybody can do it who works; but I am ashamed to say that I haven't read one of the books yet." "Haven't you, really? Well, then, for goodness' sake, lose no more time." "But there's only a fortnight to the examination." "My dear Kennedy, what have you been doing to be so idle?" "Somehow or other the time manages to slip away. Heigh ho!" said Kennedy, "my first year at college nearly over, and nothing done-nothing done! How quickly the time has gone!" "Yes," said Julian; « πτέρυγας γὰρ ἐπωμαδίας φέρει, κἄμμες βραδύτεροι τὰ ποτήμενα συλλαβέιν, as Theocritus prettily observes." Seized with the strong determination not only to pass the examination, but even to excel in it, Kennedy devoted the next fortnight to unremitted study for the first time since he had been an undergraduate. the more he read the more painfully he became aware of his own deficiencies, and the more bitterly he deplored the waste of time. He seemed to be toiling in But "PUTTING ON A SPURT." 181 vain after the opportunities he had lost. He knew that the examination, though limited in subjects, was searching in character, and he found it impossible to acquire, by a sudden impulse, what he should have learned by continuous 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 Eschylus, 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 master-piece of Grecian tragedy. Besides this, he had a hatred of slovenly and superficial work, and he therefore determined to leave the Eschylus 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 Eschylus, 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 182 WAITING FOR ADMISSION. him to take from the St. 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 moment, and may last for almost any length of time, Kennedy, vexed at the interruption of his work, chose the most comfortable arm-chair in the room, and settled himself in it with a yawn. At this moment, as ill fate would have it, his eye caught sight of a book lying on Mr. Grayson's readingdesk. Lazily rising to see what it was, he found it to be an Eschylus, and turned over the leaves with a feeling of listless indifference. Between two of the leaves lay a written paper, and suddenly, after reading two or three lines, he observed it to be a manuscript SUDDEN TEMPTATION. 183 copy of the much dreaded Agamemnon paper for the May examination. Temptation had surprised him with sudden and unexpected violence. He little knew that on this idle weary moment rested the destiny of many years. As when in a hostile country one has laid aside his armor, and from unregarded ambush the enemy leaps on him, and, though he be strong and noble, stabs him with a festering wound, so this temptation to a base act sprang on poor Kennedy, when he was unarmed and unprepared. In the gayeties of life, and the brightnesses of hope, and the securities of unbroken enjoyment, he had long been trusting in himself only, in his own high principle, his own generous impulses, his own unstained honor. But these were never sufficient for any human being yet, and they snapped in an instant under this unhappy boy. The only honorable thing to do, the thing which, at another moment, Kennedy might have done, and which any man would have done, whose right instincts and high character had the reliable support of higher principles than mere personal self-confidence and pride, would have been to shut the book instantly, informed Mr. Grayson that he had accidentally read one of the questions, and beg him to change it before the examination. This Kennedy knew well; it flashed before him in an instant as the only proper course; but, at the same instant, he passionately obliterated the suggestion from his mind, fiercely stifled the impulse to do right, choked the rebukes of honor and principle, and blindly willed to save his reputation as a scholar, and his chance of enjoyment for the vacation, by reading |