At last it was over--the examination which had once seemed to be wellnigh the aim and end of existence; and now, though conscious of having done well, she threw herself on the hearth-rug, in a fit of depression that was almost maddening. "Oh God," she groaned, "help me! I cannot bear it!" CHAPTER L. SUCCESS OR FAILURE? Once more the lists were posted at the door of the university, and once more a group of eager faces had gathered round to read them. Presently a tall figure came swinging down the street, and, ignoring the Pass-list altogether, made straight for the Honours. It was all right,--better than he had dared to hope. ANATOMY. _First Class._ DUDLEY, RALPH, St Kunigonde's Hospital. Exhibition and Gold Medal. Ralph's heart gave a great leap of thanksgiving. "Now," he said almost audibly, "I can go down to Borrowness, and ask Miss Maclean in so many words to be my wife." As if the paper in front of him had heard the words, his eye caught the name Maclean below his own. He looked again. Yes, there was no imagination about it. PHYSIOLOGY. _First Class._ MACLEAN, MONA, Lond. Sch. of Med. for Women. Exhibition and Gold Medal. Mona Maclean--_her_ name was Margaret. She had told him so that day at Castle Maclean, and he had seen it in a well-worn prayer-book in Mr Ewing's church. But the coincidence was a curious one. He turned sharply round and touched a fellow-student on the arm. "Who," he said hastily, "is Miss Mona Maclean?" "Miss Maclean? Oh, she is one of their great dons at the Women's School. She took a First Class in Botany the year I passed my Prel. Sci." Certainly it was only a coincidence. No doubt this woman was an out-and-out blue-stocking, in spite of her pretty name; and even in the matter of brains he did not believe she was a patch upon his princess. He knew his old aunt would be delighted to hear of his success, but he would not telegraph, lest by any chance the news should leak round to Mona. He wanted to tell her himself. She had been so interested the day he had told her the story of his life. He had not concealed its failures, and he wanted to tell her with his own lips of this first little bit of success. For, after all, it was a success to be M'Diarmid's medallist. No man who had scamped his work could possibly hold such a position as that; and Miss Maclean was so quick, so sympathetic, she would see in a moment how much it meant. It seemed almost too good to be true, that this time to-morrow he would be sitting with her, alone on her storm-tossed battlements, free to talk of his love, and to draw her secret from half-willing lips--free to build all sorts of castles in the air, and to sketch the bold outline of a perfect future.