Mona Maclean, Medical Student: A NovelTravers, Graham
General
Mona Maclean, Medical Student: A Novel
Travers, Graham
Women medical students -- Fiction
"I thought you admitted that, even in comparison with Cambridge and
Edinburgh, London had its points?"
"So I do. But the graduation ceremony is not one of them.
Ceremonial does not sprout kindly on nineteenth-century soil. One
misses the tradition, the aroma of faith, the grand roll of the _In
nomine Patrix_. Call it superstition, humbug, what you will, but
materialism is confoundedly inartistic."
"Spoken like a book with pictures. But without entering fully into
the question of Atheism versus Christianity, the point at issue is
briefly this: I have got a ticket for the affair, for the first time
in my life, and I want to applaud somebody I know. Sweet
girl-graduates are all very well, but I decline to waste all my
adolescent enthusiasm on a physiologist in petticoats."
"By the way, a woman did get the Physiology Medal, did not she?" And
Dudley felt a faint, awakening curiosity to see that other Miss
Maclean.
"Oh, if it is going to make you sigh like that," said Melville, "I
withdraw all I have said. I have no wish to sacrifice you on the
altar of friendship."
"Did I sigh?" said Ralph very wearily. "It was not for that. Oh
yes, dear boy, I'll go. It won't be the first time I have made a
fool of myself for your sake."
And he did feel himself very much of a fool when, a few hours later,
he went up on the platform of the crowded theatre to receive the
pretty golden toy. The experience reminded him of his brilliant
schoolboy days, and he half expected some kindly old gentleman to
clap Him on the shoulder as he went back to his seat. He was
thankful to escape into insignificance again; and then, adjusting his
gold-rimmed spectacles, he proceeded to watch for Miss Mona Maclean.
It was well that he had ceased to be the centre of attraction in the
theatre. Ralph was not a blushing man, but a moment later his face
became as red as the cushioned seats of the hall, and when the wave
of colour passed away, it left him ashy pale. At the first sight of
that dear familiar face, beautiful to-day with excitement, as he had
seen it at Castle Maclean, his hard, aggrieved feeling against her
vanished, and he thought only how good it would be to speak to her
again. He was proud of her beauty, proud of the ovation she
received, proud of his love for her.
But while the tedious ceremony went on, the facts of the case came
back to him one by one, like common objects that have been blotted
for the moment out of view by some dazzling light. His face settled
into a heavy frown.
"I will walk along Regent Street with her," he thought, "and ask her
what it all meant."
At last the "function" was over. Mona seemed to be surrounded by
congratulating friends, and so indeed was he; but before many minutes
had passed he found himself following her out of the hall,--gaining
on her. She was very pale. Was it reaction after the excitement of
the ceremony? or did she know that he was behind her?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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