“Oh, now we are coming to quite a new phase,” replied the voice. “Formerly you looked down on college opinion, now you are laying store by it.” “Well,” said Deborah, dejectedly, “it was the only bit of encouragement I ever got.” “You don’t need encouraging, and perhaps one of these days, when you get properly discouraged, you’ll take to teaching seriously and give up writing, for you’re no good at anything else.” Deborah got into bed. The next day brought the news that she had not even obtained the second prize, it had been won by another girl. “Never mind,” whispered an easy voice in her ear. “They put you out of the race altogether—it was wisest.” “But you are quite sure I was the best?” “Oh, perfectly.” And then there came that easy laugh which made Deborah almost laugh too, but not quite; the loss of the first place had been more to her than most people may imagine. During the last year that Deborah was in college her second brother, who had for some years been a great anxiety, died suddenly of pneumonia after a three days’ illness. What debts he had contracted, and after all, considering his life, they were wonderfully few, were paid by the sisters. About this time also they were able to pay back the money which had been wrongly taken by their father. CHAPTER XV When Deborah left college she took a school in the country. “Now, you are quite sure you know your own mind,” the principal observed, for he had not expected this application. “Yes, quite sure,” and he was only too pleased to get it filled up. A country school to the uninitiated may probably appear a haven of rest and peacefulness. But under certain circumstances, and in certain places, it may be the exact opposite of this. The one to which Deborah had gone was a most charming one, and on the outside it looked all that was successful. “You have come here to learn, and you must bear it and put up with it,” said a voice, but at times the misery and meanness and littleness of the surroundings choked the voice altogether. The feminine portion of the aristocracy in that place were of that section which believes implicitly in the art of snubs and condescension. Such women are pretty numerous in the world—if they were not so the world would be a vastly different place. At first the manifold bows and smiles and nods amused her, but at last they palled, as all things do in time. “If they only knew how ridiculous and insincere it makes them look they would not do it,” she thought. “The only one among them for whom I have any respect or affection is the clergyman’s wife—and that is because she treats me sensibly as a working woman and does not try to overpower me with her excessively charming manner.” This village was a very good school in which to learn, and it taught Deborah more than any town school would have.