“And it will come yet, Herbert. The tree is only the more fruitful when the knife has cut down to its very heart. Yours is not the nature to be deterred by one repulse, nor yours the name to be stamped with failure, because the contest is difficult. Ambitions are only noble when their path is steep. Who knows how indolent you might have become, had you found the prize too easily won. Come, come, Herbert, enough for the past; look forward now, and with good courage and hope. The next struggle will end differently; but, above all, wear a fair face before the world. I remember some French prisoners being brought into Courtray, who amused us so much by their gay and smiling air, and look of ease and satisfaction--their secret was, that defeat was never disgrace, save when it lowered the spirit, and made the heart droop. Theirs never failed, and I promise you we thought all the better of them.” “But my uncle--who is to tell him----” “Let _me_ tell him. I see you have begun a letter already--” “That was written last night,” said the boy, as the tears gushed forth afresh--“last night, when hope was almost certainty.” “Then I'll finish it,” said Kate, taking up the half-written letter. “Say to him--I would wish him to know all--say that I had beaten my opponents down to one, and that he, too, almost gave up the contest, when, somehow--I cannot now say exactly how or wherefore--I got into a dispute with the examiner about the meaning of a word in Terence; he seemed to enjoy the eagerness with which I defended my opinion for a time, and actually encouraged my persistence, until at length, my temper excited, and my brain on fire, I said something--I know not what--but it was evidently an offence, for he closed the book, and merely replied--'Enough, sir, I give your opponent the premium; his temper more than compensates for any deficiency in his scholarship; and I was beaten.” The last words evoked all his sorrow once more, and the youth burst into tears. “That, then, I call unfair,” said Kate, passionately, “unless the gentleman were the arbiter of temperament, as well as talent. Come, Herbert, even this should reconcile you to your fortune: you have not failed unworthily.” “But my uncle, Kate--my uncle will deem it far otherwise. To guard against this very error of my temper was almost the last pledge I made him, and here, in my first trial, see how I have kept my promise.” “Leave the explanation to me, only promise one thing--and mind, Herbert, this is a pledge there must be no forgetting--do all in your power--spare nothing to win the next time. I care not whether you ever carry away another prize within these walls; but one you must have. Is this agreed?--give me your hand upon it. There, that's like your own self, and now don't waste another thought on what's bygone. The Travers invited you to dine with them to-day.” “Oh, no--no.”