"Do you remember when we were talking last year, beside the fire, in the old study one afternoon, when all the others were out, talking about poor Percival, and your answer to a question I asked? '_He needs me, Dan_!' you said. I argued very loftily about the necessity of a man standing alone and facing his difficulties by himself, and you said that was true, but only a part of the truth. I've found that out for myself since then. If that was true of Percival, it is fifty times truer of me! _I_ need you, Darsie! I shall always need you. I've not a penny- piece in the world, except what my father allows me. I shall probably always be poor. For years to come I shall be grinding away as a junior master. Even when the book is written it can never bring much return in a monetary sense, but success will come in the end, I'll _make_ it come!
And when it does, it will belong to you as much as to me. You'll remember that?"
"Yes... Thank you, Dan!" The answer came in a breathless gasp.
Darsie's big eyes were fixed upon Dan's face in rapt, incredulous gaze.
The cramp of loneliness had loosened from her heart; the depression had vanished; a marvellous new interest had entered into her life; she was filled with a beatific content.
"I'll remember! I'll be proud to remember. But--I don't understand!"
"I don't understand myself," said Dan simply. "I only know it is true.
So don't get low, Darsie, and don't be discouraged. You're in a class by yourself, and all the honours in the world couldn't improve you. And now that's over, and we start afresh!"
It was like Dan to hurry back with all speed to more practical talk.
Darsie understood, and was satisfied. They stood together for another moment looking back on the massed towers and spires of Cambridge, then slowly, reluctantly, turned away.
A new life lay ahead, its outline vague and undefined like that of the landscape around, but the sun was shining. It shone full on their young faces, as they went forward, hand in hand.
THE END.