he Choughs," glorifying himself in the thought
that now, at any rate, he had shown Hardy that he wasn't to be
dragooned into doing or not doing anything. He had had a bad time
of it all day, and his good angel had fought hard for victory;
but self-will was too strong for the time. When he stayed behind
the rest, it was more out of bravado than from any defined
purpose of pursuing what he tried to persuade himself was an
innocent flirtation. When he left the house some hours after he
was deeper in the toils than ever, and dark clouds were gathering
over his heart. From that time he was an altered man, and
altering as rapidly for the worse in body as in mind. Hardy saw
the change in both, and groaned over it in secret. Miller's quick
eye detected the bodily change. After the next race he drew Tom
aside, and said,--

"Why, Brown, what's the matter? What have you been about? You're
breaking down. Hold on, man; there's only one more night."

"Never fear," said Tom, proudly, "I shall last it out."

And in the last race he did his work again, though it cost him
more than all the preceding ones put together, and when he got
out of the boat he could scarcely walk or see. He felt a fierce
kind of joy in his own distress, and wished that there were more
races to come. But Miller, as he walked up arm-in-arm with the
Captain, took a different view of the subject.

"Well, it's all right, you see," said the Captain; "but we're not
a boat's length better than Oriel over the course after all. How
was it we bumped them? If anything, they drew a-little on us
to-night."

"Ay, half a boat's length, I should say," answered Miller. "I'm
uncommonly glad it's over; Brown is going all to pieces; he
wouldn't stand another race, and we haven't a man to put in his
place."

"It's odd, too," said the Captain; "I put him down as a laster,
and he has trained well. Perhaps he has overdone it a little.
However, it don't matter now."

So the races were over; and that night a great supper was held in
St. Ambrose Hall, to which were bidden, and came, the crews of
all the boats from Exeter upwards. The Dean, with many misgivings
and cautions, had allowed the hall to be used, on pressure from
Miller and Jervis. Miller was a bachelor and had taken a good
degree, and Jervis bore a high character and was expected to do
well in the schools. So the poor Dean gave in to them, extracting
many promises in exchange for his permission, and flitted
uneasily