lay there motionless.

At the moment of tension when Dreda had been waiting for Mr Rawdon's
announcement, she had felt a strange bursting sensation in her head; but
now something really _did_ snap--it must have done, for she heard it
with her ears--a sharp, splitting noise, so loud that it seemed
impossible that others had not heard it also; yet they still sat smiling
and complacent. No one knew, no one suspected. They still believed
what she herself had believed, a moment ago--long, long years ago--which
was it?--that she was the winner of the coveted prize, the clever,
fortunate girl who had a future before her, whose name was to be a
household word in the land. She had thought so too; she had walked down
the room to the sound of applause, had felt every eye riveted on her
face, had seen her mother's tears; but this paper which lay on her knee,
the paper with "Prize Essay" scrawled across the back--this was not her
composition. The sentences which she had read were not her own; there
had been some mistake--some horrible, incomprehensible mistake! The
numbers must have been confused together. It was Susan's essay which
had won the prize, and not her own.

Three minutes ago she had been sure, yet she had not been happy; she had
allowed herself to think of the future--to worry and to doubt. Oh, the
folly of it! And now she could never be happy any more; her triumph was
turned into humiliation and shame.

What would they think--do--say? Mr Rawdon, Miss Drake, father and
mother, the other visitors, the girls? What _could_ they say? It would
be miserable for everybody--even for Susan. Susan could not enjoy her
triumph at such a cost to her chosen friend. Susan's arm pressed
lovingly against her side--she was distressed that Dreda seemed
unnerved, but she did not guess what had happened. Nobody guessed! No
one _could_ guess if she kept those sheets carefully folded, and
destroyed them as soon as she reached the dormitory. It was not her own
mistake. It was Mr Rawdon's. Was one called upon to taste the very
dregs of humiliation because another person had made a mistake?

Mr Rawdon was still talking. The hands of the clock had only
registered ten minutes since he began; it seemed a lifetime before the
big hand reached the next figure. No; she would not tell. The mistake
had happened, and she must abide by it. There were other people to
think of besides herself. Mother had cried for joy; father's eyes