HAPTER THIRTY.

PART II.

OLD AND NEW FACES.

Pudorem, amicitiam, pudicitiam, divina atque humana promiscum, nihil
pensi neque moderati habere.

Sallust.

And now, gentle or ungentle reader, we must imagine that two whole years
have passed since the conclusion of those summer holidays, before we
again meet our young friends of Saint Winifred's.

The two years--as what years are not?--have been full of change. Walk
across the court with me, and let us discover what we can about the
present state of things.

The first we meet are Walter and Power--taller and manlier looking than
they were, but otherwise little changed in appearance. Walter, with his
dark hair and blue eyes, his graceful figure and open face, is still the
handsome, attractive-looking boy we used to see. Power, too, has the
same refined, thoughtful look, the same delicate yet noble features, the
same eyes, which we recognise at once as the clear and bright index of a
beautiful and unstained soul.

And neither of these boys has failed in their promise of their earlier
days, and the warm friendship with which they regarded each other has
done much to bring about this result. Each in his own way has rejoiced
in his youth, has passed an innocent and happy boyhood, stored with
pleasant reminiscences for after days, filled with high hopes and manly
principles, with habits well-regulated, and that fine self-control which
had taught them--

"Rapt in reverential awe,
To sit, self-governed in the fiery prime
Of youth, obedient at the feet of law."

They have enjoyed the gifts of early years without squandering them in
wasteful profusion; they have felt and known that the purest pleasures
were also the sweetest and the most permanent. Their minds are well
cultivated, their bodies are in vigorous health, their hearts are
glowing with generous impulse and warm enthusiasm; and if sorrow should
ever darken their after years, it can never drive them to despair, for
they have wandered in the pleasant paths of wisdom, they have drunk the
pure cup of innocence, they will carry out of the torrid zone of youth
clear consciences, unremorseful memories, and unpolluted minds.

Who is this who saunters across the playground, talking in loud,
self-confident tones with two or three fellows round him, his hands in
his pockets, his air haughty and nonchalant, and his cap a little on one
side? He is still pleasant looking, his face still shows the
c