Dimsdale recovered himself first, however, and got past before the other had time to seize him.  The goal was now not more than twenty yards off, with only one between Tom and it, though half a dozen more were in close pursuit.  The English back caught him round the waist, while another from behind seized the collar of his jersey, and the three came heavily to the ground together.  But the deed was done.  In the very act of falling he had managed to kick the ball, which flickered feebly up into the air and just cleared the English bar.  It had scarcely touched the ground upon the other side when the ringing of the great bell announced the termination of the match, though its sound was entirely drowned by the tumultuous shouting of the crowd.  A thousand hats were thrown into the air, ten thousand voices joined in the roar, and meanwhile the cause of all this outcry was still sitting on the ground, smiling, it is true, but very pale, and with one of his arms dangling uselessly from his shoulder.

Well, the breaking of a collar-bone is a small price to pay for the saving of such a match as that.  So thought Tom Dimsdale as he made for the pavilion, with his father keeping off the exultant crowd upon one side and Jack Garraway upon the other.  The doctor butted a path through the dense half-crazy mob with a vigour which showed that his son’s talents in that direction were hereditary.  Within half an hour Tom was safely ensconced in the corner of the carriage, with his shoulder braced back, secundum artem, and his arm supported by a sling.  How quietly and deftly the two women slipped a shawl here and a rug there to save him from the jarring of the carriage!  It is part of the angel nature of woman that when youth and strength are maimed and helpless they appeal to her more than they can ever do in the pride and flush of their power.  Here lies the compensation of the unfortunate.  Kate’s dark blue eyes filled with ineffable compassion as she bent over him; and he, catching sight of that expression, felt a sudden new unaccountable spring of joy bubble up in his heart, which made all previous hopes and pleasures seem vapid and meaningless.  The little god shoots hard and straight when his mark is still in the golden dawn of life.  All the way back he lay with his head among the cushions, dreaming of ministering angels, his whole soul steeped in quiet contentment as it dwelt upon the sweet earnest eyes which had looked so tenderly into his.  It had been an eventful day with the student.  He had saved his side, he had broken his collar-bone, and now, most serious of all, he had realized that he was hopelessly in love.

CHAPTER VIII.

A FIRST PROFESSIONAL.