“She is standing somewhere,—she
I shall honour,
She that I wait for, my queen,
my queen;
Whether her hair be golden or raven,
Whether her eyes be hazel
or blue,
I know not now, it will be engraven
Some day hence as my loveliest
hue.
She may be humble or proud, my lady,
Or that sweet calm which is
just between;
But whenever she comes, she will
find me ready
To do her homage, my queen,
my queen.”
Was it possible that the cruel boy-god “who
sharpens his arrows on the whetstone of the human
heart” had found the moment to avenge himself
for the neglect of his altars and the scorn of his
power? Must that redoubted knight-errant, the
hero of this tale, despite the Three Fishes on his
charmed shield, at last veil the crest and bow the
knee, and murmur to himself, “She has come,
my queen”?
THE next morning Kenelm arrived at Oxford,—“Verum
secretumque Mouseion.”
If there be a place in this busy island which may
distract the passion of youth from love to scholarship,
to Ritualism, to mediaeval associations, to that sort
of poetical sentiment or poetical fanaticism which
a Mivers and a Welby and an advocate of the Realistic
School would hold in contempt,—certainly
that place is Oxford,—home; nevertheless,
of great thinkers and great actors in the practical
world.
The vacation had not yet commenced, but the commencement
was near at hand. Kenelm thought he could recognize
the leading men by their slower walk and more abstracted
expression of countenance. Among the Fellows
was the eminent author of that book which had so powerfully
fascinated the earlier adolescence of Kenelm Chillingly,
and who had himself been subject to the fascination
of a yet stronger spirit. The Rev. Decimus Roach
had been ever an intense and reverent admirer of John
Henry Newman,—an admirer, I mean, of the
pure and lofty character of the man, quite apart from
sympathy with his doctrines. But although Roach
remained an unconverted Protestant of orthodox, if
High Church, creed, yet there was one tenet he did
hold in common with the author of the “Apologia.”
He ranked celibacy among the virtues most dear to
Heaven. In that eloquent treatise, “The
Approach to the Angels,” he not only maintained
that the state of single blessedness was strictly
incumbent on every member of a Christian priesthood,
but to be commended to the adoption of every conscientious
layman.
It was the desire to confer with this eminent theologian
that had induced Kenelm to direct his steps to Oxford.
Mr. Roach was a friend of Welby, at whose house, when
a pupil, Kenelm had once or twice met him, and been
even more charmed by his conversation than by his
treatise.
Kenelm called on Mr. Roach, who received him very
graciously, and, not being a tutor or examiner, placed
his time at Kenelm’s disposal; took him the
round of the colleges and the Bodleian; invited him
to dine in his college-hall; and after dinner led
him into his own rooms, and gave him an excellent
bottle of Chateau Margeaux.
