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Updated: June 8, 2025
Wednesday evening came, and next morning the result was to be made known. As certainty approached, and suspense was nearly terminated, Julian awaited his fate with sickening, almost with trembling anxiety. At nine o'clock he knew that the paper on which was written the name of the Clerkland scholar would be affixed to the senate-house door, but he did not venture to go and read it.
Thus circumstanced, and most fondly avoiding every possibility of causing pain or disappointment to that thrice-loved circle, of which he regarded himself as the natural protector and head, he was more than ever determined to do his very utmost to prevent failure, and give them the lasting pride and pleasure which they would all receive by seeing his name in the public papers as Clerkland scholar.
But Violet was still very young, and none of Lady De Vayne's hopes had ever for an instant crossed her mind. Julian was at this time, and had been for some months, intensely occupied with the thought and desire of winning the Clerkland scholarship, a university scholarship of 60 pounds a year, open to general competition among all the undergraduates of less than one year's standing.
Little did Violet dream that this commonplace note had given its author such deep pleasure, and that before he despatched it he had kissed it a thousand times for her sake, and because it was destined for her hand. De Vayne would not have added the allusion to the Clerkland, but that rumours were already gaining ground in Julian's favour.
He looked with emulation, almost with envy, on those who had won it before him; he almost knew by heart the list of Clerkland scholars; and when he returned to Camford, constantly discussed the chances of success in favour of the different candidates.
You will be already nearly an hour late, and remember that the Clerkland may depend upon it." He suffered himself to be led, but as he walked he was still silent, and seemed as though he were trying to gulp down some hard knot that rose in his throat.
In short, at this time, to obtain the Clerkland scholarship was the most prominent personal desire in Julian's heart, and could some genius have suddenly offered him the fulfilment of any one wish, this would undoubtedly have been the first to spring to his lips.
"Do you think there are no bets in it but those about the Clerkland?" "Keep your missiles to yourself, then," said Kennedy, while Brogten burnt his fingers in the vain attempt to rescue his book. "I hope you've at least hedged, or behaved as judiciously in the case of your other bets as in those about the Clerkland," suggested one of his sporting friends.
"Well," said Julian, as they came in sight, "is the Clerkland out?" He knew it was, but would not ask them the result. "Yes," they both said; and Lillyston added, in a sorrowful tone of voice, "I am sorry for you, Julian, but Owen has got it." Julian grew very pale, and for one second reeled as if he would faint.
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