Prissie was a very strong girl, and she knew she must walk for a long time; her feet must traverse many miles before she effected her object.  Just as she was passing St. Hilda’s College she came face to face with Hammond.  He was in his college cap and gown and was on his way to morning prayers in the chapel.  Hammond had received Maggie’s letter that morning, and this fact caused him to look at Priscilla with new interest.  On another occasion he would have passed her with a hurried bow.  Now he stopped to speak.  The moment he caught sight of her face, he forgot everything else in his distress at the expression of misery which it wore.

“Where are you going, Miss Peel?” he asked; “you appear to be flying from something, or, perhaps, it is to something.  Must you run?  See, you have almost knocked me down.”  He chose light words on purpose, hoping to make Prissie smile.

“I am going for a walk,” she said.  “Please let me pass.”

“I am afraid you are in trouble,” he replied then, seeing that Priscilla’s mood must be taken seriously.

His sympathy gave the poor girl a momentary thrill of comfort.  She raised her eyes to his face and spoke huskily.

“A dreadful thing has happened to me,” she said.

The chapel bell stopped as she spoke.  Groups of men, all in their caps and gowns, hurried by.  Several of them looked from Hammond to Priscilla and smiled.

“I must go to chapel now,” he said; “but I should like to speak to you.  Can I not see you after morning prayers?  Would you not come to the service.  You might sit in the ante-chapel, if you did not want to come into the chapel itself.  You had much better do that.  Whatever your trouble is, the service at St. Hilda’s ought to sustain you.  Please wait for me in the ante-chapel.  I shall look for you there after prayers.”

He ran off just in time to take his own place in the chapel before the doors were shut and curtains drawn.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Priscilla followed him.  She entered the ante-chapel, sat down on a bench not far from the entrance door, and when the service began she dropped on her knees and covered her face with her hands.

The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony.  The doors which divided the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound, as if it were miles away; each note, however, was distinct; no sound was lost.  The boys’ voices rose high in the air; they were angelic in their sweetness.  Prissie was incapable, at that moment, of taking in the meaning of the words she heard, but the lovely sounds comforted her.  The dreadful weight was lifted, or, at least, partially lifted, from her brain; she felt as if a hand had been laid on her hot, angry heart; as if a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrow there.

“I am ready now,” said Hammond when the service was over.  “Will you come?”

She rose without a word and went out with him into the quadrangle.  They walked down the High Street.