rdy,
fair-haired, plain in the face, he was essentially an every-day man,
devoted to out-of-door sports, a hard worker, a good player, and a sound
sleeper. He came back to the school, from a fishing-excursion, a
few days after my arrival. I liked the way in which he told of his
adventures, with a little frank boasting, enough to season but not to
spoil the story. I liked the way in which he took hold of his work,
helping to get the school in readiness for the return of the boys in
the middle of September. I liked, more than all, his attitude to Dorothy
Ward. He loved her, clearly enough. When she was in the room the
other people were only accidents to him. Yet there was nothing of the
disappointed suitor in his bearing. He was cheerful, natural, accepting
the situation, giving her the best he had to give, and gladly taking
from her the frank reliance, the ready comradeship which she bestowed
upon him. If he envied Keene--and how could he help it--at least he
never showed a touch of jealousy or rivalry. The engagement was a fact
which he took into account as something not to be changed or questioned.
Keene was so much more brilliant, interesting, attractive. He answered
so much more fully to the poetic side of Dorothy's nature. How could she
help preferring him?

Thus the three actors in the drama stood, when I became an inmate of
Hilltop, and accepted the master's invitation to undertake some of the
minor classes in English, and stay on at the school indefinitely. It was
my wish to see the little play--a pleasant comedy, I hoped--move forward
to a happy ending. And yet--what was it that disturbed me now and then
with forebodings? Something, doubtless, in the character of Keene, for
he was the dominant personality. The key of the situation lay with
him. He was the centre of interest. Yet he was the one who seemed not
perfectly in harmony, not quite at home, as if something beckoned and
urged him away.

"I am glad you are to stay," said he, "yet I wonder at it. You will find
the life narrow, after all your travels. Ulysses at Ithaca--you will
surely be restless to see the world again."

"If you find the life broad enough, I ought not to be cramped in it."

"Ah, but I have compensations."

"One you certainly have," said I, thinking of Dorothy, "and that one is
enough to make a man happy anywhere."

"Yes, yes," he answered, quickly, "but that is not what I mean. It is
not there that I look for a wider life. Love--do