Principal Trenholme was at his writing-table. "Ah?" said he, prolonging the interrogation with benign inflection.
"Have you come to doubt the righteousness of your own conclusions?" But he did not discuss the subject further.
He was busy, for the students and masters of the college were to assemble in a few days; yet he found time in a minute or two to ask idly, "Where have you been?"
"For one thing, I walked out from the village with Miss Rexford."
"And"—with eyes bent upon his writing—"what do you think of Miss
Rexford?"
Never was question put with less suspicion; it was interesting to Robert only for the pleasure it gave him to pronounce her name, not at all for any weight that he attached to the answer. And Alec answered him indifferently.
"She has a pretty face," said he, nearing the door.
"Yes," the other answered musingly, "yes; 'her face is one of God
Almighty's wonders in a little compass.'"
But Alec had gone out, and did not hear the words nor see the dream of love that they brought into the other's eyes. There was still hope in that dream, the sort of hope that springs up again unawares from the ground where it has been slain.