Christian was already, in the opinion of some of the girls, made too much of by her teachers and by the professors.
She worked hard now, and when the time came for the history and literature lessons she acquitted herself with her customary brilliance. The literature lesson that day was particularly interesting. It related to the trial of Socrates. It was the custom of the professor to get one girl to give a description of the lesson. To-day it was Christian's turn. Wildly enthusiastic over the greatness of the theme, she acquitted herself so magnificently that she even won the unwilling praise of Star herself. Star could never feel enthusiastic about those who were dead and gone; but Christian, as she spoke, was living back again in the ancient times. She was with the marvelous old philosopher in the market-place at Athens: she was one of those Athenian youths who crowded around him to listen to his teaching. It seemed to her that she saw the great Socrates as she spoke. There he was, harsh, ugly, forbidding, as far as exterior went; but, oh! the magical power of his voice, the thrilling sympathy in his words, the tenderness with which he addressed those who listened to him. It seemed to Christian Mitford that morning that she lived in that far-gone time. Her voice broke as she related the end of the famous trial—the reply of Socrates when he was asked what change he would wish in the sentence of death—the scorn of his words, the indignation of his judges. Finally she told of the moment when he drank the cup of hemlock and sank away into the arms of death, one of the greatest men that ever lived.
"Thank you," said Professor French. His eyes were shining as he listened to Christian's words.
Now she returned to her seat. Her eyes shone. Star, as she watched her, could not but admire; but she also pitied.
Christian was just about to put her Greek history-book in its place on the shelf when something arrested her attention. She opened the book quickly, turned page after page, and finally shook it, as though by that means she might find what she sought. Star drew close to her.
"Have you lost anything?" she asked.
"Yes, but it doesn't matter."
"Professor Munro, young ladies," called the voice of an English teacher, and another professor entered the room.
A new lesson proceeded, and again Christian scored.
Between eleven and twelve came the welcome hour of recess, and it was then that Star went up to her classmate.