came off; where he himself had
fought six years ago his first and last battle. He conjured up the scene
till he could almost hear the shouts of the ring, and East's whisper in
his ear; and looking across the close to the Doctor's private door, half
expected to see it open, and the tall figure in cap and gown come
striding under the elm-trees towards him.

No, no! that sight could never be seen again. There was no flag flying
on the round tower! the School-house windows were all shuttered up: and
when the flag went up again, and the shutters came down, it would be to
welcome a stranger. All that was left on earth of him whom he had
honoured, was lying cold and still under the chapel floor. He would go
in and see the place once more, and then leave it once for all. New men
and new methods might do for other people; let those who would worship
the rising star; he at least would be faithful to the sun which had set.
And so he got up and walked to the chapel door and unlocked it, fancying
himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on his own
selfish sorrow.

He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a moment to glance
over the empty benches. His heart was still proud and high, and he
walked up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy,
and sat himself down there to collect his thoughts.

And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order not a
little. The memories of eight years were all dancing through his brain,
and carrying him about whither they would; while beneath them all, his
heart was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss that could never be
made up to him. The rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the
painted windows above his head; and fell in gorgeous colours on the
opposite wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little
and little. And he turned to the pulpit, and looked at it, and then,
leaning forward with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. "If he could
only have seen the Doctor again for one five minutes; have told him all
that was in his heart, what he owed to him, how he loved and reverenced
him, and would by God's help follow his steps in life and death, he
could have borne it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone
away for ever without knowing it all, was too much to bear."----"But am
I sure that he does not know it all?"--the thought made him start--"May
he not even now be near me, in this very chapel? If