colored woman must not be too positive. The meanness of such an
insinuation, made at such a time and in such a way, did not diminish its
sting. Perhaps it increased it. We saw Anthony, who had stood a moment
before cool and defiant, turn away cowed and subdued, his handsome face
painfully suffused. His behavior was a confession.

I am sorry to say that after this incident Anthony did not hold the same
position in our esteem that he had previously enjoyed. Some half-dozen
of us who cherished the old Institute feeling were inclined to make a
hero of him, but by degrees the sentiment of the new management
prevailed, and it was understood that Anthony was to be classed with
those who must meekly endure an irreparable misfortune. But Anthony did
not seem to yield to this view. He was very proud, and braced himself
firmly against it. He withdrew more and more from his schoolmates and
devoted his time to books. In the matter of scholarship he gained the
highest place, and held it to the close of our two-years' course. In the
mean time, his peculiarities were often made the subject of remark among
us. His growing reserve and dignity, his reputation as a scholar, and
his reticence and isolation were frequently discussed. And there was the
mystery of his color. It was a disputed question among us whether the
African taint could be detected in his appearance. Ray, the comrade who
had revealed it, claimed that it was plainly perceptible, while
Yerrinton, the oldest student among us, declared that there was not a
trace of it to be seen. He argued that Anthony was several shades
lighter than Daniel Webster, and he asserted enthusiastically that he
had various traits in common with that great statesman. But, then,
Yerrinton was a disciple of Beriah Green, and his opinion was not
regarded as unbiassed. For myself, I could never detect any appearance
of African blood in Anthony, although my knowledge of its existence
influenced my feelings toward him. To me he seemed to carry himself