so great that he hesitates; then he refuses to take advantage of her
generosity, and parts with her for a last time. Ellen becomes engaged
to Wolcott, who had won her heart from the first; and Fanshawe,
sinking into rapid consumption, dies before his class graduates." The
story must have had a good deal of innocent lightness; and it is a
proof of how little the world of observation lay open to Hawthorne, at
this time, that he should have had no other choice than to make his
little drama go forward between the rather naked walls of Bowdoin,
where the presence of his heroine was an essential incongruity. He was
twenty-four years old, but the "world," in its social sense, had not
disclosed itself to him. He had, however, already, at moments, a very
pretty writer's touch, as witness this passage, quoted by Mr. Lathrop,
and which is worth transcribing. The heroine has gone off with the
nefarious Butler, and the good Dr. Melmoth starts in pursuit of her,
attended by young Wolcott.

"'Alas, youth, these are strange times,' observed the
President, 'when a doctor of divinity and an undergraduate
set forth, like a knight-errant and his squire, in search of
a stray damsel. Methinks I am an epitome of the church
militant, or a new species of polemical divinity. Pray
Heaven, however, there be no such encounter in store for us;
for I utterly forgot to provide myself with weapons.'

"'I took some thought for that matter, reverend knight,'
replied Edward, whose imagination was highly tickled by Dr.
Melmoth's chivalrous comparison.

"'Aye, I see that you have girded on a sword,' said the
divine. 'But wherewith shall I defend myself? my hand being