astronomer traversed the circumference of his lofty eyrie, pausing from
time to time to gaze through one of the embrasures of the parapet upon
the incomparable scene below. Accustomed as he was to the arid glory
of California, he found a grateful refreshment in this far greener
country. The tower was like a Pisgah, from which he gazed upon the
promised land with eyes that wearied of the desert.




CHAPTER III

CARDINGTON

Leigh stood before the mirror in his bedroom and wrestled with his tie
in preparation for the bishop's dinner. The week had brought in due
course that procession of events which makes the opening of a college
term a period of exceptional activity, but for the first time he had
passed through the trial untaxed. He was slowly recovering from a
sense of disappointment similar to that felt by a metropolitan at some
Arcadian retreat, when he stands on the lonely platform at nightfall,
listening to the trilling of the frogs increasing as the rumble of the
train diminishes in the distance, and experiences a wild impulse to
return at once to the fulness of life from which he has fled.

In the ample leisure afforded by his new position Leigh discovered an
analogous consciousness of loss, with its consequent dismay. He had
known many solitary hours when, as a student in the Lick Observatory,
he had searched the skies for long months together; but the experience
was overlaid by one more recent, so that now, with the varied life of a