always looked much younger than I. And he was, as we all said,
'uncanny '--as uncanny as our little friend,"--here indicating me by
a nod of his head and a smile which was meant to be kindly--"He
never practised or 'trained' for anything and yet all things came
easily to him. He was as magnificent in his sports as he was in his
studies, and I remember--how well I remember it!--that there came a
time at last when we all grew afraid of him. If we saw him coming
along the 'High' we avoided him,--he had something of terror as well
as admiration for us,--and though I was of his college and
constantly thrown into association with him, I soon became infected
with the general scare. One night he stopped me in the quadrangle
where he had his rooms--"

Here Mr. Harland broke off suddenly.

"I'm boring you,"--he said--"I really have no business to inflict
the recollections of my youth upon you."

Dr. Brayle's brown eyes showed a glistening animal interest.

"Pray go on!" he urged--"It sounds like the chapter of a romance."

"I'm not a believer in romance,"--said Mr. Harland, grimly--"Facts
are enough in themselves without any embroidered additions. This
fellow was a Fact,--a healthy, strong, energetic, living Fact. He
stopped me in the quadrangle as I tell you,--and he laid his hand on
my shoulder. I shrank from his touch, and had a restless desire to
get away from him. 'What's the matter with you, Harland?' he said,
in a grave, musical voice that was peculiarly his own--'You seem
afraid of me. If you are, the fault is in yourself, not in me!' I