The Mayor of WarwickHopkins, Herbert M. (Herbert Müller)
General
The Mayor of Warwick
Hopkins, Herbert M. (Herbert Müller)
Mayors -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Social classes -- United States -- Fiction
He would see, perhaps, that only one side of the quadrangle was built,
one fourth of the work done. Here, along the northern line, should be
the chapel, its altar window facing the east; on the southern, the
dining-hall, adorned with rafters of dark oak and with portraits of the
wise and great. To complete the plan, the remaining gap must be closed
by a hall similar in style to the one already built.
He might picture himself standing in the midst of this beautiful
creation of the imagination, taking in its architectural glories one by
one, until his eye paused at the eastern gateway to note the distant
landscape which it framed. And then, if he were in sympathy with the
ideals of which this building was the outward expression, he would wake
from his constructive reverie to realise sadly for the first time, not
the beauty, but the incompleteness, of the institution; not its
proximity to the city beyond, but its air of aloofness from the
community in which it stood.
About ten o'clock of the morning in which this story begins, a
stranger, not quite such an one as we have imagined, left the car at
the foot of the long hill and turned his face for the first time
towards St. George's Hall. As he passed up the shaded street along the
northern side of the campus, his keen, blue-grey eyes swept eagerly the
crest on which stood the institution that was destined to be the scene
of his professional labours for at least a year, perhaps for many
years, it might be, for life. Even a casual glance at the tall,
loosely hung figure of the young man, at his clean-cut features and
firm mouth, at the nervous, capable hand that grasped his walking-stick
as if it were a weapon, would reveal the type claimed by America as
peculiarly her own. It was evident that he possessed energy and
endurance, if not the power of the athlete. His expression was
intellectual, and shrewd almost to hardness; yet somewhere in his eyes
and in the corners of his mouth there lurked a suggestion of sweetness
and of ideality, that gave the whole personality a claim to more than
passing interest and regard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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