Ethel wondered whether any one but herself observed that the voice most seldom heard was Norman's.
The promised call was made by Dr.Hoxton, and Mr.Everard, an old friend, and after their departure Dr.May came to Margaret's room with fresh accounts, corroborating what Harry had said of the clear knowledge and brilliant talent that Norman had displayed, to a degree that surprised his masters, almost as much as the examiners.

The copy of verses Dr.May brought with him, and construed them to Margaret, commenting all the way on their ease, and the fullness of thought, certainly remarkable in a boy of sixteen.
They were then resigned to Ethel's keeping, and she could not help imparting her admiration to their author, with some apology for vexing him again.
"I don't want to be cross," said Norman, whom these words roused to a sense that he had been churlish last night; "but I cannot help it.

I wish people would not make such a fuss about it." "I don't think you can be well, Norman." "Nonsense.

There's nothing the matter with me." "But I don't understand your not caring at all, and not being the least pleased." "It only makes it worse," said Norman; "I only feel as if I wanted to be out of the way.

My only comfortable time yesterday was on that bench in the cool quiet cloister.