Other thoughts quite alien to the subject I was then studying, began
to suggest themselves as a sort of refreshment to my mind. My vacation
at home among worldly people and pursuits seemed to have thrown open
before my eyes the hitherto undreamt of arena of active experience,
and whether I willed it or not my memory dwelt persistently at
intervals upon all I had seen, and heard, and done during the fleeting
summer months.
In a few moments I was far outside the limits of Notre Dame Abbey,
hovering in spirit around the neighborhood of my home, calling up
those faces and forms that had impressed me more than others. I went
back to the embarassing meeting with Dr Campbell in the library, and
as I thought over it I felt the warm blood rising within me and
suffusing both my cheeks, as it is wont to do when any of the blunders
of my life come back to me in my reverie.
What was most vexing to all in this case was that I could not resolve
my floating memories of him into any definite outline or form, he was
a mere shadow to me, that had flitted across my way for a short moment
and then left me bewildered and wondering.
I was rudely awakened from my reflections by the loud unmusical
summons of the class bell which set up a prolonged and monotonous
ringing just as I was struggling with all my vaguest and most
uncertain recollections of the much talked-of Dr Campbell.
I arose with my task undone and went listlessly down to the
class-room.
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