removed.  They were, indeed, a set of people who exhibited more sweetness of nature than thrift.  Elegance, even of the simplest sort, was almost unknown in their homes, and fashion was a word that had only its remotest echoes there; yet they prided themselves upon adhering strictly to rules of behaviour which in their mother-country had already fallen into the grave of outgrown ideas.  Their little society was, indeed, a curious thing, in which the mincing propriety of the Old World had wed itself right loyally to the stern necessity of the New.  How stern such necessity might be, the Rexford family, who came rolling into this state of things in their own family carriage, had yet to learn.

It was to the Principalship of the New College that Robert Trenholme, by virtue of scholastic honours from Oxford, had attained.  Although a young man for the post, it was admitted by all that he filled it admirably.  The school had increased considerably in the three years of his management.  And if Trenholme adapted himself to the place, the place was also adapted to him, for by it he held an assured standing in the country; he could, as the saying is, mix with the best; and he valued his position.  Why should he not value it?  He had won it honourably, and he cherished it merely as the greatest of his earthly goods, which he believed he held in due subordination to more heavenly benefits.  Those lives are no doubt the most peaceful in which self-interest and duty coalesce, and Trenholme’s life at this period was like a fine cord, composed of these two strands twisted together with exquisite equality.  His devotion to duty was such as is frequently seen when a man of sanguine, energetic temperament throws the force of his being into battle for the right.  He had added to his school duties voluntary service in the small English church of Chellaston, partly because the congregation found it hard to support a clergyman; partly because he preferred keeping his schoolboys under the influence of his own sermons, which were certainly superior to those of such clergymen as were likely to come there; and partly, if not chiefly, because the activity of his nature made such serving a delight to him.  The small church, like the school, had been greatly improved since it had come under his hand, and the disinterestedness of his unpaid ministrations was greatly lauded.  He was a very busy, and a successful, man, much esteemed by all who knew him.  The New College was expected to become a university; Robert Trenholme hoped for this and expected to remain at its head, but this hope of his was by the way; he did not think of it often, for he loved work for its own sake.  Even the value he set on his present success was not often, more actively in his mind than the value he set on the fresh air he breathed.  It was very occasionally that the pride of him came to the surface, and then chiefly when animated by the memory of the time when he had been at a disadvantage in worldly things.  Such memories came to him when he prepared to go to the railway station to meet the Rexfords.  He concealed it perfectly, but it gave him certain swellings of heart to think that Miss Rexford would now gradually see all to which he had attained.