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Updated: June 20, 2025
He was far too sincere a nature, Ewbert saw, to conceive of such inhospitality as a hint for his departure, or he was too deeply interested to be aware of it. The minister was obliged to sit down again, and it was eleven o'clock before Hilbrook rose to go.
They were in the midst of a great question, and they sat down on the decaying doorstep to have it out; Hilbrook having gone in for his hat and come out again, with its soft wide brim shading his thin face, frosted with half a week's beard. "But character," the minister urged at a certain point, "what becomes of character?
He had thrown out that hasty suggestion without much faith in it at the time, and his faith in it had not grown since. "I'm glad," he began, but Hilbrook pressed on as if he had not spoken. "I guess we're built like an onion," he said, with a severity that forbade Ewbert to feel anything undignified in the homely illustration.
Ewbert desperately suggested that he must find them company, they seemed sociable creatures; and then, in his utter dearth, he asked how the old dog was getting on. "Oh, he's dead," said Hilbrook, and the minister's heart smote him with a pity for the survivor's forlornness which the old man's apathetic tone had scarcely invited.
The memory of Josiah Hilbrook himself began to be lost in the name he had given the place; and except for the perfunctory mention of its founder in the ceremonies of Commencement Day, the university hardly remembered him as a man, but rather regarded him as a locality.
He had not tried to characterize the university by his peculiar religious faith, but he had given a church building, a parsonage, and a fund for the support of preaching among them at Hilbrook to the small body of believers to which his people adhered.
He turned his head apathetically on the pillow, and no longer faced his visitor, who found it impossible in the conditions of tacit dismissal to philosophize further. "I was sorry," Ewbert began, "not to be able to speak with you after church, the other day. There were so many people" "That's all right," said Hilbrook unresentfully. "I hadn't anything to say, in particular."
"It's just like your thinking you hadn't taken cold, the other day when you were caught in the rain; and the next morning you got up with a sore throat, and it was Sunday morning, too." Ewbert could not deny this, and he had no great wish to see Hilbrook soon again.
Hilbrook came the night after he had borrowed the book, full of talk about it, to ask if he might keep it a little longer. Ewbert had slept well the intervening night, and had been suffered to see Hilbrook upon promising his wife that he would not encourage the old man to stay; but Hilbrook stayed without encouragement.
With a chill of apprehension he pushed it open, and he could not have experienced a more disagreeable effect if the dark fear in his mind had been realized than he did to see Hilbrook lying in his bed alive and awake. His face showed like a fine mask above the sheet, and his long, narrow hands rested on the covering across his breast.
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