The Mayor of Warwick | Page 6

will look at something that more nearly concerns you,"
said the bishop, as they approached the tower. "This large arch, by the

way, is to figure in the completed plan as a porte cochère. It can be
opened right through the tower, as you may observe, and the roadway
will then extend from the boulevard behind the college, across the
campus, through the eastern wing, and down the slope to the city
beyond."
Standing on the steps beneath the shadowing archway, Leigh caught a
reflected glow of enthusiasm from his guide's prophetic gaze. He was
stirred by an appreciation of the dream so grandly conceived, so
imperfectly realized, by a divination of the long struggle and the many
disappointments.
"I hope we may live to see it, sir," he said.
"You may--you may," the bishop replied, with a touch of sadness in his
tone. It was like a melancholy echo of Horace's Postume, Postume.
"But come," he added, waking from his reverie with an effort. "I can
scarcely expect you to take as much interest in this subject as I do, as
yet, though in time you may begin to dream of it, too. Our goal at
present lies farther up."
He led the way to the second story, where open doors disclosed
glimpses of tenantless rooms.
"Professor Cardington lives here," he remarked, "and you may have the
opposite suite, if you like. The rooms are secluded and command a fine
view in either direction. These are the only apartments in the tower, and
they are ordinarily reserved for the bachelors of the faculty."
Leigh would fain have turned in to examine the rooms he then and
there decided to accept, but the bishop continued to climb upward, and
he was obliged to put aside his curiosity for the time. The stone stairs
had now come to an end, and were replaced by stairs of iron, protected
by a railing, which followed the walls through successive floors and
past slits of windows that framed distant views of the sunny landscape
below. At last they came to a door, which the bishop unlocked. There
was one more flight of stairs, narrower and darker than the others. Then
they raised a trapdoor and stepped forth upon the roof of the tower.

For a few moments the intense light of the noonday sun was dazzling,
and they stood basking gratefully in the warmth that presented a
striking contrast with the chill shadows from which they had emerged.
Leigh observed that he stood upon a platform some fifty feet square,
surrounded by a parapet that extended at least a foot above his head.
This wall, however, did not shut out the prospect entirely, for the
regular depressions of its castellated edge formed a series of
embrasures through which it was possible for a man of average height
to look out over the surrounding country. The tiled floor sloped slightly
toward each corner, where apertures could be seen leading into four
long stone troughs that spouted water in rainy weather. The enclosure
collected and held both the light and the heat of the sun, and the bishop
remarked that for some time after dark the tiles remained warm to the
touch.
In the centre of this space stood a wooden building, or shed,
twenty-five feet square, painted a dark red, its roof on a level with the
height of the outer parapet. The bishop opened the door with another
key and threw the windows wide, disclosing a canvas-hooded telescope
in the centre, chairs and tables bearing astronomical instruments, and
sidereal maps upon the walls. Then, as he pressed a lever, the roof was
cleft asunder till the sky expanded overhead.
"Ah," he said, pleased with Leigh's exclamation of interest. "I thought
this was more in your line. This equatorial telescope and sliding roof
are the gift of a former alumnus, left us by a provision in his will. I had
hoped he would contribute something toward the chapel." His sigh, his
abstracted look, showed how much more acceptable such a gift would
have been. "Our present chapel in the main building is more fitted for
an assembly hall or commons. Please God, we shall one day worship
Him in a separate edifice more worthy of the purpose." He depressed
the eye end of the telescope until the muzzle pointed upward above the
parapet toward the sky. "The shed," he went on, "cannot be seen from
below. I refused to allow an incongruous dome to be built here, but the
sliding flat roof answers the purpose as well. You may find a senior
who wishes to take astronomy, but I fear that most of your effort must
be expended in drilling elementary mathematics into recalcitrant

freshmen and sophomores. Your predecessor was a good
mathematician as far as he went,