Dr. Hargrave was now showing every sign of his great age; the anguish of imminent despair was in his deep-set eyes and in his broken, trembling voice as he cried:  “Gentlemen, this is madness!  Charles, I implore you, do not take such precipitate action in so vital a matter!  Let us talk it over—­think it over.  The life of the university is at stake!”

It was evident that the finality in the tones and in the faces of his colleagues had daunted him; but with a tremendous effort he put down the weakness of age and turned fiercely upon Whitney to shame him from indorsing Scarborough’s suicidal policy.  But Whitney, with intent of brutality, took out his watch.  “I have just time to catch my train,” said he, indifferently; “I can only use my best judgment, doctor.  Sorry to have to disagree with you, but Senator Scarborough has convinced me.”  And having thus placed upon Scarborough the entire responsibility for the event of the experiment, he shook hands with his colleagues and hurried out to his waiting carriage.

Dr. Hargrave dropped into a chair and stared into vacancy.  In all those long, long years of incessant struggle against heartbreaking obstacles he had never lost courage or faith.  But this blow at the very life of the university and from its friends!  He could not even lift himself enough to look to his God; it seemed to him that God had gone on a far journey.  Scarborough, watching him, was profoundly moved.  “If at the end of three months you wish Ranger to resign,” said he, “I shall see to it that he does resign.  Believe me, doctor, I have not taken this course without considering all the possibilities, so far as I could foresee them.”

The old president, impressed by his peculiar tone, looked up quickly.  “There is something in this that I don’t understand,” said he, searching Scarborough’s face.

Scarborough was tempted to explain.  But the consequences, should he fail to convince Hargrave, compelled him to withhold.  “I hope, indeed I feel sure, you will be astonished in our young friend,” said he, instead.  “I have been talking with him a good deal lately, and I am struck by the strong resemblance to his father.  It is more than mere physical likeness.”

With a sternness he could have shown only where principle was at stake, the old man said:  “But I must not conceal from you, senator, that I have the gravest doubts and fears.  You have alienated the university’s best friend—­rich, powerful, able, and, until you exasperated him, devoted to its interests.  I regard you as having—­unintentionally, and no doubt for good motives—­betrayed the solemn trust Hiram Ranger reposed in you.”  He was standing at his full height, with his piercing eyes fixed upon his young colleague’s.

All the color left Scarborough’s face.  “Betrayed is a strong word,” he said.

“A strong word, senator,” answered Dr. Hargrave, “and used deliberately.  I wish you good day, sir.”