In what remained of the proceedings the Warricombes had no personal interest.  For a special reason, however, their attention was excited by the rising of Professor Walsh, who represented the science of Physics.  Early in the present year had been published a speculative treatise which, owing to its supposed incompatibility with Christian dogmas, provoked much controversy and was largely discussed in all educated circles.  The work was anonymous, but a rumour which gained general currency attributed it to Professor Walsh.  In the year 1874 an imputation of religious heresy was not lightly to be incurred by a Professor—­even Professor of Physics—­at an English college.  There were many people in Kingsmill who considered that Mr. Walsh’s delay in repudiating so grave a charge rendered very doubtful the propriety of his retaining the chair at Whitelaw.  Significant was the dispersed applause which followed slowly upon his stepping forward to-day; on the Professor’s face was perchance legible something like a hint of amused defiance.  Ladies had ceased to beam; they glanced meaningly at one another, and then from under their eyelids at the supposed heretic.

‘A fine fellow, Walsh!’ exclaimed Buckland, clapping vigorously.

His father smiled, but with some uneasiness.  Mrs. Warricombe whispered to Sidwell: 

’What a very disagreeable face!  The only one of the Professors who doesn’t seem a gentleman.’

The girl was aware of dark reports affecting Mr. Walsh’s reputation.  She hazarded only a brief examination of his features, and looked at the applauding Buckland with alarm.

‘His lectures are splendid,’ said her brother, emphatically.  ’If I were going to be here next session, I should take them.’

For some minutes after the Professor’s return to his seat a susurration was audible throughout the hall; bonnets bent together, and beards exchanged curt comments.

The ceremony, as is usual with all ceremonies, grew wearisome before its end.  Buckland was deep in one of the chapters of his geologic prize when the last speaker closed the last report and left the assembly free to disperse.  Then followed the season of congratulations:  Professors, students, and the friendly public mingled in a conversazione.  A nucleus of vivacious intercourse formed at the spot where young Mr. Chilvers stood amid trophies of examinational prowess.  When his numerous relatives had all shaken hands with him, and laughed, smiled, or smirked their felicitations, they made way for the press of eager acquaintances.  His prize library was reverently surveyed, and many were the sportive sallies elicited by the victor’s obvious inability to carry away what he had won.  Suavely exultant, ready with his reply to every flattering address, Bruno Chilvers exhibited a social tact in advance of his years:  it was easy to imagine what he would become when Oxford terms and the seal of ordination had matured his youthful promise.