CHAPTER XI
HARRY and Frank were asleep in the morning when the harsh clangor of the rising-bell resounded through the dormitory. It approached down the corridor, rang for a moment before their door, and then receded, leaving them roused to the sorrow of the day.
Harry was the first to leave his bed. When he had closed the window, he stood looking out a moment, although the room was so cold that he shivered.
The sun was brilliant on the snow, the icicles hanging from the eaves were twinkling crystals, the smoke from the chimneys of the buildings curled up toward a serene sky; but to Harry all this blithesome aspect had the indifference of utter cruelty. It would have been more befitting if the day had come in tempest and in gloom.
