his host's glass lay
still hardly touched before him. One consequence was that his humbled
feeling soon wore off, and he became eloquent on his own account, and
patronizing to Heron. He set our hero right upon every point connected
with modern literature and art, whereon it appeared that Heron had
hitherto possessed the crudest and most old-fashioned notions. Then he
declaimed some of his own shorter poems, and explained to Heron that
there was a conspiracy among all the popular and successful poets of the
day to shut him out from public notice, until Heron felt compelled, by a
sheer sense of fellow-feeling in grievance, to start up and grasp his
hand, and vow that his position was enviable in comparison with that of
those who had leagued themselves against him.

"But you must hear my last poem--you _shall_ hear it," Herbert said
magnanimously.

"I shall be delighted; I shall feel truly honored," murmured Victor in
perfect sincerity. "Only tell me when."

"The first reading--let me see; yes, the _first_ reading is pledged to
Miss Grey. No one," the poet grandly went on, "can hear it before she
hears it."

"Of course not--certainly not; I shouldn't think of it," the dethroned
ruler of St. Xavier's Settlements hastened to interpose. "What a noble
girl Miss Grey is! You know her very well, I suppose?"

"I look upon her," said the poet gravely, "as my patron saint." He threw
himself back in his chair, raised his eyes to the ceiling, murmured to
himself some words which sounded like a poetic prayer, and swallowed his
brandy and soda.

Victor thought he understood, and remained silent. His heart swelled
with admiration, sympathy, and an entirely innocent, unselfish envy.

"Still," the poet said, rising in his chair again, "there is no reason
why you should not hear the poem at the same time. I am going to-morrow
to read the poem to Minola--to Miss Grey and Mary. I am sure they will
both be delighted if you will come with me and hear it."

"I should like it of all things, of course; but I don't know whether I
ought to intrude on Miss Grey. I understood from her that she rather
prefers to live to herself--with her friends of course--and that she
does not desire to have visitors."

"You may safely come with me," the poet proudly said. "I'll call for you
to-morrow, if you like."

Victor assumed that he safely might accept the introduction of his new
acquaintance, and the appointment was made.

If Mr. Heron could, un