sp on literature. He had thrown his line, he had been encouraged by
nibbles, but publishers were too wary to take hold. It seemed to him
that he had literally cast his bread upon the waters, and apparently at
an ebb tide, and his venture had gone to the fathomless sea. He had put
his heart into the story, and, more than that, his hope of something
dearer than any public favor. As he went over the story in his mind,
scene after scene, and dwelt upon the theme that held the whole in
unity, he felt that Evelyn would be touched by the recognition of her
part in the inspiration, and that the great public must give some heed
to it. Perhaps not the great public--for its liking now ran in quite
another direction, but a considerable number of people like Celia, who
were struggling with problems of life, and the Alices in country homes
who still preserved in their souls a belief in the power of a noble
life, and perhaps some critics who had not rid themselves of the old
traditions. If the publishers would only give him a chance!

But if law and literature were to him little more than unsubstantial
dreams, the love he cherished was, in the cool examination of reason,
preposterous. What! the heiress of so many millions, brought up
doubtless in the expectation of the most brilliant worldly alliance,
the heiress with the world presently at her feet, would she look at a
lawyer's clerk and an unsuccessful scribbler? Oh, the vanity of youth
and the conceit of intellect!

Down in his heart Philip thought that she might. And he went on nursing
this vain passion, knowing as well as any one can know the social code,
that Mr. Mavick and Mrs. Mavick would simply laugh in his face at such
a preposterous idea. And yet he knew that he had her sympathy in his
ambition, that to a certain extent she was interested in him. The girl
was too guileless to conceal that. And then suppose he should become
famous--well, not exactly famous, but an author who was talked about,
and becoming known, and said to be promising? And then he could fancy
Mavick weighing this sort of reputation in his office scales against
money, and Mrs. Mavick weighing it in her boudoir against social
position. He was a fool to think of it. And yet, suppose, suppose the
girl should come to love him. It would not be lightly. He knew that,
by looking into her deep, clear, beautiful eyes. There were in them
determination and tenacity of purpose as well as the capability of
passion. He