as firm. He stood the very foremost of them
all, as they drifted quite in to the green, green shore. Around him
men talked and laughed, and the sun shone. He may have laid his hand
commandingly on some youthful shoulders and pushed back the eager boy
who longed to bound first into this new world. He may have saved him
thus from death for life. We do not know.

All we do know is, that with his own brave feet he marched ahead of them
all, solemnly, smilingly, with the oracle in his heart. From the vessel
to the green, green shore--such a little step. He leaps from the Grecian
barge to the Trojan land, alive. Does he turn to look at his comrades
and off eastwards, beyond homewards, with a great thrill before he falls
dead? We do not know.

All we do know is, that WE thrill now as we see him leaping to his
death, even over this gap of ages, through these shadows of unreality.

We have left Mae flashing scorn at Norman for a long while, a much
longer while than she really needed for her flash, for Norman's angry
start, violent exclamation, and indignant glance convinced her of her
mistake before he answered her.

"I refuse to fight--I--Great--I beg your pardon, Miss Mae, but of course
I'll fight. I only hope the fellow isn't such a craven as to let it blow
over. However, I strongly suspect policy and his friends will keep him
from it. For my part, I would like to break my lance for the poor woman.
Any good blow struck for the fair thing, helps old Mother earth a bit, I
suppose."

"That's your idea of life?" queried Eric, rather gravely. "My efforts
are all to push Eric Madden on his way a bit."

"And I haven't any idea; I just live," said Mae, "like a black and
tan dog. I wish I were one. Then the only disagreeable part of me, my
conscience, would be out of the way. But what has all this to do with
the duel?" "That has something to do with it, I fancy," said Eric,
rising and leaving the room hastily, as the bell rang. "No, stay where
you are. I'll receive him in the little salon." Mae rose and walked to
the fireside, and looked down on the two small logs of wet wood that
sizzled on the fire-dogs. The faint, red flame that flickered around
them, looked sullen and revengeful, she thought, as she watched the
feeble blaze intently. It seemed hours since Eric had left the room.
What was Norman thinking? What was the stranger saying out in the little
salon? No, no, she would not think thus. She would repeat something to
qui