redible. But
there is so little to add to this paper--so little to alter--that I
couldn't feel justified in sending it as my own work. I think it is
altogether too good to appear anonymously. You must sign it, Marian, and
have the credit that is due to you.'

'Oh, do you think it's worth while?' answered the girl, who was far from
easy under this praise. Of late there had been too much of it; it made
her regard her father with suspicions which increased her sense of
trouble in keeping a momentous secret from him.

'Yes, yes; you had better sign it. I'll undertake there's no other girl
of your age who could turn out such a piece of work. I think we may
fairly say that your apprenticeship is at an end. Before long,' he
smiled anxiously, 'I may be counting upon you as a valued contributor.
And that reminds me; would you be disposed to call with me on the
Jedwoods at their house next Sunday?'

Marian understood the intention that lay beneath this proposal. She
saw that her father would not allow himself to seem discouraged by the
silence she maintained on the great subject which awaited her decision.
He was endeavouring gradually to involve her in his ambitions, to carry
her forward by insensible steps. It pained her to observe the suppressed
eagerness with which he looked for her reply.

'I will go if you wish, father, but I had rather not.'

'I feel sure you would like Mrs Jedwood. One has no great opinion of her
novels, but she is a woman of some intellect. Let me book you for next
Sunday; surely I have a claim to your companionship now and then.'

Marian kept silence. Yule puffed at his pipe, then said with a
speculative air:

'I suppose it has never even occurred to you to try your hand at
fiction?'

'I haven't the least inclination that way.'

'You would probably do something rather good if you tried. But I don't
urge it. My own efforts in that line were a mistake, I'm disposed to
think. Not that the things were worse than multitudes of books which
nowadays go down with the many-headed. But I never quite knew what I
wished to be at in fiction. I wasn't content to write a mere narrative
of the exciting kind, yet I couldn't hit upon subjects of intellectual
cast that altogether satisfied me. Well, well; I have tried my hand
at most kinds of literature. Assuredly I merit the title of man of
letters.'

'You certainly do.'

'By-the-by, what should you think of that title for a review--Letters?
It has never b