see Decius. I know he is splendid."

"I wish you would have tried, for all my best ideas are stolen from
you."

Ethel prevailed by following her brother to his room, and perching
herself on the window-sill, while he read his performance from many
slips of paper. The visions of those boyish days had not been forgotten,
the Vesuvius scenery was much as Ethel had once described it, but with
far more force and beauty; there was Decius's impassioned address to the
beauteous land he was about to leave, and the remembrances of his Roman
hearth, his farm, his children, whom he quitted for the pale shadows of
an uncertain Elysium. There was a great hiatus in the middle, and Norman
had many more authorities to consult, but the summing-up was nearly
complete, and Ethel thought the last lines grand, as they spoke of the
noble consul's name living for evermore, added to the examples that
nerve ardent souls to devote life, and all that is precious, to the call
of duty. Fame is not their object. She may crown their pale brows, but
for the good of others, not their own, a beacon light to the world. Self
is no object of theirs, and it is the casting self behind that wins--not
always the visible earthly strife, but the combat between good and evil.
They are the true victors, and, whether chronicled or forgotten, true
glory rests on their heads, the sole true glory that man can attain,
namely, the reflected beams that crown them as shadowy types of Him whom
Decius knew not--the Prince who gave Himself for His people, and thus
rendered death, for Truth's sake, the highest boon to mortal man.

"Norman, you must finish it! When will it be given in?"

"Next spring, if at all, but keep the secret, Ethel. I cannot have my
father's hopes raised."

"I'll tell you of a motto," said Ethel. "Do you remember Mrs. Hemans'
mention of a saying of Sir Walter Scott--'Never let me hear that brave
blood has been shed in vain. It sends a roaring voice down through all
time.'"

"If," said Norman, rather ashamed of the enthusiasm which, almost
approaching to the so-called "funny state" of his younger days, had
trembled in his voice, and kindled his eye--"if you won't let me put
'nascitur ridiculus mus.'"

"Too obvious," said Ethel. "Depend upon it, every undergraduate has
thought of it already."

Ethel was always very happy over Norman's secrets, and went about
smiling over Decius, and comparing her brother with such a one as poor
Meta was afflicted