aloud.

"And of course," said Master McLean, who had recovered his usual calm,
"he forgot all his classical learning while he was there. I do not know
where his island is, but desert islands are not conducive to a noble
education."

"On the contrary, sir," said Robert, "I learned more about good
literature when I was there than I ever did anywhere else, save when I
sat under you."

"'Tis clearly impossible. In such a place you could make no advancement
in learning save by communing with yourself."

"Nevertheless, sir, happy chance gave me a supply of splendid books. I
had Shakespeare, Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, translations of Homer
and of other great Greeks and Latins."

Mr. McLean's frosty eyes beamed.

"What a wonderful opportunity!" he said. "Eight or nine months on a
desert island with the best of the classics, and nobody to disturb you!
No such chance will ever come to me, I fear. Which book of the Iliad is
the finest, Robert?"

"The first, I think. 'Tis the noble opening, the solemn note of tragedy
that enchains the attention of us all."

"Well answered. But I wish to make a confession to you and Jacobus, one
that would shock nearly all scholars, yet I think that I must speak it
out, to you two at least, before I die. There are times when my heart
warms to the Odyssey more than it does to the Iliad. The personal appeal
is stronger in the Odyssey. There is more romance, more charm. The
interest is concentrated in Ulysses and does not scatter as it does in
the Iliad, where Hector is undoubtedly the most sympathetic figure. And
the coming home of Ulysses arouses emotion more than anything in the
Iliad. Now, I have made my confession--I suppose there is something in
the life of every man that he ought to hide--but be the consequences
what they may I am glad I have made it."

Mr. McLean rose from his chair and then sat down again. Twice that day
he had been shaken by emotion as never before, once by the return of the
lad whom he loved, risen from the dead, and once by the confession of a
terrible secret that had haunted him for years.

"When I was on the island I reread both books in excellent
translations," said Robert, the utmost sympathy showing in his voice,
"and I confess, sir, though my opinion is a poor one, that it agrees
with yours. Moreover, sir, you have said it ahead of me. I shall
maintain it, whenever and wherever it is challenged."

Mr. McLean's frosty blue eyes gleamed again, and hi