he said, "I am afraid you will laugh at me; but I have been haunted with
the notion that you have been teaching Lord Evelyn how to read poetry,
or that he has been unconsciously imitating you. I heard him repeat some
passages from 'The Pilgrims,' and I was convinced he was reproducing
something he had heard from you. Well--I am almost ashamed to ask you--"

A touch of embarrassment appeared on the girl's face, and she glanced at
her father.

"Yes, certainly, Natalie; why not?"

"Well," she said, lightly, "I cannot read if I am stared at. You must
remain as you are."

She took the book from him, and passed to the other side of the room, so
that she was behind them both. There was silence for an instant or two
as she turned over the leaves.

Then the silence was broken; and if Brand was instantly assured that his
surmise was correct, he also knew that here was a more pathetic
cadence--a prouder ring--than any that Lord Evelyn had thrown into the
lines. She read at random--a passage here, a passage there--but always
it seemed to him that the voice was the voice of a herald proclaiming
the new awakening of the world--the evil terrors of the night
departing--the sunlight of liberty and right and justice beginning to
shine over the sea. And these appeals to England!

"Oh thou, clothed round with raiment of white waves,
Thy brave brows lightening through the gray wet air,
Thou, lulled with sea-sounds of a thousand caves,