moment of discovery, a couple of years before. It was a Temple of
Fame. The fact of your portrait being exhibited, with your style and
title printed below, marked you as one of the great ones of the
earth. Often he had said to Jane: "When I am there you'll be proud,
won't you?"

And she had looked up to him adoringly and wondered why he was not
there already.

It was Paul's habit to scrutinize the faces of those who had
achieved greatness, Archbishops, Field-Marshals, Cabinet Ministers,
and to speculate on the quality of mind that had raised them to
their high estate; and often he would shift his position, so as to
obtain a glimpse of his own features in the plate-glass window, and
compare them with those of the famous. Thus he would determine that
he had the brow of the divine, the nose of the statesman and the
firm lips of the soldier. It was a stimulating pastime. He was born
to great things; but to what great things he knew not. The sphere in
which his glory should be fulfilled was as yet hidden in the mists
of time.

But this morning, instead of roving over the illustrious gallery,
his eye caught and was fascinated by a single portrait. He stood
staring at it for a long time, lost in the thrill of thought.

At last Jane touched his arm. "What are you looking at?"

He pointed. "Do you see that?"

"Yes. It's--" She named an eminent actor, then in the heyday of