Every thought breathed beauty and sublimity, every gesture was the
"poetry of motion." More than once did the entranced May Edgerton catch
the dark eyes of the orator fixed with an almost scrutinizing gaze upon
her face. The walls rang with applause as he resumed his seat; bouquets
were showered at his feet by beauty's hand, the excited students called
out "Sherwood, Sherwood!" he had surpassed himself. May scarcely heard a
word that followed. She was delighted to find that she had not deceived
herself, that in intellectual strength he equalled the promise of his
daring.

At the close of the exercises Marion Sherwood would have hastened away,
but the chancellor detained him. "Alderman Edgerton desires an
introduction to you, sir," deliberately remarked the chancellor. Marion
bowed. The alderman, after the first greeting, caught his hand. "I
cannot be deceived, sir; you are the gallant youth who so nobly rescued
my daughter from a terrible death." Again Marion bowed, hesitatingly,
striving to withdraw his hand from the alderman's grasp. "Will you not
permit me at least to thank you?" said Mr. Edgerton, in a wounded tone.
Young Sherwood had not the slightest intention of offending him, and
wished to hasten away only to escape observation. Now, however, with his
usual generosity, he forgot his own inclinations, and permitted himself
to be overwhelmed with expressions of heartfelt gratitude. He suddenly
checked the alderman's torrent of eloquence by requesting an
introduction to his daughter, who stood in the shadow of a pillar
awaiting her father. May Edgerton's one little sentence of earnest
thanks, speaking through every feature, was more grateful to the young
student than all her father's words. One mutual glance made them friends
in more than name. Now many an evening found Marion Sherwood whiling
away a student's idle hours in the luxuriant drawing-room of Mr.
Edgerton. May and he together read their favorite poets and the old