speech at the great dinner given to the tenants next day. No one had
guessed at his powers before, and the county papers, and indeed some London
reporters, had predicted a splendid political future for this young
orator. It had been quite a long speech, and contained sound arguments and
common sense, and was expressed in language so lofty and refined that it
sent ecstatic admiration through his mother's fond breast.

And all the time Paul spoke he saw no sea of faces below him--only his
soul's eyes were looking into those strange chameleon orbs of his lady. He
said every word as if she had been there, and at the end it almost seemed
she must have heard him, so soft a peace fell on his spirit. Yes, she would
have been pleased with her lover, he knew, and that held large grains of
consolation. And so these days passed in well-accomplished duty; and at
last all the festivities were over, and he could rest.

Captain Grigsby and his father had helped him whenever they could, and an
eternal bond of friendship was cemented between the three.

"By Jove, Charles! You ought to be thundering proud of that boy!" Captain
Grigsby said the morning of his departure for Scotland on August 10. "He's
come up to the scratch like a hero, and whatever the damage, the lady must
have been well worth while to turn him out polished like that. Gad!
Charles, I'd take a month's journey to see her myself."

And Paul's father grunted with satisfaction as he said: "I told you so."

Thus the summer days went by in the strengthening of Paul's character--
trying always to live up to an ideal--trying ever to dominate his grief--
but never trying to forget.