"You must be wrong there! But in any case you must not presume to take
the liberties of a great poet"

"It is a poor reward for being a great poet to be allowed to take
liberties. I should say that, doing their work to the best of their
power, they were rewarded with the discovery of higher laws of verse.
Every one must walk by the light given him. By the rules which others
have laid down he may learn to walk; but once his heart is awake to
truth, and his ear to measure, melody and harmony, he must walk by the
light, and the music God gives him."

"That is dangerous doctrine, Andrew!" said the lady, with a superior
smile. "But," she continued, "I will mark what faults I see, and point
them out to you."

"Thank you, ma'am, but please do not send the verses anywhere."

"I will not, except I find them worthy. You need not be afraid. For my
father's sake I will have an eye to your reputation."

"I am obliged to you, ma'am," returned Andrew, but with his curious
smile, hard to describe. It had in it a wonderful mixing of sweetness
and humor, and a something that seemed to sit miles above his amusement.
A heavenly smile it was, knowing too much to be angry. It had in it
neither offense nor scorn. In respect of his poetry he was shy like a
girl, but he showed no rejection of the patronage forced upon him by the
lady.

He rose and stood a moment.