many good things as I--as many human and material appendages, as many
sons or daughters, a wife with as many gowns, a house with as many
servants, a stable with as many horses, a heart with as many aches." The
Master got up when he had spoken thus--he stood a moment--near the sofa
looking down on his agitated pupil. "Are you possessed of any property?"
it occurred to him to ask.

"None to speak of."

"Oh well then there's no reason why you shouldn't make a goodish
income--if you set about it the right way. Study _me_ for that--study me
well. You may really have horses."

Paul sat there some minutes without speaking. He looked straight before
him--he turned over many things. His friend had wandered away, taking up
a parcel of letters from the table where the roll of proofs had lain.
"What was the book Mrs. St. George made you burn--the one she didn't
like?" our young man brought out.

"The book she made me burn--how did you know that?" The Master looked up
from his letters quite without the facial convulsion the pupil had
feared.

"I heard her speak of it at Summersoft."

"Ah yes--she's proud of it. I don't know--it was rather good."

"What was it about?"

"Let me see." And he seemed to make an effort to remember. "Oh yes--it