hall not interfere with my
practice."

"What practice?"

"The practice of my profession, sir! The profession of yourself
and of the great men of the past: such places have to be filled."

"Filled, but not filled with the same thing."

"You should have seen the other hapless wretches there to-night!
Pining for a smile! Moths begging the candle to scorch them! And
the candle was as cold as the north star and as distant."

Barbee rose and took a turn across the room and returning to his
chair stood before it.

"If Marguerite had only waited, had concealed herself a little
longer! Why did she not keep me in doubt until I had won some
great case! Think of a scene like this: a crowded court room some
afternoon; people outside the doors and windows craning their necks
to see and hear me; the judge nervous and excited; the members of
the bar beside themselves with jealousy as I arise and confront the
criminal and jury. Marguerite is seated just behind the jury; I
know why she chose that seat: she wished to study me to the best
advantage. I try to catch her eye; she will not look at me. For
three hours my eloquence storms. The judge acknowledges to a tear,
the jurors reach for their handkerchiefs, the people in the court
room sob like the skies of autumn. As I finish, the accused arises
and addresses the court: 'May it please your honor, in the face of
such a masterly prosecution, I can no longer pretend to be
innocent. Sir (addressing me), I congratulate you upon your
magnificent service to the commonwealth. Gentlemen of the jury,
you need not retire to bring in any verdict: I bring it in myself,
I am guilty, and my only wish is to be hanged. I suggest that you
have it done at once in order that nothing may mar the success of
this occasion!' That night Marguerite sends for me: that would
have been the time for declaration! I have a notion that if I can
extricate myself without wounding this poor little innocent, to
forswear matrimony and march on to fame."

"March on to bed."

"Marguerite is going to give a ball, uncle, a brilliant ball merely
to celebrate this irrepressible efflux and panorama of her
emotions. Watch me at that ball, uncle! Mark the rising Romeo of
the firm when Marguerite, the youthful Juliet of this town--"

A hand waved him quietly toward his bedroom.

"Well, good night, sir, good night. When the lark sings at
heaven's gate I'll greet thee, uncle. My poor Marguerite!--Good
n