en to this account of an interview he
had with a distinguished Member of Parliament, the one who has just made
that daring speech in the House that set everybody on fire." And she
read aloud from several closely written pages, holding the sheets toward
the still bright embers, and giving the words the benefit of her own
clear and understanding interpretation. Her mother listened with
interest.

"That is, indeed, a fine description," she agreed. "There is no question
that Forbes has a brilliant mind. The position he already occupies
testifies to that, and the older men all acknowledge that he is rising
more rapidly than could be expected of any ordinary man. He will be one
of the great men of the legal profession, your father and uncle think, I
know."

"One of the great men," repeated Roberta, her face still bent over her
letter. "I suppose there's no doubt at all of that. And, mother--you may
imagine that when he sets himself to persuade--any one--to--any course,
he knows how to put it as irresistibly as words can."

"Yes, I should imagine that, dear," said her mother, her eyes on the
down-bent profile, whose outlines, against the background of the
firelight, would have held a gaze less loving than her own.

"His age makes him interesting, you know," pursued Roberta. "He's just
enough older--and maturer--than any of the men I know, to make him seem
immensely more worth while. His very looks--that thin, keen face of
his--it's plain, yet attractive, and his eyes look as if they could
see through stone walls. It flatters you to have him seem to find
the things you say worth listening to. I can't just explain his
peculiar--fascination--I really think it is that, except that it's his
splendid mind that grips yours, somehow. Oh, I sound like a,
schoolgirl," she burst out, "in spite of my twenty-four years. I wonder
if you see what I mean."

"I think I do," said her mother, smiling a little. "You mean that your
judgment approves him, but that your heart lags a little behind?"

"How did you know?" Roberta folded her arms upon her mother's lap, and
looked up eagerly into her face. "I didn't say anything about my heart."

"But you did, dear. The very fact that you can discuss him so coolly
tells me that your heart isn't seriously involved as yet. Is it?"

"That's what I don't know," said the girl. "When he writes like
this--the last two pages I can't read to you--I don't know what I think.
And I'm not used to not knowing