e was an Oxford man--Fellow of St. Cyprian's.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes; there's no doubt about it.

'The oddest thing ever I heard of!' said Mr. Swancourt, starting with
astonishment. 'That the pupil of such a man----'

'The best and cleverest man in England!' cried Stephen enthusiastically.

'That the pupil of such a man should pronounce Latin in the way you
pronounce it beats all I ever heard. How long did he instruct you?'

'Four years.'

'Four years!'

'It is not so strange when I explain,' Stephen hastened to say. 'It was
done in this way--by letter. I sent him exercises and construing twice a
week, and twice a week he sent them back to me corrected, with marginal
notes of instruction. That is how I learnt my Latin and Greek, such as
it is. He is not responsible for my scanning. He has never heard me scan
a line.'

'A novel case, and a singular instance of patience!' cried the vicar.

'On his part, not on mine. Ah, Henry Knight is one in a thousand! I
remember his speaking to me on this very subject of pronunciation. He
says that, much to his regret, he sees a time coming when every man will
pronounce even the common words of his own tongue as seems right in his
own ears, and be thought none the worse for it; that the speaking age is
passing away, to make room for the writing age.'

Both Elfride and her father had waited attentively to hear Stephen go on
to what would have been the most interesting part of the story, namely,
what circumstances could have necessitated such an unusual method of
education. But no further explanation was volunteered; and they saw, by
the young man's manner of concentrating himself upon the chess-board,
that he was anxious to drop the subject.

The game proceeded. Elfride played by rote; Stephen by thought. It
was the cruellest thing to checkmate him after so much labour, she
considered. What was she dishonest enough to do in her compassion?
To let him checkmate her. A second game followed; and being herself
absolutely indifferent as to the result (her playing was above the
average among women, and she knew it), she allowed him to give checkmate
again. A final game, in which she adopted the Muzio gambit as her
opening, was terminated by Elfride's victory at the twelfth move.

Stephen looked up suspiciously. His heart was throbbing even more
excitedly than was hers, which itself had quickened when she seriously
set to work on this last occasion. Mr. Swancourt had left the room