all dangers, we easily might fancy
him one of the old heathen deities!"

The next day there was to be some public literary exercise at the
university, to which the alderman's family had been invited. May
remembered Hal's once saying that he saw the fireman disappear somewhere
around that venerable building, so an early hour found her seated at her
father's side in the solemn-looking chapel, watching the arrival of the
spectators, but more particularly the entrance of the students. The
exercises commenced, still May had discovered no face resembling the
fireman of her dreams. Several essays were pronounced with ease and
grace, and the alderman took a fitting occasion to make a complimentary
remark to one of the officers of the institution who was seated near
him. "Exactly, exactly," echoed the professor, "but wait until young
Sherwood speaks!"

Marion Sherwood was called, and there arose from among the heavy folds
of the curtain that had almost entirely concealed him, a student who
advanced with the dignity of a Jupiter and the grace of an Apollo. Duty
was his theme. The words flowed in a resistless torrent from his lips.
Every thought breathed beauty and sublimity, every gesture was the
"poetry of motion." More than once did the entranced May Edgerton catch
the dark eyes of the orator fixed with an almost scrutinizing gaze upon
her face. The walls rang with applause as he resumed his seat; bouquets
were showered at his feet by beauty's hand, the excited students called
out "Sherwood, Sherwood!" he had surpassed himself. May scarcely heard a
word that followed. She was delighted to find that she had not deceived
herself, that in intellectual strength he equalled the promise of his
daring.

At the close of the exercises Marion Sherwood would have hastened away,
but the chancellor detained him. "Alderman Edgerton desires an
introduction to you, sir," deliberately remarked the chancellor. Marion
bowed. The alderman, after the first greeting, caught his hand. "I
cannot be deceived, sir; you are the gallant youth who so nobly rescued
my daughter from a terrible death." Again Marion bowed, hesitatingly,
striving to withdraw his hand from the alderman's grasp. "Will you not
permit me at least to thank you?" said Mr. Edgerton, in a wounded tone.
Young Sherwood had not the slightest intention of offending him, and
wished to hasten away only to escape observation. Now, however, with his
usual generosity, he forgot his own incl