had rescued him. The thousand impressions
of the past six months sparkled into life; the sublime, pathetic, and
amusing scenes of that day rose up like stars in his fancy; and against
his lips, like water against a dam, rushed vigorous sentences from the
great deeps opened in his soul by grief and change, and then leaped over
in a beautiful, glittering flood. He wondered vaguely at his vehemence
and fluency, at the silence in the hall, that these great people should
listen to him at all. They heard him with astonishment, the leaders with
interest, the Senator with tears; and Monsignor looked once towards the
gallery where Anne Dillon sat literally frozen with terror and pride.

The long and sincere applause which followed the speech warned him that
he had impressed a rather callous crowd of notables, and an exaltation
seized him. The guests lost no time in congratulating him, and every
tongue wagged in his favor.

"You have the gift of eloquence," said Sullivan.

"It will be a pleasure to hear you again," said Vandervelt, the literary
and social light of the Tammany circle.

"You have cleared your own road," Birmingham the financier remarked, and
he stayed long to praise the young orator.

"There's nothin' too good for you after to-night," cried the Senator
brokenly. "I simply can't--cannot talk about it."

"Your uncle," said Doyle Grahame, the young journalist who was bent on
marrying Mona Everard, "as usual closes the delicate sparring of his
peers with a knockdown blow; there's nothing too good for you."

"It's embarrassing."

"I wish I had your embarrassment. Shall I translate the praises of these
great men for you? Sullivan meant, I must have the use of your
eloquence; the lion Vandervelt, when you speak in my favor; Birmingham,
please stump for me when I run for office; and the Senator, I will make
you governor. You may use your uncle; the others hope to use you."

"I am willing to be of service," said Arthur severely.

"A good-nature thrown away, unless you are asked to serve. They have all
congratulated you on your speech. Let me congratulate you on your uncle.
They marvel at your eloquence; I, at your luck. Give me such an uncle
rather than the gift of poesy. Do not neglect oratory, but cultivate thy
uncle, boy."

Arthur laughed, Monsignor came up then, and heaped him with praise.

"Were you blessed with fluency in--your earlier years?" he said.

"Therein lies the surprise, and the joke. I never