His place was assigned him as publicly as if a fat usher with a wand had pointed to the topmost chair; he was to pass up and still up, higher and higher, between the watching faces and the envious sounds--away up to the dais and the throne.

The article was "epoch-making," a landmark in his life; he had taken rank at a bound, waked up a national glory.

A national glory was needed, and it was an immense convenience he was there.

What all this meant rolled over me, and I fear I grew a little faint--it meant so much more than I could say "yea" to on the spot.

In a flash, somehow, all was different; the tremendous wave I speak of had swept something away.