When she was seated with her class on the stage in the city hall, where the graduating exercises were held, she saw herself just as she looked, and it was with a satisfaction which had nothing weakly in its vein, and smiled radiantly and innocently at herself as seen in this mirror of love and appreciation of all who knew her.

[Illustration:  The valedictory]

When the band stopped playing, and Ellen, who as valedictorian came last as the crown and capsheaf of it all, stepped forward from the semicircle of white-clad girls and seriously abashed boys, there was a subdued murmur and then a hush all over the hall.  Andrew and Fanny and the grandmother, seated directly in front of the stage—­for they had come early to secure good seats—­heard whispers of admiration on every side.  It was admiration with no dissent—­such jealous ears as theirs could not be deceived.  Fanny’s face was blazing with the sweet shame of pride in her child; Andrew was pale; the grandmother sat as if petrified, with a proud toss of her head.  They looked straight ahead; they dared not encounter each other’s eyes, for they were more self-conscious than Ellen.  They felt the attention of the whole assembly upon them.  Andrew was conscious of feeling ill and faint.  His own joy seemed to overwhelm him.  He forgot his stocks, he forgot his borrowed money, he forgot Lloyd’s; he was perfectly happy at the sight of that beautiful young creature of his own heart, who was preferred before all others in the sight of the whole city.  In truth, there was about Ellen a majesty and nobility of youth and innocence and beauty which overawed.  The other girls of the class were as young and as pretty, but none of them had that indescribable quality which seemed to raise her above them all.  Ellen still kept her blond fairness, but there was nothing of the doll-like which often characterizes the blond type.  Although she was small, Ellen’s color had the firmness and unwavering of tinted marble; she carried her crown of yellow braids as if it had been gold; she moved and looked and spoke with decision.  The violent and intense temperament which she had inherited from two sides of her family had crystallized in her to something more forcible, but also more impressive.  However, she was, after all, only a young girl, scarcely more than a child, whatever her principle of underlying character might be, and when she stood there before them all—­all her townspeople who represented her world, the human shore upon which her own little individuality beat—­when she saw those attentive faces, row upon row, all fixed upon her, she felt her heart pound against her side; she had no sensation of the roll of paper in her hand; an awful terror as of suddenly discovered depths came over her, as the wild clapping of hands to which her appearance had given rise died away.  Ellen stood still, holding the valedictory as if it had been a stick.  A little wondering murmur began to be heard.