and easy road--perhaps by marriage--that is her most
brilliant chance, and the rarest. Still, her career will not be
luxurious to begin with: she can hardly earn her own poor bread
independently at once, and the indignities she will be liable to are
such as I will not speak of."

"I desire to be independent," said Gwendolen, deeply stung and
confusedly apprehending some scorn for herself in Klesmer's words.
"That was my reason for asking whether I could not get an immediate
engagement. Of course I cannot know how things go on about theatres.
But I thought that I could have made myself independent. I have no
money, and I will not accept help from any one."

Her wounded pride could not rest without making this disclaimer. It was
intolerable to her that Klesmer should imagine her to have expected
other help from him than advice.

"That is a hard saying for your friends," said Klesmer, recovering the
gentleness of tone with which he had begun the conversation. "I have
given you pain. That was inevitable. I was bound to put the truth, the
unvarnished truth, before you. I have not said--I will not say--you
will do wrong to choose the hard, climbing path of an endeavoring
artist. You have to compare its difficulties with those of any less
hazardous--any more private course which opens itself to you. If you
take that more courageous resolve I will ask leave to shake hands with
you on the strength of our freemasonry, where we are all vowed to the
service of art, and to serve her by helping every fellow-servant."

Gwendolen was silent, again looking at her hands. She felt herself very
far away from taking the resolve that would enforce acceptance; and
after waiting an instant or two, Klesmer went on with deepened
seriousness.

"Where there is the duty of service there must be the duty of accepting
it. The question is not one of personal obligation. And in relation to
practical matters immediately affecting your future--excuse my
permitting myself to mention in confidence an affair of my own. I am
expecting an event which would make it easy for me to exert myself on
your behalf in furthering your opportunities of instruction and
residence in London--under the care, that is, of your family--without
need for anxiety on your part. If you resolve to take art as a
bread-study, you need only undertake the study at first; the bread will
be found without trouble. The event I mean is my marriage--in fact--you
will receive this as a