as they listen to it. Sing now something larger. And I
shall see."

"Oh, not now--by-and-by," said Gwendolen, with a sinking of heart at
the sudden width of horizon opened round her small musical performance.
For a lady desiring to lead, this first encounter in her campaign was
startling. But she was bent on not behaving foolishly, and Miss
Arrowpoint helped her by saying--

"Yes, by-and-by. I always require half an hour to get up my courage
after being criticised by Herr Klesmer. We will ask him to play to us
now: he is bound to show us what is good music."

To be quite safe on this point Herr Klesmer played a composition of his
own, a fantasia called _Freudvoll, Leidvoll, Gedankenvoll_--an
extensive commentary on some melodic ideas not too grossly evident; and
he certainly fetched as much variety and depth of passion out of the
piano as that moderately responsive instrument lends itself to, having
an imperious magic in his fingers that seem to send a nerve-thrill
through ivory key and wooden hammer, and compel the strings to make a
quivering lingering speech for him. Gwendolen, in spite of her wounded
egoism, had fullness of nature enough to feel the power of this
playing, and it gradually turned her inward sob of mortification into
an excitement which lifted her for the moment into a desperate
indifference about her own doings, or at least a determination to get a
superiority over them by laughing at them as if they belonged to
somebody else. Her eyes had become brighter, her cheeks slightly
flushed, and her tongue ready for any mischievous remarks.

"I wish you would sing to us again, Miss Harleth," said young Clintock,
the archdeacon's classical son, who had been so fortunate as to take
her to dinner, and came up to renew conversation as soon as Herr
Klesmer's performance was ended, "That is the style of music for me. I
never can make anything of this tip-top playing. It is like a jar of
leeches, where you can never tell either beginnings or endings. I could
listen to your singing all day."

"Yes, we should be glad of something popular now--another song from you
would be a relaxation," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, who had also come near
with polite intentions.

"That must be because you are in a puerile state of culture, and have
no breadth of horizon. I have just learned that. I have been taught how
bad my taste is, and am feeling growing pains. They are never
pleasant," said Gwendolen, not taking any notice of Mr