rry away from them, conscious that here
was the one profound difference between them, it was clear to him that
insensibly she had moved further than she knew from her father's
standpoint. Even among these solitudes, far from men and literature, she
had unconsciously felt the breath of her time in some degree. As he
penetrated deeper into the nature he found it honeycombed, as it were,
here and there, with beautiful unexpected softnesses and diffidences.
Once, after a long walk, as they were lingering homewards under a cloudy
evening sky, he came upon the great problem of her life--Rose and Rose's
art. He drew her difficulty from her with the most delicate skill. She
had laid it bare, and was blushing to think how she had asked his
counsel, almost before she knew where their talk was leading. How was it
lawful for the Christian to spend the few short years of the earthly
combat in any pursuit, however noble and exquisite, which merely aimed
at the gratification of the senses, and implied in the pursuer the
emphasising rather than the surrender of self?

He argued it very much as Kingsley would have argued it, tried to lift
her to a more intelligent view of a multifarious world, dwelling on the
function of pure beauty in life, and on the influence of beauty on
character, pointing out the value to the race of all individual
development, and pressing home on her the natural religious question:
How are the artistic aptitudes to be explained unless the Great Designer
meant them to have a use and function in His world? She replied
doubtfully that she had always supposed they were lawful for recreation,
and like any other trade for bread-winning, but----

Then he told her much that he knew about the humanising effect of music
on the poor. He described to her the efforts of a London society, of
which he was a subscribing member, to popularise the best music among
the lowest class; he dwelt almost with passion on the difference
between the joy to be got out of such things and the common brutalising
joys of the workman. And you could not have art without artists. In this
again he was only talking the commonplaces of his day. But to her they
were not commonplaces at all. She looked at him from time to time, her
great eyes lightening and deepening as it seemed with every fresh thrust
of his.

'I am grateful to you,' she said at last with an involuntary outburst,
'I am _very_ grateful to you!'

And she gave a long sigh as if some