his my labour I am content to
do the thing that lies next me. I wait events. You have had no training,
no blundering to fit you for such work. There are many other modes of
being useful; but none in which I could undertake to direct you. I am
not in the habit of talking so much about my ways--but that is of no
consequence. I think I am right in doing so in this instance.'

'I cannot misunderstand you,' faltered Lady Georgina.

Falconer was silent. Without looking up from the floor on which her eyes
had rested all the time he spoke, Lady Georgina said at last,

'Then what is my next duty? What is the thing that lies nearest to me?'

'That, I repeat, belongs to your every-day history. No one can answer
that question but yourself. Your next duty is just to determine what
your next duty is.--Is there nothing you neglect? Is there nothing you
know you ought not to do?--You would know your duty, if you thought in
earnest about it, and were not ambitious of great things.'

'Ah then,' responded Lady Georgina, with an abandoning sigh, 'I suppose
it is something very commonplace, which will make life more dreary than
ever. That cannot help me.'

'It will, if it be as dreary as reading the newspapers to an old deaf
aunt. It will soon lead you to something more. Your duty will begin to
comfort you at once, but will at length open the unknown fountain of
life in your heart.'

Lady Georgina lifted up her head in despair, looked at Falconer through
eyes full of tears, and said vehemently,

'Mr. Falconer, you can have no conception how wretched a life like mine
is. And the futility of everything is embittered by the consciousness
that it is from no superiority to such things that I do not care for
them.'

'It is from superiority to such things that you do not care for them.
You were not made for such things. They cannot fill your heart. It has
whole regions with which they have no relation.'

'The very thought of music makes me feel ill. I used to be passionately
fond of it.'

'I presume you got so far in it that you asked, "Is there nothing more?"
Concluding there was nothing more, and yet needing more, you turned from
it with disappointment?'

'It is the same,' she went on hurriedly, 'with painting, modelling,
reading--whatever I have tried. I am sick of them all. They do nothing
for me.'

'How can you enjoy music, Lady Georgina, if you are not in harmony with
the heart and source of music?'

'How do you mean?'

'