ave
experienced something of these troubles yourself, and have overcome
them. Perhaps you could help me to understand myself."

"If I thought I could, it would give me great happiness."

She was silent a little, then, with diffidence which lessened as she
went on, she related the history, as far as she knew it, of her
childhood, and described the growth of her mind up to the time when she
had left home to begin life as a governess. It was all very simply, but
very vividly, told; that natural command of impressive language which
had so struck Waymark in her letters displayed itself as soon as she
had gained confidence. Glimpses of her experience Waymark had already
had, but now for the first time he understood the full significance of
her early years. Whilst she spoke, he did not move his eyes from her
face. He was putting himself in her position, and imagining himself to
be telling his own story in the same way. His relation, he knew, would
have been a piece of more or less clever acting, howsoever true; he
would have been considering, all the time, the effect of what he said,
and, indeed, could not, on this account, have allowed himself to be
quite truthful. How far was this the case with Maud Enderby? Could he
have surprised the faintest touch of insincerity in look or accent, it
would have made a world's difference in his position towards _her_. His
instinct was unfailing in the detection of the note of affected
feeling; so much the stronger the impression produced upon him by a
soul unveiling itself in the _naivete_ of genuine emotion. That all was
sincere he could have no doubt. Gradually he lost his critical
attitude, and at moments surprised himself under the influence of a
sympathetic instinct. Then he would lose consciousness of her words for
an interval, during which he pondered her face, and was wrought upon by
its strange beauty. The pure and touching spirituality of Maud's
countenance had never been so present to him as now; she was pale with
very earnestness, her eyes seemed larger than their wont, there was
more than womanly sweetness in the voice which so unconsciously
modulated itself to the perfect expression of all she uttered. Towards
the end, he could but yield himself completely to the spell, and, when
she ceased, he, like Adam at the end of the angel's speech, did not at
once perceive that her voice was silent.

"It was long," she said, after telling the outward circumstances of her
life with h