se was simplicity
itself. In poetry we are some of us (as many living poets can testify)
all for sound; and some of us (as few living poets can testify) all for
sense. Arnold was for sound. He ended every line inexorably with a
full stop; and he got on to his full stop as fast as the inevitable
impediment of the words would let him. He began:

"Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit.
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste.
Brought death into the world and all our woe.
With loss of Eden till one greater Man.
Restore us and regain the blissful seat.
Sing heavenly Muse--"

"Beautiful!" said Blanche. "What a shame it seems to have had Milton all
this time in the library and never to have read him yet! We will have
Mornings with Milton, Arnold. He seems long; but we are both young, and
we _may_ live to get to the end of him. Do you know dear, now I look
at you again, you don't seem to have come back to Windygates in good
spirits."

"Don't I? I can't account for it."

"I can. It's sympathy with Me. I am out of spirits too."

"You!"

"Yes. After what I saw at Craig Fernie, I grow more and more uneasy
about Anne. You will understand that, I am sure, after what I told you
this morning?"

Arnold looked back, in a violent hurry, from Blanche to Milton. That
renewed reference to events at Craig Fernie was a renewed reproach to
him for his conduct at the inn. He attempted to silence her by pointing
to Geoffrey.

"Don't forget," he whispered, "that there is somebody in the room
besides ourselves."

Blanche shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.

"What does _he_ matter?" she asked. "What does _he_ know or care about
Anne?"

There was only one other chance of diverting her from the delicate
subject. Arnold went on reading headlong, two lines in advance of the
place at which he had left off, with more sound and less sense than
ever:

"In the beginning how the heavens and earth.
Rose out of Chaos or if Sion hill--"

At "Sion hill," Blanche interrupted him again.

"Do wait a little, Arnold. I can't have Milton crammed down my throat
in that way. Besides I had something to say. Did I tell you that I
consulted my uncle about Anne? I don't think I did. I caught him alone
in this very room. I told him all I have told you. I showed him Anne's
letter. And I said, 'What do you think?' He took a little time (and a
great deal of snuff) before he would say what he thought. When he