o her ears in work, as she phrased it, with the "C minor Beethoven."

"Agility of finger equals softening of the brain" was a frequent gibe
of Krafft's; and now and then, at the close of a hard day's work,
Maurice believed that the saying contained a grain of truth. Opening
both halves of his window, he would lean out on the sill, too tired for
connected thought. But when dusk fell, he lay on the sofa, with his
arms clasped under his head, his knees crossed in the air.

At first, in his new buoyancy of spirit, he was able to keep foolish
ideas behind him, as well as to put away all recollection of the
disagreeable events he had been mixed up in of late: after having, for
weeks, borne a load that was too heavy for him, he breathed freely once
more. The responsibility of taking care of Ephie had been removed from
him--and this by far outweighed the little that he missed her. The
matter had wound up, too, in a fairly peaceable way; all being
considered, things might have been worse. So, at first, he throve under
his light-heartedness; and only now became aware how great the strain
of the past few weeks had been. His chief sensation was relief, and
also of relief at being able to feel relieved--indeed, the moment even
came when he thought it would be possible calmly to accept the fact of
Louise having left the town, and of his never being likely to see her
again.

Gradually, however, he began to be astonished at himself, and in the
background of his mind, there arose a somewhat morbid curiosity, even a
slight alarm, at his own indifference. He found it hard to understand
himself. Could his feelings, those feelings which, a week or two ago,
he had believed unalterable, have changed in so short a time? Was his
nature one of so little stability? He began to consider himself with
something approaching dismay, and though, all this time, he had been
going about on a kind of mental tiptoe, for fear of rousing something
that might be dormant in him, he now could not help probing himself, in
order to see if the change he observed were genuine or not. And this
with a steadily increasing frequency. Instead of continuing thankful
for the respite, he ultimately grew uneasy under it. Am I a person of
this weak, straw-like consistency, to be tossed about by every wind
that blows? Is there something beneath it all that I cannot fathom?

He had not seen Louise since the night he had left her asleep, beside
the sofa; and he was resolved n