rnestness with which a man sets himself
to decide upon the momentous question of life or death, I gave myself up
to a night of reflection, and seated in my solitary bachelor apartment,
debated with myself as to the resolution at which I had dimly hinted in
my parting words to Miss Preston.

That I am a musician by nature, my success with the the public seems to
indicate. That by following out the line upon which I had entered I
would attain a certain eminence in my art, I do not doubt. But uncle,
there are two kinds of artists in this world; those that work because
the spirit is in them and they cannot be silent if they would, and those
that speak from a conscientious desire to make apparent to others the
beauty that has awakened their own admiration. The first could not give
up his art for any cause, without the sacrifice of his soul's life; the
latter--well the latter could and still be a man with his whole inner
being intact. Or to speak plainer, the first has no choice, while the
latter has, if he has a will to exert it. Now you will say, and the
world at large, that I belong to the former class. I have risen in ten
years from a choir boy in Trinity Church to a position in the world of
music that insures me a full audience wherever and whenever I have a
mind to exert my skill as a pianist. Not a man of my years has a more
promising outlook in my profession, if you will pardon the seeming
egotism of the remark, and yet by the ease with which I felt I could
give it up at the first touch of a master passion, I know that I am not
a prophet in my art but merely an interpreter, one who can speak well
but who has never felt the descent of the burning tongue and hence not a
sinner against my own soul if I turn aside from the way I am walking.
The question was, then, should I make a choice? Love, as you say, seems
at first blush too insecure a joy, if not often too trivial a one, to
unsettle a man in his career and change the bent of his whole after
life; especially a love born of surprise and fed by the romance of
distance and mystery. Had I met her in ordinary intercourse, surrounded
by her friends and without the charm cast over her by unwonted
circumstances, and then had felt as I did now that of all women I had
seen, she alone would ever move the deep springs of my being, it would
be different. But with this atmosphere of romance surrounding and
hallowing her girl's form till it seemed almost as ethereal and
unearthly a