," he replied, laughing. "Art may,
or may not, serve such a purpose; but be assured that the artist never
thinks of his work in that way."

"You make no claim, then, even of usefulness?"

"Most decidedly, none. You little imagine how distasteful the word is
to me in such connection."

"Then how can you say you are employing your best natural powers?"

She had fallen to ingenuous surprise, and Mallard again laughed, partly
at the simplicity of the question, partly because it pleased him to
have brought her to such directness.

"Because," he answered, "this work gives me keener and more lasting
pleasure than any other would. And I am not a man easily pleased with
my own endeavours, Mrs. Baske. I work with little or no hope of ever
satisfying myself--that is another thing. I have heard men speak of my
kind of art as 'the noble pursuit of Truth,' and so on. I don't care
for such phrases; they may mean something, but as a rule come of the
very spirit so opposed to my own--that which feels it necessary to
justify art by bombast. The one object I have in life is to paint a bit
of the world just as I see it. I exhaust myself in vain toil; I shall
never succeed; but I am right to persevere, I am right to go on
pleasing myself."

Miriam listened in astonishment.

"With such views, Mr. Mallard, it is fortunate that you happen to find
pleasure in painting pictures."

"Which, at all events, do people no harm."

She turned upon him suddenly.

"Do you encourage my brother in believing that his duty in life is to
please himself?"

"It has been my effort," he replied gravely.

"I don't understand you," Miriam said, in indignation.

"No, you do not. I mean to say that I believe your brother is not
really pleased with the kind of life he has too long been leading; that
to please himself he must begin serious work of some kind."

"That is playing with words, and on a subject ill-chosen for it."

"Mrs. Baske, do you seriously believe that Reuben Elgar can be made a
man of steady purpose by considerations that have primary reference to
any one or anything but himself?"

She made no answer.

"I am not depreciating him. The same will apply (if you are content to
face the truth) to many a man whom you would esteem. I am sorry that I
have lost your confidence, but that is better than to keep it by
repeating idle formulas that the world's experience has outgrown."

Miriam pondered, then said quietly:

"We have different t