e second life I can still get out of music,' he
admitted, smiling.

'Well, then,' and she looked at him persuasively, 'why not give yourself
up to music? It is so easy--so little trouble to oneself--it just takes
you and carries you away.'

Then, for the first time, Langham became conscious--probably through
these admonitions of hers--that the situation had absurdity in it.

'It is not my _metier_,' he said hastily. 'The self that enjoys music
is an outer self, and can only bear with it for a short time. No, Miss
Leyburn, I shall leave Oxford, the college will sing a _Te Deum_, I
shall settle down in London, I shall keep a bit book going, and cheat
the years after all, I suppose, as well as most people.'

'And you will know, you will remember,' she said faltering, reddening,
her womanliness forcing the words out of her, 'that you have friends:
Robert--my sister--all of us?'

He faced her with a little quick movement. And as their eyes met each
was struck once more with the personal beauty of the other. His eyes
shone--their black depths seemed all tenderness.

'I will never forget this visit, this garden, this hour,' he said
slowly, and they stood looking at each other. Rose felt herself swept
off her feet into a world of tragic mysterious emotion. She all but put
her hand into his again, asking him childishly to hope, to be consoled.
But the maidenly impulse restrained her, and once more he leant on the
gate, burying his face in his hands.

Suddenly he felt himself utterly tired, relaxed. Strong nervous reaction
set in. What had all this scene, this tragedy been about? And then in
another instant was that sense of the ridiculous again clamoring to be
heard. He--the man of thirty-five--confessing himself, making a tragic
scene, playing Manfred or Cain to this adorable, half-fledged creature,
whom he had known five days! Supposing Elsmere had been there to
hear--Elsmere with his sane eye, his laugh! As he leant over the gate,
he found himself quivering with impatience to be away--by himself--out
of reach--the critic in him making the most bitter, remorseless mock of
all these heroics and despairs the other self had been indulging in. But
for the life of him he could not find a word to say--a move to make. He
stood hesitating, _gauche_, as usual.

'Do you know, Mr. Langham,' said Rose lightly, by his side, 'that there
is no time at all left for _you_ to give _me_ good advice in? That is an
obligation still hangin