"

"Really, Mr. Moore," she said, with a smile, "it is surprising to hear
you say so--you of all men."

"What comes of it? You play the fool before a lot of idle people,
until--until--your nature is subdued to what it works in, I suppose.
What service do you do to any human being?--of what use are you in the
world?"

"Surely you confer a benefit on the public when you provide them with
innocent amusement," she ventured to say--she had not considered this
subject much, if at all.

"But what comes of it? They laugh for an hour or two and go home. It is
all gone--like a breath of wind--"

"But isn't mere distraction a useful and wholesome thing?" she
remonstrated again, "I know a great philosopher who is exceedingly fond
of billiards, and very eager about the game too; but he doesn't expect
to gain any moral enlightenment from three balls and a bit of stick.
Distraction, amusement, is necessary to human beings; we can't always be
thinking of the problems of life."

"They talk of the divine power of song!" he continued. "Well, what I
want to do is this. I can sing a little; and I want to know that this
gift I have from Nature hasn't been entirely thrown away--scattered to
the winds and lost. Here in Brighton they are always getting up morning
or afternoon concerts for charitable purposes; and I wish, Miss Honnor,
when you happen to be interested in any of these, you would let me know;
I should be delighted to run down and volunteer my services. I should be
just delighted. It would be something saved. If I were struck down by an
illness, and had to lie thinking, I could say to myself that I had done
this little scrap of good--not much for a man to do, but I suppose all
that could be expected from a singer."

She could not understand this strange disparagement of himself and his
profession; and she may have been vaguely afraid of the drift of these
confidences; at all events, when she had thanked him for his generous
offer, she rose and went to the portfolio.

"There are some things here that I think will interest you, Mr. Moore,"
she said. "They only arrived last night, and I was just putting them
away when you came in."

He went to the portfolio; she took out two or three large photographs
and handed them to him; the first glance showed him what they
were--pictures of the Aivron and the Geinig valleys, with the rocks and
pools and overhanging woods he knew so well. He regarded them for an
instant or two.

"Do