she had answered me just as I deserved.

CHAPTER XII.

NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

Mrs. Flaxman's fears were realized. She was detained from her pickles and
preserves for over a fortnight; but the days spent then in the city were
an entirely new revelation of life to me. Mr. Winthrop had a circle of
literary friends, who seemed determined to make his stay so pleasant
that he would not be in a hurry to return to the solitude of Oaklands.
When I saw his keen enjoyment of their society, and the many varied
privileges he had in that brief period--musical, artistic, and literary,
I was filled with surprise that he should make his home at Oaklands at
all, and expressed my wonder to Mrs. Flaxman.

"Oh, he often goes away--sometimes to Europe, and sometimes to the great
American centres of thought and life; then he comes home apparently glad
of its quiet and freedom from interruption. I think he uses up all the
raw experiences and ideas he gets when away."

I thought her reply over, and wondered if it was the usual habit of
literary people to go out on those foraging expeditions and bring back
material to be used up in weeks of solitude. We were either out among
friends, at concerts, lectures, evening gatherings, or else receiving Mr.
Winthrop's particular friends at our hotel, every evening. I enjoyed
those evenings at home, I think, the very best of all. We sat late,
supper being served about midnight--a plain, sensible repast that, with
a man of Mr. Winthrop's means, might certainly betoken high thinking.
However, the intellectual repast served to us reminded me of the feasts
of the gods, or even better, in old Homeric times. There were condensed
thoughts that often kept me puzzling over their meanings long after their
words had died on the air. Mrs. Flaxman sat, a mostly silent listener,
but in no wise showing weariness at the lateness of the hour, or mental
strain imposed in following such abstract lines of thought. I too
listened silently, save in reply to some direct remark, but with pained,
growing thoughts, that often left me utterly weary when the little
company dispersed. I would often stop listening and fall into vague,
hopeless speculations as to the number of centuries that must elapse
before I could overtake them. Saddest fancy of all was that my powers
might be too limited even to do this. Our daylight hours were, in great
measure, passed in making and receiving calls from Mrs. Flaxman's
friends, who seemed