, a resolution to do a thing
that then seemed practicable, reasonable, right; that had seemed since,
more than once, insurmountable--yes! Insane--yes! But _wrong_--no! Now,
hard hit by _Savourneen Dheelish_, the strength to think she might cross
the barriers revived, and the insanity of the scheme shrank as its
rightness grew and grew. After all, did she not belong to herself? To
whom else, except her parents? Well--her duty to her parents was clear;
to ransom their consciences for them; to enable them to say "We
destroyed this man's eyesight for him, but we gave him Gwen." If only
this pianist could just manage to love her on the strength of Arthur's
Bridge and that rainbow gleam! But how to find out? She could see
herself in a mirror near by as she thought it, and the resplendent
beauty that she could not handle was a bitterness to her; she gazed at
it as a warrior might gaze at his sword with his hands lopped off at the
wrists. Still, he _had_ seen her; that was something! She would not have
acknowledged later, perhaps, that at this moment her mind was running on
a foolish thought:--"Did I, or did I not, look my best at that moment?"

She never noticed the curious _naivete_ which left unquestioned her
readiness to play the part she was casting for herself--the _role_ of an
eyeless man's mate for life--yet never taxed her with loving him.
Perhaps it was the very fact that the circumstances of the case released
her from confessing her love, that paved the way for her to action that
would else have been impossible. "By this light," said Beatrice to
Benedick, "I take thee for pure pity." It was a vast consolation to
Beatrice to say this, no doubt.

Achilles stopped _Savourneen Dheelish_ by his welcome to the newcomer.
To whom Gwen said:--"Oh, you darling!" But to his master she said:--"Go
on, it's me, Mr. Torrens. Gwen."

"I know--'Gwen or Gwendolen.'" How easy it would have been for this
quotation from yesterday's postscript to seem impertinent! This man had
just the right laugh to put everything in its right place, and this time
it disclaimed audacious Christian naming. He went on:--"I mustn't
monopolize your ladyship's piano," and accommodated this mode of address
to the previous one by another laugh, exactly the right protest against
misinterpretation.

"My ladyship doesn't want her piano," said Gwen. "She wants to hear you
go on playing. I had no idea you were so musical. Say good-evening, and
play some more."