matter of confidence--my marriage with Miss
Arrowpoint, which will more than double such right as I have to be
trusted by you as a friend. Your friendship will have greatly risen in
value for _her_ by your having adopted that generous labor."

Gwendolen's face had begun to burn. That Klesmer was about to marry
Miss Arrowpoint caused her no surprise, and at another moment she would
have amused herself in quickly imagining the scenes that must have
occurred at Quetcham. But what engrossed her feeling, what filled her
imagination now, was the panorama of her own immediate future that
Klesmer's words seemed to have unfolded. The suggestion of Miss
Arrowpoint as a patroness was only another detail added to its
repulsiveness: Klesmer's proposal to help her seemed an additional
irritation after the humiliating judgment he had passed on her
capabilities. His words had really bitten into her self-confidence and
turned it into the pain of a bleeding wound; and the idea of presenting
herself before other judges was now poisoned with the dread that they
also might be harsh; they also would not recognize the talent she was
conscious of. But she controlled herself, and rose from her seat before
she made any answer. It seemed natural that she should pause. She went
to the piano and looked absently at leaves of music, pinching up the
corners. At last she turned toward Klesmer and said, with almost her
usual air of proud equality, which in this interview had not been
hitherto perceptible.

"I congratulate you sincerely, Herr Klesmer. I think I never saw any
one so admirable as Miss Arrowpoint. And I have to thank you for every
sort of kindness this morning. But I can't decide now. If I make the
resolve you have spoken of, I will use your permission--I will let you
know. But I fear the obstacles are too great. In any case, I am deeply
obliged to you. It was very bold of me to ask you to take this trouble."

Klesmer's inward remark was, "She will never let me know." But with the
most thorough respect in his manner, he said, "Command me at any time.
There is an address on this card which will always find me with little
delay."

When he had taken up his hat and was going to make his bow, Gwendolen's
better self, conscious of an ingratitude which the clear-seeing Klesmer
must have penetrated, made a desperate effort to find its way above the
stifling layers of egoistic disappointment and irritation. Looking at
him with a glance of the ol