n love with him?"

"I know her too little to say."

She paused again, and then resumed: "You have settled in your mind,
then, that I will never seriously listen to him?"

"I think it unlikely, until the contrary is proved."

"How shall it be proved? How do you know what passes between us?"

"I can judge, of course, but from appearance; but, like you, I am an
observer. Hudson has not at all the air of a prosperous suitor."

"If he is depressed, there is a reason. He has a bad conscience. One
must hope so, at least. On the other hand, simply as a friend," she
continued gently, "you think I can do him no good?"

The humility of her tone, combined with her beauty, as she made this
remark, was inexpressibly touching, and Rowland had an uncomfortable
sense of being put at a disadvantage. "There are doubtless many good
things you might do, if you had proper opportunity," he said. "But you
seem to be sailing with a current which leaves you little leisure for
quiet benevolence. You live in the whirl and hurry of a world into which
a poor artist can hardly find it to his advantage to follow you."

"In plain English, I am hopelessly frivolous. You put it very
generously."

"I won't hesitate to say all my thought," said Rowland. "For better or
worse, you seem to me to belong, both by character and by circumstance,
to what is called the world, the great world. You are made to ornament
it magnificently. You are not made to be an artist's wife."

"I see. But even from your point of view, that would depend upon the
artist. Extraordinary talent might make him a member of the great
world!"

Rowland smiled. "That is very true."

"If, as it is," Christina continued in a moment, "you take a low view of
me--no, you need n't protest--I wonder what you would think if you knew
certain things."

"What things do you mean?"

"Well, for example, how I was brought up. I have had a horrible
education. There must be some good in me, since I have perceived it,
since I have turned and judged my circumstances."

"My dear Miss Light!" Rowland murmured.

She gave a little, quick laugh. "You don't want to hear? you don't want
to have to think about that?"

"Have I a right to? You need n't justify yourself."

She turned upon him a moment the quickened light of her beautiful eyes,
then fell to musing again. "Is there not some novel or some play," she
asked at last, "in which some beautiful, wicked woman who has ensnared a
young man sees