mething worth doing. Whether his
perseverance will carry him through it, is another question."

"He speaks to me of you in a way that--He seems, I mean, to put a value
on your friendship, and I think you may still influence him. I am very
glad he has met you here."

"I have very little faith in the influence of one person on another,
Mrs. Baske. For ill--yes, that is often seen; but influence of the kind
you suggest is the rarest of things."

"I'm afraid you are right."

She retreated into herself, and, when he looked at her, he saw cold
reserve once more on her countenance. Doubtless she did not choose to
let him know how deeply this question of his power concerned her.
Mallard felt something like compassion; yet not ordinary compassion
either, for at the same time he had a desire to break down this
reserve, and see still more of what she felt. Curious; that evening
when he dined at the villa, he had already become aware of this sort of
attraction in her, an appeal to his sympathies together with the
excitement of his combative spirit--if that expressed it.

"No man," he remarked, "ever did solid work except in his own strength.
One can be encouraged in effort, but the effort must originate in one's
self."

Miriam kept silence. He put a direct question.

"Have you yourself encouraged him to pursue this idea?"

"I have not _dis_couraged him."

"In your brother's case, discouragement would probably be the result if
direct encouragement were withheld."

Again she said nothing, and again Mallard felt a desire to subdue the
pride, or whatever it might be, that had checked the growth of
friendliness between them in its very beginning. He remained mute for a
long time, until they were nearing Pozzuoli, but Miriam showed no
disposition to be the first to speak. At length he said abruptly:

"Shall you go to the San Carlo during the winter?"

"The San Carlo?" she asked inquiringly.

"The opera."

Mallard was in a strange mood. Whenever he looked ahead at Cecily, he
had a miserable longing which crushed his heart down, down; in
struggling against this, he felt that Mrs. Baske's proximity was an
aid, but that it would be still more so if he could move her to any
unusual self-revelation. He had impulses to offend her, to irritate her
prejudices--anything, so she should but be moved. This question that
fell from him was mild in comparison with some of the subjects that
pressed on his harassed brain.

"I don't go