
be drawn from this already dubious scandal as to the relation between
companionship and constancy.
    Klesmer was as versatile and fascinating as a young Ulysses on a sufficient
acquaintance - one whom nature seemed to have first made generously and then to
have added music as a dominant power using all the abundant rest, and, as in
Mendelssohn, finding expression for itself not only in the highest finish of
execution, but in that fervour of creative work and theoretic belief which
pierces the whole future of a life with the light of congruous, devoted purpose.
His foibles of arrogance and vanity did not exceed such as may be found in the
best English families; and Catherine Arrowpoint had no corresponding
restlessness to clash with his: notwithstanding her native kindliness she was
perhaps too coolly firm and self-sustained. But she was one of those
satisfactory creatures whose intercourse has the charm of discovery; whose
integrity of faculty and expression begets a wish to know what they will say on
all subjects or how they will perform whatever they undertake; so that they end
by raising not only a continual expectation but a continual sense of fulfilment
- the systole and diastole of blissful companionship. In such cases the outward
presentment easily becomes what the image is to the worshipper. It was not long
before the two became aware that each was interesting to the other; but the how
far remained a matter of doubt. Klesmer did not conceive that Miss Arrowpoint
was likely to think of him as a possible lover, and she was not accustomed to
think of herself as likely to stir more than a friendly regard, or to fear the
expression of more from any man who was not enamoured of her fortune. Each was
content to suffer some unshared sense of denial for the sake of loving the
other's society a little too well; and under these conditions no need had been
felt to restrict Klesmer's visits for the last year either in country or in
town. He knew very well that if Miss Arrowpoint had been poor he would have made
ardent love to her instead of sending a storm through the piano, or folding his
arms and pouring out a hyperbolical tirade about something as impersonal as the
north pole; and she was not less aware that if it had been possible for Klesmer
to wish for her hand she would have found overmastering reasons for giving it to
him. Here was the safety of full cups, which are as secure from overflow as the
half-empty, always supposing no disturbance. Naturally, silent feeling had not
remained at the same point any more than the stealthy dial-hand, and in the
present visit to Quetcham, Klesmer had
