Happening to catch a glimpse of her face as she was speaking, and noticing that her attempt at heartiness was a miserable failure, he appeared to have misgivings. “You, Miss Swancourt, would not, under such circumstances, have preferred the nicknacks?” “No, I don’t think I should, indeed,” she stammered. “I’ll put it to you,” said the inflexible Knight. “Which will you have of these two things of about equal value—the well-chosen little library of the best music you spoke of—bound in morocco, walnut case, lock and key—or a pair of the very prettiest earrings in Bond Street windows?” “Of course the music,” Elfride replied with forced earnestness. “You are quite certain?” he said emphatically. “Quite,” she faltered; “if I could for certain buy the earrings afterwards.” Knight, somewhat blamably, keenly enjoyed sparring with the palpitating mobile creature, whose excitable nature made any such thing a species of cruelty. He looked at her rather oddly, and said, “Fie!” “Forgive me,” she said, laughing a little, a little frightened, and blushing very deeply. “Ah, Miss Elfie, why didn’t you say at first, as any firm woman would have said, I am as bad as she, and shall choose the same?” “I don’t know,” said Elfride wofully, and with a distressful smile. “I thought you were exceptionally musical?” “So I am, I think. But the test is so severe—quite painful.” “I don’t understand.” “Music doesn’t do any real good, or rather——” “That IS a thing to say, Miss Swancourt! Why, what——” “You don’t understand! you don’t understand!” “Why, what conceivable use is there in jimcrack jewellery?” “No, no, no, no!” she cried petulantly; “I didn’t mean what you think. I like the music best, only I like——” “Earrings better—own it!” he said in a teasing tone. “Well, I think I should have had the moral courage to own it at once, without pretending to an elevation I could not reach.” Like the French soldiery, Elfride was not brave when on the defensive. So it was almost with tears in her eyes that she answered desperately: “My meaning is, that I like earrings best just now, because I lost one of my prettiest pair last year, and papa said he would not buy any more, or allow me to myself, because I was careless; and now I wish I had some like them—that’s what my meaning is—indeed it is, Mr. Knight.” “I am afraid I have been very harsh and rude,” said Knight, with a look of regret at seeing how disturbed she was. “But seriously, if women only knew how they ruin their good looks by such appurtenances, I am sure they would never want them.” “They were lovely, and became me so!” “Not if they were like the ordinary hideous things women stuff their ears with nowadays—like the governor of a steam-engine, or a pair of scales, or gold gibbets and chains, and artists’ palettes, and compensation pendulums, and Heaven knows what besides.”