“She welcomed me pleasantly; almost with marked warmth, at least Anthon thought so, and rallied me afterward upon my conquest. She proposed music herself in the pauses of conversation, and sung—not with any apparent desire to win admiration, but because it was a pleasure to herself, and to us. At least, I was obliged to confess this to myself, and I felt my prejudice giving way, with every bar of her delicious music. Perhaps she counted on the power the harp possessed of old to exorcise evil spirits. “I could but think of Lady Geraldine—the poem had just appeared then, and had been the subject of our discussion. ‘Ah! to see or hear her singing, scarce I know which is divinest. For her looks sing too—she modulates her gestures on the tune, And her mouth stirs with the song-like song: And where the notes are finest— ’Tis the eyes that shoot out oreal light, and seem to swell them on.’ “I could go on with the next stanza,” St. Julian added, taking up the volume he had referred to again. ‘Then we talked—O, how we talked! Her voice so cadenced in the talking, Made another singing of the soul—a music without bars.’ “And so for many and many an evening, for there never was moth more fascinated than I became, and yet she had never shown me any decided preference. She was a great favorite in society, and always surrounded by admirers. I wondered she could have endured half their fulsome flatteries. I used to turn from the circle in perfect disgust, mentally accusing her of coquetry and vanity. Yet, after all, it was perhaps but jealousy in me. “So the winter passed—meeting her constantly, and we became what is called good friends. “Sometimes she claimed my services as her escort in walks or rides. I was only too glad to be near her. I knew that those around her did not understand her as I did. That she often turned from them all to her books and music for companionship. The pride and ambition of my nature found a response in hers—the vague dissatisfaction with tame reality—the thirst for change and variety—the search for sympathy with these wild visions—all that made up my inner life. “Every one passes through this mood in early life. With some, it is scarcely more than depression or dissatisfaction; with me, it had long been a wild unrest. This was often her mood—I was sure of it when the chords of her music deepened, or that tremulous quivering of the lip, betrayed the inward strife.