Christina said nothing more, and Rowland, to let her make her reflections, left his place and strolled away. Poor Assunta, sitting patiently on a stone bench, and unprovided, on this occasion, with military consolation, gave him a bright, frank smile, which might have been construed as an expression of regret for herself, and of sympathy for her mistress. Rowland presently seated himself again near Christina. “What do you think,” she asked, looking at him, “of your friend’s infidelity?” “I don’t like it.” “Was he very much in love with her?” “He asked her to marry him. You may judge.” “Is she rich?” “No, she is poor.” “Is she very much in 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.”