Her voice trembled slightly, and she put out her hand. He turned, bowed, offered her a chair, and, as they seated themselves, he examined her face as he would have searched the title-page of some new book for an insight into its contents. "When did you reach New York, Miss Earl?" "Six weeks ago." "I was not aware that you were in the city, until I received your note two days since. How long do you intend to remain?" "Probably the rest of my life, if I find it possible to support myself comfortably." "Is Mrs. Andrews an old friend?" "No, sir; she was a stranger to me when I entered her house as governess for her children." "Miss Earl, you are much younger than I had supposed. Your writings led me to imagine that you were at least thirty, whereas I find you almost a child. Will your duties as governess conflict with your literary labors?" "No, sir. I shall continue to write." "You appear to have acted upon my suggestion, to abandon the idea of a book, and confine your attention to short sketches." "No, sir. I adhere to my original purpose, and am at work upon the manuscript which you advised me to destroy." He fitted his glasses more firmly on his nose, and she saw the gleam of his strong white teeth, as a half smile moved his lips. "Miss Earl, my desk is very near a window, and as I was writing late last night, I noticed several large moths beating against the glass which fortunately barred their approach to the flame of the gas inside. Perhaps inexperience whispered that it was a cruel fate that shut them out; but which heals soonest, disappointed curiosity or singed wings?" "Mr. Manning, why do you apprehend more danger from writing a book than from the preparation of magazine articles?" "Simply because the peril is inherent in the nature of the book you contemplate. Unless I totally misunderstand your views, you indulge in the rather extraordinary belief that all works of fiction should be eminently didactic, and inculcate not only sound morality but scientific theories. Herein, permit me to say, you entirely misapprehend the spirit of the age. People read novels merely to be amused, not educated; and they will not tolerate technicalities and abstract speculation in lieu of exciting plots and melodramatic denouements. Persons who desire to learn something of astronomy, geology, chemistry, philology, etc., never think of finding what they require in the pages of a novel, but apply at once to the text-books of the respective sciences, and would as soon hunt for a lover's sentimental dialogue in Newton's 'Principia,' or spicy small-talk in Kant's 'Critique,' as expect an epitome of modern science in a work of fiction." "But, sir, how many habitual novel readers do you suppose will educate themselves thoroughly from the text-books to which you refer?"