“I should say, then, that your comprehension of music was more subtle than his.”

“I do not pretend to compare myself with Mr. Winthrop in any way.  It would be like the minnow claiming fellowship with the leviathan.”

Mr. Winthrop suggested very politely:—­

“Humility is becoming until it grows abject.”

“Your guardian is an incorrigible bachelor.  Ladies do not get the slightest mercy from him,” Mr. Bovyer remarked.

“I have ceased to look for any,” I said, with an evenness of voice that surprised me.

“I am glad to find myself in such good company,” Mr. Winthrop said, with a graceful bend of the head, which included each of his guests in the list of single blessed ones.

“Are you all going to be old bachelors?” I asked, forgetting myself in the surprise of the moment.

“I am not aware that we are all irrevocably committed to that terrible fate,” Mr. Bovyer said, as he united in the general smile at my expense.

“It might be more terrible for some of your wives than if you remained single.  I think some persons are fore-ordained to live single.”  I looked steadily in the fire lest my eyes might betray too much.

“Do you imagine those blighted lives are confined solely to one sex?” Mr. Winthrop blandly inquired.

“Oh, no; nature does not confine her oddities to one sex; but a woman can better conceal the lack of a human heart and sympathies.”

“You mean they are better actresses?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I must tell you, gentlemen, this little ward of mine is a natural philanthropist.  You would be amazed to see how she sympathizes with widows and the broken-hearted of both sexes.  I have been forced to limit her charities to a certain yearly amount lest her husband may one day call me to account for her wasted means.”

“It is the most beautiful trait in womankind.”  Mr. Bovyer responded, heartily, just as a passionate retort had sprung to my lips.  The second’s interruption gave me time to regain my self-control; but the color flamed over brow and cheek as I rose and walked to the farther end of the room and stood turning over the leaves of a book lying on the table.  I could still hear what was said and was surprised that Mr. Winthrop turned the conversation so cleverly into other channels.  It was growing late, and before long the guests retired.  Mr. Bovyer, as he shook hands with me, said:  “You have not answered my question yet.  Will you come to the Philharmonic to-morrow evening?”

I looked to Mr. Winthrop for a reply.

“I think you must deny yourself that pleasure, as we shall probably go home to-morrow.”

“So soon?” I asked with surprise.

“The time I limited myself to expired yesterday.  We can return this winter, and complete any unfinished business or pleasure that you now leave undone.”

“My business is finished.  It happens to be a pleasure to return to Oaklands.”