There was a pause before he said: 

“Yes, but the art did not die with him.  He had a daughter to whom he taught his art.”

“Not that I ever heard of,” said she.  “What do you think of Phyllis Ayrton?”

“I think that she is the dearest friend of my dearest friend,” he replied.

“And I should like her to become the dearest friend of my dearest friend.”

“That would be impossible,” he said.

Then the felicitous valedictory word was said to the great actor and actress, and Mrs. Linton’s carriage received Phyllis.  Lord Earlscourt took a seat in Mr. Courtland’s hansom.

“What do you think about Mr. Courtland?” inquired Ella of her dearest friend, as they lay back with their heads very close together.

There was a long pause before Phyllis replied: 

“I really don’t know what I think about him.  He is, I suppose, the bravest man alive at present.”

“What?  Is that the result of your half hour’s chat with him?”

“Oh, dear, no! but all the same, it’s pleasant for a girl to feel that she has been talking to a brave man.  It gives one a sense of—­of—­is it of being quite safe?”

“Good gracious, no! just the opposite—­that is——­Oh, you don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Never mind.  Tell me what he talked about?”

“Oh, everything!  God.”

“I know that it was in the air.  He has ideas, I believe.  He never talked on that topic to me.  I hope you found him to be quite sound, theologically.”

“But it seems rather funny, doesn’t it?” said Phyllis; “but I really don’t think that when I was listening to him I considered for a moment whether he was sound or the opposite in his views.”

“Funny?  It would have been rather funny if you had done that,” laughed Ella.  “The question that a healthy girl—­and you are a healthy girl, Phyllis—­asks herself after talking to such a man as Herbert Courtland is not, Is his theology sound?  What healthy girl cares the fraction of a farthing about the theology of a man with a face like Herbert Courtland’s and arms like Herbert Courtland’s?  You talked with him for half an hour, and then come to me and say that you suppose he is the bravest man alive in the world.  That was right—­quite right.  That is just what every healthy girl should say.  We understand a man’s thews and sinews; we likewise understand what bravery in a man is, but what do we know, or, for that matter, care about his theology, whether it is sound or the opposite?  Nothing.  We don’t even care whether he has any theology or not.”

“Good gracious, Ella! one would fancy that you thought——­”

“Thought what?”

“I don’t quite know.  You see I met Mr. Courtland quite casually, just as I met a dozen men at various places during the week.  Why should you question me more closely about him than about the dozen other men?  He only talked a little more widely, and perhaps wildly.  His bravery is no more to me than his theology.”