’That isn’t altogether a right sentiment about things being good enough.’

’No—­no.  What I mean is, that the men who despise pianos do it as a rule from their teeth, merely for fashion’s sake, because cleverer men have said it before them—­not from the experience of their ears.’

Now Cytherea all at once broke into a blush at the consciousness of a great snub she had been guilty of in her eagerness to explain herself.  He charitably expressed by a look that he did not in the least mind her blunder, if it were one; and this attitude forced him into a position of mental superiority which vexed her.

‘I play for my private amusement only,’ he said.  ’I have never learned scientifically.  All I know is what I taught myself.’

The thunder, lightning, and rain had now increased to a terrific force.  The clouds, from which darts, forks, zigzags, and balls of fire continually sprang, did not appear to be more than a hundred yards above their heads, and every now and then a flash and a peal made gaps in the steward’s descriptions.  He went towards the organ, in the midst of a volley which seemed to shake the aged house from foundations to chimney.

‘You are not going to play now, are you?’ said Cytherea uneasily.

‘O yes.  Why not now?’ he said.  ’You can’t go home, and therefore we may as well be amused, if you don’t mind sitting on this box.  The few chairs I have unpacked are in the other room.’

Without waiting to see whether she sat down or not, he turned to the organ and began extemporizing a harmony which meandered through every variety of expression of which the instrument was capable.  Presently he ceased and began searching for some music-book.

‘What a splendid flash!’ he said, as the lightning again shone in through the mullioned window, which, of a proportion to suit the whole extent of the original hall, was much too large for the present room.  The thunder pealed again.  Cytherea, in spite of herself, was frightened, not only at the weather, but at the general unearthly weirdness which seemed to surround her there.

’I wish I—­the lightning wasn’t so bright.  Do you think it will last long?’ she said timidly.

‘It can’t last much longer,’ he murmured, without turning, running his fingers again over the keys.  ‘But this is nothing,’ he continued, suddenly stopping and regarding her.  ’It seems brighter because of the deep shadow under those trees yonder.  Don’t mind it; now look at me—­look in my face—­now.’

He had faced the window, looking fixedly at the sky with his dark strong eyes.  She seemed compelled to do as she was bidden, and looked in the too-delicately beautiful face.

The flash came; but he did not turn or blink, keeping his eyes fixed as firmly as before.  ‘There,’ he said, turning to her, ’that’s the way to look at lightning.’

‘O, it might have blinded you!’ she exclaimed.