“I’vepromisedtoholdmytongue，oncealready。Whatdoyouwantmore？“
　　“Iamanxious，Geoffrey。IwasatCraigFernie，remember，whenBlanchecamethere!Shehasbeentellingmeallthathappened，poordarling，inthefirmpersuasionthatIwasmilesoffatthetime。IswearIcouldn’tlookherintheface!Whatwouldshethinkofme，ifsheknewthetruth？Praybecareful!praybecareful!“
　　Geoffrey’spatiencebegantofailhim。
　　“Wehadallthisout，“hesaid，“onthewayherefromthestation。What’sthegoodofgoingoverthegroundagain？“
　　“You’requiteright，“saidArnold，good-humoredly。“Thefactis——I’moutofsorts，thismorning。Mymindmisgivesme——Idon’tknowwhy。“
　　“Mind？“repeatedGeoffrey，inhighcontempt。“It’sflesh——that’swhat’sthematterwith_you。_You’renighonastoneoveryourrightweight。Mindhehanged!Amaninhealthytrainingdon’tknowthathehasgotamind。Takeaturnwiththedumb-bells，andarunuphillwithagreat-coaton。Sweatitoff，Arnold!Sweatitoff!“
　　Withthatexcellentadvice，heturnedtoleavetheroomforthethirdtime。Fateappearedtohavedeterminedtokeephimimprisonedinthelibrary，thatmorning。Onthisoccasion，itwasaservantwhogotintheway——aservant，withaletterandamessage。“Themanwaitsforanswer。“
　　Geoffreylookedattheletter。Itwasinhisbrother’shandwriting。HehadleftJuliusatthejunctionaboutthreehourssince。WhatcouldJuliuspossiblyhavetosaytohimnow？
　　Heopenedtheletter。JuliushadtoannouncethatFortunewasfavoringthemalready。HehadheardnewsofMrs。Glenarm，assoonashereachedhome。Shehadcalledonhiswife，duringhisabsenceinLondon——shehadbeeninvitedtothehouse——andshehadpromisedtoaccepttheinvitationearlyintheweek。“Earlyintheweek，“Juliuswrote，“maymeanto-morrow。MakeyourapologiestoLadyLundie；andtakecarenottooffendher。Saythatfamilyreasons，whichyouhopesoontohavethepleasureofconfidingtoher，obligeyoutoappealoncemoretoherindulgence——andcometo-morrow，andhelpustoreceiveMrs。
　　Glenarm。“
　　EvenGeoffreywasstartled，whenhefoundhimselfmetbyasuddennecessityforactingonhisowndecision。Anneknewwherehisbrotherlived。SupposeAnnenotknowingwhereelsetofindhim
　　appearedathisbrother’shouse，andclaimedhiminthepresenceofMrs。Glenarm？Hegaveorderstohavethemessengerkeptwaiting，andsaidhewouldsendbackawrittenreply。
　　“FromCraigFernie？“askedArnold，pointingtotheletterinhisfriend’shand。
　　Geoffreylookedupwithafrown。Hehadjustopenedhislipstoanswerthatill-timedreferencetoAnne，innoveryfriendlyterms，whenavoice，callingtoArnoldfromthelawnoutside，announcedtheappearanceofathirdpersoninthelibrary，andwarnedthetwogentlementhattheirprivateinterviewwasatanend。
　　BLANCHEsteppedlightlyintotheroom，throughoneoftheopenFrenchwindows。
　　“Whatareyoudoinghere？“shesaidtoArnold。
　　“Nothing。Iwasjustgoingtolookforyouinthegarden。“
　　“Thegardenisinsufferable，thismorning。“Sayingthosewords，shefannedherselfwithherhandkerchief，andnoticedGeoffrey’spresenceintheroomwithalookofverythinly-concealedannoyanceatthediscovery。“WaittillIammarried!“shethought。“Mr。DelamaynwillbeclevererthanItakehimtobe，ifhegetsmuchofhisfriend’scompany_then!_“
　　“Atrifletoohot——eh？“saidGeoffrey，seeinghereyesfixedonhim，andsupposingthathewasexpectedtosaysomething。
　　Havingperformedthatdutyhewalkedawaywithoutwaitingforareply；andseatedhimselfwithhisletter，atoneofthewriting-tablesinthelibrary。
　　“SirPatrickisquiterightabouttheyoungmenofthepresentday，“saidBlanche，turningtoArnold。“Hereisthisoneasksmeaquestion，anddoesn’twaitforananswer。Therearethreemoreofthem，outinthegarden，whohavebeentalkingofnothing，forthelasthour，butthepedigreesofhorsesandthemusclesofmen。Whenwearemarried，Arnold，don’tpresentanyofyourmalefriendstome，unlesstheyhaveturnedfifty。Whatshallwedotillluncheon-time？It’scoolandquietinhereamongthebooks。
　　Iwantamildexcitement——andIhavegotabsolutelynothingtodo。Supposeyoureadmesomepoetry？“
　　“While_he_ishere？“askedArnold，pointingtothepersonifiedantithesisofpoetry——otherwisetoGeoffrey，seatedwithhisbacktothematthefartherendofthelibrary。
　　“Pooh!“saidBlanche。“There’sonlyananimalintheroom。Weneedn’tmind_him!_“
　　“Isay!“exclaimedArnold。“You’reasbitter，thismorning，asSirPatrickhimself。WhatwillyousaytoMewhenwearemarriedifyoutalkinthatwayofmyfriend？“
　　BlanchestoleherhandintoArnold’shandandgaveitalittlesignificantsqueeze。“Ishallalwaysbeniceto_you，_“shewhispered——withalookthatcontainedahostofprettypromisesinitself。ArnoldreturnedthelookGeoffreywasunquestionablyintheway!。Theireyesmettenderlywhycouldn’tthegreatawkwardbrutewritehisletterssomewhereelse？。Withafaintlittlesigh，Blanchedroppedresignedlyintooneofthecomfortablearm-chairs——andaskedoncemorefor“somepoetry，“inavoicethatfalteredsoftly，andwithacolorthatwasbrighterthanusual。
　　“WhosepoetryamItoread？“inquiredArnold。
　　“Anybody’s，“saidBlanche。“Thisisanotherofmyimpulses。Iamdyingforsomepoetry。Idon’tknowwhosepoetry。AndIdon’tknowwhy。“
　　Arnoldwentstraighttothenearestbook-shelf，andtookdownthefirstvolumethathishandlightedon——asolidquarto，boundinsoberbrown。
　　“Well？“askedBlanche。“Whathaveyoufound？“
　　Arnoldopenedthevolume，andconscientiouslyreadthetitleexactlyasitstood：
　　“ParadiseLost。APoem。ByJohnMilton。“
　　“IhaveneverreadMilton，“saidBlanche。“Haveyou？“
　　“No。“
　　“Anotherinstanceofsympathybetweenus。NoeducatedpersonoughttobeignorantofMilton。Letusbeeducatedpersons。
　　Pleasebegin。“
　　“Atthebeginning？“
　　“Ofcourse!Stop!Youmusn’tsitallthatwayoff——youmustsitwhereIcanlookatyou。MyattentionwandersifIdon’tlookatpeoplewhiletheyread。“
　　ArnoldtookastoolatBlanche’sfeet，andopenedthe“FirstBook“ofParadiseLost。His“system“asareaderofblankversewassimplicityitself。Inpoetrywearesomeofusasmanylivingpoetscantestifyallforsound；andsomeofusasfewlivingpoetscantestifyallforsense。Arnoldwasforsound。Heendedeverylineinexorablywithafullstop；andhegotontohisfullstopasfastastheinevitableimpedimentofthewordswouldlethim。Hebegan：
　　“OfMan’sfirstdisobedienceandthefruit。
　　Ofthatforbiddentreewhosemortaltaste。
　　Broughtdeathintotheworldandallourwoe。
　　WithlossofEdentillonegreaterMan。
　　Restoreusandregaintheblissfulseat。
　　SingheavenlyMuse——“