concert-platform, and painted in glowing colours a monastery he knew
of, standing on a wooded hill, not far from Vienna. He had once spent
several weeks there, recovering from an illness, and the gardens, the
trimly bedded flowers, the glancing sunlight in the utter silence of
the corridors, were things he could not forget. He had lain day for
day on a garden-bench, reading Novalis, and it still seemed to him
that the wishless happiness of those days was the greatest he had
known.

Beside this, Maurice's account of himself sounded tame and unimportant;
he felt, too, that the circumstances of English life were too far removed
from his companion's sphere, for the latter to be able to understand them.

On waking next morning, Maurice recalled the incidents of the evening
with a smile; felt a touch of warmth at the remembrance of the moment
when he had held Krafft's hand in his; then classed the whole episode
as strained, and dismissed it from his mind. He had just shut the
piano, after a busy forenoon, when Krafft burst in, his cheeks pink
with haste and excitement. He had discovered a room to let, in the
house he lived in, and nothing would satisfy him but that Maurice
should come instantly to see it. Laughing at his eagerness, Maurice
put forward his reasons for preferring to remain where he was. But
Krafft would take no denial, and not wishing to hurt his feelings,
Maurice gave way, and agreed at least to look at the room.

It was larger and more cheerful than his own, and had also, a
convenient alcove for the bedstead; and after inspecting it, Maurice
felt willing to expend the extra marks it cost. They withdrew to
Krafft's room to come to a decision. There, however, they found Avery
Hill, who, as soon as she heard what they contemplated, put a veto on