Ruskin. Selma, who had read quotations from Ruskin on one or two
occasions and believed herself an admirer of, and tolerably familiar
with, his writings, was thrilled. She promptly immersed herself in
"Stones of Venice" and "Seven Lamps of Architecture," sitting up late at
night to finish them. When she had read these and the article in the
encyclopædia under the head of Art, she felt bursting with her subject
and eager to air her knowledge before the class. Her lecture was
acknowledged to be the most stirring and thorough of the course.

Reports of its success came back to her from Littleton, who offered to
assist his pupil further by practical demonstration of the eternal
architectural fitness and unfitness of things--especially the latter--in
walks through the streets of Benham. But six times in as many months,
however. There was no suggestion of coquetry on either side in these
excursions, yet each enjoyed them. Littleton's own work was beginning to
assume definite form, and his visits to Benham became of necessity more
frequent; flying trips, but he generally managed to obtain a few words
with Selma. He continued to lend her books, and he invited her criticism
on the slowly growing church edifice. The responsibility of critic was
an absorbing sensation to her, but the stark glibness of tongue which
stood her in good stead before the classes of the Institute failed her
in his presence--the presence of real knowledge. She wished to praise,
but to praise discriminatingly, with the cant of æsthetic appreciation,
so that he should believe that she knew. As for the church itself, she
was interested in it; it was fine, of course, but that was a secondary
consideration compared with her emotions. His predilection in her favor,
however, readily made him deaf in regard to her utterances. He scarcely
heeded her halting, solemn, counterfeit transcendentalisms; or rather
they passed muster as subtle and genuine, so spell bound was he by the
Delphic beauty of her criticising expression. It was enough for him to