The more Waymark saw of Maud Enderby the more completely did he
yield to the fascination of her character. In her presence he
enjoyed a strange calm of spirit. For the first time he knew a woman
who by no word or look or motion could stir in him a cynical
thought. Here was something higher than himself, a nature which he
had to confess transcended the limits of his judgment, a soul with
insight possibly for ever denied to himself. He was often pained by
the deference with which she sought his opinion or counsel; the
words in which he replied to her sounded so hollow; he became so
often and so keenly sensible of his insincerity,--a quality which,
with others, he could consciously rely upon as a resource, but
which, before Maud, stung him. He was driven to balance judgments,
to hesitate in replies, to search his own heart, as perhaps never
before.
Artificial good humour, affected interest, mock sympathy, were as
far from her as was the least taint of indelicacy; every word she
uttered rang true, and her very phrases had that musical fall which
only associates itself with beautiful and honest thought. She never
exhibited gaiety, or a spirit of fun, but could raise a smile by an
exquisite shade of humour--humour which, as the best is, was more
than half sadness.
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