All the inspiration she had been to him, all that closer acquaintance, to which during the preceding weeks she had admitted him, throbbed warm at his heart.

His mind was full of gratitude--full also of repentance!--towards Phoebe and towards her.
That very night would he write his confession to her, at last!--tell all his story, beg her to excuse his foolish lack of frankness and presence of mind to Lord Findon, and ask her kindness for Phoebe and the child.

He already saw little Carrie on her knee, and the _aegis_ of her protecting sweetness spread over them all.
Meanwhile the impression upon her was that he had taken the news of his success with admirable self-restraint, that he was growing and shaping as a human being, no less than as an artist, that his manner to her father was excellent, neither tongue-tied nor effusive, and his few words of thanks manly and sincere.

She thought to herself that here was the beginning of a great career--the moment when the streamlet finds its bed, and enters upon its true and destined course.
And in the warm homage, the evident attachment she had awakened in the man before her, there was for Eugenie at the moment a peculiar temptation.

Had she not just given proof that she was set apart--that for her there could be no more thought of love in its ordinary sense?
In her high-strung consciousness of Welby's dismissal, she felt herself not only secure against the vulgar snares of vanity and sex, but, as it were, endowed with a larger spiritual freedom.