The question recurred again afresh on their return home. As Betty entered the house, she was struck by the beauty of the carved oak staircase, and exclaimed upon it.
'Yes,' said Pitt; 'that is the prettiest part of the house. It is said to be by Inigo Jones; but perhaps that cannot be proved.'
'Does it matter?' said Betty, laughing.
'Not to any real lover of it; but to the rest, you know, the name is the thing.'
'"Lover of it"!' said Betty. 'Can you love a staircase?'
Pitt laughed out; then he answered seriously.
'Don't you know that all that is good and true is in a way bound up together? it is one whole; and I take it to be certain that in proportion to anyone's love for spiritual and moral beauty will be, coeteris paribus, his appreciation of all expression of it, in nature or art.'
'But', said Betty, '"spiritual and moral beauty"! You do not mean that this oak staircase is an expression of either?'
'Of both, perhaps. At any rate, the things are very closely connected.'
'You are an enigma!' said Betty.