-drive, hurried away,
down the broad hall, and disappeared. Ariel dropped her parasol upon a
marble-topped table near the door, and, removing her gloves, drifted
into a room at the left, where a grand piano found shelter beneath
crimson plush. After a moment of contemplation, she pushed back the
coverlet, and, seating herself upon the plush-covered piano-stool (to
match), let her fingers run up and down the key-board once and fall
listlessly in her lap, as she gazed with deep interest at three
life-sized colored photographs (in carved gilt frames) upon the wall
she was facing: Judge Pike, Mamie, and Mrs. Pike with her rubies.

"Please don't stop playing, Miss Tabor," said a voice behind her. She
had not observed that Eugene had followed her into the room.

"Very well, if you like," she answered, looking up to smile absently at
him. And she began to play a rakish little air which, composed by some
rattle-brain at a cafe table, had lately skipped out of the Moulin
Rouge to disport itself over Paris. She played it slowly, in the minor,
with elfish pathos; while he leaned upon the piano, his eyes fixed upon
her fingers, which bore few rings, none, he observed with an
unreasonable pleasure, upon the third finger of the left hand.

"It's one of those simpler Grieg things, isn't it?" he said, sighing
gently. "I care for Grieg."

"Would you mind its being Chaminade?" she returned, dropping her eyes
to cloak the sin.

"Ah no; I recognize it now," replied Eugene. "He appeals to me even
more than Grieg."

At this she glanced quickly up at him, but more quickly down again, and
hastened the time emphatically, swinging the little air into the major.

"Do you play the 'Pilgrim's Chorus'?"

She shook her head.

"Vous name pas Wagner?" inquired Eugene, leaning toward her.

"Oh yes," she answered, bending her head far over, so that her face was
concealed from him, except the chin, which, he saw with a thrill of
inexplicable emotion, was trembling slightly. There were some small
white flowers upon her hat, and these shook too.

She stopped playing abruptly, rose from the stool and crossed the room
to a large mahogany chair, upholstered in red velvet and of hybrid
construction, possessing both rockers and legs. She had moved in a way
which prevented him from seeing her face, but he was certain of her
agitation, and strangely glad, while curious, tremulous half-thoughts,
edged with prophecy, bubbled to the surface of his