dow, stood by one of the
widely-opened casements, through which the scents of the sleeping garden
stole softly, like a benison from the heart of the pitiful earth.

A moment later Iris began to sing, and once again her rich, soft tones
seemed to cast a spell over Anstice's troubled, bitter spirit.

From his low seat he had an unimpeded view of the singer. Her profile,
shaded by her soft, fair hair, looked unusually pure and delicate in the
candlelight, and as she sang the rise and fall of her breast in its fold
of filmy chiffon, the motion of her hands over the ivory keys, the sweet
seriousness of her expression, gave her an appearance of radiant, tender
youth which held an appeal as potent as it was unconscious.

When she had finished her song, the last notes dying away into silence,
Cheniston came forward quickly.

"Miss Wayne, you sing beautifully. May we ask for another song? You're
not tired, are you?"

He bent over her as he spoke, and something in his manner, something
subtly protective, made Anstice's heart beat with a sudden fierce
jealousy which he knew to be quite unjustifiable.

"No, I'm not in the least tired." Iris lifted her grey eyes frankly to
Cheniston's face, and again Anstice, watching, felt a pang of whose
nature he could have no doubt. He rose from his chair, with a
half-formed intention of adding his entreaties to those of Cheniston,
but sank back again as he realized the favour was already won.

"I will sing with pleasure." Iris turned on the music-stool to glance at
her hostess, and Anstice saw her face, pearly and luminous in the soft
candlelight. "Mrs. Carstairs, you like Dvorak. Shall I sing you one of
his gipsy songs?"

"Please, Iris." Few words of endearment ever passed between the two, yet
each felt something like real affection for the other, and Chloe's deep
voice was always gentle when she spoke to Iris.

The next moment Cheniston stepped back and took up his former position
on the far side of the piano; and Iris began the simple little melody
which Dvorak acquired from the gipsies of his native land.

"Songs my mother taught me
In the days long vanished!"

So far Anstice heard the pure, soft voice; and suddenly he felt a
half-shy, half-reverential wonder as to what manner of woman she had
been who had brought this adorable girl into the world. Surely Fate had
been cruel to this unknown woman, inasmuch as Death had been permitted
to snatch her away before her eyes h