soon. I know you will!"

She seemed to slip, to melt, out of the room. But he had a last vision
of flushed cheeks, and half-reproachful eyes.

CHAPTER XVIII

On the day following Constance's visit to the Boar's Hill cottage she
wrote to Radowitz:--

"DEAR OTTO,--I am going to ask you not to raise the subject
you spoke of yesterday to me again between us. I am afraid I
should find my visits a pain instead of a joy, if you did so.
And Mrs. Mulholland and I want to come so much--sometimes
alone, and sometimes together. We want to be mother and
sister as much as we can, and you will let us! We know very
well that we are poor painted things compared with real
mothers and sisters. Still we should love to do our best--_I_
should--if you'll let me!"

To which Otto replied:--

"DEAR CONSTANCE,--(That's impudence, but you told me!)--I'll
hold my tongue--though I warn you I shall only think the
more. But you shan't have any cause to punish me by not
coming. Good heavens!--if you didn't come!

"The coast is always clear here between two and four. I get
my walk in the morning."

Two or three days a week accordingly, Constance, or Mrs. Mulholland, or
both took their way to the cottage. They did all that women with soft
hearts can do for a sick man. Mrs. Mulholland managed the servants, and
enquired into the food. Connie brought books and flowers, and all the
Oxford gossip she could collect. Their visit was the brightness of the
boy's day, and thanks to them, many efforts were made to soften his
calamity. The best musical talent that Oxford could furnish was eager to
serve him; and a well-known orchestra was only waiting for the
completion of his symphony and the result of his examination to produce
the symphony in the hall of Marmion.

Meanwhile Connie very rarely saw Falloden--except in connection either
with Otto's health, or with the "Orpheus," as to which Falloden was in
constant communication with the inventor, one Auguste Chaumart, living
in a garret on the heights of Montmartre; while Constance herself was
carrying on an eager correspondence with friends of her own or her
parents, in Paris, with regard to the "records" which were to make the
repertory of the Orpheus. The automatic piano--or piano-player--which
some years later became the pianola, was in those days rapidly
developing. The difference between it and the Orpheus lay in the