,
yet her low voice was steady, when she said:

"I am sorry I disappointed any pleasant anticipations you indulged
with reference to the organ, which has certainly been a source of
much comfort to me. I have felt very timid about singing before you,
sir; but if it will afford you the least pleasure, I am willing to
do the best of which I am capable."

"You sang quite successfully before a large audience at Mrs.
Brompton's, and displayed sufficient self-possession."

"But those were strangers, and the opinion of those with whom we live
is more important, their criticism is more embarrassing."

"I believe I was present, and heard you on that occasion."

She moved away to the organ, and sat down, glad of an excuse, for her
limbs trembled.

"Regina, what was that song you sang for little Llora Carew the night
before she left us? Indeed there were two, one with the other without
an accompaniment?"

"You were not here at that time."

"No matter; what were they? The child fancies them exceedingly, and I
promised to get the words for her."

"Kuecken's 'Schlummerlied,' and a little 'Cradle Song' by Wallace."

"Be so good as to let me hear them."

Would Mrs. Carew sing them for him when she was far away, utterly
forgotten by her guardian? The thought was unutterably bitter, and it
goaded her, aided her in the ordeal.

With nerves strung to their extreme tension, she sang as he
requested, and all the while her rich mellow voice rolled through the
room, he walked very slowly from one end of the library to the other.
She forced herself to sing every verse, and when she concluded he was
standing behind her chair. He put his hands on her shoulders, and
prevented her rising, for just then he was unwilling she should see
his countenance, which he feared would betray the suffering he was
resolved to conceal.

After a moment, he said:

"Thank you. I shall buy the music in order to secure the words.
Lily----"

He paused, bent down, and rested his chin on the large coil of hair
at the back of her head, and though she never knew it his proud lips
touched the glossy silken mass.

"Lily, if I ask a foolish trifle of you, will you grant it, as a
farewell gift to your guardian?"

"I think, sir, you do not doubt that I will."

"It is a trivial thing, and will cost you nothing. The night on which
you sang those songs to Llora is associated with something which I
treasure as peculiarly precious; and I merely wish to request