about her, he observed her more than usual.

Mrs. Heron sat down at the piano; she played well, and was rather fond
of exhibiting her musical proficiency. Percival and Kitty were engaged
in an animated, low-toned conversation. Rupert approached Elizabeth, who
was arranging some sketches in a portfolio with the diligence of a
housemaid. She was standing just within the studio, which was separated
from the drawing-room by a velvet curtain now partially drawn aside.

"Do you sketch? are these your drawings?" he asked her.

"No, they are Uncle Alfred's. I cannot draw."

"You are musical, I suppose," said Rupert, carelessly.

He took it for granted that, if a girl did not draw, she must needs play
the piano. But her next words undeceived him.

"No, I can't play. I have no accomplishments."

"What do you mean by accomplishments?" asked Vivian, smiling.

"I mean that I know nothing about French and German, or music and
drawing," said Elizabeth, calmly. "I never had any systematic education.
I should make rather a good housemaid, I believe, but my friends won't
allow me to take a housemaid's situation."

"I should think not," ejaculated Vivian.

"But it is all that I am fit for," she continued, quietly. "And I think
it is rather a pity that I am not allowed to be happy in my own way."

There was a little silence. Vivian felt himself scarcely equal to the
occasion. Presently she said, with more quickness of speech than
usual:--

"You have been in Scotland lately, have you not?"

"I was there a short time ago, but for two days only."

"Ah, yes, you went to Netherglen?"

"I did. The Luttrells are connections of yours, are they not, Miss
Murray?"

"Very distant ones," said Elizabeth.

"You know that Brian Luttrell has gone abroad?"

"I have heard so."

There was very little to be got out of Miss Murray. Vivian was almost
glad when Percival joined them, and he was able to slip back to Kitty,
with whom he had no difficulty in carrying on a conversation.

The studio was dimly lighted, and Percival, either by accident or
design, allowed the curtain to fall entirely over the aperture between
the two rooms. He looked round him. Mr. Heron was absent, and they had
the room to themselves. Several unfinished canvasses were leaning
against the walls; the portrait of an exceedingly cadaverous-looking old
man was conspicuous upon the artist's easel; the lay figure was draped
like a monk, and had a cowl drawn over its sti