on the instrument, and she seemed to pay no heed to
what Margaret said. Margaret was thanking her for her visit, arranging
the blinds, asking her if there was enough air, for the day was hot,
inquiring about the weather in London, moving about the room with each
little speech, and with the evident desire to start the conversation so
as to find out why Madame Bonanni had come. But the singer turned over
the pages obstinately, looked up rather coldly at Margaret now and
then, and once or twice whistled a few bars of _Rigoletto_ in a way
that would have been decidedly rude, had it not been perfectly clear
that she did not know what she was doing, and was really trying to make
up her mind how to begin. Margaret understood, and presently let her
alone, and just sat down on a chair at the corner of the piano with a
bit of work, and waited to see what would happen.

'I thought it might help you a little if I ran through the opera with
you,' said Madame Bonanni, after a long time. 'I have sung it very
often.'

But as she spoke she shut the score on the piano rather sharply, as if
she had changed her mind. Margaret looked up quickly in surprise and
dropped her work in her lap.

'You did not come all the way from London for that?' she asked, in a
voice full of gratitude and wonder.

There was a moment's pause, during which the singer looked uneasy.

'No,' she said, 'I didn't. I never could lie very well--I can't at all
to-day! But I would have come, only for that, if I had thought you
needed it. That is the truth.'

'How good you are!' Margaret cried.

'Good!'

The singer's hand covered her big eyes for a moment and her elbow
rested on the edge of the piano desk. There was a very sad note in the
single word she had spoken, a note of despair not far off; but Margaret
did not understand.

'What is the matter?' she asked, leaning forward, and laying one hand
gently on Madame Bonanni's wrist. 'Why do you speak like that?'

'Do you think you would have been any better, in my place?'

The question came in a harsh tone, suddenly, as if it broke through
some opposing medium, the hand dropped from the brow, and the big dark
eyes gazed into Margaret's almost fiercely. Still the girl did not
understand.

'Better? I? In what way? Tell me what it is, if something is
distressing you. Let me help you, if I can. You know I will, with all
my heart.'

'Yes, I know.' Madame Bonanni's voice sank again. 'But how can you? The
troubl