, let us have some
music."

"'And the cares which infest the day,'" added Verry.

I had scarcely been in the parlor since my return, though the fact had
not been noticed. Our tacit compact was that we should be ignorant of
each other's movements. I ran up to my room for some music, and, not
having a lamp, stumbled over my shawl and bonnet and various bundles
which somebody had deposited on the floor. I went down by the back
way, to the kitchen; Fanny was there alone, standing before the fire,
and whistling a sharp air.

"Did you carry my bonnet and shawl upstairs?"

"I did."

"Will you be good enough to take this music to the parlor for me?"

She turned and put her hands behind her. "Who was your waiter last
year?"

"I had one," putting the leaves under her arm; they fluttered to the
floor, one by one.

"You must pick them up, or we shall spend the night here, and father
is waiting for me."

"Is he?" and she began to take them up.

"I am quite sure, Fanny, that I could punish you awfully. I am sick to
try."

She moved toward the door slowly. "Don't tell him," she said, stopping
before it.

"I'll tell nobody, but I am angry. Let us arrive."

She marched to the piano, laid the music on it, and marched out.

"By the way, Fanny," I whispered, "the bonnet and shawl are yours, if
you need them."

"I guess I do," she whispered back.

When I returned to my room, I found it in order and the bundles
removed.

One day some Surrey friends called. They told me I had changed very
much, and I inferred from their tone they did not consider the change
one for the better.

"How much Veronica has improved," they continued, "do not you think
so?"

"You know," she interrupted, "that Cassandra has been dangerously ill,
and has barely recovered."

Yes, they had heard of the accident, everybody had; Mr. Morgeson must
be a loss to his family, a man in the prime of life, too.

"The prime of life," Veronica repeated.

She was asked to play, and immediately went to the piano. Strange
girl; her music was so filled with a wild lament that I again fathomed
my desires and my despair. Her eyes wandered toward me, burning with
the fires of her creative power, not with the feelings which stung
me to the quick. Her face was calm, white, and fixed. She stopped and
touched her eyelids, as if she were weeping, but there were no tears
in her eyes. They were in mine, welling painfully beneath the lids. I
turned over the music b