, and she was conscious of it; so that when she
chanced to find Mrs. Abbott's look fixed upon her, a boundless
gratification flashed from her own dark eyes, and spoke in the quiver
of her lips.

Next evening, when again requested to play, she sat down to the piano.
On this instrument Alma had not the same confidence as with the violin;
but she could not refrain from exhibiting such skill as she possessed,
Mrs. Abbott having declared that her own piano-playing was elementary.
Meantime, the portfolio of water-colours had of course been produced
for exhibition. In this art, though she did not admit it, Mrs. Abbott
had formerly made some progress; she was able to form a judgment of
Alma's powers, and heard with genuine surprise in how short a time this
point had been attained. Alma again glowed with satisfaction.

She found a new source of pride in her motherhood. Not having been
told, or having forgotten, that Mrs. Abbott had lost a child, she
playfully offered assurance that the guest should not be worried with
nursery talk.

'Children are anything but a delight to you, I'm afraid; you must have
too much of them.'

'They often give me trouble,' Mrs. Abbott replied. 'But I wish I had
one more to trouble me. My little girl would have been six years old by
now.

Alma gave one of those looks which occasionally atoned for many less
amiable glances.

'I'm so sorry--I didn't know----'

Mrs. Abbott did not dwell on the subject. Her reserve was still
unbroken, though there never appeared the least coldness in her manner;
she talked with perfect freedom of everything that contained no
allusion to herself. The change was manifestly doing her good; even by
the second day she showed an increase of vigour, and no longer wore the
preoccupied, overstrained look. Becoming familiar with her face, Alma
thought it more attractive than at first, and decidedly younger. She
still had a great deal of curiosity to satisfy with regard to Mrs
Abbott; especially it seemed strange to her that Harvey and his friend
were so little inclined for conversation; they talked only of formal,
uninteresting things, and she wondered whether, after all, they really
had much in common.

'Take Mrs. Abbott for a walk tomorrow morning,' she said in private;
'you must have so many things to talk about--by yourselves.'

'I don't know that we have,' Harvey returned, looking at her with some
surprise. 'I want to hear a little more about those youngsters, that