in
astonishment from the card-table at which they were playing. Even Mrs.
Vesey, dozing in her chair, woke at the sudden cessation of the music,
and inquired what had happened.

"You play at whist, Mr. Hartright?" asked Miss Halcombe, with her eyes
directed significantly at the place I occupied.

I knew what she meant--I knew she was right, and I rose at once to go
to the card-table. As I left the piano Miss Fairlie turned a page of
the music, and touched the keys again with a surer hand.

"I WILL play it," she said, striking the notes almost passionately. "I
WILL play it on the last night."

"Come, Mrs. Vesey," said Miss Halcombe, "Mr. Gilmore and I are tired of
ecarte--come and be Mr. Hartright's partner at whist."

The old lawyer smiled satirically. His had been the winning hand, and
he had just turned up a king. He evidently attributed Miss Halcombe's
abrupt change in the card-table arrangements to a lady's inability to
play the losing game.

The rest of the evening passed without a word or a look from her. She
kept her place at the piano, and I kept mine at the card-table. She
played unintermittingly--played as if the music was her only refuge
from herself. Sometimes her fingers touched the notes with a lingering
fondness--a soft, plaintive, dying tenderness, unutterably beautiful
and mournful to hear; sometimes they faltered and failed her, or
hurried over the instrument mechanically, as if their task was a burden
to them. But still, change and waver as they might in the expression
they imparted to the music, their resolution to play never faltered.
She only rose from the piano when we all rose to say Good-night.

Mrs. Vesey was the nearest to the door, and the first to shake hands
with me.

"I shall not see you again, Mr. Hartright," said the old lady. "I am
truly sorry you are going away. You have been very kind and attentive,
and an old woman like me feels kindness and attention. I wish you
happy, sir--I wish you a kind good-bye."

Mr. Gilmore came next.

"I hope we shall have a future opportunity of bettering our
acquaintance, Mr. Hartright. You quite understand about that little
matter of business being safe in my hands? Yes, yes, of course. Bless
me, how cold it is! Don't let me keep you at the door. Bon voyage, my
dear sir--bon voyage, as the French say."

Miss Halcombe followed.

"Half-past seven to-morrow morning," she said--then added in a whisper,
"I have heard and seen more