nvest with this rare power. In technical qualities she might have much
still to learn, but the passionate poetry of her notes was what no
training could have developed, and it would never evince itself with
more impressiveness than to-night.

It seemed frivolous to speak thanks. Wilfrid gazed out into the dark of
the garden; Emily kept her eyes bent downward. She heard the rustle of
Beatrice's dress near her. Mr. Athel began to speak of the piece the
sound of Beatrice's voice replying caused Emily at length to look up,
and she met the dark eyes, still large with the joy of song. Her own
gaze had a beautiful solemnity, a devout admiration, of which it was
impossible to doubt the genuineness; Beatrice, observing it, smiled very
slightly before turning away again.

A quarter of an hour after, Emily withdrew. Mrs. Rossall played a
little, and talk of an idle kind followed. Wilfrid was not disposed to
take his usual part in conversation, and his casual remarks were
scarcely ever addressed to Beatrice. Presently Mrs. Rossall wished to
refer to the 'Spectator,' which contained a criticism of a new pianist
of whom there was much talk just then.

'Have you had it, Wilf?' Mr. Athel asked, after turning over a heap of
papers in vain.

'Oh, the "Spectator,"' Wilfrid replied, rousing himself from absentness.
'Yes, I had it in the summer-house just before dinner; I believe I left
it there. Shall I fetch it?'

'It would serve you right if I said yes,' admonished Mrs. Rossall. 'In
the first place you had no business to be reading it--'

'I will go,' Wilfrid said, rising with an effort.

'No, no; it will do to-morrow.'

'May as well get it now,' he said indifferently, and went out by the
window.

That part of the garden through which he walked lay in the shadow of the
house; the sky was full of moonlight, but the moon itself was still low.
A pathway between laurels led to the summer-house. Just short of the
little building, he passed the edge of shade, and, before entering,
turned to view the bright crescent as it hung just above the house-roof.
Gazing at the forms of silvered cloud floating on blue depths, he heard
a movement immediately behind him; he turned, to behold Emily standing
in the doorway. The moon's rays shone full upon her; a light shawl which
seemed to have covered her head had slipped down to her shoulders, and
one end was held in a hand passed over her breast. There was something
in the attitude which strikin