h!' said her questioner again, rather disconcerted by the obvious
missishness of the answer. 'You do, do you? More's the pity. No woman
who respects herself ought to play the piano nowadays. A professional
told me the other day that until nineteen-twentieths of the profession
were strung up, there would be no chance for the rest, and, as for
amateurs, there is simply _no_ room for them whatever. I don't conceive
anything more passe than amateur pianoforte playing!'

'I don't play the piano,' said Rose, meekly.

'What--the fashionable instrument, the banjo?' laughed Lady Charlotte.
'That would be really striking.'

Rose was silent again, the corners of her month twitching.

'Mrs. Darcy,' said her neighbor raising her voice. 'This young lady
tells me she plays something; what is it?'

Mrs. Darcy looked in a rather helpless way at Catherine. She was
dreadfully afraid of Lady Charlotte.

Catherine, with a curious reluctance, gave the required information, and
then Lady Charlotte insisted that the violin should be sent for, as it
had not been brought.

'Who accompanies you?' she inquired of Rose.

'Mr. Langham plays very well,' said Rose, indifferently.

Lady Charlotte raised her eyebrows. 'That dark, Byronic-looking creature
who came with you? I should not have imagined him capable of anything
sociable. Letitia, shall I send my maid to the Rectory, or can you spare
a man?'

Mrs. Darcy hurriedly gave orders, and Rose, inwardly furious, was
obliged to submit. Then Lady Charlotte, having gained her point, and
secured a certain amount of diversion for the evening, lay back on the
sofa, used her fan, and yawned till the gentlemen appeared.

When they came in, the precious violin which Rose never trusted to any
other hands but her own without trepidation had just arrived, and its
owner, more erect than usual, because more nervous, was trying to prop
up a dilapidated music-stand which Mrs. Darcy had unearthed for her. As
Langham came in, she looked up and beckoned to him.

'Do you see?' she said to him impatiently, 'They have made me play. Will
you accompany me? I am very sorry, but there is no one else.'

If there was one thing Langham loathed on his own account, it was
any sort of performance in public. But the half-plaintive look which
accompanied her last words showed that she knew it, and he did his best
to be amiable.

'I am altogether at your service,' he said, sitting down with
resignation.

'It is all t