he piano.
Sheila did not understand what her companion had said; and indeed
Mrs. Lorraine immediately turned, with the same calm, fine face and
careless eyes, to ask Sheila whether she would not, by and by, sing
one of those northern songs of which Mr. Lavender had told her.

A tall girl, with her back hair tied in a knot and her costume copied
from a well-known pre-Raphaelite drawing, sat down to the piano and
sang a mystic song of the present day, in which the moon, the stars
and other natural objects behaved strangely, and were somehow mixed up
with the appeal of a maiden who demanded that her dead lover should be
reclaimed from the sea.

"Do you ever go down to your husband's studio?" said Mrs. Lorraine.

Sheila glanced toward the lady at the piano.

"Oh, you may talk," said Mrs. Lorraine, with the least expression of
contempt in the gray eyes. "She is singing to gratify herself, not
us."

"Yes, I sometimes go down," said Sheila in as low a voice as she could
manage without falling into a whisper, "and it is such a dismal place.
It is very hard on him to have to work in a big bare room like that,
with the windows half blinded. But sometimes I think Frank would
rather have me out of the way."

"And what would he do if both of us were to pay him a visit?" said
Mrs. Lorraine. "I should so like to see the studio! Won't you call for
me some day and take me with you?"

Take her with her, indeed! Sheila began to wonder that she did not
propose to go alone. Fortunately, there was no need to answer the
question, for at this moment the song came to an end, and there was a
general movement and murmur of gratitude.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Lorraine to the lady who had sung, and who was
now returning to the photographs she had left--"thank you very much.
I knew some one would instantly ask you to sing that song: it is the
most charming of all your songs, I think, and how well it suits your
voice, too!"

Then she turned to Sheila again: "How did you like Lord Arthur
Redburn?"

"I think he is a very good young man."

"Young men are never good, but they may be very amiable," said
Mrs. Lorraine, not perceiving that Sheila had blundered on a wrong
adjective, and that she had really meant that she thought him honest
and pleasant.

"You did not speak at all, I think, to your neighbor on the right:
that was wise of you. He is a most insufferable person, but mamma
bears with him for the sake of his daughter, who sang just