looking, pleasant, refined he might perhaps claim to be
considered; but how utterly, painfully unattractive he must be to her!

"I am glad to hear that you have been out, Mademoiselle," he said
kindly.

"The day was so fine--it tempted me," replied Alexia.

"A very good thing; the confinement was telling upon you," resumed the
Doctor. "Let me advise you to try to get out once at least every day."

"I shall do so, sir, with your permission--now."

"Now that the first plunge is taken," he remarked good-humoredly.
"Well, that is wise. Do not go too far, or let these youngsters trouble
you too much either out of doors or in, and you will soon feel the
benefit."

"You are very good, sir," murmured the governess; "but I am quite
well--indeed, quite strong."

"You must let me be the best judge of that, Mademoiselle. I am afraid
you have overtaxed your strength to-day. You are looking tired."

"I am not so, indeed. Not at all too tired to play, if you desire it."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," said the Doctor simply.

There was a piano in the room, a tolerable one; and Alexia moved slowly
toward it and sat down. It had become quite an institution, this
half-hour's playing which she gave the Doctor when he came up-stairs to
bid the children good-night. He was disappointed if by any chance she
missed it, perhaps because he hardly saw her at any other time, and
because it was something to be able from his distant seat to watch her
as she played. He learned her attitudes, her expressions, the poise of
her head, the curve of her full throat by heart at these times.

He did not care for music, and had no knowledge of the airs she played,
but he knew that he had heard no playing like hers. The magic of her
fingers made the instrument speak.

Thanking her now, he did not leave the room as usual, but lingered even
after the children had said good-night and gone to bed. Alexia looked
at him questioningly, and he began to speak--awkwardly, as she saw, but
with how much reluctance she did not suspect.

"Mademoiselle, you will pardon my recalling it. But you recollect when
you first expressed a wish to remain here?"

"Yes."

She spoke quite quietly, but her eyes involuntarily widened and her
lips parted. She put her hand to her bosom, felt the stiffness of paper
there, and then the hand fell at her side again, and she sat looking at
the fire.

"You recollect," resumed George Brudenell, with a reluctant troubled
glance at he