e quite understood that he had the right to claim her
attention--to see a proud Roman prince, with a long pedigree, make way
with a bow--to see a courtly French duke resign the seat he had waited
half the night for--to see the eyes of envy that followed him--it
flattered him, and he never asked where it would end.

Lady Lanswell saw it all with well-pleased eyes, but said nothing; she
was biding her time.

One evening they met at Mrs. Chester's. There was neither ball nor
party, but a quiet at home; and their friendship made greater strides
than it hitherto had done.

Some one asked Lady Erskine to sing. Lord Chandos looked at her.

"Do you sing?" he asked.

And she answered with a quiet smile:

"Yes, it is one of the few things I do well enough to content myself. I
have a good voice and I sing well."

"Are you what people call fond of music?" he asked.

And she answered:

"Yes, I often put my own thoughts to music, and if I meet any words that
seem to me very good or very sweet I never rest until I have found a
melody that fits them. I came across some the other day. Shall I sing
them to you?"

There was a slight commotion in the room when people saw the beautiful
English girl led to the piano. She turned with a smile to Lord Chandos.

"My song is English," she said, "and will not be understood by every
one."

"I shall understand it," he said; "you must sing it to me."

When he heard the words he understood the blush that covered her face.

"I should change my song," she said, "if another came into my mind.
These words are by a poetess I read and admire much. It is called
'Somewhere or Other.'"

She sung in a sweet, pure voice; there was neither fire, power, nor
passion in it; but the words were clear and distinct.

"'Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that never yet--never yet--ah, me,
Made answer to my word.

"'Somewhere or other, may be near or far,
Past land and sea, clear out of sight,
Beyond the wandering moon, the star,
That tracks her night by night.

"'Somewhere or other, may be far or near,
With just a wall, a hedge between,
With just the last leaves of the dying year
Fallen on a turf so green.'"

He stood by her side while she sung, his eyes fixed on her face,
thinking how pure and fair she was. When the sweet strain of music
ended, he said:

"Somewhere or other--yo