eep back the tears, while she watched Rex's face with fascinated
attention. He had pushed his chair into the corner when Norah began to
play, and shaded his eyes with his hand, and beneath this shelter he
gazed at her with the unblinking, concentrated gaze of one who is
storing up a memory which must last through long years of separation.
How often in the bungalow home in India the scene in this English
drawing-room would rise before him, and he would see again the girlish
figure in the blue serge dress, the pale face leant lovingly against the
violin, the face which was generally so gay and full of life, but which
was now all sad and downcast! Lettice followed Rex's example and turned
to look at her sister. Dear Norie! there was no one in the world like
her! How sweet and gentle she looked! No wonder Rex hated to say good-
bye--he would never find another girl like Norah Bertrand.

The curate was loud in his expression of delight when Norah laid down
her bow, but Rex neither spoke nor moved, and Hilary in despair called
for a song. The curate had a pleasant little tenor pipe of his own, and
could play accompaniments from memory, so that he was ready enough to
accede to the request. His selection, however, was not very large, and
chiefly of the ballad order, and this afternoon the sound of the opening
bars brought a flush of nervousness to Hilary's cheeks--"The Emigrant's
Farewell!" What in the world had induced the man to make such a choice?
An utter want of tact, or a mistaken idea of singing something
appropriate to the occasion? It was too late to stop him now, however,
and she sat playing with the fringe of the tea-cloth, hardly daring to
lift her eyes, as the words rang through the room--

"I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary kind and true,
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the son shines always there,
But I'll ne'er forget old Ireland,
Be it fifty times as fair!"

Could anything be more painful--more disconcerting? As the last notes
rang out she darted a quick glance at Rex, and to her horror saw the
glimmer of tears in those "masterful" eyes, which had hitherto been so
scornfully free from signs of weakness.

The next moment, before the choruses of "thank you's" had died away, Rex
was on his feet, holding out his hand with an air of defiant
indifference.

"I must go; it is getting late. Good-bye, Hilary