course you were too anxious
to get here to think about clothes. That was quite as it should be.
Good-by! Don't be dull."

He was alone only for a few minutes. Then a servant knocked at the door
and took him to his room. He looked around him, and saw more evidences
of her care for him. In the sitting room, which opened on one side, was
a great bowl of freshly cut flowers, a pile of new books, and a
photograph of herself. The rooms were the finest in the house. The oak
paneled walls were hung with tapestry, and every piece of furniture was
an antique curiosity. It was a bedchamber for a prince, and indeed a
royal prince had once slept in the quaint high four-poster with its
carved oak pillars and ancient hangings.

To Bernard Maddison, as he strolled round and examined his surroundings,
it all seemed like a dream--so delightful, that awakening was a thing to
be dreaded indeed. The loud ringing of the second bell, however, soon
brought him back to the immediate present. He hastily made such
alterations in his toilet as were possible, and descended. In the hall
he met Helen, who had changed her dress for a soft cream-colored dinner
gown, and was waiting for him.

"Do you like your room?" she asked.

"Like it? It is perfect," he answered quietly. "I had no idea that
Thurwell was so old. I like you, too," he added, glancing approvingly at
her and taking her hand.

"No time for compliments, sir," she said, laughing. "We must go into the
drawing-room; Sir Allan is there alone."

He followed her across the hall, and entered the room with her. Sir
Allan, with his back to them, was seated at the piano, softly playing an
air of Chopin's to himself. At the sound of the opening door, he turned
round.

"Sir Allan, you see we have found another visitor to take pity on us,"
Helen said. "You know Mr. Maddison, don't you?"

The music, which Sir Allan had been continuing with his right hand, came
to a sudden end, and for the space of a few seconds he remained
perfectly motionless. Then he rose and bowed slightly.

"I have that pleasure," he said quietly. "Mr. Maddison is a neighbor of
yours, is he not? I met him, you know, on a certain very melancholy
occasion."

"Will you go on playing?" she asked, sinking down on a low settee; "we
should like to listen."

He sat down again, and with half-closed eyes recommenced the air. Helen
and Bernard Maddison, sitting side by side, spoke every now and then to
one another in a low tone