The company was in the drawing-room, and a lady was at the piano
singing, and playing her own accompaniment, while Mr. Lamb was standing
beside her, pretending to turn over the music, of which he had as little
knowledge as the animal whose name he bore. The song was that beautiful
one of Burns,

O wert thou in the cauld blast
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,

and, though a gentleman's song, it was rendered with exquisite taste and
feeling. The singer looked up appealingly at Mr. Lamb twice, solely to
invoke his aid in turning the music leaf. But, to Coristine's jealous
soul, it was a glance of tenderness and mutual understanding. Four long
days he had known her, and she had never sung for him; and now, just as
soon as the Crown Land idiot comes along, she must favour him with her
very best. He would not be rude, and talk while the singing was going
on, but he would let Lamb do all the thanking; he wasn't going shares
with that affected dude. The music ceased, and he turned to see whom he
could talk to. Mrs. Carmichael and Miss Halbert were busy with their
clerical adorers. The colonel and Mrs. Du Plessis had evidently bid
their dear boy good night, for they were engaged in earnest
conversation, in which he called her Teresa, and she called him Paul as
often as colonel. Miss Du Plessis was turning over the leaves of an
album. He went up to her, and asked if she would not favour the company
with some music. "Instrumental or vocal, Mr. Coristine?" she asked. "Oh,
vocal, if you please, Miss Du Plessis; do you sing, 'Shall I wasting in
despair,' or anything of that kind?" Miss Du Plessis did not, but would
like to hear Mr. Coristine sing it. He objected that he had no music,
and was a poor accompanyist. Before the unhappy man knew where he was,
Miss Du Plessis was by Miss Carmichael's side, begging her dear friend
Marjorie to accompany Mr. Coristine. She agreed, for she knew the song,
and the music was in the stand. Like a condemned criminal, Coristine was
conducted to the piano; but the first few bars put vigour into him, and
he sang the piece through with credit. He was compelled, of course, to
return thanks for the excellent accompaniment, but this he did in a
stiff formal way, as if the musician was an entire stranger. Then they
had prayers, for the gentlemen had come in out of the office, and,
afterwards, the clergymen went home. As the inmates of Bridesdale
separated for the night, Miss Carmichael handed the l