ief prelude, which, to his trained ear, revealed her perfect
touch, her voice rose with a sweet, resonant power that held those
near spellbound, and swelled in volume until people in distant parts
of the house paused and listened as if held by a viewless hand.
Connoisseurs felt that they were listening to an artist and not an
amateur; plain men and women, and the children, knew simply that
they were enjoying music that entranced them, that set their nerves
thrilling and vibrating. Madge hoped only that her voice might
penetrate the barriers between herself and one man's heart. She did
not desire to sing on the present occasion. She did not wish to annoy
him by the contrast between her song and Miss Wildmere's performance,
feeling that he would naturally take sides in his thoughts with the
woman outvied; nor had she any desire to inflict upon her rival the
disparagement that must follow; but something in Miss Wildmere's
self-satisfied and patronizing tone had touched her quick spirit, and
the arrogant girl should receive the lesson she had invited. But, as
Madge sang, the noble art soon lifted her above all lower thoughts,
and she forgot everything but Graydon and the hope of her heart. She
sang for him alone, as she had learned to sing for him alone.

In spite of her explanations he looked at her with the same old wonder
and perplexity of which he had been conscious from the first. If she
had merely sung with correctness and taste, like Miss Wildmere, there
would have been nothing to disturb his complacent admiration; but now
he almost felt like springing to her side with the words, "What is it,
Madge? Tell me all."

As the last lovely notes ceased, only the unthinking children
applauded. From the others there was entreaty.

"Please sing again, Miss Alden," said the gentleman who had first
asked her. "I am an old man, and can't hope for many more such rich
pleasures. I am not an amateur, and know only the music that reaches
my heart."

"Sing something from 'Lohengrin,' Madge," said Henry Muir, quietly.
She glanced at him, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Herr Brachmann had trained her thoroughly in some of Wagner's
difficult music, and she gave them a selection which so far surpassed
the easy melodies of Verdi, which Miss Wildmere had sung, that the
latter sat pale and incensed, yet not daring to show her chagrin. This
music was received with unbounded applause, and then a little voice
piped, "The bi