will, Phelps," he said, after a moment's hesitation,
"if she is disengaged."

"Miss Eve is in the music-room playing, I think, sir. Will you go
up?"

They found the room empty, however, though an open violin-case on
the table and a music-stand, on which leaflets of Schubert fluttered
fitfully in the light breeze that entered through the open window,
testified to its recent occupation.

While the butler left Rainham, with apologies, to make further
search, the latter stood, hat in hand, making a survey of the little
wainscoted room, which he remembered as the schoolroom. Indeed,
though the name, in deference doubtless to Eve's mature age, had
been altered, it still retained much of its former aspect. From the
little feminine trifles lying about, scraps of unfinished
crewel-work and embroidery, and the fresh flowers in the vases, he
gathered that it was still an apartment which Eve frequented. He
recognised her cage of love-birds hanging in the window; the cottage
piano with its frontal of faded silk, on which he could remember her
first painful struggles with Czerny and scales; the pictures on the
walls, many of them coloured reproductions from the Christmas
numbers of the illustrated papers; the ink-stained tablecloth on the
round table in the centre. He examined the photographs on the
mantelpiece with a smile--Charles in his wig and gown, and Mrs.
Sylvester with her pretty, faded face, gazed at each other, with a
curious likeness in their disparity, from a double frame in the
centre; the spectacled profile of the eminently respectable woman
who had superintended Miss Eve's studies held another place of
honour; and, opposite, Rainham recognised a faded photograph of
himself, taken six years before in Rome. He turned from these to the
bookshelves, which seemed to be filled with relegations from the
rest of the house--children's story-books in tarnished bright covers
and dilapidated school-books. He took down one of these latter and
examined it absently, with a half-sigh. He had it still in his hand
when the young girl fluttered in, looking very cool and fresh in her
plain, white dress with a broad sash of apple-green ribbon.

"I thought you were never coming to see us again, Philip," she said
reproachfully, as she held out her little hand to him. "What
possessed them to bring you here? It's awfully untidy."

"Phelps had an idea you were making music," he explained; "and, for
the untidiness, I suppose he remembere