young woman in the other
room.

"Suppose you stop in the office to-morrow," said the Judge. "Perhaps
you'll get a glimpse of her, and then bear me out in the statement that
she's like your friend. By the way, who is making such exquisite music?
Suppose we go and investigate. Mr. Bowman, will you excuse us if we follow
the ladies? We are anxious to hear the music at closer range."

The other men rose and followed.

The girl did not pause or look up as they came in, but played on, while
the company listened with the most rapt and wondering look. She was
playing with an _empressement_ which could not fail to command attention.

Tryon Dunham, standing just behind the Judge, was transfixed with
amazement. That this delicate girl could bring forth such an entrancing
volume of sound from the instrument was a great surprise. That she was so
exquisite an artist filled him with a kind of intoxicating elation--it was
as though she belonged to him.

At last she played Liszt's brilliant Hungarian Rhapsody, her slender hands
taking the tremendous chords and octave runs with a precision and rapidity
that seemed inspired. The final crash came in a shower of liquid jewels of
sound, and then she turned to look at him, her one friend in that company
of strangers.

He could see that she had been playing under a heavy strain. Her face
looked weary and flushed, and her eyes were brilliant with feverish
excitement. Those eyes seemed to be pleading with him now to set her free
from the kindly scrutiny of these good-hearted, curious strangers. They
gathered about her in delight, pouring their questions and praises upon
her.

"Where did you study? With some great master, I am sure. Tell us all about
yourself. We are dying to know, and will sit at your feet with great
delight while you discourse."

Tryon Dunham interrupted these disquieting questions, by drawing his watch
from his pocket with apparent hasty remembrance, and giving a well feigned
exclamation of dismay.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bowman; it is too bad to interrupt this delightful
evening," he apologized; "but I'm afraid if Miss Remington feels that she
must take the next train, we shall have to make all possible speed. Miss
Remington, can you get your wraps on in three minutes? Our carriage is
probably at the door now."

With a look of relief, yet keeping up her part of dismay over the lateness
of the hour, the girl sprang to her feet, and hurried away to get her
wraps, in spit