oods were variable and capricious. Sometimes she would languidly
declare that she could not take her lesson; at other times she would
take it for about ten minutes; and then, rising hastily from the
piano, she would insist that she was tired, and refuse to study any
more for that day. Once or twice, by an extreme effort, she managed
to devote a whole half hour, and then, as though such exertion
was superhuman, she would retire, and for several weeks afterward
plead that half hour as an excuse for her negligence. All this
Gualtier bore with perfect equanimity. Hilda said nothing; and
generally, after Zillah's retirement, she would go to the piano
herself and take a lesson.

These lessons were diversified by general conversation. Often they
spoke about Zillah, but very seldom was it that they went beyond
this. Miss Krieff showed no desire to speak of the subject which they
once had touched upon, and Gualtier was too cunning to be obtrusive.
So the weeks passed by without any renewal of that confidential
conversation in which they had once indulged.

While Zillah was present, Hilda never in any instance showed any sign
whatever of anger or impatience. She seemed not to notice her
behavior, or if she did notice it she seemed to think it a very
ordinary matter. On Zillah's retiring she generally took her place at
the piano without a word, and Gualtier began his instructions. It was
during these instructions that their conversation generally took
place.

One day Gualtier came and found Hilda alone. She was somewhat
_distrait_, but showed pleasure at seeing him, at which he felt both
gratified and flattered. "Where is Miss Pomeroy?" he asked, after the
usual greetings had been exchanged.

"You will not have the pleasure of seeing her to-day," answered
Hilda, dryly.

"Is she ill?"

"Ill? She is never ill. No. She has gone out."

"Ah?"

"The General was going to take a drive to visit a friend, and she
took it into her head to accompany him. Of course he had to take her.
It was very inconvenient--and very ridiculous--but the moment she
proposed it he assented, with only a very faint effort at dissuasion.
So they have gone, and will not be back for some hours."

"I hope you will allow me to say," remarked Gualtier, in a low voice,
"that I consider her absence rather an advantage than otherwise."

"You could hardly feel otherwise," said Hilda. "You have not yet got
a broken head, it is true; but it is coming. Some day