st to all thoughts of the world
around her, wrapped in the melody and meaning of the music. Then, as
the _finale_ rushed in a torrent of golden chords to its climax and the
last note was struck, her hands fell away from the piano and she sank
back on her seat with a little sigh of exhaustion and happiness.

A pause followed. How well she remembered listening for that pause
when she played, in public!--The brief, pulsating silence which falls
while the thought of the audience steal back from the fairyland whither
they have wandered and readjust themselves reluctantly to the things of
daily life. And then, the outburst of applause.

In silence she awaited Roger's approval, her lips just parted, her face
still alight with the joy of the creator who knows that his work is
good.

But the words for which she was listening did not come. . . .
Instead--utter silence! . . . Wondering, half apprehensive of she knew
not what, Nan twisted round on the music-seat and looked across to
where Roger was sitting. The sharp, quick intake of her breath broke
the silence as might a cry. Weary after his long day in the saddle,
soothed by the warmth of the fire and the rhythm of the music, Roger
was sleeping peacefully, his head thrown back against a cushion!

Nan rose slowly and, coming forward into the circle of the firelight,
stared down at him incredulously. It was unbelievable! She had been
giving him all the best that was in her--the work of her brain, the
interpretation of her hands--baring her very heart to him during the
last half-hour. And he had slept through it all!

In any other circumstances, probably, the humorous side of the matter
would have struck her, and the sting and smart of it been washed away
in laughter.

But just now it was impossible for her to feel anything but bitterness
and hopeless disappointment. For weeks she had been working hard,
without the fillip of congenial atmosphere, doggedly sticking to it in
spite of depression and discouragement, and now that the results of her
labour were ready to be given to the world, she was strung up to a high
pitch and ill-prepared to receive a sudden check.

She had counted so intensely on winning Roger's sympathy and
understanding--on putting an end to that blundering, terrible jealousy
of his by playing the game to the limit of her ability. It had been
like making a burnt-offering for her to share the thing she loved best
with Roger--to let him into some