ay to her. "It cannot be your duty
to disobey your brother and make yourself ill."'

'The illness lay in your own imagination, Etta,' observed Miss Hamilton
coldly. 'Giles would never have found out my chest was delicate if you
had not told him so.'

Miss Darrell gave her favourite little shrug, and inspected her rings.

'See what thanks I get for my cousinly care,' she said good-humouredly.
'I suppose, Gladys, you were vexed with me for telling him that you were
working yourself to death,--that the close air of the schoolroom made
your head ache, and that so much singing was too much for your strength.'

'If you please, Etta, we will talk about some other subject; my health,
or want of health, will not interest Miss Garston.' She spoke with
dignity, and then, turning to me with a winning smile, 'Giles has told me
about your singing. Will you be good enough to sing something to us? It
would be a great pleasure: both Lady Betty and I are so fond of music.'

'Miss Garston looks very tired, Gladys; it is almost selfish to ask her,'
observed Miss Darrell softly; and then I knew that Miss Hamilton's
request did not please her.

I had vowed to myself that no amount of pressing should induce me to sing
that evening, but I could not have refused that gentle solicitation. As I
unbuttoned my gloves and took my place at the grand piano, I determined
that I would sing anything and everything that Miss Hamilton wished; Miss
Darrell should not silence me; and with this resolve hot on me I
commenced the opening bars of 'The Lost Chord,' and before I had finished
the song Miss Hamilton had crept into the corner beside me, and remained
there as motionless as though my singing had turned her into stone.

CHAPTER XVI

GLADYS

I do not know how the majority of people feel when they sing, but with me
the love of music was almost a passion. I could forget my audience in a
moment, and would be scarcely aware if the room were empty or crowded.

For example, on this evening I had no idea that the gentlemen had entered
the room, and the first intimation of the fact was conveyed to me by
hearing a 'Bravo!' uttered by Mr. Hamilton under his breath.

'But you must not leave off,' he went on, quite earnestly. 'I want you to
treat us as you treat poor Phoebe Locke, and sing one song after another
until you are tired.'

I was about to refuse this request very civilly but decidedly, for I
had no notion of obeying such an arbitrary