Rosa to play for her. She thought she would try, in the solitude of
her chamber, how it would seem to give dancing-lessons. But without
music, and without a spectator, it seemed so like the ghost of dancing
that after a few steps the poor child threw herself on the bed and
sobbed.

Rosa did not open the piano for several days after the funeral; but
one morning, feeling as if it would be a relief to pour forth the
sadness that oppressed her, she began to play languidly. Only requiems
and prayers came. Half afraid of summoning an invisible spirit, she
softly touched the keys to "The Light of other Days." But remembering
it was the very last tune she ever played to her father, she leaned
her head forward on the instrument, and wept bitterly.

While she sat thus the door-bell rang, and she soon became conscious
of steps approaching the parlor. Her heart gave a sudden leap; for her
first thought was of Gerald Fitzgerald. She raised her head, wiped
away her tears, and rose to receive the visitor. Three strangers
entered. She bowed to them, and they, with a little look of surprise,
bowed to her. "What do you wish for, gentlemen?" she asked.

"We are here concerning the settlement of Mr. Royal's estate," replied
one of them. "We have been appointed to take an inventory of the
furniture."

While he spoke, one of his companions was inspecting the piano, to see
who was the maker, and another was examining the timepiece.

It was too painful; and Rosa, without trusting herself to speak
another word, walked quietly out of the room, the gathering moisture