mouth, and she made a motion as though she would cease playing and go
over to him; but the bitterness was greater than the pity, and
conquering the impulse, she kept her seat and played on.

As he was closing the book it fell on the table. His eyes followed it
mechanically. "Yes," he went on presently, as though following out a
deep train of thought, "a frightful mistake, how could I have made
it?"

His restless fingers sought his watch-chain as he once more turned
toward the door. The notes from the piano were now getting faint, low
and irregular--her face was still turned in his direction.

As he was about to open the door, his attention was attracted by a
thermometer which hung there in a prettily worked frame. Taking it
down he looked at it for a space and then, unthinkingly, put it into
his pocket. As the door was closing behind him his lips again moved:
"Yes, a frightful, frightful mistake!"

She continued to play, her face turned toward the door; but the white
fingers were now straying very waveringly over the keys. Suddenly the
room was filled with a discordant jar--her arms were resting heavily
on the keys, her face buried in them, and her shoulders were heaving
in quick distress. If he had but come back then!




CHAPTER II.