years ago, for a short time, and left with regret."

"Then you have old friends here?" And Lillian watched him as she spoke.

"I had. They had doubtless forgotten me now," he said, with a sudden
shadow marring the tranquillity of his face.

"Why doubt them? If they were true friends, they will not forget."

The words were uttered impulsively, almost warmly, but Talbot made no
response, except a polite inclination and an abrupt change in the
conversation.

"That remains to be proved. Do you sing, Miss Trevlyn?"

"A little." And Lillian's tone was both cold and proud.

"A great deal, and very charmingly," added Maud, who took pride in her
friend's gifts both of voice and beauty. "Come, dear, there are so few
of us you will sing, I know. Mamma desired me to ask you when Edith had
done."

To her surprise Lillian complied, and allowed Talbot to lead her to the
instrument. Still hoping to win some sign of recognition from him, the
girl chose an air he taught her and sang it with a spirit and skill that
surprised the listeners who possessed no key to her mood. At the last
verse her voice suddenly faltered, but Talbot took up the song and
carried her safely through it with his well-tuned voice.

"You know the air then?" she said in a low tone, as a hum of