and as the silent voices of the gloaming whispered to her heart, her
eyes lit up with an unusual brightness and her lips broke apart in a
slow dreamy smile. It was nearly six by the marble clock on the mantel,
Mr. Rayne would be home in another little while, and with this thought
she turned languidly to the _etagere_ in the corner, in her search for
distraction, and drew from a shelf a small volume which attracted her
eye. She then poked a large black coal until it sent a bright lurid
flame up the chimney, and filled the room with a cheerful light: slowly,
almost tastelessly, she proceeded to turn the pages over, scanning here
and there a line or two; at length, smiling, she said to herself, "I
used to know these verses long ago. I wonder if I have forgotten them."

She stood up as she spoke, and glancing at the first word, folded her
hands behind her back still holding the volume, with one finger inserted
on this particular part. She leaned one shoulder gently against the
mantel-corner and looked into the fire. Why did she not look towards the
window? A moment before, the garden gate had closed noiselessly behind
the tall, well-built figure of a man, who before entering the house, had
turned to look aimlessly in at the large square window from which was
reflected the warm light of the grate. But how soon his eyes became
riveted to the spot standing in front of the fire was the fairest
creature he had ever looked on before, the fitful flames were casting
their light upon her handsome face, her eyes looked almost wild to-night
in their sadness, and her cheeks had an unusual glow. Standing with her
hands behind her back, she showed to advantage the perfect _contour_ of
her figure, and while he feasted his eyes on her physical loveliness he
caught a little word in a sweet sad voice, that recalled lines he was
fond of repeating himself; he strained every nerve to catch the tones
within. Knowing the verses himself enabled him to understand her readily
as she quoted--