that it was almost painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful
avocation.

As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for
an hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with
the deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was
their hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although
they dozed in their chairs.

He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and
drowsily for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the
room. Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys.
Aunt Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on
playing. Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds
seemed to fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering.
Silently the player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at
the table from which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink,
and paper were within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the
following note:--

"DEAR SIDNEY,--May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather
than offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier
way of spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly
old Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,

"CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT."

He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed