"Of course it will. In another month's time I shall be out and about again, as strong and active as the best of you." "Poor papa never will allow that he is worse," said Miriam, in a low voice. "He has certainly been weaker and feebler for the last day or two, but he will persist in saying that he is quite the opposite." "The old boy can't last long," thought Van Duren to himself: "another reason why I ought not to delay." Next minute, without exactly knowing how it happened, he found himself sitting opposite Miriam, who had resumed he favourite position--a half-sitting, half-reclining one--on the sofa, and was eating daintily a sugared apricot. How round and white her arms looked, contrasted against the deep amber of her robe, from under which the tiny Turkish slippers peeped tantalizingly! She was certainly very lovely, but about her loveliness to-night there was something wild and weird that at once attracted to itself a certain element of savagery that lay latent in the character of her admirer, but which the quiet, humdrum life he had led of late years had all but buried out of sight. An Englishman of the timid conventional type would either have been repelled or frightened had he seen the lady of his love decked out after Miriam's strange fashion, but it only served to draw Van Duren more closely to her. It seemed to him that, could he but have had his own way in the matter, he would never have let her dress otherwise than as he saw her to-night. As he gazed at her, all the pulses of his being seemed to throb with newer life. His eyes brightened, the lines of his hard mouth softened, and for once, as Miriam avowed afterwards to her father, the man looked almost handsome. Miriam's guitar was resting against the sofa, within reach of her hand. Said Van Duren-- "You were singing and playing the other evening, Miss Byrne, as I went upstairs to my own room, but I have never had the pleasure of hearing you when in your company." "Then you ought to consider yourself very fortunate," replied Miriam, "for I am really not worth listening to." "Will you afford me an opportunity of judging for myself?" "If you put it as a definite request, of course I cannot refuse you. I have accepted your bribe beforehand," she added, with a smile, pointing to the box of fruit. "I should really like to hear you." "Then you shall hear me. After that you will be satisfied. You will never want to hear me again." "That's as it may be," said Van Duren, as he drew his chair several inches nearer the sofa. "What shall I murder for you?" asked Miriam, as she took up the guitar. The phrase was an ugly one, and was spoken without thought. Van Duren started as if some one had smitten him suddenly from behind. He shot a look full of suspicion and terror at Miriam; but her eyes were bent on the guitar, one or two strings of which seemed to want screwing up. "What shall I sing for you?" she said, amending her phraseology this time.