“Oh! It is Ina Klosking that was. Please bring me a glass.” The two ladies looked at each other. Miss Gale made a negative signal, and Fanny said, “By-and-by. This will do instead, for it is as like as two peas. Now ask yourself how this comes to be in the house, and set in pearls. Why, they are worth three hundred pounds. I assure you that the master of this house is _fanatico per la musica;_ heard you sing Siebel at Homburg--raved about you--wanted to call on you. We had to drag him away from the place; and he declares you are the first singer in the world; and you cannot doubt his sincerity, for _here are the pearls.”_ Ina Klosking's pale cheek colored, and then she opened her two arms wide, and put them round Fanny's neck and kissed her: her innocent vanity was gratified, and her gracious nature suggested gratitude to her who had brought her the compliment, instead of the usual ungrateful bumptiousness praise elicits from vanity. Then Miss Gale put in her word--“When you met with this unfortunate accident, I was for taking you up to my house. It is three miles off; but he would not hear of it. He said, 'No; here she got her wound, and here she must be cured.'” “So,” said Fanny, “pray set your mind at ease. My cousin Harrington is a very good soul, but rather arbitrary. If you want to leave this place, you must get thoroughly well and strong, for he will never let you go till you are.” Between these two ladies, clever and cooperating, Ina smiled, and seemed relieved; but she was too weak to converse any more just then. Some hours afterward she beckoned Fanny to her, and said, “The master of the house--what is his name?” “Harrington Vizard.” “What!--_her_ father?” “La, no; only her half-brother.” “If he is so kind to me because I sing, why comes he not to see me? _She_ has come.” Fanny smiled. “It is plain you are not an Englishwoman, though you speak it so beautifully. An English gentleman does not intrude into a lady's room.” “It is his room.” “He would say that, while you occupy it, it is yours, and not his.” “He awaits my invitation, then.” “I dare say he would come if you were to invite him, but certainly not without.” “I wish to see him who has been so kind to me, and so loves music; but not to-day--I feel unable.” The next day she asked for a glass, and was distressed at her appearance. She begged for a cap. “What kind of a cap?” asked Fanny. “One like that,” said she, pointing to a portrait on the wall. It was of a lady in a plain brown silk dress and a little white shawl, and a neat cap with a narrow lace border all round her face. This particular cap was out of date full sixty years; but the house had a storeroom of relics, and Fanny, with Vizard's help, soon rummaged out a cap of the sort, with a narrow frill all round. Her hair was smoothed, a white silk band passed over the now closed wound, and the cap fitted on her. She looked pale, but angelic.