And Adrienne had one delightful morning in Orleans, choosing nursery furniture and bright pictures for the nursery. Guy was with her. There was one awkward moment, when Adrienne was addressed as "Madame" and something was suggested for her "little son." Guy was so silent and imperturbable that, though the crimson blood rushed into her cheeks, she felt sure that he had not heard the words. And a wild desire tugged at her heart, that she might be a mother of a boy like that. It was the second evening after their arrival that Guy went to the organ and very softly began to play. Adrienne was sitting with her aunt. Hearing the music, she asked her aunt if she would like to listen. Receiving assent, she put open the bedroom door. But they were not the only listeners. Alain on his way to bed broke away from the care of his bonne. With flaming eyes, he darted down to the hall and hid behind a heavy carved oaken seat by the organ. There he sat on the floor with clasped hands round his knees listening entranced whilst his bonne, missing him, searched the terrace outside. Guy did not play for long. He was improvising softly, and the strain of his music was sad and wistfully sweet. When at last he dropped his hands from the keys, and sat with bowed head and sorrowful memories, two tiny arms suddenly reached up and clutched him round the neck. "I love you, Daddy! I love you! Make more music." The soft cheek that was pressed against his was tear-stained. Guy turned round and lifted the child on his knee. It was the first expression of affection that he had received from him. "Why, Sonnie, have you a bit of your father in you, after all? If you have, I'll have you taught music before you learn to read. There is nothing like music for a weary, disappointed man's soul. It restores his courage, and bucks him up to defy failure." Alain naturally did not understand this. "Play again, Daddy, play again!" he entreated. But Lucie, the bonne, had found him, and she carried him off most unwillingly to bed. All the next day Alain talked to Adrienne of his father's music. And in the afternoon, when her aunt was asleep, she took him into the salon and opened the piano. "Now, Alain, you shall learn to play. Daddy says so, and I will teach you." Alain shivered from head to foot with excitement when he touched the notes of the piano with one tiny finger. He would not leave it when the lesson was over, but sat on the high music-stool, striking one note after another, first with one hand, then with the other. And hearing his delicate certain touch, Adrienne told his father afterwards that music oozed out of his fingers. Every evening now, half an hour before bedtime, Alain would curl himself up by the organ stool, and listen to his father's music. Guy and his little son had found a bond of interest at last. One afternoon Adrienne slipped away to see little Agatha. Bertha Preston had left the neighbourhood, and she missed her friendship.