"All of these reasons, and yet not one,--not even because, Carlomein, in all my efforts I have not written directly for the stage, nor because a lingering recollection ever forbids profane endeavor. There is yet a reason, obvious to myself, but which I can scarcely make clear to you. Though I would have you know, and learn as truth, that there is nothing I take from this child I will not restore to her again, nor shall she have the lesson to be taught to feel that in heaven alone is happiness." He made a long, long pause. I was in no mood to reply, and it was not until I was ashamed of my own silence that I spoke; then my own accents startled me. I told Seraphael I must return on the morrow to my own place if I were to enjoy at length what Miss Lawrence had set before me. He replied that I must come back to him when I came, and that he would write to me meantime. "If I can, Carlomein; but I cannot always write even, my child, to thee. There is one thing more between us,--a little end of business." He lit with a waxen match a waxen taper, which was coiled into a brazen cup; he brought it from the mantelshelf to the table; he took a slip of paper and a pen. The tiny flame threw out his hand, of a brilliant ivory, while his head remained in flickering shadow,--I could trace a shadow smile. "Now, Carlomein, this brother of yours. His name is David, I think?" "Lenhart Davy, sir." "Has he many musical friends?" "Only his wife particularly so,--the class are all neophytes." "Well, he can do as he pleases. Here is an order." He held out the paper in a regal attitude, and in the other hand brought near the tremulous taper, that I so might read. It was,-- ABBEY CHOIR, WESTMINSTER. Admit Mr. Lenhart Davy and party 21st June. SERAPHAEL. I could say nothing, nor even essay to thank him,--indeed he would not permit it, as I could perceive. We returned directly to the drawing-room, and roused Starwood from a blue study, as the Chevalier expressed it. "I am ready, and Miss Lemark is tired of waiting for both of us," said Miss Lawrence, as she entered that crown of days, the studio; "I have left her in the drawing-room. And, by the way, though it is nothing to the purpose, she has dressed herself very prettily." "I do not think it is nothing to the purpose,--people dress to go to church, and why not, then, to honor music? You have certainly succeeded also, Miss Lawrence, if it is not impertinent that I say so." "It is not impertinent. You will draw out the colors of that bit of canvas, if you gaze so ardently."