So, during the entire lesson, Mr. Graham stood there, his eyes fixed upon ’Lena with a look which puzzled Durward, who from behind his book was watching him. Admiration, affection, pity and remorse, all seemed mingled in the expression of his face, and as Durward watched, he felt that there was a something which he could not fathom. “I never knew he was so fond of music,” thought he—“I mean to put him to the test.” Accordingly, when Du Pont was gone, he asked Mabel, who he knew was an excellent pianist, to favor him with one of her very best pieces—“something lively and new which will wake us up,” said he. Mabel would greatly have preferred remaining with John Jr., but she was habitually polite, always playing when invited, and now taking her seat at the piano, she brought out sounds far different from those of a new performer. But Mr. Graham, if he heard it, did not heed it, his eyes and ears being alone for ’Lena. Seating himself near her, he commenced talking to her in an undertone, apparently oblivious to everything else around him, and it was not until Durward twice asked how he liked Mabel’s playing, that he heard a note. Then, starting up and going toward the instrument, he said, “Ah, yes, that was a fine march, (’twas the ‘Rainbow Schottish,’ then new,) please repeat it, or something just like it!” Durward bit his lip, while Mabel, in perfect good humor, dashed off into a spirited quickstep, receiving but little attention from Mr. Graham, who seemed in a strange mood to-day, scribbling upon a piece of white paper which lay upon the piano, and of which Durward managed to get possession, finding thereon the name, “Helena Nichols,” to which was added that of “Rivers,” the Nichols being crossed out. It would seem as if both father and son were determined each to outstay the other, for hour after hour went by and neither spoke of leaving, although John Jr. had been gone some time. At last, as the sun was setting, Durward arose to go, asking if his father contemplated spending the night; “and if so,” said he, with a meaning in his manner, “where shall I tell my mother I left you?” This roused Mr. Graham, who said he was only waiting for his son to start, adding, that “he could not find it in his heart to tear him away from two so agreeable ladies, for he well remembered the weakness of his own youth.” “In your second youth, now, I fancy,” thought Durward, watching him as he bade ’Lena and Mabel goodbye, and not failing to see how much longer he held the hand of the former than he did of the latter. “Does she see as I do, or not?” thought he, as he took the hand his father dropped, and looked earnestly into the clear, brown eyes, which returned his inquiring glance with one open and innocent as a little child. “All right here,” again thought Durward, slightly pressing the soft, warm hand he held in his own, and smiling down upon her when he saw how quickly that pressure brought the tell-tale blood to her cheek. * * * * *