"Doubtless," was the dry response; "but I think 'picturesque' is not the word to use in such a case. Music, I presume, you taught yourself?" The girl's whole face brightened--her manner changed. "Yes, I taught myself; poor papa could not afford to pay for my lessons. Shall I play to you, Miss Hastings?" There was a piano in the study, a beautiful and valuable instrument, which Sir Oswald had ordered for his niece. "I shall be much pleased to hear you," said Miss Hastings. Pauline Darrell rose and went to the piano. Her face then was as the face of one inspired. She sat down and played a few chords, full, beautiful, and harmonious. "I will sing to you," she said. "We often went to the opera--papa, Jules, Louis, and myself. I used to sing everything I heard. This is from 'Il Puritani.'" And she sang one of the most beautiful solos in the opera. Her voice was magnificent, full, ringing, vibrating with passion--a voice that, like her face, could hardly be forgotten; but she played and sang entirely after a fashion of her own. "Now, Miss Hastings," she said, "I will imitate Adelina Patti." Face, voice, manner, all changed; she began one of the far-famed prima-donna's most admired songs, and Miss Hastings owned to herself that if she had closed her eyes she might have believed Madame Patti present. "This is _a la_ Christine Nilsson," continued Pauline; and again the imitation was brilliant and perfect. The magnificent voice did not seem to tire, though she sang song after song, and imitated in the most marvelous manner some of the grandest singers of the day. Miss Hasting left her seat and went up to her. "You have a splendid voice, my dear, and great musical genius. Now tell me, do you know a single note of music?" "Not one," was the quick reply. "You know nothing of the keys, time, or anything else?" "Why should I trouble myself when I could play without learning anything of the kind?" "But that kind of playing, Pauline, although it is very clever, would not do for educated people." "Is it not good enough for them?" she asked, serenely. "No; one cannot help admiring it, but any educated person hearing you would detect directly that you did not know your notes." "Would they think much less of me on that account?" she asked, with the same serenity. "Yes; every one would think it sad to see so much talent wasted. You must begin to study hard; you must learn to play by note, not by ear, and then all will be well. You love music, Pauline?" How the beautiful face glowed and the dark eyes shone. "I love it," she said, "because I can put my whole soul into it--there is room for one's soul in it. You will be shocked, I know, but that is why I liked Comte's theories--because they filled my mind, and gave me so much to think of." "Were I in your place I should try to forget them, Pauline." "You should have seen Sir Oswald's face when I told him I had read Comte and Darwin. He positively groaned aloud."