"Stop, Lancy, I cannot bear it," said she at last, laying her hand on Lancy's arm before he had finished a page. Lancy looked up into the agitated face so near him, saying in a tremulous voice: "Then I am not mistaken about it, since it affects you the same as myself. What is there about those chords that thrills our hearts so painfully? It is the only piece of music that has ever so affected me. I have not been able to play it through yet without a break. Sit down and try how far you can play, Dexie." Dexie took the offered seat, and her hands swept the keys; but her firm touch seemed wanting. Wherein was that peculiar power that thrilled her with such exquisite pain; her hands fluttered, tears rose unbidden to her eyes, then, with a sudden break in the chords, she bowed her face in her hands. Lancy was bending over her in a moment, and drawing her hands gently down, held them in a firm clasp. "What is the matter with that music?" she said, at last, in a low tone. "I do not think I am nervous, but it sets my heart throbbing so that I cannot bear it." "I think it is the keynote of our hearts that is struck by those chords, and gives back such answering thrills. I never came across anything before that affected me like it." "Well, whatever it is, it is painfully sweet. I will try it again, but don't stand looking at me, there's a good fellow, but go away by the window and look out at--nothing." Again those wondrous chords filled the room, but the masterful touch that usually accompanied Dexie's fingering was now wanting, for it was a trembling hand that followed the printed notes. More the once she faltered, but after a period of waiting she would repeat the passage and go on. But presently a longer silence occurred, and Lancy turned from the window to look at her. Tears were standing in her eyes, and she sat with her hands clasped tightly before her. Drawing her away from the piano, he led her to the sofa, and the silent sympathy in his manner was more eloquent than any flow of words could have been. "It seems foolish, does it not, Lancy?" she said at last, "but it is no common piece of music, and I shall never be able to play it before strangers." "No; neither shall I, Dexie. That music speaks to your heart and mine alike. Let it be for ourselves alone, will you, Dexie?" and the grey eyes looked very dark in their earnestness. "Well, have it so, Lancy. I will be able to play it properly by and by, I expect. But I never noticed the name of it." "It is simply called 'A Song Without Words.' Let us name it again to suit ourselves." "Very well. I came in to ask you into our side of the house. The picnic is being discussed; but I don't feel a bit like going back myself now--that music has almost upset me." "Well, stay with me and let us have a quiet 'sing' by ourselves here; that will be pleasanter than discussing a picnic--shall we?"