Mrs. Wornock was sitting a little way from the piano, reading. She looked up wonderingly at this outburst. Never before had Allan been guilty of such rough speech in her presence. Never before had he spoken with such rude authority to Suzette. "If our music has not the good fortune to please you, I would suggest that there are several rooms in this house where you would not hear it," said Geoffrey, laying down his fiddle. All the brightness had faded from his countenance, leaving it very pale. Suzette looked from one to the other with an expression of piteous distress. The two young men stood looking at each other, Allan flushed and fiery, Geoffrey's pallid face fixed and stern, with an anger which was stronger than the occasion warranted. They were sufficiently alike to make any ill-will between them seem like a brother's quarrel. "You are very good, but I would rather be out-of-doors. Are you coming, Suzette?" "Not till I have finished the sonata," she answered quietly, with a look which reproved his rudeness, and then began to play. Geoffrey took up his fiddle, and the performance was resumed as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Wornock rose and went to Allan. "Will you come for a stroll with me, Allan?" she asked, taking up the warm Indian shawl which lay on a chair near the window. "It is not too cold for the garden." He could not refuse such an invitation as this, though it tortured him to leave those two alone at the piano. He opened the window, wrapped Mrs. Wornock in her shawl, and followed her to the lawn. "Allan, why were you angry just now?" she asked. "Why? Perhaps I had better tell you the truth. I am miserable when I see the woman I love interested and enthralled by an art in which your son is a master--and of which I know hardly the A, B, C. I ask myself if she can care for a creature so inferior as I am--if she can fail to perceive his superiority." "Jealous, Allan! Oh, I am so sorry. It was I who proposed that they should play duets. It was not Geoffrey's idea. I thought it would encourage Suzette to go on practising. You don't know the delight a pianist feels in accompanying a violin----" "I think I can imagine it. Suzette takes very kindly to the concertante practice." "She has improved so much since I first knew her. She has such a talent for music. It never occurred to me that you could object." "It never occurred to you that I could be a jealous fool. You might just as well say that, for no doubt you think it." "Yes, I think you are foolish to be jealous. Suzette is as true as steel; and I don't believe Geoffrey has the slightest inclination to fall in love with her." "Not at this moment, perhaps; but who knows what tender feelings those dulcet strains may bring? However, Suzette will be leaving the neighbourhood, I hope, in a few days." "Leaving us, you hope!"