"Why, you are hardly ever at home, I thought," said Mrs. O'Reilly, smiling. "You are the lion of the neighbourhood just now; and I'm sure it is very good of you to come in and cheer a lonely old woman. Are you going to play me something rather more lively to-day?" He laughed. "Ah! Poor Pestal! I had forgotten all about our last meeting." "You were very much excited that day," said Mrs. O'Reilly. "I had no idea that your political notions--" He interrupted her "Ah! no politics to-day, dear Mrs. O'Reilly. Let us have nothing but enjoyment and harmony. See, now, I will play you something very much more cheerful." And sitting down to the piano, he played the bridal march from 'Lohengrin,' then wandered off into an improvised air, and finally treated them to some recollections of the 'Mikado.' Lena-Houghton watched him thoughtfully as she put on her gloves; he was playing with great spirit, and the words of the opera rang in her ears:-- For he's going to marry Yum-yum, Yum-yum, And so you had better be dumb, dumb, dumb! I knew well enough that she would not follow this moral advice, and I laughed to myself because the whole scene was such a hollow mockery. The placid benevolent-looking old lady leaning back in her arm-chair; the girl in her blue gingham and straw hat preparing to go to the afternoon service; the happy lover entering heart and soul into Sullivan's charming music; the pretty room with its Chippendale furniture, its aesthetic hangings, its bowls of roses; and the sound of church bells wafted through the open window on the soft summer breeze. Yet all the time I lingered there unseen, carrying with me all sorts of dread possibilities. I had been introduced into the world, and even if Mrs. O'Reilly had been willing to admit to herself that she had broken the ninth commandment, and had earnestly desired to recall me, all her sighs and tears and regrets would have availed nothing; so true is the saying, "Of thy word unspoken thou art master; thy spoken word is master of thee." "Thank you." "Thank you." "How I envy your power of playing!" The two ladies seemed to vie with each other in making pretty speeches, and Zaluski, who loved music and loved giving pleasure, looked really pleased. I am sure it did not enter his head that his two companions were not sincere, or that they did not wish him well. He was thinking to himself how simple and kindly the Muddleton people were, and how great a contrast this life was to his life in London; and he was saying to himself that he had been a fool to live a lonely bachelor life till he was nearly thirty, and yet congratulating himself that he had done so since Gertrude was but nineteen. Undoubtedly, he was seeing blissful visions of the future all the time that he replied to the pretty speeches, and shook hands with Lena Houghton, and opened the drawing-room door for her, and took out his watch to assure her that she had plenty of time and need not hurry to church.