The party was breaking up and Koenig came for “his star.” “I vill give you an engagement for one, two, tree year, upon my vord I vill,” he said as they went downstairs. While the butler took him back to the library to sign his receipt and receive his cheque, Glory stood waiting by the billiard table in the hall and Drake and Lord Robert stepped up to her. “Until when?” said Drake with a smile, but Glory pretended not to understand him. “I dare say you thought me cynical to-night, Glory. I only meant that if you are to follow this profession I want you to make the best of it. Why not look for a wider scene? Why not go directly to the public?” “But de lady is engaged to me for tree year,” said Koenig, coming up. Drake looked at Glory, who shook her head, and then Koenig made an effort at explanation. It was an understood thing. He had taught her, taken her into his house, found her in a Sunday---- But Drake interrupted him. If they could help Miss Quayle to a better market for her genius Mr. Koenig need be no loser by the change. Then Koenig was pacified, and Drake handed Glory to a cab. “We're good friends again, aren't we?” he said, touching her hand lightly. “Yes,” she answered. There was a letter from Aunt Rachel waiting for her at the Priory. Aunt Anna didn't like these frequent changes, and she had no faith in music or musicians either, but the Parson thought Anna too censorious, and as for Mr. Koenig's Sunday evening companies, he had no doubt they were of Germans chiefly, and that they came to talk of Martin Luther and to sing his hymn. Sorry to say his infirmities were increasing; the burden of his years was upon him, and he was looking feeble and old. Glory slept little that night. On going to her room she threw up the window and sat in front of it, that the soft night breeze might play on her hot lips and cheeks. The moon was high and the garden was slumbering under its gentle light. Everything around was hushed, and there was no sound anywhere except the far-off rumble of the great city, as of the wind in distant trees. She was thinking of a question which Drake had put to her. “I wonder if I should?” she murmured. And through the silence there was the unheard melody of the German song: Du liebes Kind, komm' geh' mit mir! Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir. XIX. “The Priory--May Day.