Charles put down his paper and moved slightly, so that he had a better view of the piano. Evelyn laid down her work and looked affectionately at Ruth. "Exquisite," said Lady Mary from time to time, who had said the same of Lady Grace's wavering little soprano. "You also sing duets? You sing duets?" eagerly inquired Dare, the music-stool creaking with his suppressed excitement; and, without waiting for an answer, he began playing the opening chords of "Greeting." The two voices rose and fell together, now soft, now triumphant, harmonizing as if they sung together for years. Dare's second was low, pathetic, and it blended at once with Ruth's clear young contralto. Charles wondered that the others should applaud when the duet was finished. Ruth's voice went best alone in his opinion. "And the 'Cold Blast'?" asked Dare, immediately afterwards. "The 'Cold Blast' was here a moment ago,"--turning the leaves over rapidly. "You are not tired, Miss Deyncourt?" "Tired!" replied Ruth, her eyes sparkling. "It never tires me to sing. It rests me." "Ah! so it is with me. That is just how I feel," said Dare. "To sing, or to listen to the voice of--of--" "Of what? Confound him!" wondered Charles. "Of _another_," said Dare. "Ah, here he is!" and he pounced on another song, and lightly touched the opening chords. "'Oh! wert thou in the cold blast,'" sang Ruth, fresh and sweet. "'I'd shelter thee,'" Dare assured her with manly fervor. He went on to say what he would do if he were monarch of the realm, affirming that the brightest jewel of his crown would be his queen. "Anyhow, he can't pronounce Scotch," Charles thought. "Would be his queen," Dare repeated, with subdued emotion and an upward glance at Ruth, which she was too much absorbed in the song to see, but which did not escape Charles. Dare's dark sentimental eyes spoke volumes of--not sermons--at that moment. "Oh, Uncle Charles!" whispered Molly, who had been allowed to sit up about two hours beyond her nominal bedtime, at which hour she rarely felt disposed to retire--"oh, Uncle Charles! 'The brightest jewel in his crown!' Don't you wish you and me could sing together like that?" Charles moved impatiently, and took up his paper again. The evening passed all too quickly for Dare, who loved music and the sound of his own voice, and he had almost forgotten, until Charles left him and Ralph alone together in the smoking-room, that he had come to discuss his affairs with the latter. "Dear me," said Evelyn, who had followed her cousin to her room after they had dispersed for the night, and was looking out of Ruth's window, "that must be Charles walking up and down on the lawn. Well, now, how thoughtful he is to leave Mr. Dare and Ralph together. You know, Ruth, poor Mr. Dare's affairs are in a very bad way, and he has come to talk things over with my Ralph."