"The music seemed to call me and I came," she said; "it was so very beautiful it drew my whole soul after it; but I know I should not have ventured here at such an hour, and now I will go back, only----" She hesitated, and looked up pleadingly into the eyes that were turned with such admiring wonder on her---- "You live in this house?" she asked. "I do," he replied, and then bowed his head as though the answer were one of shame. "Then will you promise me," she said, "that I shall hear these glorious sounds once more? I feel as though I could have no rest till I may listen to them yet again, and to the voice that was as a soul within them. May I come here to-morrow, and will you bestow on me the greatest pleasure I have ever known, for, indeed, I never felt such deep enjoyment as in hearing that solemn strain?" "Most gladly would I--most gladly see you again, sweet Lily; since that is your sweet name; but do you know who I am?" "No, excepting that I think you will be my friend,--at least I shall hope it,--for the soul that could utter that divine song must be so worthy of all friendship." These gentle words seemed literally to make him tremble, as another might to hear the ravings of passion. "Oh do not speak so softly to me," he said, "I am unused to kindness, and it unmans me; besides, soon you will know all, and then you will neither have the will nor power to befriend me, and it were better for me not to have the hope of your future sympathy, thus given for a moment and then withdrawn." "But why withdrawn?" she said, with her gaze of innocent surprise. "You are Sir Michael's niece, are you not, the child of his favorite brother--his heiress probably?" "I am his niece, but not his heiress surely; there are so many worthier heirs, are you not one of them?" "I! I am Hubert Lyle." He seemed to expect that at the sound of that name she would recoil in fear or indignation, but she only repeated the words "Hubert Lyle," and then shook her head gently to intimate that it was an unknown sound to her; he smiled with pleasure to hear his name so softly spoken by the lips of one who seemed to him the purest, sweetest vision that ever had blest his eyes on earth. "I see you have not yet learned all the secrets of this house," he said, "but it will not be long before Sir Michael's niece shall have been taught that there is one beneath this roof whom she must hate, hate even with a deadly animosity. I think it will be a hard lesson for such a gentle nature;" he added almost pityingly. A new light seemed to break in upon her. "Oh, is it possible?" she exclaimed; "was it then of you that my uncle spoke with such a bitter animosity, as it makes me shiver to think one human being should ever have the power to feel towards another?" "I am, indeed, the object of his abhorrence." "But unjustly," she exclaimed, fixing her candid eyes steadily on his face. "I know, I feel, you have not deserved this cruel hatred."