little to Rosamond in the week during which they had lived under the same roof. She despised him quite frankly, taking no pains to disguise it. He read in her looks that she thought him a lout, a fool, a nuisance, and he was not angry or even surprised that she should think so. But he had no such thoughts of her. He liked to watch her, as he liked to look (but this he had never betrayed to any one) at the hills. He liked this atmosphere of the music, which seemed to have a curious appropriateness to her--not that he appreciated the music, although she was playing, he thought, some very pretty tunes, but it suited her somehow. He had not read much poetry, and could not remember any that would apply to her as a better instructed man might have done; but the whole scene had a vague poetry which filled in a dim sort of way Archie’s inarticulate soul. He listened sitting in what was almost the dark, listening and listening though he did not suppose she even knew he was there. But the sound of one’s own name penetrates distance and music and even the envelopment of thought in the strangest way. He heard Mrs. Rowland say that Archie, she could see, would not desire a ball, and the impulse of opposition sprang up quick and strong within him. “Why should I not like a ball as well as the rest?” he said out of his corner, raising his voice that his opinion might be heard. “There! I told you so,” said Eddy; “who wouldn’t wish for a ball in this house? The floor in the hall is perfect--it is wasting a good thing not to dance upon it. I am sure you of all people, dear lady, are not one to waste good things. Then fancy what a thing for us. We should make acquaintance with everybody, and probably reap a harvest of invitations. We are on the prowl. We want to be asked places. The Governor would feel how nobly you had done your part by us----and----and----” That shower of fluent words flowed on, but Archie’s attention to it suddenly failed. For out of the dimness nearer to him, through the sound of the softly tinkling notes, came a soft but very distinct question--“Why should you, Mr. Rowland, wish for a ball?” “I don’t,” he cried abruptly in his surprise. “Then you gave a false impression. Mrs. Rowland must think from what you said that you gave the project your support.” She spoke without turning her head, playing softly all the while, speaking in her usual calm and serious vein. “I would not oppose,” said Archie, “what Marion wanted, and you.” “You are quite right to put Marion first. It is not generally accounted civil, but it was honest, and I like it from you. I do not care--I am not fond of dancing. There are so many things more important in this life. I should have been surprised if you had wished it,” she added after an interval, during which she had gone on modulating, with her hands pressed down upon the keys. “Would you tell me why?” said Archie timidly out of the dim world behind her.