She began to be quite happy. She had not played these tunes for years, and they brought back pictures, fragmentary bits of things, and voices and laughter. She had played that one for a dance when her grandfather had given her a birthday party at seventeen, and this one for old Judge Jessup because his wife used to like it. This was the one that William liked. She played it affectionately and lingeringly. She liked it herself, for it was old-fashioned and sweet and mellow, without being great music. She smiled a little over it. She knew that Judge Jessup, who liked good music, would call it “a finger-and-thumb exercise.” She was still playing it when it seemed to her that her bit of sunshine had grown dim, or was being obscured by some shadow, and she looked up. William Carter was standing beside her. The wide front doors were open in the warm summer day. He had entered unheralded, and he was standing there quietly, looking down at Virginia, mute as a graven image, and nearly as pale. She was taken unawares, terribly unawares, and her slender fingers made a little discord before they fell from the keys. She turned a startled face toward him, paling and then flushing, her lips tremulous. “William!” she exclaimed softly, almost below her breath. “How you startled me!” “I’ve no right to be here,” he exclaimed bitterly. “I’ve felt that ever since I crossed the threshold and saw you sitting here--as you used to sit here with me, Virginia.” Her lips were still trembling, but she was recovering from the surprise. She rose from the piano and went to a more distant chair, which stood a little in the shadow. She did not want him to see her face too plainly. “Sit down, William,” she said pleasantly, suppressing the quiver in her voice. “I’ve just heard the news over the ’phone. I’m so happy about Leigh!” He did not sit down. He began, instead, to march up and down the room, his hands behind him and his head bowed gloomily. “I’m glad about Leigh, too,” he replied grimly. “He’s my brother--and I ought to have been in his place! I’m glad, but----” He broke off, and continued his pacing. Virginia was startled again, this time painfully. Her heart sank; she began to dread what he might say next. She saw that he was almost beside himself. Old memories rushed back, too--old, touching, tender, and intimate things. This was the man she had once promised to marry, the man who had professed to love her so much. It seemed to her that she had a moment of clairvoyance. She knew the thoughts that must be thronging into his mind, too. She was human, she was aware that he had repented, that he had had bitter cause to repent; but she tried not to think of that.