"Never. It is a form of insincerity I detest. My dear Mrs Luttrell, you should make your unworthy husband take that to heart." "Why, I never flatter," said the doctor warmly. "How dare you say so, sir, when you are always flattering your patients, and preaching peace when there is no peace? Ah, yes, I've heard of him," he said in an undertone. "Introduce me." The formal introduction took place, and the last comer seated himself beside the new curate. "I'm very glad to meet you, Mr Bayle. Glad to see you here, too, sir. Charming family this; doctor and his wife people to make friends. Eh! singing again? Hah! Miss Luttrell. Have you heard her sing?" "No, she has not sung since I have been here." "Then prepare yourself for a treat, sir. I flatter myself I know what singing is. It is the singing of one of our _prima donnas_ without the artificiality." "I think I heard Sir Gordon say he did not flatter," said Bayle quietly. "Thank you," said the old beau, looking round sharply; "but I shall not take the rebuke. You have not heard her sing. Oh, I see," he continued, raising his gold-rimmed eye-glass, "a duet." There was again silence, as after the prelude Millicent's voice rose clear and thrilling in the opening of one of the simple old duets of the day; and as she sang with the effortless ease of one to whom song was a gift, Sir Gordon bent forward, swaying himself slightly to the music, but only to stop short and watch with gathering uneasiness in his expression, the rapt earnestness of Christie Bayle as he seemed to drink in like some intoxicating draught the notes that vibrated through the room. He drew a deep breath, and sat up rather stiffly as she ended, and Mr Hallam from the bank took up the second verse. If anything, his voice sounded richer and more full; and again the harmony was perfect when the two voices, soprano and baritone, blended, and rose and fell in impassioned strains, and then gradually died off in a soft, sweet, final chord, that the subdued notes of the piano, wiry though they were, failed to spoil. "You are not fond of music?" said Sir Gordon, making Bayle, who had been still sitting back rather stiffly, and with his eyes closed, start, as he replied: "Who? I? Oh, yes, I love it!" he replied hastily. "Young! young!" said Sir Gordon to himself as he rose and crossed the room to congratulate Millicent on her performance--Hallam giving way as he approached--saying to himself: "I'm beginning to wish we had not engaged him, good a man as he is." "Yes, I'm very fond of that duet," said Millicent. "Excuse me, Sir Gordon, here's Miss Heathery."